Chapter Text
If living in Gotham teaches its citizens one thing, it was to trust nothing. Not people. Not your food. Not your tap water. Not even your five senses. Which is why, when Tim found an unconscious vigilante passed out against his apartment door he rhythmically went through checking himself to make sure he wasn’t drugged.
Sense of hearing. The guy was definitely breathing, in spite of the face mask and body armour, Tim could just make out the faint sounds of breath wisping through the ventilation on the sides of the mask.
Sense of smell. Well, that one was a little more deceptive. Mainly due to the whole, ya know, run down apartment situation. It always smelled in the halls, unless his neighbour Parvati was cooking. Then it smelled like heaven.
Sense of taste. He took a swig of his water bottle, swishing it in his mouth before, regrettably, spitting it out on the peeling lament flooring (he’d clean it up later, Tim wasn’t an animal). No metal tastes, no medicinal after tastes, just slightly plastic flavoured water.
Sense of sight. Well. That one hadn’t changed, fluctuated or morphed in any which way. Cool. So, if he was hallucinating, it was at least really good drugs?
Sense of touch. Here he hesitated. The Bat’s had a reputation but this particular one had a rap sheet to go with it. Even now, the red symbol on his chest had splatterings of something… dark. Tim didn’t really want to guess what it was. But he was clearly injured. Or… Well, he had to be because what other reason was there for this behemoth of a man (please let him be a man and not like, an actual bat or something) to be passed out against his door.
Reaching out, Tim gently tapped his shoulder, bracing for… Well anything really. But nothing came. Maybe he couldn’t feel it through the body armour?
Tim tapped his mask next, reluctant to touch the bit of exposed forehead that was caked with so much sweat his hair was plastered to it.
Still nothing.
Glancing at the door handle, he weighed the pros and cons. Maybe if Tim had been a true Gothamite, born and raised, he’d have called a friend and crashed the night at their place while waiting for the vigilante to wake up and disappear.
But Tim wasn’t a true Gothamite. He was new. And therefore, Tim decided he was allowed to be a little stupid. And the stupid was telling him that he needed to get this man into his apartment before someone or something worse found him.
Reaching above his head Tim shoved his key in the lock, pausing to see if the vigilante had moved at all before unlocking it and turning the knob. With an undignified thud and a grunt of pain, the man fell flat on his back.
Frozen, Tim waited for any kind of movement.
And waited.
Maybe he’s dead. Leaning in close Tim listened for the laboured breathing, it was there, still faint through the mask but there. Sighing in relief Tim stood up and stepped over him, grateful that the vigilantes' graceless entrance had spooked Todd, his cat, away from the door and to the livingroom
“He’s not that scary.” Tim cast a wary eye down. Okay. Maybe he’s a little scary. Glancing back out into the hall to see if anyone had come out to see what the thud was, he sighed and looked down at the prone form weighing his options. He lifts jugs of milk all the time at work, how many jugs of milk could this man possibly weigh.
A fucking lot apparently.
Gripping the underside of his arms and pulling hard had yielded little results till Tim had effectively managed to drag him onto his shitty little entry way rug. Then it was simply a matter of dragging the man using the rug into the living room.
Todd observed from his perch on the highest part of his cat tree. Displaying far more common sense than the man currently shoving an unconscious vigilante into the middle of the room.
Only allowing himself a moment to catch his breath, Tim returned to the front door and glanced at where the man had collapsed to see if anything had been left behind. Satisfied at the lack of, well, evidence of his guest, he did one more cursory glance around the hall before closing the door and fumbling with the lock. Tim doubted it would help if anyone actually tried to get in but at least it made him feel slightly better.
Turning on the light Tim stared at his little galley kitchen. Would… Would he want to eat something? Oh god, what if he died? Tim definitely hadn’t thought of that when he’d dragged his heavy ass inside his apartment.
A quick glance around the corner showed Todd giving a thorough inspection of the man, his little nose wrinkled and mouth parted as he investigated.
Clenching his hands, Tim took a deep breath. Ok. He could be calm. He would not freak out. Just treat this like any other day where a vigilante passes out on your door step. He sounded in pain but Tim couldn’t see any visual injuries so… Pain medication? Tim only had over the counter stuff, no name brand (he definitely wasn’t rich enough for that, even with student loans), and upon looking in the fridge, water and one gatorade. Tim frowned. He’d been saving it for if he caught that flu going around but… Another glance in the living room showed Todd watching Tim from beside the man's head, his pupils catching the light in a way that hid his large green irises.
Grabbing the gatorade, a quick trip to the small bathroom for his box of medications and the bedroom for a spare blanket Tim returned to the still unconscious vigilante.
Tim stared only a moment longer before placing the bottles of acetaminophen and ibuprofen down, along with the gatorade. Flipping open the blanket, Tim laid it overtop of the vigilante. Pausing, he went back to the bedroom and grabbed his spare pillow before returning and hesitating.
God he really hoped he wouldn’t wake up if Tim touched his head. Though he hadn’t woken up when he’d dragged his bulk through Tim’s home so… Gently lifting his head Tim slipped the pillow underneath, lowering him back down gently.
It wasn’t great but it would do.
Tim glanced at his desk, filled with textbooks, notebooks and what looked to be a knocked over pickle jar of pens. A glare at the culprit in question only yielded a tail flick as the feline walked patiently over to his food mat and sat.
Revenge for taking a late shift at work. Fair.
Getting up, Tim went through his nightly chores quickly. Feeding Todd, cleaning up his lunch dishes and looking woefully at his empty fridge. Dinner would need to wait and be breakfast tomorrow, probably a free pastry from the shop before work started.
Tim did one last glance into the living room to see if the man had moved at all before quickly scribbling a note on a scrap bit of paper and leaving it leaning against the gatorade.
Slipping into his room, Tim left the door partially open for Todd in case he deemed Tim worthy of a cuddle (unlikely since Tim had slighted him with a late dinner) and collapsed into bed.
Tim’s last thought before he fell asleep was he really hoped he didn’t wake up murdered because then who would feed Todd?
-
When Tim did wake up, it was to Todd gently pawing at his nose, his own personal alarm clock, as he tried to convince Tim that his breakfast was due.
“Noooooo.” Grumbling, Tim pulled the covers over his head briefly before huffing out a sigh and sitting straight up. Life doesn’t wait for you to wake up, Tim’s foster mom would always say. Todd most certainly would not. Glancing down at the tabby’s white face, his pink nose stood out stark against the darkness of his room as the light started to creep in through Tim’s window.
“Meh.” Came the gravely meow, which told Tim he must have just woken up too.
“Good morning to you too.” Reaching out, Tim squished his little face in his hands, gave him a quick kiss on the head before following the little dictator into the kitchen. He supervised the distribution of his wet food (he’d need more soon, they were getting low) before excitedly running to his mat.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re gonna choke if you eat too fast, you know.” A few scritches and the bowl was his, much to Todd’s delight.
Standing, Tim stretched his arms up, groaning as his back cracked before casting a glance to the living room and freezing.
There was a man.
Sitting in Tim’s living room.
A man Tim had dragged into his apartment last night.
Definitely no longer unconscious.
Definitely not dead.
Tim really wished he could view that as a good thing right now.
“Um…” Think. Think. Think. It didn’t help that the man was just staring at him. Or at least he thought he was. Tim honestly couldn’t tell because of the goggles. “I don’t have, like, much of anything for food but I can make you toast if you would like?” Gesturing vaguely at the kitchen.
The vigilante didn’t move.
The quiet extended a bit longer than what could be considered traditionally comfortable and Tim suppressed the urge to inch away when the man slowly lifted his hand, a bit of paper sticking out between thumb and forefinger.
“ ‘Hello Mr. Vigilante.’ ” The voice sounded unholy, like a demon choking on glass. Low, gravely, changing shape and tone with each word. Tim suppressed a shudder. “ ‘The cat's name is Todd. He’s friendly. Your breathing sounded weird, sorry for listening to it, so I left out pain meds in case they could help. You passed out outside my door and I didn’t know what to do. Sorry. If you need anything you can wake me up? I really hope you don’t die. -T’ ” Tim worked fiercely to shove down the feeling to run and hide. In the background he heard Todd hoovering down his food which brought some relief. Tim’d be a lot more scared if Todd was.
“Um…” The man lowered the piece of paper, his head tilting ever so slightly. “Sorry?”
“You’ve said that three times.” Tim winced and choked down the need to apologize again. Frozen in place, in his PJ’s with a not dead vigilante, did not help the panic that was slowly becoming overwhelming.
Then, from the other room, Tim’s alarm blared. It startled him so badly he yelped and took a step back.
Right into Todd.
Who yowled in offense at the unexpected intrusion of his personal space causing Tim to tumble backwards as he tripped on the little body. A brown, grey and white ball of fluff shot across the room as Tim’s mind distantly noted, Ah yes, post food zoomies, before Todd used the vigilante as his own personal launching pad to the cat tree.
The vigilante in question, to his credit, barely reacted. The same could not be said for Tim.
“Todd!” Tim yowled over the sound of the alarm still blaring, the cat in question yowled back, vocalizing his triumph at his accent and his rage at being scolded. “We don’t use people for parkour!”
“MOOOOHW!” Todd proclaimed before once again using the vigilante as a platform, leaping off the tower onto the man’s broad shoulder and launching himself towards the bathroom. Probably to knock Tim’s toothbrush into the sink, along with any other unsuspecting items Tim had been stupid enough to leave on the counter unprotected.
“Don’t you dare Todd!” Tim was already scrambling up, desperate to turn off the alarm before it woke his neighbors at the same time the first clatter sounded from the bathroom. “Leave my toothbrush alone!”
Another yowl sounded and Todd was racing out of the bathroom like his little life depended on it just as Tim finally made it to the doorway, leaving a scattering of odds and ends in his wake. Skidding to a halt, Tim changed direction after the feline menace as Todd once again lined up the vigilante.
“No!” Lunging forward, Tim arms encircled Todd’s little body and scooped him up, cradling him to his heaving chest as Todd did his best to shove his paws in Tim’s face in retaliation.
Both man and cat froze when a disjointed sound came from the living room. Todd’s victim, the vigilante, shoulders were shaking and it took a moment longer for Tim to realize that he was laughing. The thing on his face distorting it to make it sound downright evil but he was legitimately laughing.
“Is it like this every morning?” Tim flushed but when he went to speak, Todd took advantage of the distraction to shove his entire paw in his mouth.
“Todd!” Tim yelped and let the cat roll out of his arms where he thunked to the ground on all four white socked paws. Casting a glance over his shoulder the scoundrel side eyed Tim before beginning the task of cleaning himself.
Asshole.
Still chuckling, the vigilante rose to a towering height and Tim swallowed. He was a lot less intimidating on the floor.
The man took a couple of steps forward before crouching down and offering a hand for Todd’s inspection. The immediate head butt and purr was enough for Tim to narrow his eyes.
“If anyone ever broke in here, he’d hold the flashlight for them. Little menace.” The man snorted but said nothing else, giving Todd a thorough scritch before rising.
Tim had to look up at him, he was so large.
“Name?”
Tim blinked. Oh. Shit. Right. Wait… “Is it a good idea to tell you my name?”
The man made a chuffing sound, “Is it a good idea to drag the Red Hood into your apartment?”
Touche. “Uh, yup. Good point. It’s Tim. Or like, Timothy but everyone calls me Tim.” Red Hood doesn’t nod or give any indication he even heard Tim, instead he turns and heads to the window. Wrenching it open, he steps out on the fire escape but pauses and pops his head back in.
“You know the locks on these windows are broken right?”
“Well, before you opened it they were stuck so like…” Tim raised his palms and shrugged. He wasn’t paying dirt bottom prices for quality here. All that had mattered was that they were pet friendly and there was a roof that only marginally leaked.
“Hm.” Was the returning grunt before the window was shut as forcefully as it was opened and the weird experience of Tim’s night and morning vanished with the rising sun. But not before Tim noted the folded blanket and a note replacing his own by an empty gatorade bottle.
‘I like your cat’s name. - RH’