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The whole thing starts out seemingly innocently. Or maybe Dick just misses signs that would be obvious to someone else. But Nightwing having fans doesn’t sound like a bad thing or even out of the ordinary.
Right up until one of those fans starts wanting his personal attention, which is when it gets annoying. Where it really becomes a mess is when that fan decides the best way to get that attention is to finance all kinds of crime specifically to lure in Nightwing. Dick busts several operations within a month. He ignores the, for lack of a better word, love letters that are left for him at each scene.
(Really, he’d like to submit them to a psychiatrist, but there are none in Gotham that he would trust to not make it worse somehow.)
Ignoring it and hoping his admirer gets the hint turns out to not be the best strategy. Dick finds this out the hard way—when a chase after a kidnapper ends up with him in a warehouse full of henchmen. They are very obviously waiting for him, all two dozen of them.
“I knew it was strange how they were just waiting around before grabbing that dude,” Dick mutters to himself. Well, nothing for it. Dick gets ready for a fight. The only upside is that the kidnapped barista isn’t restrained and stumbles outside the warehouse when everyone’s attention turns to Nightwing.
Unfortunately it becomes clear pretty fast that the henchmen are in fact adequately trained mercenaries. Nowhere near as good as Dick, since he does manage to knock out or otherwise incapacitate about half of them, but still good. He’s forced to take several hits he would really rather have avoided to keep himself from getting surrounded.
Adam the very obsessed fan emerges from the shadows clapping and there’s a pause in the fight. A pause that Dick really needs, since his ribs hurt and one of his legs is very strongly protesting to how this night is going. Dick does his best to not put any weight on his bad leg and at the same time not look like that’s what he’s doing. It won’t help much, but it’s better than admitting he’s not one hundred percent before the fight even starts.
“Excellent!” Adam the fan croons, already sounding unhinged. The whole villain vibe is cliché and doesn’t really work for him. “I knew you would be perfect! A perfect match.”
Dick kind of tunes him out and thinks about what exits are the most likely to work. He can’t take out the rest of the henchmen without injuring himself a lot more than he’d like to. He’s already past that line and he doesn’t want to get even more hurt.
“...I even got you a ring!” Adam the fan declares, and he sounds almost feverish. Definitely in serious need of help, though probably not Arkham. Dick does not want to know what someone as obsessed would turn into with the addition of the tender care of Arkham.
Then the words register and Dick stops himself from grimacing, but it takes a lot of willpower.
“Ah, yeah, that won’t work out, seeing as I’m already married to,” and in the split second after he says it he realizes he can’t name any names, not even superhero names because that’s very likely going to end up with Adam the crazy fan trying to murder them. And he’s apparently smart enough to know where to get adequate mercenaries, so it might even work.
So Dick is about to say ‘to my work,’ which probably isn't the best excuse, but it’s the only one he has on such short notice.
He doesn’t get to, as he gets interrupted by a scratchy, computerized voice from the rafters.
“To me.”
Both the henchmen and Adam startle, clearly surprised. Dick does his best to appear like he isn’t surprised at all. He knows he isn’t married to anyone. Definitely not to the Red Hood, who drops down to the ground level so easily it looks like gravity doesn’t concern him much. It’s impressive, especially for someone his size. A size Dick gets to, for the first time, appreciate up close when Red Hood walks up to him and throws a hand around his shoulder. Easily like it’s something they do all the time and not the first time they’re even in the same room.
Dick tenses while doing his best to not look like he’s tense. Five minutes ago he didn’t think this night would get worse, and here it is—the universe proving him wrong. Now he not only has an obsessed fan vying for his attention, but the ruthless newest Gotham crime boss as well. Though the arm around him feels like it’s supporting him instead of restraining him.
There are a lot of details he hasn’t looked up, but Dick does know the Red Hood has some surprising rules he very violently enforces in his territory, up to and including killing his own men if they break them. So maybe this is just Red Hood coming to his defense because he isn’t fond of stalkers. Not that it lowers the weirdness factor of him suddenly announcing he’s Nightwing’s husband.
At this point Dick doesn’t really have anything to lose. So he leans some of his weight against Hood, makes sure it looks something approaching affectionate and smiles sweetly.
Within the span of a minute Adam gets so angry he looks on the verge of blowing up with rage. Dick doesn’t even have to force a smile anymore. After the beating he’s taken tonight, he’s happy to see Adam the obsessed fan suffer as well.
“You— No!” Adam screams and waves his hand sharply. The mercenary henchmen take it as a sign to take both of them down. Well, at least Dick has an ally this time, even if an unexpected one. The two of them will do better than Dick on his own.
Suddenly there’s a gun in Red Hood’s free hand, pointing straight at the nearest henchman. The hand around his shoulders tightens and Hood keeps him from reacting fast enough to stop him. Hood shoots three henchmen in the knees in two seconds and then points the gun at Adam.
“Wouldn’t do that if I were you. My husband isn’t that fond of murder, but I’m perfectly willing to make you wish you were dead, if any of you take another step closer.” The voice synthesizer really adds a sinister edge to the threat. Dick relaxes slowly. If Hood is willing to abstain from murder, Dick is willing to go along with the lie.
“Who the fuck are you to—”
“You’ve been skulking around, hiring every criminal that’s stupid enough to go against Nightwing for a while now. If the red mask isn’t cluing you in, you need your head checked.”
“Needs that anyway,” Dick mutters, and feels Hood shake with a suppressed laugh.
When Adam pales visibly and finally starts looking worried, because apparently the three men moaning in pain and bleeding out on the ground were not enough, Hood nods.
“Thought so. Now Nightwing and I are going to leave, and anyone that follows will regret it.” Oh man, it sounds so menacing Dick starts wondering if there’s a special filter in the helmet for threats. And since it’s very menacing in his defense, it maybe makes him feel a little warm on the inside. Fitting, since the heavy arm around him is already warming him up on the outside.
When no one says anything, Hood takes a step back and pulls an unresisting Dick with him. After two more steps Hood holsters his gun and in a flash replaces it with a grapple gun. His arm slides lower and tightens around Dick’s waist, so he takes the hint and wraps his hands around Hood’s neck. One shot at the ceiling and several seconds of weightlessness later Hood maneuvers them outside through a broken skylight.
Dick lets go and tries to take a step back, but Red Hood doesn’t release him, the arm around his waist immovable. Instantly Dick remembers that despite the rescue, this isn’t actually a friend and he has no idea what the real reason for the rescue is.
“You are not running across the roofs with that leg,” Hood says and even with the synthesizer he manages to sound unimpressed with Dick’s life choices. Blindsided, Dick hesitates and doesn’t try to fight his way out of the hold. “Come on, I’ll get us further away from here first.”
Dick considers for a moment, but as much as he hates it it sounds like the best option right now. So he nods and says, “Whatever you say, husband mine.”
Hood pauses, but then shakes himself and without saying anything gets on with it. Dick just holds on to him as Hood grapples to the next building. Further away turns out to be quite a way. Somewhere after awkwardly shuffling across the third roof and trying not to accidentally strangle Hood while swinging around, Dick gives up and wraps his legs around Hood’s waist.
“The fuck,” Hood mutters so low the synthesizer doesn’t distort it much. His real voice is nice as well. Dick just smiles at him. In this new position he can appreciate Hood’s muscle definition even better. There’s good in everyone, and for Hood it’s his commitment to lifting heavy things in his free time, apparently.
Five minutes later Hood lowers them into an alley next to a bike with very conspicuous red details. Dick puts his feet back on the ground and tries not to think about how Hood had no trouble carrying him around up to this point. Before he can get back to being appropriately alarmed at being so close to a crime lord, Hood lets go and takes a step back.
“You need a first aid kit?” he asks. It’s hard to tell with the mask, but Dick feels like Hood is looking him over.
“No, I’m fine.” Well, not fine, but there’s nothing immediate that anything in a first aid kit would help with. “Thank you for the save,” Dick says. It was unexpected and people got shot, but no one died and Dick didn’t get beaten up more than he already was.
Hood doesn’t respond, just nods. It’s time for an exit, so Dick glances around and figures out where exactly they are. His own bike is too far away, so he plans out a path to the nearest safehouse. He barely gets to take two steps, and then Hood makes a crackling sound that it takes Dick a moment to understand is a snort.
“I carried you so you wouldn’t put weight on that leg. You’re not walking,” Hood says. It sounds about as menacing as his murder threats did. Then he nods at the bike. “Get on.”
Dick hesitates. He can’t outrun Hood, not tonight, but getting on that bike is a very very bad idea. They both tense. Suddenly the alley feels charged.
“‘Wing. Get on the bike,” Hood repeats slowly.
Fuck, the threat almost makes it sound tempting, but Dick absolutely knows better.
“Haven’t you heard that you shouldn’t get into the vans of the nice people offering you candy?” Dick asks, voice light and a smile on his face.
Hood turns his head to look at the bike, and then back at Dick. “One, that is not a van.” He points at the bike. “Two, if you try to take my candy I’m going to shoot you.”
Okay. Dick’s smile turns from sharp-edged to amused. Okay okay okay. What’s the worst that can happen? Damn, shouldn’t have thought that. But really, does he have anything to lose here?
“Well in that case,” he says. And gets on the bike. After a moment Hood gets on behind him and leans forward until he can reach the handlebars. It presses his chest against Dick’s back very firmly, and somehow instead of caged in Dick feels warm.
“And third,” Hood says. Dick hopes Hood doesn’t notice the shiver that runs down his spine at hearing that voice so close. Without commenting on Dick’s reaction, Hood starts the bike and gets them out of the alley and onto a normal street where he proceeds to ignore the speed limit spectacularly. He leans even more of his weight against Dick, and it’s distracting how good that feels.
“Third?” Dick asks when nothing follows.
“Third, as your husband, I should take you home, but I guess a safehouse will do.” Hood says and then rattles off the address of the safehouse Dick was planning to go to.
Fuck.
He should not have gotten on the bike. Though apparently Hood knew where he was planning to go anyway. Dick can’t get away without killing them both in a fiery crash, so he has to live with his panic for the rest of the ride. Which isn’t long, as Hood drives like a madman.
Not only does he stop in the alley outside the safehouse, he does it right underneath the exact fire escape ladder that leads up to the window of said safehouse. Dick really wants to know how Hood has that information. As far as he knows no one has used this place in months, and Hood only arrived in Gotham what, a month ago? He shouldn’t know about this place unless he’s… been here before. Unless he knows all the safehouses, because how else would he have known which one was the closest.
Annoyingly, that still doesn’t tell Dick who the hell Hood is under that helmet. The list of people who would know about the safehouse locations is short, but Hood doesn’t look like anyone on there. Still, it’s a piece of the puzzle. Put next to Hood coming to his defense, it makes Dick feel only ninety percent reckless when he turns to Hood and asks, “Won’t you come upstairs? Walk me up this romantic rickety fire escape?”
“Why are you like this?”
It’s not the response Dick expected, but Hood doesn’t make any moves towards leaving. He can work with that.
“I should be getting the benefits of being married,” Dick says, and sways closer to Hood. “Since I only found out I’m married tonight, I think this counts as our honeymoon.” A hand on Hood’s chest. “And you’re the one who volunteered to be my husband.”
He might go for a kiss, too, but Hood’s helmet is in the way.
A minute of Hood staying silent only ramps up Dick’s anticipation. Then Hood puts a hand over Dick’s and says, “Sure, why not.” Even with the voice synthesizer it sounds slightly manic, like Hood knows he’s being unforgivably reckless. But he follows Dick up the stairs anyway.