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“For fuck’s suck kid, do you need help cleaning your ears out or something?”
Robin usually tried not to swear around kids much, especially ones as cute as the slip of a thing who was still not quite small enough to hide completely behind the air conditioning unit in the corner of the roof. As Robin’s exclamation, the kid pressed themselves even closer to the metal cylinder beside them.
Robin stared straight at them until—“Don’t call me kid. You can’t be that much older than me.”
Robin huffed, then very deliberately started, “Kid, I told you last week that if I found you out here again I’d have to tell B about you.”
The voice that answered was trembling, but the kid still had the nerve to challenge, “What would you even tell him? You’ve only seen me twice. I could just live here.”
There was a moment of silence. Robin squinted at the tiny bundle apparently claiming to be a street rat. “You live on three different rooftops?”
Again, stubborn silence.
With a noisy sigh, Robin took a couple steps closer, stopped when the kid looked like he might bolt, then dropped to one knee on the roof. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Why—so you can tell Batman?”
That surprised a laugh from Robin, which in turn seemed to shock the kid into unwinding a little, putting their face into a—well, not light, but a slightly less dim part of the roof.
“Ya know what, kid, you might be almost as paranoid as The Bat,” Robin couldn’t be sure, but he thought the kid’s face pinked and their shoulders straightened a bit at the oblique praise. Jason stifled a snort at the thought that the kid thought ‘paranoid’ a positive enough adjective to elicit such a clearly flattered response. “Yeah, I think I’d better keep you far away from Batman. Go home, kid. You can’t carry a camera that big and expect me to believe your parents shove you out every night on crime alley.”
The kid looked mutinous. “How do you know I didn’t steal it?”
Robin sighed again, long suffering, “Because then you would have sold it, kid. I’ve seen you with the camera twice, which means you can afford food and the camera. Now get off the rooftops before I kick you off.”
The kid stiffened further, “I’m not doing anything wrong. You can’t kick me off the rooftop—you don’t own it!”
Briefly, Robin considered the improbable veracity of that statement, given who his adopted father was. Probably, the kid wouldn’t have cared either way.
……
The pair was currently perched on top of one of a subsidiary of Drake Industries, and Tim was perfectly confident in, at least, the latter part of his statement to Robin. No, Robin did not own the roof of this building, but unfortunately, Tim still had to get off the roof. There would be no further solid photo opportunities for him for the rest of the night. Despite how close he was to Robin, and the fact that Robin had commented on his camera, Tim didn’t think that Robin suspected the contents of his film being quite as illicit as it was.
Usually, Tim would have just swiped his way into the roof door of the building, but he really didn’t want Robin to have any more clues as to who he was. He couldn’t believe he’d been so unlucky to get caught on one of his favorite rooftops. He wouldn’t be able to come back here for weeks.
“Fine,” Tim said. Creeping slowly backwards, he made his way to the edge of the roof where he was pretty sure there was a fire escape. Wistfully, he pictured the dingy elevator inside the six-story office building he was now going to be forced to descend via fire escape. While Robin watched. Tim hoped the general air of near abandonment that the inside of the seldom used office building had would not correspond to a lack of exterior maintenance as well. Honestly, he was pretty sure the elevator doors only worked on about three floors in the building.
Tim cradled his camera in one arm while maneuvering onto the first couple rungs of the near vertical fire escape—more of a ladder than a staircase. Tim glanced up one last time to see his idol and let out an aborted squeak when he saw Robin right next to him.
……
The kid was falling off the side of the building, and it would all be Robin’s fault. Or well, it would have been, but thank Alfred that Batman reflex training extended beyond punching people. Robin stared at the kid, and the kid stared at Robin, then at their camera, then backwards at the definitely not-up-to-safety-code fire escape.
And then, the kid looked up at Robin and blushed bright red, the color bleeding from high in his cheeks over his entire exposed face. Robin was frozen, partially from the shock and hastily aborted feeling of guilt for killing the kid, partially from concern. He had never seen anyone go that red that fast.
“Are you okay, kid?”
The kid struggled, somehow darkened to an even more frightening shade of red, and whispered, “We’re…holding hands.”
Robin considered that a rather generous description of the death grip that he had on the kid’s wrist, but he supposed their fingers were also rather more gently clutching Robin’s own wrist so he might have a point. Still.
“Ohhhkay. You do know that you just almost died, right? How did you even get up here?”
“I…jumped?”
They stared at each other. Robin failed to find any building in the vicinity whose roof seemed possible for the tiny sprite in front of him to have jumped from without the aid of a grapple.
Robin raised an eyebrow, knowing that the distortion of his domino was usually clear enough for that particular expression to get through. The kid remained determinedly silent.
“Riiight. Change of plans. How about I give you a lift down?”
The kid didn’t quite smile, but his eyes widened so much that they almost seemed to glow.
Thank God Robin hadn’t let those pretty blue eyes fall off of a roof.
……
Tim didn’t run into Robin for almost a full month after their fateful rooftop non-altercation. He replayed the scene and feeling of Robin holding his hand a frankly embarrassing amount of time, but Tim had learned early on in life that it was rarely beneficial to be frank with anyone, and he did his best to do right by all his mother’s lessons. Self-deception was one of his better skills. He still blushed every time he thought of Robin’s gloved wrist under Tim’s (Tim’s!) presumptuous fingers.
By the time Tim did see Robin again, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. But it was a frantic night in Gotham, the streets alive and ringing with the kind of sounds that meant Tim was about to get some absolutely fantastic full-brawl scenes where he thought Batman and Robin always looked like gods among men if he could only get a little bit closer.
Tilting his head, he listened to the commotion while scanning for a path between the rooftops. It was an older part of Gotham, the buildings pressed close together and the top levels hanging out a few extra feet on each side of the street to take up more space at the higher levels than they did at the ground floor. Within ninety seconds and six rooftops, Tim was army crawling the last few feet to his perch for the street fight.
Just as he’d thought, Robin looked amazing. Tim almost forgot to look through his camera as he stared at Robin whirling in a fight against three adults. There must have been more originally, because two other figures lay crumpled at the dark end of the alley, where a couple of kids huddled together. Tim came back to himself just in time to catch a few rapid shots of Robin jumping into a scissor kick, managing to catch two of the three goons in their guts. The third punched out and caught Robin’s head just as he landed in a crouch. Robin flinched back, then with a flurry of rapid punches and kicks, and some quick hand movements too fast for Tim to clearly see from his rooftop perch, Robin had all three goons handcuffed to the fire escape on the side of the alley. Briefly, Tim considered the merits of videography, but despaired at the thought of developing so many frames himself in his bedroom closet. No, photographs would have to suffice, even if nobody else would ever be able to see how badass Robin was in action. (Not that Tim showed his still frames to anyone either. That was the whole point of developing the film himself.)
The action done for the night, Tim lowered his camera and watched Robin do what Tim personally thought he did best—take care of the civilians. Robin-1 had been charming, but Tim didn’t think he quite seemed to connect with civilians the same way that Robin-2 did. Robin-2 was a vigilante of the people, and he was great with civilians, especially the younger ones who looked up to him more than Batman.
Tim held back a dreamy sigh as Robin performed his after-action routine. He dragged the two goons over to the fire escape and clipped them in next to their comrades. Then, he went to the kids in the corner of the alley and exchanged some words with them, offering a fist bump to the older of them and accepting a tentative hug from the youngest of the bunch. Only after Robin had made sure all the kids were okay and moving to a safer area did he place a call to the nearest police station. Then Tim was once again shocked out of his reverie by Robin moving in the one direction Tim would not have though to predict—toward Tim. In horror, Tim twisted to watch as the grapple caught six feet from Tim’s vantage point, and then Robin was hauling himself onto the roof and was sadly, suddenly at a distance much to close to be comfortable for Tim to continue stalking admiring him.
Tim was not quite skilled enough at self-deception to fool himself into thinking that Robin would somehow fail to notice his presence because of Tim’s stellar camouflage skills. It was therefore much to Tim’s shock that Robin apparently didn’t notice him at all as he retrieved his spent grapple, staggered halfway to his feet, and then listed sideways directly onto Tim’s legs.
Oh my god I have Robin’s head in my lap, was Tim’s first thought. His second, naturally, was that that was a stupid waste of space thought and that Robin obviously needed help. Tim had stalked watched Robin 2 for a long time, and while he knew he might not be as careful as Batman, Tim had never seen him be so vulnerable in such a public space.
The roof did afford some cover in the form of a few larger AC units and a ledge about a foot and a half tall on which Tim had been resting his camera. Now, Tim was propped up against the ledge with Robin sprawled half across his lap.
Staring down at Robin, Tim valiantly resisted his urge to reach out to touch Robin’s hair and instead took a deep breath and focused on the very probably injured vigilante in his lap.
“I think you have a head injury,” Tim decided. Seeing as Robin was not currently available to debate the issue with him, Tim considered the matter closed.
In a stroke of luck—good fortune of the stupidly wealthy variety, that is—Tim discovered after a quick google search that he and Robin 2 were currently sitting on another Drake Industry building. Briefly, while looking down at his mobile, Tim considered the cost-benefit analysis of simply…calling Wayne Manor. He had the public society line, at least, which he’d filched from his parents immediately after realizing Batman’s identity. Tim would have to do it. He would have to tell Batman that he knew who he was. If Robin needed medical attention, then Tim would do anything to make sure he could get the best possible aid around, and Tim was sure that whatever that was, Batman would make sure Robin was ok.
First though, Tim had to get Robin out of sight. Tim successfully extricated himself out from under Robin, carefully setting Robin’s head down as he went. At least this way, none of the classic stoplight colors would be visible above the roof line when the distant sirens finally made it this way. Then, Tim investigated the roof access door, relieved to see that it was an easy-to-pick lock. That settled, and the immediate inside of the building appearing clear and relatively clean, Tim returned to Robin.
Robin 2 had a good six inches on Tim, even though they were only maybe a year and a half apart in age. Tim hadn’t spent years trailing Batman and Co. around rooftops just to fail them here though, and Tim put his parkour and camera clicking muscles to work as he levered Robin’s torso into his arms so that he could grab onto his belt and keep Robin’s head from moving around too much. It was still an awkward half-drag half-carry to get Robin over to the roof door, and Tim felt he deserved some credit for getting Robin as far as he did. The sirens had come and gone by the time Tim’s careful progress brough the pair within four steps of the door. At though point, Robin apparently decided being dead weight no longer agreed with him.
……
Too bad for whoever was holding him, but Robin would never let himself be kidnapped so easily. Robin jerked awake in a strangers’ arms, flipping himself quickly and pinning the stranger to the door. Well, he tried to pin the kid to the door. Apparently, his quick movement did not agree with his—probably concussed, again, B was going to be so mad—head, and Robin probably would have fallen over backward and hit his head again, but the kid lunged and caught him. Again, he realized. Robin was, admittedly, a bit paranoid, but even he didn’t think it likely that stalker photographer kid was an opportunistic kidnapper. The kid seemed smart enough to at least premeditate that kind of thing.
“Ummmm,” the kid started. “Robin?” They squeaked.
Robin groaned, the griped, “What, kid, ya don’t want a hug?”
The kid squeaked again, even higher pitched this time, which was decidedly not helpful for Robin’s pulsing head. “B’s gonna kill me,” he muttered.
“B?” a moment, then, “B, yeah. You should call Batman now that you’re conscious. He can come get you.”
“I’m not calling Batman. Was a lucky shot, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”
“Robin, you have a head injury. You need an adult.”
Robin frowned, “I don’t need an adult.”
“You need someone!”
“I’m an adult,” Robin sniffed. “I have me.”
The kid gave that assertion a short laugh, “You are not.”
“Sure am. You’re just a kid though, kid. It’ll all make sense when you’re older.”
“I am not a kid!”
“So, you’re an adult?”
The kid hesitated for the barest moment before confirming, “Yes.”
Robin grinned, only slightly less sharp than usual. “Well then it’s a good thing I’ve got you here to take care of me. Guess I don’t need ta call Batman after all.”
The kid hesitated again before he frowned. “Ok, no. Fine. I’m not an adult.”
Robin snorted. His head was feeling a lot better. He half wondered if banter had some kind of rejuvenating effect on all Robins. He could practically see his hit-points refilling in the bottom left-hand corner of the screen. “No shit, kid?”
Their frown deepened, “Still not that much younger than you, kid.”
“Mmhm, kid, whatever ya say.” Robin pasted on his most patronizing smile, raising one of his hands to vaguely pat the kid’s hair. He missed on the first pass, but when he brushed the kid’s hair on the second pass he was momentarily surprised by how soft it was.
“Call Batman.” Damn, the kid seemed to have noticed how Robin had missed his first attempt at hair-patting.
Still. “No.”
“Nightwing?” A question this time, not a command.
Robin shoved away from the kid to make sure that they could see him when he raised both his eyebrows, “Literally why would I ever do that.” Damn though, the kid had kinda pretty eyes. Up close like this, Robin could see that their pale blue eyes were set off by a darker ring around the outer edge of their irises.
The kid stared back at Robin and they studied each other for a few long moments,
“Can’t you guys call the Batmobile or something? There’s no way you can get through the city like this, I don’t care how far you’re going.”
Touched, Robin faked a swoon (though it could be argued that he’d already swooned into this kid’s arms for real twice tonight). “Aw, kiddo you do care about me! Say, since we’re bonding and all, ya finally gonna tell me your name?”
“Maybe if you can convince me that you’re going to get home with what brain cells you have left. Focus, okay? Can you call the BatMobile? BatCycle? BatScooter? BatHelicopter? BatHoverboard?”
Robin frowned at the last one. He was pretty sure Batman wasn’t hiding a hoverboard from him, but it was hard to keep track of what all the Bat was branding these days. He’d have to check when he got back to the Cave, which he knew he would have to do soon. It had been almost 3am when the alley fight started, and Batman would expect him to be back soon. Thank god Batman had the Batcycle tonight for some Bludhaven business. Robin did not have quite enough excess confidence to convince himself that balancing on two wheels was a good idea right now, no matter how sophisticated the autonav was.
“Yeah ok.”
“You’re calling a hoverboard? Robin I was kidding. You cannot take a hoverboard right now.”
“Boo,” Robin said. “Help me down the stairs.” He pressed a few buttons on his gauntlet to summon the BatMobile, then jerked toward the fire escape on the side of the building opposite from the alley brawl. “Hey,” Robin glanced back at the kid, “did the police ever pick those guys up?”
They bobbed a nod back at him, ducking under one of his arms to help guide him back in the direction of the fire escape when Robin started to drift. Damn, B would be benching him for weeks. Worse, Agent A would probably insist on bedrest with no fine print books. He’d have to smuggle a couple of paper backs into his pillow.
“You know,” said Robin, “you seem a lot less intimidated than you were last time you had the pleasure.”
The kid huffed a breath before replying, and Robin tried to straighten up and take some of his own weight back. “I’m sorry,” the kid said, “you passed out in my lap. Was that an intimidation tactic I’m just too young to understand?”
What a brat. Robin grinned, “I think I liked you better when you thought I was going to report you to Batman.”
……
Robin, Tim realized, was lying to him. Tim did not lie back. “Yeah, well, I liked you just fine before you swooned into my arms, so really I’d appreciate if you could walk on your own two feet.” Okay, so maybe he lied a little. Tim was relishing having Robin’s arm around him.
“Yeah, kid?” Robin seemed pleased, “Well I suppose you do follow me around a lot, a crush would make sense. You got any good pics of me on that thing?”
Tim felt himself blush pink, “How do you know I’m taking pictures of you?” He supposed the camera was too visible this time, there was just no hiding a bag and lenses this size. Not when Robin was right next to him.
“Kid, I dunno how long you’ve been doing this, but once I noticed you—I’ve been seeing you everywhere.”
“Oh.” Tim struggled to not feel flattered by the phrasing of that sentence. It didn’t mean anything. Really, Tim should be focusing on how Robin 2 had managed not only to see Tim taking pictures multiple times, but also to cotton on to the fact that Tim was taking pictures of him. And still, Tim didn’t think that Robin had told Batman Tim was watching. True, these days Tim did mostly watch Robin. “Why haven’t you told Batman?”
“Kid, you’re currently helping me down a fire escape. I’ve never seen any of your pictures anywhere and I’m pretty sure you’re a harmless superfan.” Robin paused, seeming to consider, before following that statement with a much more encouraging and direct, “Plus, you’re pretty cute.”
“Oh.” Tim said again, softly, unable to stop the pleased, fluttery feeling that took up residence behind his ribs. That was definitely a compliment. It almost felt like it meant something. “So you don’t let all the boys help you down fire escapes then?”
“Course not, kid,” Robin readily confirmed. “You’re special. You still haven’t told me your name.”
“You don’t know it?”
Robin halted their already glacially slow descent to turn and squint hard at Tim. “Should I?”
Tim, who had watched Jason from afar at several society galas as the older boy brooded in the corner of ballrooms, leaving only to replenish his plate with various tiny but expensive desserts, wasn’t actually sure. They had been introduced once, early on in Jason’s stay at the manor, but that was a couple of years ago now, and Tim was sure Jason had met a lot of people during those first couple of public appearances.
“No,” Tim decided, “I guess not.” He tried not to let it hurt.
“Hm,” Robin gave an unhappy sound, “No I think I should.” Tim felt himself freeze. Damn, he’d given himself away. Now Jason would know that Tim knew, and Batman would find him and— “You tried to abscond with me earlier,” Robin continued, “it’s only courteous that you tell me the name of my would-be kidnapper.”
Oh, Tim thought. Okay, it was fine. Well, not fine, necessarily. Tim was becoming more and more concerned that Robin might be flirting with him. He has a head injury, Tim reminded himself. It doesn’t mean anything; he probably can’t even see me clearly right now.
One story up from the bottom of the fire escape—which was in remarkably good condition, all things considered—the BatMobile rolled to a silent stop in the alley below them.
Robin’s wrist buzzed where it rested against Tim’s upper arm, and Robin hummed, “Ride’s here.”
Once they were firmly on the ground, standing in the thin layer of filth that covered the asphalt of most alleys in this part of Gotham, Robin pulled away to lean on the hood of the BatMobile. Tim endeavored not to mourn the loss of contact. He failed.
“Thanks,” Robin said cheerfully, “for not letting me pass out on a roof top, kid.”
Pushing away his illogical disappointment, Tim lifted his chin. “Still not a kid.”
“Well then!” Robin reached out and snagged Tim’s wrist, reeling him in closer. “If I still can’t call you kid, and you’re not really a would-be kidnapper, does that mean I’ll get to learn the name of my valiant rescuer.”
......
Robin knew he was pushing it. He had been spending too much time with Dick. And also, maybe that last period novel had been an accident. But the kid was just so cute, and really not that young, just small, now that Robin had gotten a better look at him. And everything was pleasantly haloed right now, the pain in his head having faded for the moment.
He offered the guy—Robin was pretty sure his rescuer was a guy, pretty in the way of Victorian waifs—his best attempt at Dick’s charming smile, and hoped that he was playing this right.
……
Tim gulped. Robin was definitely flirting with him, his smile sharp and intentional as he kept a loose hold on Tim’s wrist. Damn well.
“So what, I rescue you and I have to give you something else too?” Tim tried a joke. “What exactly am I getting out of this?”
Robin’s smile went slightly predatory, and he raised his other hand up to the side of Tim’s neck. “I thought you’d never ask.”
……
Even though Robin had made very sure to telegraph his movements as blatantly as possible, the guy still gave a small gasp of shock when Robin leaned in and pressed his lips to theirs in a brief, chaste kiss.
“For my unnamed hero,” Robin winked cheekily as he pulled back to observe the outcome. The guy still looked shocked, mouth open slightly. Robin resisted the urge to lean back in for a more thorough investigation, though he was pretty sure the guy would not have been opposed. Although hesitant, their hands had moved to hover brushing Robin’s sides, and their face had once again gone a very pleasant shade of pink.
“Tim,” Tim said, stepping back.
“Tim,” Robin repeated, sliding into the front seat of the BatMobile. “See ya next time, kid.”
Robin cackled at the put-out expression on Tim’s face as the BatMobile pulled out of the alley. Oh, he was definitely looking forward to next time.