Work Text:
“Put more fucking pressure on it!”
“Jason, just shut up and pay attention to the road! Drive faster!”
“This is a 2003 Ford Focus, Dick, it doesn’t go any faster!”
They weren’t in Gotham, which meant they didn’t have any access to the Batmobile, so Jason had stolen a car. He should have stolen a better car, apparently, but in his defense, they hadn’t had a lot of options. They hadn’t even been working a case, or a mission—this was supposed to be a bonding experience. Tim and Jason got along well these days for the most part, but there were occasions where they were still a little rocky, so Dick had all but forced them to come on this trip together. He’d invited himself along to supervise so they didn’t end up killing each other instead of bonding.
Then suddenly there were robot dogs and it had all just...gotten out of hand.
And now Tim was lying in the backseat of a 2003 Ford Focus, pale and bleeding, a four-inch chunk of flesh torn out of left side by the metallic teeth of a robot dog and two more bites on his left arm—no flesh taken out from those, thank god, but still two large rings of dozens of puncture wounds each, bleeding heavily. He hadn’t been in uniform—none of them had, this was supposed to be a vacation— so he hadn’t had any protection from the bites whatsoever.
"Stop fighting," Tim grunted. "S'posed to be bonding."
"Stop talking Tim, you're bleeding."
"Not bleeding from my mouth, Jason."
"How much further, Jay?"
"GPS says twenty-five minutes, so fifteen."
Dick pressed harder.
It wasn't helping.
"I had fun," Tim said with a weak smile. "Before the robot dogs, I mean. Still wanna strangle Jay, but don't think...tha's gonna...change anytime soon." A shudder ran through him and he blinked hard and grit his teeth. “I’m glad we did this,” he said as the wave of pain eased. “Evil robots notwithstanding.”
Dick tried to return Tim’s smile with his own watery one, but he couldn’t quite manage it. “Me too. We’ll do it again next year. Make it a tradition.”
“Can we make sure wherever we go isn’t anywhere near a fucking robot dog factory next time?”
Tim clenched down on a strangled grunt as another shudder wracked his body. “Not sure about next...next year, guys,” he gasped.
Dick’s breath caught. “No, Timmy, you’re fine. It’s just a little blood, we can just pick some more up at the store on the way home.”
Tim’s eyes were quickly glazing over now, his eyelids fluttering. “Don’t thin’ s’just the bleeding,” he slurred, shivers wracking his body now with no reprieve. “M-my whole body b-burns, Dick.” The last words were almost a whisper.
Dick’s heart dropped into his stomach. Jason cursed and stomped his foot angrily up and down on the gas pedal as though he could intimidate the car into going faster.
“You think it’s poison?” Dick asked shakily.
Tim only whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut.
Dick wanted to wipe Tim’s bangs off of his sweaty forehead, card his fingers through his hair to comfort him, but he couldn't take his hands off the bleeding wound in his side.
“Just relax, kid,” Jason said when Dick’s couldn’t find his voice. “Just ride it out and let us do all the work, okay? We’re almost there.”
But Tim couldn’t hear him anymore. Dick pressed harder on the wound. Jason tried to press harder on the pedal.
——
His body was burning from the inside out. His skin felt raw and every brush of cloth felt like scraping against asphalt. Still, he wanted to curl on his side under as many blankets as he could to abate the shivering. He tried to turn and curl up but pain exploded in his side and he moaned. There were voices above him but he could barely concentrate on them through the pain.
"—ot to move, baby bird, you—"
"—some more blank—"
"—ear me? Almost done synthesizing—"
He was pretty sure he was dying. He remembered feeling the burning start to creep in and thinking 'poison.'
"Not dying kid, we—"
He wanted Bruce. He wanted his parents. He wanted Cass and his brothers. He wanted Kon.
"—right here, Timmy. We can call Kon for—"
Kon. He wanted Kon.
"Okay, baby bird. He's coming."
——
Seeing Tim's twisted face go lax when the plunger was pressed down on the syringe was a relief.
"Does that mean it worked?" Kon asked desperately. He'd been at Watchtower for several hours now and he'd taken the primary spot at Tim's bedside. His hand kept twitching as though he ached to reach over and grab Tim's hand, but they'd long ago found that touch was excruciating for him.
"Vitals look good," Bruce said, carefully studying the monitors. "Steadier, even. I'd say he's certainly in less pain." They hadn't been able to give Tim anything for the pain because there was no way of knowing how the drugs would react to the poison coursing through his body.
To their surprise, Tim's eyes cracked open then and there.
"Rob?"
Tim blinked and tried to open his eyes further but they weren't cooperating and he squinted tiredly at Conner. "Kon?" he rasped. Kon reached up and gingerly took Tim's hand in his own, like he'd been yearning to do. Tim didn't hiss or moan in pain. Instead, he settled his hand more comfortably in Conner's and squeezed back weakly.
"Kon, I got to go on a trip with Dick and Jason," he said sleepily, apparently oblivious to everyone else in the room.
Conner smiled. "I heard. I also heard you had a little fun with some robot dogs."
Tim hummed. "Robot dogs 're cool. These sucked, though."
"I bet they did." Conner kissed Tim's forehead, still holding Tim's hand in his. "Go back to sleep."
Tim closed his eyes with a contented sigh. "Night, Kon," he mumbled.
Conner buried his nose in Tim’s hair and stayed there.
"Twice a year," Jason decided abruptly.
"Minimum" Dick agreed.
"But no more fucking robot dogs next time."