Work Text:
Drake:
noun
- a male duck.
"a drake mallard"
It had all started off as a fairly normal stroll through the park, nothing out of place and the sun shining brightly on the May morning. That should have been the first thing that had tipped Timothy Jackson Drake off that something was very, very, very wrong. He’d been on his way to meet Bernard for a date strolling through the less dangerous parts of Robinson Park when he’d heard it.
Quack!
Tim tuned it out, it was after all common to hear the ducks when walking through the park. Ivy specifically kept them looked after and well fed, as they provided excellent and abundant fertiliser. So, all in all, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Or so he thought.
Quack! Quack quack!
Tim stalled in his stride and turned to look in the direction of the sound’s origin. Angrily jetting across the lake like a Viking longship of old, came the largest and fluffiest looking female mallard Tim had ever seen. And she was coming right for him, with what looked like murder in her eyes.
It was all the young lad could do was tilt his head in confusion as the duck battleship-ed towards him at full speed. Tim didn’t have any seed to offer. He’d not harassed any ducklings. He’d even gone to the effort to try and dress remotely human today. Okay so maybe he’d only managed two hours of sleep after last night, and was running on more caffeine than was strictly necessary or healthy, but sue him, he had places to be. Or so he’d thought.
“Quack!” the duck bellowed as she made landfall and waddled with purpose up to the young man, all the while babbling and puddling as she went. Tim calmly tried to back away, trying not to spook the duck or show his back. He was pretty sure ducks weren’t exactly predators, be he knew of the March of the Sinister Ducks, and that kinda song doesn’t appear from nowhere. He knew they could be sneaky and devious. So, he took a measured step back, and that’s the moment Tim realised it was not going to be a normal day.
Puffing up and looking at him with a worryingly anthropomorphic look of disappointment, the duck quacked louder and fluttered her wings and waddled quickly towards Tim. Now Tim had been trained by master fighters, assassins, and duellists. However, in the sheer absurdity of the situation, he would still vehemently deny to the duck having successfully flanked him.
“What the…?” Tim questioned as he began being herded towards the lake. The duck being insistent and prodding at his legs with her beak. Every so often, she would quack at him and look with parental disappointment as if he were dim. Tim tried to side step her, but only received correcting nips with her beak and quickly found himself cowed. “What do you want?” Tim asked, quickly losing any idea of what on earth was going on. “Is it money? Are you holding me hostage?” Tim asked.
“Quack! Quack quack quack!” the duck answered sternly and continued pushing him towards the edge of the pond. Tim obliged her and made his way slowly there before stopping at the water’s edge.
Noting his hesitance, the duck let out a series of peeps towards the island that sat in the middle of the pond, where a cacophony of peeps called out in response, and a raft of ducklings took the water towards them.
In a worrying speed that made Tim wonder whether he needed to ask Bart if other species could tap into the Speed Force, Tim found himself mobbed by ducklings who’d come to assist their mother in harassing Tim.
“But I’ll get wet!” Tim complained and flailed his arms, as if it would amount to much.
“Quack quack!” the Mother Duck answered, and finally losing patience flew up into Tim’s face, frightening the boy enough to cause him to fall arse-backwards into the water.
Tim barely had a chance to scream (in a manly fashion of course) before the world went blurry and he came back to the surface spitting out pond water.
“Oh god that’s foul.” Tim maligned and looked at his now sopping wet clothes. Mother Duck however seemed smug now and proceeded to grab onto the back of Tim’s hoodie with her beak and ineffectively drag him towards the island. Several of the ducklings had opted instead to settle on SS Timothy and cheap adorably.
Resigning himself to his fate, Tim allowed himself to be led / dragged to the island. Without any further argument he plonked himself down on the empty nest and sat cross-legged as the ducklings settled in around him, with the Mother Duck settling in his lap and began to preen his wrinkled, sopping clothes.
“Duck my life.” Tim sighed to delighted chirps.
Bernard had been concerned that Tim was later than usual to their date. He’d checked and Ivy was still at large but apparently behaving so he was pretty certain it wasn’t her. Besides, WE had even consulted with her on improving access to green space in Gotham so she didn’t currently have a reason to go after Tim.
So Bernard sighed into his palm as he rested his arm on the bench armrest. He’d give it another twenty minutes, because he was a simp like that, before accepting that Tim probably slept through his alarms again. Seriously, the young hot-shot was mostly kept running by coffee and some kind of weird narrative luck. Bernard nearly gave up hope before he heard the answer.
“Mama, you gots to come see! A boy’s been taken hostage by a duck!” a young girl in a yellow frock exclaimed excitedly.
“Susie, sweetie I don’t think that’s like…” the mother began.
“Hey! Did you see?” a dogwalker mentioned to another, “That Wayne kid’s been taken hostage by a duck!”
“Wait, you mean the young one with the zoo right?” the other walker asked.
“No! That’s it! It’s like the brainchild one! You know, who got all those new parks okayed?”
Yep, definitely his Tim. Bernard thought and got up to head towards the walker.
“Hey, whereby was this? That idiot is my friend, and I should probably try and rescue him.” Bernard said.
“Oh, the main pond. You might want to hurry though, if Vicki Vale doesn’t get there first, then the TikTokers will.” The walker answered.
“Right, can’t have that!” Bernard shouted and ran off to save his boyfriend.
The battle was long. There were tears. There were feathers. It was a protracted legal dispute that would echo through the ages. It also ended up requiring calling in the big leagues of Damian Wayne-al Ghul, animal whisperer. But after much toil, pleading and bribery (of the Duck and of Damian), Tim was released into Bernard’s custody.
“Not a word.” Tim warned as they made it to the edge of the lake, ignoring the pleading cheeps of the ducklings.
“Okay, honeybun.” Bernard agreed placatingly and wrapped his much warmer (though not yet stolen by Tim) hoodie around the dark-haired man’s frame. “My lips are sealed.”
“Bern, I can hear you thinking.” Tim responded.
Bernard fixed his love with his best “who me?” bullshitting face and smirked. “So mean, and after I save you from an ab-duck-tion Tim!”
Tim loved his boyfriend. He loved Bernard with every fibre of his being. But that wouldn’t save Bernard from being pushed into the pond as well. Besides, while Tim was now legally mandated to visit the pond at least once a week, he’d now secured another of Bernard’s hoodies. So, it wasn’t a wasted day at least.
On surfacing from the pond, Bernard just stared in shock at Tim, before looking back to the Mother Duck with a wicked gleam in his eyes. Tim knew that gleam.
“Don’t you even…” Tim started.
“Hey Mama D?” Bernard called to the Duck, “How about I get Tim on weekends and you get him during the week?”
Tim broke into a sprint as he heard the excited and maternal quacks begin again and made hell for leather to safety. Bernard was definitely not getting this hoodie back now.