Work Text:
Gotham City was always cold in someplace. Even in the dead of sweltering summer, and that wasn't because of air conditioners. No, that coldness came from the evil that lurked deep within the great city's shadows; deep, where only one man dared to venture. There were times, though, that that coldness gripped him hard.
Such as now.
Batman stood on top a high building, glaring coldly down at whatever just happened to be within his line of sight. He was alone, waiting for his informant, and in a terrible mood.
Finally that informant quite literally bounced onto concrete beside him, "Hey, Bats!"
"What have you found?" was Batman's bitter response.
"Sheesh," the other mumbled to himself, "no 'hello, Plastic Man, it's good to see you'?" He spoke a little louder and offered a cheesy grin, "Someone's a little more grumpy than normal, huh?"
That earned him a hard glare before Batman turned his angered gaze back to the street below, "Tell me what you've found," he growled, placing some added edge into his voice.
Double sheesh, Plastic Man thought as he took a cautious step back, "I've heard a lot of things," he held his hands up when emo man turned, "but if you told me what it is in specific you wanted to find I could…"
"A child," Batman interrupted in that same angered and edgy voice he'd been using, "have your underworld contacts said anything about a child?"
After a moment of stunned silence, Plastic Man sighed sadly, "It-it depends; in a city this size, children are…" his voice caught in his throat; all the terrible things he heard coming to bear in his mind.
For the first time that evening, Batman's expression changed from something angered to something sad… and fearful? He looked into the other's eyes, his voice laced with great emotion, "I'm," he hesitated briefly, "aware, of what happens in my city. Which is why finding this child is so important."
"Can I have a name?" Plastic Man asked, still in that solemn tone; but nonetheless surprised at how emotional the Dark Knight was becoming.
Underneath the cowl, he watched as the other forced a swallow, "Robin," was his quiet response, "his name is Robin."
The name immediately clicked, "Yeah!" Plastic Man exclaimed, "I know where he is! Come on, I'll take you!"
Hurrying across the City reveled a couple things to him: first, was that who ever this Robin kid was, the Caped Crusader knew the boy on some level; second, was that despite having to use grapple hooks to get around, Batman was surprisingly fast.
So by the time they reached their destination, an old warehouse on the opposite side of the City, he was out of breath. "There," Plastic Man panted as he pointed towards the building, "I'm pretty sure the boy is in there."
"Pretty sure?!"
"I mean, this is off the information I gathered from criminals…" pretty ironic considering what he once did for a living.
"Fine," Batman growled, "just stay out of my way," he took off towards the warehouse and disappeared into the late night shadows.
"O-okay," after a moment, he mumbled, "sure, I'll just stand here while you get to have all the fun of punching bad guys in the face. No need to thank me!!" He stood there for a long moment, "You know what, no, I'm not going to just stand here; I'm going in!"
There was a part of him that knew he was probably going to get a tongue lashing if he actually went in; so he made his to the roof and looked in through the skylights.
On one side, Batman was vigorously fighting a hoard of villains; trying desperately to make his way towards the other side. But he was so very slow. He heard the man roar angrily as the hoard started to overwhelm him.
Now Plastic Man wanted to go down there and help the Caped Crusader; but the quick look he cast at the other side made pause.
Another group of at least eight was loading a crate into the back of an unmarked delivery truck; seven of the eight were armed. Six of the eight climbed into the truck; two in the front and the rest in the back.
Huh. What could possibly in that crate?
He watched as the truck peeled away, and Batman grew enraged. Thus somehow earning the cowled hero an extra boost of speed and strength. Oh, yeah, he was going to be fine.
That left him wondering what in the world was going on; what with the Batman being concerned with a child, his desperate attack, and the bad guys loading a crate onto a truck. What could all these things possibly have in common.
He turned to watch as the truck sped away and he started to chase it; whatever was in that crate was greatly important to Batman. And the only way to get any answers about what all was going on was to chase down the truck and see what was inside.
It didn't take long for him to catch up to the truck; but that presented several problems. One, the truck was about to go over a bridge: two he had a feeling Batman's order to 'not intervene' was still very much so active: and three, what was he supposed to do?!
Welp, Plastic man thought as he stretched himself so he would land on top of the truck, it's not like I have much of a choice.
Mind made up, he slid under the truck and positioned his limbs above the axles. In another moment, he gripped them and yelped in surprise.
His flexible body was wound around the axles several times before his tightened up and the truck slid to an uncontrolled stop; it took slamming into a barrier for it to finally stop moving.
"Ow," Plastic Man groaned as he puddled onto the concrete, "I probably should have thought that through before I tried that." He shot back to his feet and clapped his hands, "Okay! Let's see what I've caught myself!"
He first checked the front seat; both driver and passenger were out cold. Nice. He walked around back; just as the pull up door opened, revealing the armed—but disoriented—grunts. They weren't even a problem.
As soon as they were all unconscious, he hopped into the back of the truck and cautiously approached the crate. It was tipped onto it's side, so he tipped back over; eliciting a fearful whimper from the crate.
"Huh," he scratched his head, "I didn't know wood could make noise. Well," he thought about for a moment, "I guess it could, technically… right?"
Carefully, he thinned his fingers and slid them between the lid and the box and pried it open; something he was expecting to be a lot harder to do.
Then his mouth fell open.
Whatever he had been expecting, it most certainly was not a small, petrified boy dressed like a traffic light looking at him with terrified, wide blue eyes and… oh… the poor boy apparently got so scared, he wet himself.
At least things were beginning to make sense, "Uh, hello there," Plastic man said awkwardly, "are you, uh, Robin?"
The boy nodded slowly.
"Well, I'm Plastic Man," he extended his hand in offer of a handshake, but winced when the boy flinched away, "uh, s-sorry. Do you, ya know, wanna get outta there?"
Another, slightly more enthusiastic, nod.
"Okay, can I," he hesitated, "can I pick you up?"
An even more enthusiastic nod and the boy held his arms up. It was as Plastic Man was ever-so-carefully lowered the child onto solid ground that Robin finally spoke, even if it was barely above an unsettled whimper, “C-can you t-take me home? P-please?”
“Well, uh” he lowered himself onto the ground, and tried very hard to think about what to do. It didn’t take him long before he trounced over to the door of truck, reached in, yanked the lab coat off the one unconscious dude, and showed his prize to the short boy, “I can’t take you to your home because I don’t know where you live, but,” he added quickly when the child’s face became dangerously sad, “I can take you to my place, get you cleaned up, maybe order a pizza, and introduce you my hamster!”
Robin shifted nervously about on his feet; he hesitated for a long moment, before he tried hard to offer a grin, “You-you have a hamster?”
“Oh yeah! He’s fluffy and orange and his name Jerry!”
The quiet giggle his energetic outburst elicited was like sweet music and Plastic Man immediately knew what he had to do; he walked back over and knelt, “Okay, wrap this around your waist and off we go!”
Another giggle as the boy now eagerly complied.
In the fifteen minutes it took Plastic Man to cross town to his apartment, Robin had finally warmed up to him. So he didn’t have a problem coercing the boy into the shower; all he had to do was promise to show Robin the hamster as soon as he was done. Easy.
Another minute or so, Robin walked out of the bathroom with his hair dripping wet, his mask still on his face, and clutching the way too large boxers Plastic Man had given him. As if to back up that obvious fact, Robin fixed him with an innocent look and just as innocently said, “‘s too big.”
With the feeling that laughing would only upset the boy, he grinned and beckoned the child closer, “Well there’s an easy way to fix that,” he tied several knots until he was positive the boxers wouldn’t fall down, “there. Isn’t that better?”
“Uh-huh,” was his eager response, “can I see Jerry now?”
“What about the shirt I gave you? I wouldn’t want you to get cold now, would I?”
“‘s too big to,” Robin said sounding a little more irritated, “can I see Jerry now?”
“Well let me see.”
This earned a disappointed pout. Plastic Man offered a dramatic sigh, “Look, if you go put the shirt on, I’ll go get Jerry. Deal?”
Now a wide grin, “DEAL!!” Excitedly, Robin dashed back into the bathroom as Plastic Man barely stifled a laugh and stretched to retrieve his pet hamster from his cage.
The child returned in what couldn’t have been more than a couple of seconds later, obviously struggling with trying to make the, what was on him, large shirt function as a shirt was supposed to; he gave the shirt’s owner a dubious frown, “I told you it didn’t fit!” he protested, his voice’s pitch going high.
“Well sorry, but it’s not like I have people your size living here,” Plastic Man returned, mimicking the boy’s tone.
For a moment, Robin puffed out his cheeks and Plastic Man had a feeling he might have took a step over the fickle ‘too far’ line all young children had. Then the boy sighed and shuffled his feet, “I wanna go home,” he whined.
Blast. He offered a small, encouraging, grin, “I’d take you if you would tell me where you live.”
“I can’t!” Robin replied far too close to a wail, “because that would reveal mine, and my Daddy’s, and my Mama’s secret identities!” now he started to cry, “and then I’d be a veryveryveryveryveryvery (gasp) veryveryvery very bad boy!!!!”
Whoops, Plastic Man winced. “I-I, that’s not what I was implying! Honest!” He paused when the boy gave him You’re lying! glare past his tears, making him think about all he’d said. Another wince, “Okay, so it does sound like I’m asking you to reveal you secret identity, and I’m sorry. I-I really am! But I don’t know who your parents even are; if I did, maybe I could go find them…”
The glare changed to a look of shock, “You don’t know my Mama and Daddy?”
“Uh, no? Am I s’pposed to?”
“‘ll yeah,” the shock now changed to confusion, and—all thought the tears remained in his big blue eyes—he’d pretty much stopped crying.
They stared at each other for a long moment. Plastic Man had even less patience than Robin, “Aren’t you going to tell me?”
A small sniff, “My Mama is Catwoman and my Daddy is Batman,” the child stated as if that was the most normal thing in the world.
Plastic Man felt his jaw drop to the floor, literally, “Your dad is the Batman?!” well now the Caped Crusader’s actions were a lot more logical; but really? The son of Batman and Catwoman, since when did that happen?!
Now the child looked even more confused.
“Eh, never mind.”
He blinked, then grinned, “Can I see Jerry now?”
Internally, Plastic Man sighed in relief and thanked God that small children had short attention spans; he patted the spot on the couch next to him, “Sure!” he held the small animal out to the boy, “have you ever held a hamster before?”
“Nope!” Robin replied, his eyes going wide as he looked at the small creature, “‘s a lot smaller than a cat!”
Now Plastic Man allowed himself to laugh, “Well, cup your hands like I am, good!” he gently gave the boy his pet, “a hamster is a lot like a cat, is suppose; they’re really, really, flexible, like to be awake during the night, and you can get ‘em past overly strict landladies.”
This earned another, sweet, giggle. Then an even brighter and more bubbly laugh, “His feet tickle!”Robin exclaimed.
Is this child even human? Plastic Man found himself thinking, then started to think of other ways he could earn laughter, “Hey, have you ever seen a hamster in a ball before?”
“A hamster in a ball?” Robin repeated, cocking his head slightly, “how do you even get a hamster inside a ball without deflating it?”
“Well there’s a special ball kind of ball that’s made so you can easily put a hamster in and take it back out.”
“But why?”
“So they can run around outside of their cage.”
“Why?”
“Because if you don’t put them in a ball, they can escape and you’ll never see them again.”
“Why?”
“Oh, no; I see what your doing and I’m not giving in.”
“Why?”
Plastic Man opened his mouth, thought better of it, and shut it. He stood and walked into the small apartment’s kitchenette, “Are you hungry?” he asked, hoping the boy would forget about putting Jerry into his ball.
His expectations were quickly dashed, “Kinda, but why would you put a hamster in a ball?”
Now he felt like banging his head against the wall, “I’ll show you if you stop asking questions and tell me what kind of pizza you like.”
The boy’s nose scrunched up, half in displeasure, half in frustration, and half a mix of sleepy annoyance; but the last one was in his tone when he answered with, “Cheese.”
He carefully looked the boy over, he did look a lot more tired then he did barely a minute ago. With a sigh, he walked over to the small child, knelt, and gently said, “You’re pretty tired, aren’t you?”
This earned a huff.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he guided Robin back over to the couch, “why don’t you lay down and I’ll take care of everything, okay?”
A sigh, “Okay.”
Feeling proud of himself for how well he handled the boy, Plastic Man carefully took his hamster and looked for the ball. A minute latter, he had the small creature inside the clear plastic ball and it rolled across the floor; but when he turned back to Robin, the boy had all ready fallen asleep.
He grinned.
There was a point in the night when Plastic Man had fallen asleep in one of the chairs he’d been watching Robin from. He had no clue when that was, or how long he’d been asleep… or when Batman had entered his apartment and woke him up. But he did know that that man was absolutely terrifying in the dark, he jumped and reached for the light switch, “Good gosh!!! Why do you sneak up on people like that?”
“I don’t sneak up people,” was his gravely answer, “the people just aren’t aware enough to notice when I’m around.” He produced some neatly folded clothes from one if his pouches and set them on a nearby table, “I came to bring your clothes back and to,” the man hesitated, “to thank you for saving and taking care of my son.”
“Uh, sure,” Plastic Man replied, straightening and trying not to show how elated he was at hearing the Caped Crusaders thanks, “it wasn’t a problem. And Robin is a really good kid.”
Batman actually grinned, “I’m aware,” he turned to leave.
“Uh, wait!”
The man turned back around, his expression holding some level curiosity.
“I-I want to thank you,” he paused as the look of curiosity changed all most to suspicion, “because you’re the reason I’m on the path I’m on.”
Now the look changed to confusion.
“As you’re aware, I used to be a crook; and, well, when you saved me from the Joker, you got me thinking,” he hesitated; he wanted to say more, but wasn’t sure what to say.
For a long moment, the Dark Knight’s expression remained unchanged, then he a corner of his mouth barely turned upwards, “I’m” a brief pause as if the man was making up his mind, “glad to hear it.” He turned and headed to the closest window.
An indescribable amount of joy flooded Plastic Man’s heart, somehow, those few and simple words meant so much; he smiled wide, “Thank you,” he said again as the man disappeared into the chilled night sky.