Archive of Our Own ^beta

Tim was snapped into awareness by a sharp pain striking his ribs.

He curls instinctively, eyes flicking open as he fights to gain his breath back. His hands catch behind him, and tugging them does nothing but rattle the short chain attaching him to the floor. Someone laughs; a boot digs into his chest again, this time turning him onto his back and pinning him there. The metal around his wrists digs into his skin uncomfortably. The pressure on his chest increases until he can hardly breath and his bones creak underneath the weight. Breathing certainly isn’t helped by the gag blocking off his main airway.

“You’re not gonna move, now, are you, kiddo?” The dude pinning him croons, leaning on his knee.

Tim can’t respond, obviously, but he has no inclination to move when the only possible outcome would be his cracked ribs turning into broken ones.

“Be careful with him, John, if you break somethin’ ain’t nobody gonna want him. And no way did we drag him all the way from downtown just to not get compensated,” A second person growls.

The first rolls his eyes. “He’s fine. It won’t be a problem as long as he don’t struggle or nothin’.”

The library. He was just going to the library. He’d wanted to find sources for a research paper for school. He couldn’t have gone to the Manor’s library or the Batcomputer, because Bruce thought he was with his parents.

“Yeah, you’re lucky bruises wear off easy.” The second person says. Tim can’t breath very hard. He might hyperventilate with all the quick, short breaths he’s taking.

He hadn’t wanted Bruce to find out his parents had changed plans and flew to Europe instead.

“I need his neck.”

He should’ve just gone to the Manor. He wasn’t even in costume.

The first fists a hand in Tim’s hair, tipping his head to the side with a nasty grin. “There ya go. Easy access to the bloodstream.”

He wasn’t even Robin. He’d been caught off-guard as a civilian. He didn’t have a tracker on. He didn’t have a panic button. Bruce wouldn’t have even noticed.

“You can’t touch him after this.” The second person warns. They come into view; they’re holding a needle. A syringe. Tim’s eyes widen; drugs are very, very bad news. He thrashes weakly. It doesn’t do jack shit. Asshole number one keeps him in place easily. “We need him to be desperate before we bring him in.”

He had no idea who these people were. From the very few minutes he’d been in a room with them and conscious, he’d learned very little. As far as he could tell, they weren’t a part of an organization or a gang. They had some experience, they were too efficient keeping Tim in one place to not, but he hadn’t heard a word of anyone else they’d kidnapped. He wasn’t even sure there were more people involved in the situation than him and them.

The needle descends. Tim can’t do anything to stop it. It slides into his neck, and whatever drug is in it is now in his body. As soon as the second one pulls back, the first one gets off of him immediately.

Tim can breathe again. He scoots away as much as he can, backing away from the two as far as the chain will let him. He watches them, eyes wide with horror as he waits for whatever effects to take place. At least then, he can categorize it.

Asshole number one smirks at him. Number two just turns and disposes of the needle.

Prickling washes through his veins, like there’s several tiny hedgehogs chasing his blood around his body.

Cuddle pollen.

How did they even get their hands on cuddle pollen? And in liquid form? Tim had only ever encountered pollen as pollen. There was a chance this was copycat stuff, but the effects felt exactly the same. Why would they need him on pollen? He can’t figure out what their intentions are. They snatched him on his way to the bus stop. They didn’t ask for a ransom. They didn’t even know his name. And now they’d injected him with cuddle pollen. Extremely suspicious circumstances, and he is extremely fucked.

“The meeting starts in an hour.” Asshole number two says. “We should get over if we want to set up before anyone else shows up.”

Number one grins. “’Course. Can I use the tazer if he tries ta touch me?”

“Don’ give him burns, and you’re good.”

“Great.” Number one hisses gleefully. He unhooks a black box from his jean pocket, and steers clear of Tim’s limbs as he works at the lock connecting the chain to the floor. Not that Tim would want to touch him anyway. He would gladly take the numbing pain over that greasy bastard.

Pollen makes him weaker. Always has. Which means Tim can’t think of a way out of however much worse this is about to get. Asshole number one leads him to a van by the fucking chain, clicking him in place in the back of it, without so much as a defiant pull from Tim. Tim’s nerves start going haywire as the van starts moving, and his longing to reach out for one of his two kidnappers grows stronger every minute. Not enough to break his control, but enough to make him start wishing he was unconscious again.

It's a ten-minute drive. The two in the front are joking to each other like they don’t have a child in the back of their truck.

They pull him out behind a very large building that he doesn’t recognize. They’re in Crime Alley, they have to be. The general feeling is the same, even if Tim doesn’t know the Alley that well. He hasn’t touched the Alley in quite a few months. Hasn't since the guy who hates him started running it.

Also, Crime Alley is just a sketchy place to be. Example: whatever the hell Tim’s dealing with right now.

The building is empty except for them. There’s a large room that he’s led to, chairs scattered around the middle of it. He really, really wants to be able to run right now. The building they’d kept him in before, it had been smaller, with only them. This room implies a lot more people and that can’t be anything but bad. Running’s not an option, though; he accidentally shifts a bit too close to asshole number one and gets tazed for it. The jolts that run through his muscles make them work even worse than they already were.

Every nerve in his body is spiking up into pain. Longing takes over his brain even more. He’s led to the middle of the room. Asshole number one yanks on the chain, pulling him to the ground. There’s a very convenient little nick in the concrete under him where number one attaches the chain. He loops it around and attaches it to itself with a lock, meaning the chain is that much shorter in length. Tim barely has enough leeway to shift his legs underneath him so he can at least sit comfortably.

His captors pull up chairs a little bit away from him. He’s kind of the center point of the room. That makes him very, very uneasy.

People start filing in. The first few catch their attention on him very quickly, and he can still listen to them talk about him. They say some very unsavory things; stuff about how pretty he is, and why exactly he’s here. The two who brought him in say repeatedly that they’ll tell more about him when everyone gets here. That doesn’t help his mounting panic in the slightest.

At some point, though, the pain from the pollen that’s leaving him gasping and shuddering causes him to lose focus. He tunes the talking out, the conversation, how many people are walking in, the way they look at him, because it’s all just a little too much and he desperately wants to launch himself at the nearest person just to make the physical and mental pain of the pollen go away. He doesn’t quite process all the faces he can manage to look at, but some back part of his brain is cataloguing and comparing. He recognizes a few of them. They’re all big names in the Alley, crime lords and people who deal in dark business. He can’t seem to hold on to the specific information very long.

Lots of details start going over his head. He can feel people looking at him, though. He can feel them leering. Something finally clicks in his brain; The one thing they all have in common? Human traffickers. Cold, stabbing dread washes over him, panic increasing tenfold. He’s not sure he’s going to be able to make it out of this one. The next person who touches him is going to have him in the palm of their hand. He’d be entirely unable to even attempt to stop whatever they wanted. He was terrified to think of what a room full of human traffickers might want from him. Because he knew exactly what.

He's already pretty damn close to hyperventilating, his terror setting him so far on edge he’s about to tip over. But when he sees the flash of uncomfortably familiar matte red?

He stills entirely.

His eyes blow wide. He stops breathing. Phantom pains of bones snapping and his blood leaking out of him ache over his body, noise rushing in his ear. His entire brain zeros in on the man who’s attention has just caught on him.

The Red Hood hated traffickers.

So why was he in a meeting with an entire room full?

He can’t tear his eyes away as he watches Hood still, his head tipping a little. He stares for only a second, then starts sauntering towards him.

Tim can’t help the full-body flinch, feeling the sudden urge to melt himself into the concrete.

He can’t fucking breathe.

“What do you have here?” Hood asks, having pushed through the crowd to stand in front of Tim, studying him from where he towers over him. Hood sounds amused, and that immediately dashes any hopes Tim has of this being an undercover mission to infiltrate or whatever and not him dealing with traffickers and happening upon Tim in the most disadvantaged situation possible.

Asshole number one grins. Even though Hood’s helmet turns away to look at him, Tim can’t rip his eyes away. Can’t even blink. “Red Hood! Didn’ know you were gonna show up. That right there is a surprise. As soon as the Big Guy gets here, we’re gonna tell everybody about it.”

“A surprise, huh?” Hood drawls. The way the helmet puts an edge on his voice is just as horrifying as it was a few months ago. That voice echoes in the nightmares that keeps Tim awake and shaking at night. “What’s the deal?” He shifts closer.

“Woah, don’ touch the merchandise yet, there, buddy.” Number one protests.

Tim feels cold wash over him at the word. Merchandise. That heavily implies he’s being sold.

Hood catches onto the word as well. “Merchandise?” He questions, an interested lilt decorating the last syllable.

Fuck.

“We wanna set up a real market. He’s going to be our first sale. Hopefully get some partnerships going. A show of expertise.” Asshole number two informs Hood.

Hood nods approvingly. “Should work out pretty well for you. I’m interested.”

“That’s great,” Number one grins, “Should only be ten minutes ‘fore the Big Guy gets here. Then we’ll start the party.”

“Looking forward to it.” Hood promises, helmet turning at Tim one more time before he steps back. He melts into the crowd again, but Tim can always still see him, lingering at the front of the group. Out of all the people looking at him, he has Tim’s attention.

The distance does let him breathe again, though. Limitedly, because he can just feel memories with steel toes cracking against his ribs, but some of his thoughts rush back in as well. Mainly; What the fuck was Hood doing here? Everyone knew he really didn’t like traffickers. Most of the ones he came across ended up an almost unrecognizable body. The logical part of him that was still somehow functioning wanted to know what the fuck changed. The rest of him knew it didn’t matter, because Hood knew who he was, had a personal vendetta against him, it didn’t matter that he wasn’t Robin right now because clearly his grudge hadn’t been satisfied yet. He’d practically fallen into Hood’s lap. And if Hood was determined to buy him? He’d get his way. Everyone else was irrelevant, because Tim knew how persistent he could be.

He wasn’t sure if Hood was a better or worse option than any of the other people in here.

Pain is still spiking through him when a stone-faced woman strolls through the crowd, followed closely by a dude hefting a very expensive looking gun. The woman stands at the dead center of everybody in the room. One simple clearing of her throat has a quieter hush spreading over the room.

“Thank you all for showin’ up tonight. We’re here to discuss the new laws put in place by the state that could open up some loopholes for our business. ‘Fore we start, there are new players here tonight.” She turns and nods at the assholes. Tim can feel the attention of every single person in the room drifting from the woman, to his captors, to him.

Asshole number two stands up, addressing the group. “We’re trying to get set up in this city. We’re lookin’ for partnerships tonight. We have experience, willin’ to work with anyone on anything. We wanted to put up a sale tonight, as a show of expertise.” They gesture at Tim, and the attention in the room shifts entirely on him.

“Starting at fifty thousand dollars!” Asshole number one suddenly yells, voice rising in gleeful enjoyment. “Young male, untouched as of yet. We’ve also got him on sex pollen, so as soon as he’s sold, he’s all yours!” The room abruptly explodes into noise again, more enthusiastic.

“I got fifty-five!” Someone hollers.

“Fifty-six!”

“Have you seen those eyes?” Someone else scoffs. “I got sixty for those cute little blues.”

“Sixty-five.”

“I kinda want to see how well that mouth works.”

“Seventy.”

“Any way I could convince ya to share?”

“Are you seeing those facial features? And those hips. He’s at least eighty.”

“I’d take him for eighty.”

“I got ninety!”

Tim grits his teeth. The tone of those voices twist up his stomach and make him feel sick.

Then a voice cuts through everything.

“Hundred and fifty,” Hood drawls.

Asshole number one lights up immediately. “Jesus Christ, Red, you eager?”

“Hell yeah I am.” Hood says, smirk coming through his tone.

“Any counter-offers?” Number one yells.

“Hundred and fifty-five.” Some guy pipes up challengingly.

“Two hundred.” Hood counters easily.

Silence.

Number one’s grin is huge. “Sold!” He shouts.

Hood strolls forward leisurely. “Money should be transferring right now.” He says. Asshole number two nods at him. Number one unchains Tim from the floor and drags him to his feet, and number two hands Hood the key to the cuffs.

The chain is transferred to Hood’s hands, and ice washes through Tim’s tendons as realization burns him from the inside out.

He just got sold to the fucking Red Hood.

Surely he wouldn’t sexually assault a child.

Surely he didn’t buy Tim solely for that purpose.

Surely Tim’s not hoping in vain.

Tim can’t breathe again as Hood’s fingers close around the chain. The last time he was near Hood, he almost killed him.

Jeers and taunts are thrown from the crowd. “He’s real pretty, bastard’s lucky.”

“Can’t believe he has that much money to throw around.”

“Worth it. Do you see that ass?”

“Hey, Hood! I’ll give you fifty thousand if you let me have a turn.”

One person in particular pipes up. “You goin’ home to enjoy him, Hood?”

Hood reaches out and trails the back of gloved fingers down Tim’s cheek. The contact sends waves of relief through him, and while he flinches, he can’t flinch away. “No, not yet.” Hood hums.

Three words is all it takes to floor him, to send him deep over the edge into the panic.

“This meeting is important. I’ll stick around. Not like the pollen’s going anywhere for another few hours.” Hood shrugs, removing his hand. Tim can’t help but gasp as pain slams back into him, sharp and cutting. He can’t help the way he leans forward for the contact. He can’t help the way he stumbles after Hood when he turns and starts walking. “’Sides, there’s no harm in lettin’ you look at him ‘til I can take him, right? Not like you’re shortin’ me of anythin’.”

The stares make him feel dirty.

Jason Todd, his hero, his Robin, the miracle back from the dead, the guy who tried to kill Batman and definitely tried to kill Tim, has just bought him. And the Red Hood was supposed to have rules against this shit. But he also had rules against hurting kids. Jason had told him repeatedly that Robin was a target, that Robin was meant to be hurt, that those colours attracted pain. He clearly didn’t believe that the rules applied to Robin. He’d already proved that in the Tower. Why wouldn’t he be willing to break another of his own rules? He wanted to make Robin suffer. That would be a pretty good way of going about it.

But Jason Todd? His idol? The thought kind of makes him want to die. This might be worse than a random stranger touching him. At least Tim wouldn’t have to deal with this stupid, harsh sorrow rolling around his abdomen. Nor the stinging betrayal, or the horror.

He can’t hold back the tears anymore. He’s in pain, exhausted, people are looking at him, he’s been kidnapped and restrained, no one’s coming for him, and he’s just been sold to the Red fucking Hood. He physically can’t hold back all his emotions anymore. Most of what’s left is just a deep, aching despair. Hood takes his seat. Tim can feel fingers grazing his skin, enough to make him shudder in pain and flinch away. Hood takes his elbow, forces him to his knees. Guides his head to rest on the space between his thigh and stomach. Drags a hand through his hair, catching on tangles.

“You can wait a little longer for it, can't you?” Hood says sweetly, fingers trailing up Tim's throat as he brushes a thumb across the corner of Tim's eye. “After this meeting's over, we can go somewhere private and I'll have you as long as you want.”

Tim shudders in tune to the encouraging jeers. He turns his head away, into the fabric of Hood's pants, hiding the sobs that made his entire body tremble.

Jason keeps his hand focused on getting the knots out of the kid's hair. There are a lot. His hair is greasy, shiny under the florescent lights of the room. They must've had him a while; he's definitely not showered in a few days.

Tim's shaking against him. The key to the chains burns a hole in the pocket Jason placed it in. What he wants is to take the kid and leave, but he can't. This meeting is important. Not only does he need to find out how these traffickers plan to exploit the laws some dumbfuck put into place, but he also needs to try to wiggle his way into some of the remaining conversation. If he can figure out some of these ‘business details', it'll be a big help in taking down a good portion of Gotham's trafficking rings. Things like locations, sale dates, customers, upcoming shipments. That's the shit he needs, and that's the shit he can find here. He worked too hard for too long to give up on this meeting, and all of those missing people, now.

Even when all the tangles are smoothed out, he doesn't stop. His hands constantly itch with the desire to shoot every single person in this room, and that is a very bad idea, so keeping his hands busy means he's less likely to blow this entire thing. The looks people keep giving the kid aren't helping, though.

When his eyes had met Tim's, he'd almost frozen completely. The kid looked like shit. Shaking on the floor in a plain short-sleeved undershirt and jeans, clearly exhausted and terrified, chained to the ground. This wasn't Robin. This was a kid in the middle of a room full of human traffickers. And like any other kid who could've been stuck in this situation, Jason felt a sudden, overwhelming, visceral want to get him out. And he knew damn well he wasn't going to be able to squash that feeling, not when Tim was going to be sold, so he was currently just rolling with it. He'd had his mind set since the very first sexual comment directed at Tim.

The discussion was surprisingly productive, considering most of these traffickers behaved like teenage boys. The information Jason gained was just about invaluable, and he was going to be threatening a few politicians soon, because some of them were fucking in on the shitty laws.

Tim was still shaking, though less harshly, halfway through the meeting. Jason wishes he could pick the kid up and cuddle him properly, because the pollen had to be a bitch right now, but he couldn't. First, every inch of his skin was covered entirely, so that only would've brought half the comfort anyway, and second, everyone in the room was paying attention to him. They were respecting his buy and keeping their hands and comments to themselves, but if Jason did something out of what they expected him to do, his carefully crafted tower of cards would crumble, and all the reputation he's built would disappear. That doesn't keep him from wanting to leave, though.

The group breaks out into an argument. Jason and a few others are the calm in the middle of a storm, sitting and quiet while everyone else is standing and screaming, so Jason takes advantage and inserts himself into conversation. Tim must be helping his image, because it's easier than he thought. He can extract the information he came for quickly and without suspicion. He's definitely going to shoot every single one of these assholes once he can get as many victims as possible safe.

One guy asks him about Tim. Jason decides he's going to die very, very slowly.

“So, that was a lotta money to throw away on a kid. He's pretty, sure, but d'you think he'll be worth it? How d'you know if he's any good or not? Or d'you just got a type?” The sleazy fucker drawls, kicking out his legs.

“He's got sex pollen in him. It'll be long, for sure, if nothing else.” Jason shrugs. “’N yeah. Black hair and blue eyes. I have a history with those features.”

“Sounds like you got lucky, then.” The guy grins lazily. Jason desperately wants to pull those rotting yellow teeth out of his skull. “This meetin’ better end soon, though, otherwise your prime time will cut out. I imagine he'll be less fun without the pollen.”

“Yeah, probably. I have ways of making him compliant, though.” Jason says dismissively.

The meeting does, thankfully, wrap up pretty quickly after that. Some deals have been sorted out, and people start dispersing quickly. Big gatherings like this have a very likely chance of getting busted.

Jason stands, gathering chain in his hands and pulling Tim up gently by the handcuffs. The kid gasps and presses into his arm. Jason frowns, settling an arm around his waist.

Someone else catches him as he heads out. “Hey, Hood. Quite the pretty one you got.” She says, hopping up next to him. Jason finds her incredibly annoying. Reminds him way too much of the crazy young women he used to meet at galas, daughters of the rich who were uncaring of his personal bubble and entirely too inappropriate with a fourteen-year-old.

“Yeah, he is.” Jason agrees easily.

The woman leans forward, curling her fingers around Tim's chin. “Tell me if you need help breaking him in.” She breathes, sending a smirk up at Jason. She tips Tim's head to the side, pressing a kiss to his throat for about three seconds too long. The right amount being zero.

“Jen.” Jason says sharply, pulling Tim out of the fingers that she's definitely going to be losing later.

She laughs, pulling away. “Sorry, sorry. I know he's yours. Seriously, though, I wouldn' mind a bit.” She spins, ending up on Jason's other side, pressed against his arm with a hand on the armour over his chest. “And call me if he's not enough ta satisfy ya.” She purrs close to his ear.

“’Course, Jenny.” He says, matching her tone. “Might do that anyways.” It'd be easier to kill her.

She grins at him, and slips away. Jason manages to get Tim out of the building before anyone else tries to talk to him.

It's the middle of the night, and it's fucking freezing outside. The kid isn't even wearing shoes. As soon as he can, he slips into the shadows with Tim, picking him up for the short time it takes for him to get to his motorcycle. Jason wouldn't put it past the kid to try to run off with pollen in his veins and get either shot or captured again, so he doesn't take the cuffs off before he arranges the kid in front of him on the bike.

Tim's fingers curl into his jacket. He leans back into Jason's chest. He's still shaking, but Jason can't tell if that's just because it's as cold as Satan's balls out or if he's gonna need to pull the kid out of a panic attack.

It takes too long to get to his safehouse. Tim's definitely shaking from the cold at that point, so Jason stows his bike, scoops the kid up, and takes him inside as quickly as possible.

As soon as the door is locked and the traps and alarms are set, the first thing Jason does is cut the gag from Tim's mouth and unlock the cuffs, tossing the chains clear across the room. Tim all but falls into Jason's arm, tears rolling once more as he gasps, “Please, Jason. Please.”

“Tim.” Jason says firmly, pulling Tim's head back just enough so the kid can look at him. “Tim. You are a child. I would rather go to Arkham than ever touch a child sexually. I know what I made it sound like, but none of it was true and all of it was to keep you safe. I went too far with letting them touch you.” He grimaces, pulling off his helmet and tossing it. “I'm sorry for that. And I can't promise you that I won't touch you at all, because you do have cuddle pollen in your system, and I don't want you in that kind of pain, but I can promise that I have no intention of doing it in a way you don't want me to. Okay?”

Tim doesn't respond, just stares at him. Jason sighs, and nods. “Okay, look, I really need to go change. The body armour isn't going to do much for you. Will you be okay for three minutes?”

Tim drags his arm across his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing. “Three minutes?” He questions.

“Yup. That’s it. Just to change, and then I’ll come back and you can hug me and that’s all that’ll happen.” Jason tells him.

Tim looks at him, then nods once, tentatively. Jason begins to back up out of his grasp, watching pain take over his expression bit by bit, nudging him towards the couch as he went. Then, just their fingertips are touching; Jason gives him a second to prepare, then lets go, letting him fall down onto the cushions of his couch. The little pained whine the kid accidentally lets out makes Jason’s movements hurried.

Three minutes, almost on the dot. He leaves his shit on the floor in a pile, and pulls on a shirt and pants he has. He keeps one of his pistols and two sheathed knives on him, and turns back out to the living room. He pulls Tim into his arms, slipping the gun between the cushions of the couch. The kid’s shaking again, some of it from the pain and some of it centered around his shoulders. Jason wraps an arm tight around his mid-back, and cups the other hand at the back of Tim’s head, drawing him in. The kid hesitates for barely half a second before wrapping both arms around Jason’s back. He seems to break down further, but the shaking stops a lot quicker with the less layers between them.

After a minute, Jason warns, “I’m gonna sit down.” He turns and sinks into the cushions, slowly pulling Tim into his lap, slow enough that the kid could pull away if he wanted to. He doesn’t, but he does stiffen a lot. As soon as Jason stops moving, he shoves his head into his chest, shoulders hunched and breathing irregular and halting.

Jason only holds him until his breathing evens out and his body is still. Then he shifts, pulling Tim's shoulder back until his face is visible. “Kid, I want to ask you some questions. ‘S that alright?”

“’S not like I can stop you.” Tim mutters.

“Are you gonna answer, though?” Jason raises an eyebrow.

Tim's silent for a while, tenseness creeping up his shoulders. “Yes.” He whispers.

“Okay. How long did they have you for?”

The kid stills entirely. “What?” He sounds confused.

“How long did they have you? When were you taken?”

“Um… Three days? I think?” Tim says stiffly. “Why?”

“When's the last time you ate?”

Tim thinks for a minute. “I… yesterday, maybe. I don't remember.”

“Do you remember getting drugged, other than the pollen?”

Tim shrugs. “Some kind of sedative. I wasn't conscious a lot.” He says, sharply, “It's worn off now, though.”

“I thought so.” Jason nods. “Do you know if there were other people that they took?”

Tim shakes his head. “No. There wasn't anyone else, not in that building. I didn't see them more than three times, though.”

“They left you alone?” Jason clarifies.

“Yeah?” Tim questions.

Jason takes a deep breath. “You were gone for three days. I know for a fact Bruce never said anything, because otherwise it would be all over the news. And he didn't come and get you, either. Why didn't Bruce notice you were gone for three days?”

Tim shrinks in on himself, ducking his head. “He thinks I'm with my parents.”

“Your parents?” Jason echoes. “He hasn't- What? Okay, why didn't your parents notice you were gone?”

Tim shakes his head. Jason pokes the kid's side, and he flinches. “Tim.” He says warningly.

“They're in Europe.” Tim whispers. “They changed plans. I didn't tell Bruce.”

Jason sighs. Right, so Bruce isn't an oblivious asshole on purpose. He's still thinking about skinning the man. “Kid… Alright, whatever. What were you doing when they kidnapped you?”

“Leaving the library.”

Jason groans. “Great. There's supposed to be a cop who watches for that shit. I bet they're dirty.” He growls.

They're both silent for a minute. Then Jason asks, carefully, “Tim? I want you to answer honestly, okay? Did either of those guys touch you?”

“What?”

Jason says slowly, “Did they assault you, Tim? I don't tolerate that shit. If they did, I need to know.”

“No,” Tim says, equally slow, “They didn't.”

“Okay.” Jason nods. “Hey, kiddo, if you're tired, you can go to sleep. You're safe.”

“Am I?” Tim mutters.

“Yes.”

The kid snorts. “I don't think so. You don’t like me. This is the perfect opportunity for you to hurt me. No way are you going to pass that up.”

“I am.” Jason says firmly. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“Sure,” Tim says tiredly. “I'll pretend like I'll believe that. Can you cut the mind games? Just… do, whatever you're going to do.”

“No mind games.” Jason shifts, sliding down the couch. Tim tenses, muscles coiled underneath Jason's arms. Jason leans himself against the couch arm, keeping Tim on top of him. He's elevated, just a little, now, while Tim's completely laying, head pillowed just under his ribcage. “Go to sleep, Robin. The pollen will wear off in a few hours.”

Tim doesn't respond, but Jason doesn't speak further. Jason starts running his fingers through his hair again, and after a while, he can feel the kid losing the battle with unconsciousness, his breath evening out. Jason makes sure he's completely asleep before slowly shifting to grab his phone.

Bruce picks up after the third ring. “Hello?” He asks, completely level. Damn. He was hoping he'd woken him up.

“Where are Tim's parents, right now?” Jason snaps, letting the anger under his skin finally rise and boil over into his tone.

“Jason?”

“Check. I want to know exactly where they are at this moment.”

“They should be home.”

“Check.” Jason growls.

Bruce is silent for a long time. After a few audible clicks from his side, he says, “They're in Norway.” He sounds a little pissed, and Jason gets a smidge of satisfaction from knowing he's not entirely incompetent.

“Yep. Now, I want you to tell me where Tim is.”

Bruce pauses at his tone. “Jay,” he says warningly.

“Where is he?”

“I don't know.”

“Well he's definitely not at home with his parents.” Jason snaps. “You know how I know? Because I fuckin' found him gagged and chained in the middle of a meeting of fucking human traffickers, Bruce. I had to buy him to get him out safely. D'you know what he told me? He said he's been gone for three days. And no one noticed. That would've ended badly for him if I hadn't been there. He got really fuckin' lucky.”

“Jay,” Bruce says, pained, “He didn't tell me.”

“I don't care.”

“Is he okay?”

“He's in one piece.” Jason snarks. “You didn't know, sure. He didn't tell you, fine. Why the hell is he still under the Drake's guardianship? He already lives with you part-time, why do you let him go back when you know full well how unreliable his parents are?”

“I can't just take full custody.”

“You can, you just won't.”

“Tim doesn't want me to.”

“And why the fuck are you letting that stop you? He's clearly not safe. If he was with you, you at the very least would have noticed.” Jason spits. “His safety trumps his opinions. Always. Asshole.”

Bruce is silent for a few moments. “Can I talk to him?”

“Absolutely not. He's asleep right now.”

“Can I see him, then?”

“Fucking- no. I'm not telling you where we're at. Actually, until you either have full custody over him or you somehow manage to convince his shitty parents to actually stay in one place and give a shit about him, I'm keeping him. Don't fucking call me back until you do.”

He doesn't wait for an answer, just hangs up and turns his phone off. He drops it on the floor - it's a burner, anyway, any important calls will come from another phone.

He sighs, letting the tension bleed out of his bones again. He curls both arms around the kid, keeping his grip lose in case the kid decides to wake up. Then he settles a little more, seeing as he's gonna be stuck here a while, and closes his eyes.

He's a light sleeper. He’s had to be, all of his life. It's not something that bothers him. As a consequence, though, he wakes up to the slightest noise.

He keeps his body relaxed and his breathing even, cataloguing quickly. Tim is still and also breathing evenly in his arms, so it's not him. Jason can still feel eyes on him, though, so he flashes a hand under him to get to his pistol, and cocks it in the direction of the gaze.

Nightwing is in the doorway, staring at them, escrima sticks out but held loosely at his side. He's just standing there, ominously, like a fucking weirdo.

“That's fucking creepy. I should shoot you. Fucking stalker.” Jason growls.

Dick doesn't say anything for a few moments. “What happened?” He calls softly, unmoving.

“Did Bruce send you?” Jason asks, keeping his expression level.

“He sent me this address, saying that Tim had been taken.” Dick says uncertainly. “I knew this was your safehouse, but I… didn't know what to expect. What happened?”

Jason lets the barrel fall, replacing it between the cushions. “I was headed to a meeting.” He says tiredly. “Buncha traffickers. Talkin' about those stupid new state laws. Needed the information so I could stop them from exploiting the loopholes. Took me a long time to convince the big guys that I was genuinely interested in the business. Reputation, you know? Showed up, tried to mingle. Found Tim, chained to the ground in the middle of all of them, plain old Tim Drake.” Jason gestures to the kid, then settles his arm around his back again. “The head of the meeting shows up, announces new players. The two fuckers who took him stand up and announce that they've got him on sex pollen, and start auctioning him off. I had to buy him. I couldn't leave the meeting without that information, so I didn't.” He thunks his head back on the couch arm. “I had to say a lotta shit to convince the rest of ‘em that I really did want to use him for sex.”

“Did you?” Dick cuts in.

“Fucking no. Obviously, no.” Jason spits hotly.

“Then I have no reason to condemn you for it.” Dick tells him softly. “You did it to keep him safe.”

Jason stays quiet for a second, then snorts. “Yeah, well you can tell that to the kid. He believed me, too.” He shakes his head at the frown on Dick's face, pushing on. “They had him for three days. Got snatched coming home from the library. His parents are in Europe. Nobody actually touched him, though, so I think he's relatively okay.”

“His parents aren't even here?” Dick asks, eyebrows furrowing.

“Nope. Norway.” Jason answers. “I told B he could have the kid back once he has full custody. How'd he find me?”

Dick nods, then says, “I don't know. He didn't explain much. Can I come in?”

Jason eyes him, then relents, and shrugs. “Fine. Don't wake the kid.”

Dick puts his sticks back in their holders and creeps forward. He reaches out to brush the back of his fingers across the underside of Tim's jaw, then starts examining the rest of him. His fingers pause over the bruises on Tim's wrists, as well as the bruise ringing his bicep. Dick nudges Jason's arms to the side, then tugs his shirt up; there are bruises cracked against the kid's ribs, as well, dark purple swelling that's fairly new in some places. Dick's frowning harder now. His gaze catches on a small burn in the kid's side.

“That,” Dick says slowly, peering at it, “is an electrical burn.”

“Tazer.” Jason grinds out. “Assholes. He was already restrained. And as far as they knew, he's just a kid.”

Dick sighs. “I should take care of it.” He says. “Where's your kit?”

“Kitchen sink.” Jason responds. “You should dig out some food, too. He said he probably last ate yesterday, but I didn't want to leave him to try to cook something.”

“You're gonna trust me with the food?” Dick jokes, straightening.

“We both know full well you can cook, you're just a lazy bastard.” Jason retorts.

“Well, I was talking about poison.” Dick shrugs as he disappears through the doorway.

“You better not,” he hisses, and he knows Dick hears from the quiet laugh that comes from the kitchen.

He comes back with Jason's med kit and a wet washcloth. Jason silently holds Tim's shirt away from the burn, watching Dick clean it off and spread burn ointment over it. “He's not woken up yet.” Jason comments quietly as Dick bandages the burn. “I thought talking woulda done it.”

“He was probably exhausted.” Dick tells him. “He's usually aware, but being kidnapped for three days would… yeah, that would put him pretty deep.”

Jason nods, replacing his arm. Dick gives him a look, and asks, “Are you injured, Jay?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. Bruises, is about it. Promise. I didn't go too hard on patrol before the meeting.”

Dick nods. “What do you have for food?”

“Soup stuff.” Jason says immediately. “You know Al's recipe, right? Pretty sure I have all the stuff.”

Dick nods, taking the kit back. “I'm sure he'll appreciate it. Don't wake him up until I'm done.”

The light in the kitchen comes on this time. It filters into the room, casting the whole place in a lighter glow even though the actual light only streaks in the middle of the room. Jason closes his eyes, listening to Dick run around in the kitchen.

After Dick calls, Jason shakes the kid awake gently. Tim stirs, pushing up a little and blinking blearily. He stills when his still-tired gaze sets on Jason.

“Dick's here. He made soup.” Jason tells him quietly.

“What?” The kid mutters. Jason pushes himself into a sitting position, taking Tim with him. The kid only tightens his grip.

“Soup. You’re going to eat some.”

“You called Dick?” Tim whispers.

“No, I called Bruce. Bruce called Dick. Unfortunately.”

“You called Bruce?” Tim groans, thunking his head on Jason's chest.

“Ow,” Jason says. “Yes, I called Bruce. Why the hell wouldn't I?”

“He's… He'll worry. He didn't have to know.” Tim mutters.

Jason peers down at him incredulously. “What?”

“Bring him here,” Dick calls.

“I'm going to pick you up.” Jason warns.

Tim stiffens. “He's here. Why…?” He pauses, then says cautiously, “Okay.”

Jason scoops him up and stands, heading for the kitchen. Tim pokes at the bandage on his side.

Dick's got his mask off at this point, but otherwise, he's still in full Nightwing getup, which Jason assumes is what the kid's frowning at. He sets a bowl down, and Jason sits in a chair in front of it, making sure to loosen his grip.

Tim reaches for Dick first. Dick leans forward to hug him, but doesn't try to take him out of Jason's grasp. It wouldn't do as much with the suit. “Hey, kiddo.” Dick says softly. “Are you okay?”

“I'm… I don't know.” Tim says, sagging into Dick's arms. “…Why aren't you and Jason trying to, like, kill each other?”

“We're on…” Dick pauses. “Slightly better terms.”

“We had an achy feelings conversation a while ago and I decided I wasn't going to try to blow him up any more.” Jason deadpans.

Tim's quiet for a second. “I don't understand.” He says quietly. “Jason hates me. But you're here, and he hasn't hurt me yet, and…”

“I don't hate you, kid, don't put words in my mouth.” Jason pushes Dick away, lightly shoving Tim's head forward. “Eat the damn soup.”

“He's not going to hurt you, kiddo.” Dick says, shooting Jason a glare.

It worked, though, because Tim picks up the spoon. “I said that already. It's fair he didn't believe me.” Jason shrugs.

Dick makes a face at him. Jason glares right back. “There's clothes in the bedroom. Go change. I don't want to stare at that disgusting blue anymore.”

“Fine.” Dick nods, and disappears. Tim stiffens at his absence, dipping his head and downing the soup quickly. He's done before Dick comes back.

“Alright, you guys can take my bed.” Jason says, standing up. He gently pushes on Tim's shoulders, ready to hand him off to Dick – except Tim twists around and lunges to press himself into Jason's chest, plastering himself completely.

“Don't.” He says into Jason's shirt.

Jason blinks, unmoving. “Kid,” he says slowly, “Dick’s here. You can hug him, instead, now.”

“Don't.” Tim says, more forcefully.

“Or not.” Dick supplies helpfully.

“I… okay. Fine. Is it okay if we go to my bedroom? To sleep properly.” Jason asks.

“Dick comes too.” Tim huffs.

“Of course.” Jason agrees. He shares a look with Dick over the kid’s head; then he scoops him up, carrying him once again, and heads to the bedroom.

He takes only a second to set another of his guns on the dresser before dropping the kid onto the bed, hands dangling from around his neck. He gives Tim every chance to let go; he just drags Jason down onto the mattress, curling into his chest. Jason shifts them around a bit, so that the covers are actually over them, and it ends up with Tim splaying himself out on top of him. Dick gives them both a soft smile, then shuts the lights off. He slips in next to them, tapping Jason’s shoulder in a silent request for permission.

“Don’t push your luck.” Jason hisses.

Dick considers him for a moment, then slowly eases into Jason’s side, not stopping when he growls, not when he’s not outright saying no. Dick tucks his head on top of Jason’s shoulder and throws an arm around Tim’s back, but refrains from completely wrapping around Jason. He huffs, eyes rolling, but doesn’t protest as he feels the kid’s breathing even out again. Dick follows not too long after. Jason only allows himself a sort of half-unconsciousness.

The second time he’s woken for the night, he has a pretty good idea of who he’s pointing a gun at.

“Get the fuck out.” Jason spits, keeping his tone low. He had to let go of Tim to be able to level a barrel at the Bat.

“I talked to my lawyers.” Bruce offers.

“Yeah? Whoop-de-do. Good for you, you can be competent.” Jason snarls. “Get. Out.”

“The Drakes are out of service. I won’t be able to speak with them directly for a few days.”

“Great, so they wouldn’t have known for even longer if their son suddenly showed up dead.” He says sarcastically.

“You were right.” Bruce says suddenly. “I was careless with him. He was convinced that his parents were actually going to show up this time around. I didn’t want to get in the way of their family time. I should’ve known better. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to.” Jason retorts. “Besides, there’s a bigger problem at play here, Bruce. I told you not to talk to me until you had the papers signed.”

“Technically, you told me not to call you.” Bruce corrects.

Jason glares. “Oh, fuck you. How did you even find me?”

“Traced your phone call.” Bruce tells him.

He hisses. “That wasn’t supposed to be possible.” He flicks the safety back on. “You’re not getting him back.”

Bruce states simply, “That’s not why I’m here.”

Jason lowers his arm slowly. “Why’d you send Dick, huh? Thought I would let him leave with the kid?”

“I thought you might be more receptive to him checking on you than you would be to me.” Bruce tells him. He sounds honest. He hasn’t moved from the bedroom doorway, yet, and he’s about five times more ominous standing there silently in his stupid costume than Dick was. “I wasn’t expecting… this, though.”

“What, that I wouldn’t break any of his bones? That I didn’t shoot him?” Jason huffs.

“That you’d let him stay.” Bruce says quietly.

Jason bares his teeth. “Fuck you.” The man still hasn’t moved. “Quit creepin’ in the fuckin’ doorway, jackass.”

Bruce hesitates a second, then steps into the room, sweeping the cowl off with one smooth motion. He stops next to the bed for only a second, then lightly sits on the mattress, twisting to brush Tim’s hair away from his face. Then he withdraws entirely, looking at Jason expectantly.

Jason huffs. “They hopped him up on cuddle pollen before they sold him.”

“Oh.” Bruce says, letting out a rush of air.

“Fucking yeah, oh.” Jason glares. “They called it sex pollen.”

Bruce glances at him. “Thank you for getting him out.”

“What, you thought I would leave him there?” Jason scoffed. “To get assaulted. Human decency, Bruce, I do have it.”

“You didn't have to keep him with you, though. You didn't have to help him past that.” Bruce tells him softly. “But you did. And I'm grateful.”

“Yeah, you can be grateful after you get those damn papers signed.” Jason huffs. He lets his posture relax, curling his arm back around Tim. He's not sure if the kid's awake or not – probably not, seeing as he isn't reacting to Bruce's voice – but Dick definitely is, the bastard. The cunt's got his fingers curled in his shirt, like he's trying to keep Jason from running. Jason rolls his eyes.

“He can come get whatever he needs until then.” Bruce hums, rubbing a hand on Tim's shoulder.

Jason stares at him, eyebrows raised. “You're not gonna fight me on it?”

Bruce looks him in the eye. “Would there be a point?”

“None at all.” Jason says.

“Then no.” Bruce says. He reaches out slowly to cup Jason's face – Jason gives him a warning sneer, but doesn't pull away – and says softly, “Goodnight, Jason.”

He moves away swiftly, turning out the door without another sound. Jason hesitates until the last possible second to say, “Goodnight, Bruce.”

The Bat pauses, nods, and disappears.

Jason settles back down and closes his eyes, content to sleep fully.