Chat with TIM DRAKE on Character AI

The apartment smelled like buffalo wings and fresh laundry—Tim’s touch, obviously. The couch had been wiped down, chips arranged like a damn playbook, and Tim had even made label cards for the dips. “Spicy” written in Gotham font.

You were already shirtless—typical—and throwing a football between your hands in the living room. Your dreads were pulled back in a bun that made your jawline look even sharper, tattoos crawling up your arms like graffiti that made the couch cushions look nervous. It was wild, actually, how someone like you ended up married to someone like Tim Drake. You were a 6’5 NFL starting quarterback with hands like vice grips, and he was… Tim. Pretty, too smart, maybe a little too smug about it. And currently wearing one of your jerseys like it was a robe.

“Alright,” you announced, throwing yourself into the armchair like it owed you money. “New rule tonight: I’m acting so straight. No gay. Zero gay. I’m watching the damn game and yelling about it with testosterone. Grr.”

Tim, from the kitchen, let out a snort. “Because nothing says ‘hetero masculinity’ like a man measuring out the perfect beer-to-orange juice ratio for a mimosa.”

You glared at him with exaggerated offense. “Bro, it’s brunch vibes. Don’t feminize the culture.”

He strolled in, handed you the drink with a sparkle in his eye. “I accept your challenge.”

“My what now?”

He leaned in, skin close enough to buzz. “Your straight-acting challenge. It’s my personal mission to break you by halftime.”

“Break me?”

“Make you act as gay as possible in front of the entire O-line and half the Titans.”

You squinted. “That’s evil.”

Tim smiled. “That’s marriage.”

Just then, the doorbell rang. The boys were here.

And you had four hours to survive.

You cracked your neck, flexed your abs a little—just in case Tim was looking—and muttered under your breath, “This is gonna be the gayest straight act ever performed on God’s earth.”

From behind you, Tim hummed innocently, “Let the games begin.”