|The D.C Collection | Imagines, One-Shots, Preferences, and More |

Salsa | Tim Drake x Reader

Description: Tim Drake is fortunate enough to date a beautiful dancer that has recently learned that not everyone wins... well, unless you're dating Red Robin.
Request: Are you accepting requests? If so, can I request Tim with a dancer s/o (reader) and she's like a dancer on Dancing with the Stars or smth and he's jealous that she's partnered up with a very handsome guy? Thanks! Words: 1309Notes: Have I ever mentioned that Tim always inspires me? I don't know why, but his character gets me thinking about inspirational things and ideas. 

"What's wrong, Tim?" You finally blurt.

Keeping your eyes locked on his is the best way to get him to talk. You know how much he adores you and your gaze, and you also know how Tim Drake gets when something's not quite right. You glance back at the TV. He drills holes into the screen as it replay's tonights Dancing With the Stars episode, the one you had worked so hard to go on. The contest you and your partner had failed.

Did the judges not like salsa? You asked yourself, observing the way you and your partner sensually danced across the massive dance floor on the screen. Or maybe the audience just wasn't into your dance...?

Tim shook his head,"No. Nothing's wrong." He responded, turning away from you to scan the television for... something.

The distant look in his eyes, the tautness of his arms, combined with the impatient tapping of his fingers formed your conclusion; while you had previously thought Tim was mad at you, it now seemed the opposite. He kept shaking his head at himself and whispering ashamedly beneath his breath. Even if you don't like breaching Tim's comfort zone, you press deeper into that magnificent mind anyway. Surely if such a genius was upset about something then it would be more serious than you losing a competition.

"Tim..." You sighed softly, warningly. It was frustrating to have to prod him for his honesty every time. But patience was your best and most valuable virtue, especially when it came to all of those bailed-dates and lonely nights. You scoot closer to his side on the couch.

His line of vision never strays from the screen, even if his fingers relax and stop tapping so relentlessly. You lay your hand over his and squeeze. Tim finally looks back in your direction.

As concerned as you are with what's going on with him, losing in front of so many people isn't great at all. If you think about it too hard you'll feel like crying, then you'll burst, and then Tim will also have to deal with not only his feelings but a uselessly upset you. We all lose. We don't always win, you knew that, but it still hurt. You could be an adult about this, right? You're an adult now after all.

Tentatively, he questioned,"...What's your partner's name again? How long have you known him?"

Your shoulders slouch as you realize why he's so frustrated. Tim never liked his emotions to reign over him during work, so having them finally have a good grip on him outside is just as irritating. It is not often that Tim Drake is jealous of any of your friends, regardless of gender or status, because he is just that confident in himself; he see's it every time you touch him, hug him tightly when he returns alive from patrol, or kiss him passionately after you missed him.

Tim knows he's jealous. He know's how stupid it is to be jealous with every piece of evidence he has collected pointed in the opposite direction. He knows that your "I love you, Tim Drake"s are real, bleeding with the compassion he is needing, and yet his subconscious still doesn't believe it. He doesn't need to feel so envious of another man just because you danced with him, especially when your aura of rejection and disappointment is so strong it is palpable.

Tim sighed at himself. He sighed at the deep frown on your face and the way your lights hit's your eyes. You're going to cry, and for some reason, he imagines it is his fault."I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't be thinking about that right now."

"Tim, you have a right to be jealous. You have a right to feel things," You shrugged, sniffling as your dismay began to choke you and bottleneck your thoughts. You wipe a tear from your face with your knuckles,"But I just want you to know that I love you. And as much as I liked my partner, I would have much rather danced with you... even if you aren't the best at dancing."

You laughed. Wetly and softly. The sound and your sentiments make a smile leak through Tim's concentration, and the feeling of empathy and stupidity swarm him. He shakes his head,"That doesn't matter. You're upset." Tim waved you closer to his side of the couch. He smirks,"I'm pretty sure I can help with that."

You giggle sadly again, crawling over to his side in order to lean against him. You fold your knees up protectively. Tim copies your position, wrapping a soothing arm around your shoulders as he pulls you deeper into his side. Your eyes flutter shut as he plants a kiss on your temple,"You know, I thought you were the most amazing dancer on the show. You looked beautiful in your dress, too."

Your voice cracks when you try to say "really?", so the word comes out a lot quieter than you intended. Tim's fingers begin to slide up and down your shoulder reassuringly. The sensation, combined with the tiredness crying brings and the influx of sudden dispiritedness, makes you sleepy.

"Oh, yes," Tim sighed, more at himself than anything else. How could you, such a beautiful and delicate being, even consider dating that other man behind his back? You couldn't, and that's why Tim feels so idiotic now."I could tell how hard you worked just how well and practiced everything was. You moved super gracefully." Tim confessed honestly.

"I just... I wanted to win so badly," you pouted, voice strained. The warmth his presence brings is indescribable in less than two words. You feel it every time he embraces you, and it so much more than just warmth. It enfolded you and surrounded you, protecting while supplying the closest thing to real paradise, where no harm is dealt and nothing is negative. It doesn't feel like love... it feels like something stronger, something better, more beautiful, and so much more than just a four-letter word. It is home. It is Tim Drake.

"And you should've won, in my opinion." Tim shrugged,"But maybe this will lead to something else... something better. Failure usually means you're just not ready to do you're best yet."

"You're right." You nodded in agreement. You nuzzled into his sweatshirt, feeling the heat of his blush singe your nose,"I know a failure led me to the love of my life."

Tim chuckled when he realized what you were referring to; when you met him what had happened was you had forgotten to print your essay and failed to turn it on time, but your printer at home had broken. In a school-driven haze of madness, you had crashed into Tim Drake on your way to the nearest store with a printer. That assignment had nearly failed you English and did fail you that project... both of which led to Tim. Red Robin. The man that would make you the luckiest woman alive.

"I bet your English teacher saw you on TV tonight and regretted failing you for that project." Tim joked, even if that probably wasn't true. You snicker into his neck,"Oh, yeah, totally."

You sat there, giggling into one another about a sentence that was barely funny at all. Tim must be more tired than you thought, as when you both manage to settle down and into silence, you find him falling asleep against you as you do the same to him.

Tim hums pleasantly when your whisper fills his ears."I love you, Tim." He feels a fuzzy blanket collapse around your bodies, and your body squirming in order to become more comfortable. Deliriously exhausted, Tim's lips part as yours press against his jaw. He smiles,"I love you too, sunshine."