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"Well, hello there, Camera Boy." Tim can hear the shit-eating grin in her voice, strained as it is. "Nice to see your face again."
"Shut up–" he nearly uses her real name. Y'know, the one he's not supposed to know? "–Spoiler."
He saw the fall she took, from two storeys up into a dumpster, and thankfully one with the puffy trashbags to act as messed-up cushions. With the angle she was going in, it’s a fair guess that she was kicked out the window, caught snooping into the business of Cluemaster’s network.
Is it safe to drag her away? He hears the clamors inside the bar, the sounds of people coming closer. He has to drag her away. It's going to get very crowded by low-rent thugs pretty soon.
“This is going to hurt,” he warns her, and she grunts in acknowledgement. He’s not very strong—definitely not as strong as Stephanie who can and has punched someone hard enough to knock them out—but he doesn’t have to go far. His home is just two blocks down, and his parents are still in Egypt and definitely not set to come back to the apartment for a while now.
Squatting, he slings her arm over his shoulder, wincing at the way she hisses sharply, camera bag bumping into his knees. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she murmurs back, a little choked. “Getting out of here is more important. Before they find me. Us.”
She tries to help, she really does, but she’s also really out of it, moaning with pain when he grabs her ribs to haul her up. His eyebrows crease into a frown, heart pinching. “I’m sorry,” He whispers again.
And it’s the litany of apologies and her panting breaths that get them through to the other end of the alleyway, just in time. The bar door flings open, clanging into the wall.
“Get on my back,” he mutters when someone tells the rest of them to spread out and keep an eye out for the purple menace. He kneels, waiting for her to loop her arms around his neck, and stumbles to his feet. He nearly teeters over for a second before he finds his balance.
“Should I be worried about a concussion too, Camera Boy?” She murmurs into his ear.
He ignores her, hitching her legs up further, biting his lip at her pained hiss, and runs. Adrenaline—and deep-sated worry—keeps his legs pumping despite the weight on his back.
He ducks into another alley just as the thugs breach the mouth of the first one, footsteps almost as loud as their jeering. There’s a fire escape, and he mutters sorry’s to the grunts in his ear as he clambers up as quickly and quietly as possible. When they hit the second floor, Spoiler whispers: “Stop. Let me down.”
He does almost immediately, catching her when she nearly falls over.
“In, by the door,” she says. The door is set deep into the wall, with shadows thick enough to hide them both if they squish in together. His heart beats a little quicker at that thought.
She hops in first, wrapping her cape around Tim when he does too, and guides his hands to hold both ends behind his back. Tim nearly chokes, a high-pitched noise leaving his mouth, when she tugs him in closer until the camera bag digs into the flesh of both their stomachs, her arms around his neck. Her boobs are also very much against his chest.
“Hi,” Tim blurts out.
She giggles. “Hi.” Her finger twirls a strand of his hair, tugging lightly. Tim gets the strangest sensation that she’s smiling cheekily at him. “What’re you doing out here, fearless hero of mine?”
“Uh,” his red cheeks just remind him a little more of the situation he’s in. “Just, y’know…”
“Snooping?” Her voice is low, like a croon.
“On Cluemaster,” he agrees, half-dazed. “Like you.”
She leans in close—so, so, so close—and Tim feels her breath on his lips when she asks: “Mind giving me what you have?”
Tim nods, not entirely sure on what he’s agreeing to because she smells so persistently of watermelon shampoo. Then, her question registers. “You shouldn’t be doing anything vigilante with the fall you just took.”
She huffs, pulling away. “What’re you? My mom?”
“I think your mom would agree with me.”
“You don’t know her, Camera Boy. You don’t know what she’d say.” Tim bites his lip to stop from saying the words that sit on the tip of his tongue. She sticks her head out from their alcove, staring into the street below. “Think they’re gone?”
Tim wonders whether he should take the change in topic or not. In the end, it’s none of his business. “Yeah, I think they left a moment ago.”
“Great!” She untangles them. “Let’s get outta here.” But the moment she puts pressure on her right leg, just like he’d predicted, she stumbles. Tim catches her, because for some reason, he’s more aware of her injuries than she is?
“You can barely walk.”
“Evil doesn’t rest, and neither does the spoiler of terrible plans.”
“Wait, just–” he stops himself. He could call her back to his place, even if it is terrible for keeping his identity anonymous. It’s not like the place where the Drakes live is very advertised, but it’s still his home. She’d still know where he sleeps.
But...he doesn't mind if she knows. She's his friend–maybe, sometimes, he hopes she's a little more–and friends know where the other person lives, right?
Well, Tim definitely knows where she lives, he realizes with a guilty jolt. He'd found out in the beginning.
It’s only fair if she knows too.
“My apartment is just two blocks down,” he says cautiously. “Just…come back to wrap your ankle at least?”
“How do I know you’re not a serial killer leading me back to your human-butcher’s shop?” She asks wryly.
Tim jolts. “I wouldn’t do that!”
She’s turned to him, blue eyes still so bright against her ski-mask peeking out from under her hood. “You’d better have a fun drink in there.”
“I have so many Monsters. Including a couple purple ones.” Ones that he got for her, but he’s never going to admit that.
The way she positively lights up, a lamppost in the dark, is so endearing. “Oh, I am so in.”
Tim smiles brightly. “Great.” They stand there for a second, grinning at each other in the night like a bunch of idiots.
Then, Steph moves, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing.
“And thank you, Camera Boy.” The warmth in her voice breaks through the cold night, cradling him to his core, and flushing his cheeks even more. “Seriously, you saved my ass back there.”
“I’m always going to have your back,” Tim replies immediately, halfway stunned by the ease with which it leaves his mouth, but it’s true. “You know that, right?”
Glass-eyed stunned, she stares at him for a second.
Tim is alarmed when he sees the tears begin to form. "Hey-"
But she shushes him, yanking him forward with her strong, strong arms and into a messy hug where she leans all her weight on him, so trusting. “Thank you.”
His hands hover over her back for just a second, and then he hugs her back, mindful of her ribs. “Anytime, Spoiler.”