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Tim shivered, arms crossed in front of his chest. Abruptly, he realized how that only aides the push-up bra he was made to wear. He lowered his arms and tried to look seductive.
He’s on the edge of the dance-floor in one of the hundreds of grimy clubs that seem to pepper Gotham like snowflakes the arctic. The air is hot and used up, there’s a strong smell of liquor and various bodily fluids and the music is so loud it vibrates throughout his body.
He’s acutely aware of how exposed he is in the clothes Bruce gave him to wear, the tight little leather skirt only making him sweat more. His heels are high enough he wouldn’t be able to run in them if he had to, but not high enough that he would get mistaken for a stripper. There’s a distinction, after all, between someone who dances and someone who’s…more open.
The flimsy shirt is probably see through, with a low cut meant to distract customers from his face. It has worked in the past, Tim knows how useful cleavage can be, but he doesn’t have to like it.
He fights the urge to yawn. He’d been planning on a short patrol, already exhausted from his day in school, but Batman had announced a new recon mission and who was Tim to decline it? Besides, it wasn’t like B himself could pass as a prostitute.
There are hungry eyes on him and Tim props himself up against the wall with one elbow, trying to seem inviting and mysterious in one. The club belongs to the Black Mask, and is probably a front for a human-trafficking ring. Tim can swallow his dignity if it means he can save innocent civillians from a live not worth living. He has to.
There are many people here tonight, Fridays were prime club time, even in Gotham, but Tim only had eyes for a goon standing in the shadows. Any minute now, he would approach him for some ‘fun’ in the back. Code for the entertainment Sionis had ordered for his meeting. His past preferences indicated that Tim would fit in perfectly, as he was disguised now. Auburn hair fell just passed his shoulders, his boobs were about a c-cup, the skirt hid bolsters that made him look far more feminine, softer. Tim hadn’t recognized himself in the mirror, even with minimal make-up. He was glad no prosthetics were needed, he hated the way the clay felt against his nose and jaw. Nobody would be connecting up and coming heir Timothy Drake to the sensually attractive, 18 year old Jenny Clue, even if they did look similar in the face, of that Tim was sure.
He looked down at his watch, the handle pushed forwards, 1:30 on the dot. The enforcer began moving, and Tim nodded at him. He followed him towards a nondescript door, expertly pressing past sweaty bodies, dancing and laughing. He wondered how anyone could truthfully enjoy this. Maybe the alcohol was the key, not that Tim would be trying that in Gotham anytime soon.
(What happens in Titans Tower though— well, nobody would have to know about that)
He was glad once the door shut behind them, he was already well on his way towards a major headache. The enforcer didn’t even look back to confirm Tim -no, Jenny- had followed him, but he guessed he didn’t have to. Jenny would be following because she needed quite a lot of money to finance her little sisters medication.
The hallway was dark but thankfully much cleaner than the open floor they’d left behind, and all too soon, the henchman opened another door. Jenny entered with a confident swing to her hips, as if she’d done it a hundred times before. (Tim hadn’t, but he was a good liar)
The music could still be heard, but it was far duller. There were plush red couches, a dark hardwood floor and men in expensive suits. They looked up, not surprised by his entrance but certainly entranced by the way his (fake) boobs moved with her every step.
“Oh sweetheart, so good you could meet us. C’mon, don’t be shy!“, Sionis’ croons from his place on a chair that looks more like a throne than anything else. Tim smiles and sits down on the man’s lap, even if everything in him resents it. He’s suddenly all too close with a villain that has killed hundreds, and his breath dusts over Tim’s collar bones whilst hands trail where he wishes they wouldn’t.
Tim shivers involuntarily, but it seems Sionis takes this as a sign of arousal, not fear, or maybe both. It’s not like the mob boss would truly care.
“He’s late“, one of the men says from all the way across the room. It’s directed towards Sionis who flashes him a truly unsettling grin. “He’ll come“
The briefing was unclear on who exactly Black Mask was meeting tonight, only that it concerned the trafficking, so Tim couldn’t have possibly prepared himself for the entrance of Red Hood, tonight with a Domino instead of the helmet. Tim has the absurd urge to chide him for it, because Sionis was known to work with Ivy or Crane, and the helmet is the best filter he can get.
Of course, he can’t say any of this, because he’s currently half-making out with Black Mask and also undercover. Besides, despite the fact that they’ve slowly been warming up to each other, it’s not like they’re close. Jasons resentment runs too deep for that and Tim is reluctant to reach out. In any case, Tim turns his face back to Sionis, who hasn’t even looked at him since Hood entered the room. His hands still do plenty of moving though, as they pinch and grab at his waist and thighs.
He does his best to listen to the talk they’re having, no one can get closer to the source than this after all, but it is a tiny bit distracting just how violently Sionis’ liked to touch him.
Hood is giving off major villain vibes, all dark and growly, not unlike the Bat himself. Tim wonders if that was his aim or if it was unintentional. He’s given no sign that he’s recognized Tim, at the very least. Tim’s cheeks are burning but in the red light of the room nobody will be able to tell. Besides, he’s really more of a side attraction, so nobody’s watching him to closely anyway.
Then, suddenly, Sionis leans forward, mouth coming dangerously close to Tim’s ear. His wet breath makes Tim want to run but he stays put.
“How about you go entertain Hood a bit, baby girl, he seems a bit— tense.“
Hood makes a noise of protest, but neither he nor Tim have a choice when it comes to a man like Mask, and so Tim wiggles his way off Sionis’ lap, making his way over to Hood. Through the domino, his eyes aren’t visible, and he makes no outward signs of recognition. Right in front of Hood, Tim stops, unsure what to do. His legs are spread so far, Tim can’t possibly sit on them and Hood makes no move to rectify it. Sionis laughs behind them. “How about you show us how pretty you can be on your knees, mhm? I like to see the face of the person I’m talking to“
Tim kneels and doesn’t point out what a giant hypocrite Black Mask is being. He’s just grateful he doesn’t have to sit on Jason’s lap. Not that kneeling is in anyway preferable. He’s really not sure what he’s supposed to be doing now, and he fears it’s becoming painfully obvious, so he reaches out to touch Jason’s thigh. That is the precise moment a hand comes down on the back of his head, pressing him face first in the crook where Jason’s thigh meet his hip-bone.
Tim barely manages to stop his startled yelp, now muffled. He can’t see and the pressure on his head doesn’t fade. Sionis is saying something rather derogatory about women and their places, and Tim knows, he knows Jason doesn’t agree with that. Yet, Red Hood doesn’t say a word, carefully playing with strands of Tim’s current wig. At least the heavy touching has stopped which Tim is pathetically thankful for.
Like this, he can still hear whats going on but he can’t see it anymore. The meeting ends without a hiccup and Sionis is the first to leave. The things he’s admitted tonight will be invaluable in the rescue, and Tim has recorded it all. Hood stays in place for a while longer, even after the henchmen have already left. Sionis probably thinks Hood isn’t as much of an exhibitionist as he clearly is, and gives them privacy.
As soon as the door falls shut behind the last guy, Tim gets pulled up by his hair. It hurts, even if it’s not actually his own.
“The fuck are you doing here, replacement?“, Jason hisses with so much venom in his voice, Tim can’t help but pull away. His knees hurt like absolute shit and his feet are sore from the heels.
“Recon- probably exactly what you’re doing as well.“ That was the only reason Tim could imagine Jason actually cooperating with Sionis, after all. They famously hated each other.
“What-? Like this?“, Jason gestures up and down Tim’s body. Self-consciously, Tim crosses his arms again. God, he hates having boobs.
“Yes, like this. It’s not like we’re all crime-lords that can just go talk to these guys“, Tim hopes his short skirt doesn’t detract from the annoyance in his voice. It’s pretty hard to be intimidating like this, even if it does give him quite the height-boost.
“Well, tough luck baby bird. I’m so gonna tattle to B, it’s fucking dangerous out here“
Tim’s brows furrow. He cocks his head to the side. “Why would you tell B? He’s the one that put me on this.“
Jason stares at him then smirks. “But he sure as hell didn’t tell you to get the info looking like this!“
Now he’s entirely confused. “I mean, he did give me this cover and these clothes, so he definitely does approve of this disguise.“
Jason stares at him as if Tim had suddenly sprouted a second head. “So if I call big black bat right now, he knows where you are and what you're doing? You’re bluffing“
“Yes!“, he was quickly becoming very frustrated with Jason. He could understand a lot of reactions, but accusing him of lying to B about the mission, that’s weird. Tim definitely wouldn’t have chosen this identity himself. He’d be wearing pants, for one.
Jason stares at him.
“Fuck me, you’re really not lying. I know B has never been considered for the father of the year award but this really crosses a line.“
He pulls out a nondescript phone and taps a few lines, then stands up, making Tim once again curse his height. He has to look up at him, even in heels and it grates on his ego.
The club music is still going and Jason grabs his arm.
“C’mon, we’re going for a drive“
Tim barely manages to walk behind Hood, he’s so wobbly on his sore feet and he protests the whole way outside.
To his disgust, the enforcer from before actually high fives Hood when they pass him. As if Tim is a prize to have, a second slice of cake or something.
Outside, it’s freezing like it always is in Gotham. There’s a slight drizzle coming down but Tim is used to that by now.
Normally, though, he wears sensible, weather appropriate clothing, not tiny skirts and shirts. He begins shivering almost immediately.
“Where are you taking me? This isn’t funny Hood, please—“
There, around the corner, is a black bike, gleaming in the stray light of the street. They come to a standstill in front of it, Tim still slightly dazed and now definitely freezing his balls off. Jason looks at him as he swings a leg over the bike. “Shit, you must be freezing!“, it’s weirdly considerate of him to immediately start pulling off his jacket. He wears a hoodie below it, red, with the bat logo proudly splayed across his chest. Jason drapes the jacket over Tim’s shoulders, and immediately, Tim feels a bit better. “Hop on“, it’s more of a command than an invitation, but Hood doesn’t seem hostile and Tim had literally just been lamenting that he wouldn’t be the one to reach out to make amends.
His hands firmly grasp around Jason’s waist, which is the only way Tim now knows that he wears a kevlar vest below it, not that he hadn’t already suspected that.
The rain is worse on his bike, but Tim shields himself with Jason’s body and it isn’t a particularly long trip anyway. They stop before the building Tim knows as safe-house #17, the one with the fully functional kitchen.
Jason looks around, finds nobody watching them and pulls off his domino to reveal teal eyes. It reassures Tim slightly that they’re no longer madly green likey they’d been in Titan’s tower.
Jason puts the mask in one of his many pockets and pulls out a key in one smooth motion.
Tim enters safe-house #17 with slight apprehension in his bones and aching feet. The first thing he does is kick his shoes off, watching with satisfaction as they collided with a wall. Jason snorts behind him. He turns on the light.
Mentally, Tim reassigns safe-house #17 to home base, because Hood clearly lives here. Its homey, in a wird, slightly serial killer way, just like Tim would’ve guessed. There are suspicious stains on the carpet and the ceiling but the ground is littered with books.
“Hope you don’t mind, I called in a little assistance“, Jason says and Tim is about to remind him that he still has no fucking clue why he’s even here when Nightwing actually falls through the ceiling. Well- more like the opened skylight that falls shut behind him, but it does make for an impressive visual.
Tim is about to turn to Hood and ask him what the hell is going on when-
“Baby bird-“, Dick’s voice is barely above a whisper.
He lacks his typical enthusiasm and all Tim wants to do is crawl into his bed and hide from the world. Then he remembers the maths test he has tomorrow and sighs. No sleep for poor Timmy.
He waves, making Jason snort again.
“Hi Dick“
His older brother doesn't wave back, he stares for a second and then quickly crosses the room until he’s right in front of Tim. The hug is expected but nevertheless appreciated and Tim can practically feel himself melting into the protective arms of his brother. He takes a deep, trembling breath. Missions like this are always the most draining, despite needing the least amount of physical activity.
A hand cards through his hair, so unlike Sionis, in gentle circles and Tim barely notices being lead to a couch and sinking right into the soft material. He’s usually more composed than this, and he doesn’t much like not knowing why Jason even brought him here, but for a second, all is well.
There’s some noise coming from behind them, water going and a stove being turned on. God, Tim is so tired, he needs coffee. He knows there’s still red-bull in his fridge at home, so he might mix the two again, otherwise he’ll fall asleep in class, again, and his teachers might call Bruce, who was always annoyed at the reminder of another child in his home.
Dick shushes him quietly and his suit is entirely too wet for him to properly enjoy this, but for one tiny moment, Tim allows himself to be selfish and to just enjoy his big brothers presence.
It must have been ten minutes were they sat like that, until something was set down on the coffee-table and Tim startles. In front of him was a steaming mug of cocoa with a bit of cream. He doesn’t remember the last time he drank cocoa, he was sure his mom had told him he was too old for it sometime in second grade. He’d changed to coffee after and had never looked back. Now though, the cup was steaming and inviting and Tim grasped at it hesitantly.
On the couch to their right, Jason was sitting, now without the body armor, in sweats and the hoodie from before, hair still wet from the rain. Tim tugged the jacket closer. He hated being so exposed, hell, he was the first Robin to wear pants for a reason.
“You wanna tell Dickiebird over there where we met, or should I do that?“, Jason said, not unkindly, but also leaving no shred of doubt that someone was going to tell. Tim really would’ve preferred to keep this under wraps but when had Hood ever done what would’ve been preferred?
“I was posing as a prostitute to infiltrate a meeting with Sionis for the Sherbatsky case. Hood was the one meeting with Black Mask“, Tim offered.
The hand in Tim’s hair momentarily stopped before resuming like before. “B approved?“
Dick’s tone is dull, even to Tim’s ears. He nods anyway.
“That’s the nice way to put it, though. Hell, Sionis couldn’t stop touching him all night. Made him kneel for me, too“ Jason said, voice like freshly spilled gravel.
Tim’s head was pulled against Dicks chest and his arms got impossibly tighter. Dick sighed.
“Oh baby, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be doing this“
“I’m no expert on childcare but I’m pretty sure little birds shouldn’t be in a club getting bad-touched at 2 in the morning on a school night.“
Well, when he put it like that-, Tim could kind of understand why he was so upset. Besides, wasn’t there something in Jason’s file, something about what he’d been doing before he was picked up by Bruce? Maybe this was a PTSD thing and Tim had been acting like a victim when it was really Jason that should be cared for, right now. Shit. He was already fucking up as a little brother.
Then again, Dick made no move to reach put to Hood and he’d known him before his death! If anything, it was probably on him to make a judgment call and clearly he thought Jason didn’t want his hugs right now. How anyone could refuse the seduction of two strong arms, holding him close, with a chest to his back slowly rising and falling, shielding him from the outside world like a particularly protective bear-mom would her cubs, Tim had absolujtely no idea. It was his kryptonite, and Dickie new that.
“I’ve tried talking to him about him, but you now Bruce, stubborn like a mule. Not even Alfred could make him see reason.“
This was news to Tim, who had seen no reduction to cases and patrol during school days, but maybe it would’ve been worse without him. He would’ve had to drop out, he shuddered. His mom would probably rise from her grave to haunt him if he dared to drop out before he got to graduation. (He would’ve done it anyway, for Batman, for the city.)
“What, so you know about this?“, Jason’s voice dipped into a dangerously venomous cadence.
“I know about some of it, yes. Though, believe me, I was also unaware of what exactly he’s demanding of Tim, apparently. You know me Jay, I wouldn’t agree with that.-“
“Guys, you’re making a way bigger deal out of this than it has to be. It’s not like anything happened I didn’t expect.“
Jason looked at him with so much pity, it was repulsive. There was nothing to pity, sure it wasn’t the most graceful part of the job but it also wasn’t worthy of this anger. Tim wasn’t worthy of this anger.
“So you were fully aware you would have to sit with Sionis, that he would touch you like that and that he would likely make you touch other people like that as well? And B’ knows that too?“
Tim shrugged. “Yeah. I mean I was literally a hired hooker, it’s not like any of this was a surprise.“
Dick tutted behind him and kissed the top of his head. It send a shiver down his spine, like most touches did. Alfred had called it touch-starvation when he first arrived at the Manor, Tim liked to call it normal. Either way, he was enjoying this attention very much, even if he could do without the interrogation.
“Babybird, that’s not okay. The mission should not be carried on the back of your sacrifices. I know this is hypocritical of me, but take it from someone who has actually died for this shit. It’s not worth it, especially because you’re not even an adult yet.“
Tim could feel Dick nodding along behind him, and there was a slight tremble in the hand that was brushing through his hair.
“B can be a dick sometimes, you can say no. In fact, you have to say no.“
Tim didn’t really know what to say to that so he just hid his face in his brother’s warm chest. He could hear Jason standing up, rummaging through a closet and closing the doors with a little more force than he strictly needed. Then, Tim got hit with something. It felt soft and heavy like fabric. He uncurled a bit and looked down; the crumpled clothe of a worn hoodie and a pair of sweats.
Reluctantly, Tim let go of Dick entirely to pull on the hoodie. It was blue, with the logo of Gotham U on the front. It swallowed him whole, leaving his body entirely hidden up to his thighs. The bottoms were pretty much the same. Tim wondered if that was on purpose, the polar opposite of what he’d been forced to wear all night, or if it was simply the stuff Jason had stored here. Maybe a bit of both.
He cinched the cord of the joggers until they fit relatively tightly, despite their overly large size and settled back against Dick, although no longer on his lap. He hadn’t realized how cold it had gotten, even with Jason’s jacket, and now he’s just grateful that he hadn’t needed to ask. It was the same way Alfred might show his care and it warmed something deep in Tim’s chest.
He grabbed the cup with hot chocolate from the coffee-table, unsure of when he’d even put it down at all. It had cooled significantly but was still enjoyable against his lips. The cream on top had mostly melted, but it tasted great, better than it had in his memories.
“How about you stay with me for a while, Tim? I have a feeling Jason has a lot to say to B and I’m pretty sure you don’t want to be there for that. We can go to that new Donut Place you told me about.“
Dicks voice was soft in the way he only ever got late at night. Tim yawned. That sounded good. The air inside the manor was tense right now, as it always was in recent history. He can’t bring himself to regret the adoption anyway, since it allowed him access to Dick as his big brother. (And who knows, maybe in the future, he’ll be able to say the same about Jason?)
“Sounds good“
A hand gently guided Tim’s head to a place against Dick’s shoulder. Like this, with the quiet surrounding them, warm chocolate in his stomach and warmer clothes on his body, he fell asleep in seconds.