Alright, this is my first fic so prepare yourself for some OOCness.

Warning: Contains slash. Don't like, don't read

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Grayson is going to pay for this, Damian thought to himself as he groaned and tried to sit up. Slightly disoriented, he tried to remember how he'd gotten into this mess.

That night's patrol had started off pretty slow; a few petty thieves caught, a small drug bust, a quick car chase. Nothing major. They were actually back in the Batcave before nine, but only because Damian and Dick had plans for something bigger later on. Something they'd need a bit more focus, and a little more time for.

Recently there had been a string of killings in Gotham. Boys between the ages of eight and fifteen were abducted from large parties and found dead two days later. All were redressed in red suits with a black rose pinned to the breast pocket, and so far nine bodies had been found.

Gotham's police were doing what they could, but it was obvious they were getting nowhere And who does Gotham turn to when there's a case that can't be solved? Why Batman and Robin of course. Especially when that Robin is the perfect choice for something of an undercover mission.

"Grayson, if you think for even a second that I'd waste my time pretending to get along with a group of moronic slugs for the sake of such a low end crime, then you're even more incompetent than I thought," Damian said to Dick as the man pulled down his cowl for the second time that night.

"I don't see what the problem is," Batman said with a frown. "The guy's already killed nine people and you still consider it 'low end'?"

"Tt." My father wouldn't have wasted time on this, Damian thought to himself. He considered voicing this thought, but the look on Dick's face told him it wasn't the best time to start up that argument. "What if he's not even at this party?" he asked instead.

"Then we keep trying until we find one he is at."

"This is ridiculous."

"Just put the suit on and get in the car." Damian glared but said nothing, stomping upstairs to put on the tux Dick had bought him just for the sake of this case. I hate suits. They're impossible to move in, Damian thought with a frown. I certainly hope Grayson doesn't expect me to keep this thing spotless if we have to chase the killer. He struggled with the suit for a few minutes, but finally managed to put it on correctly. He might have been a bit quicker if he'd accepted Alfred's help, but that would only give Dick something to make fun of him for later.

"Hurry up Damian," Dick said from the Batmobile.

"Tt. It's not my fault this thing is so irritating."

"Well let's hope this is the only time you'll have to wear it," Dick said as they shot out of the Batcave. Damian nodded and rested his head on the back of the chair. How am I supposed to blend in with these idiots? He thought with a sigh as he tried to remember what Grayson had told him about getting along with other kids. Don't bring up their stupidity... don't pick fights... try not to make too many rude comments. How very specific Grayson, It's a wonder I don't ask for your help more often. Damian closed his eyes, wishing he could have at least worn his mask. He sighed again, and Dick glanced over at his partner with a worried look.

"If anything goes wrong, just use your communicator and I'll be there in a second, 'k?" Damian assumed he was trying to be reassuring but the words weren't really those he wanted to hear.

"Mmhm."

Dick pulled the Batmobile into an alley a block or so from the party. The boy who'd invited Damian was some rich snob- the block he would be walking was mostly the kid's front lawn. Not that Wayne manor is anything to sneeze at, Damian thought with a smirk as he walked down the pale sidewalk that framed the large house. When he reached the gate a large guard asked for his name, letting him in after checking his guest list.

"Have a nice night, Mr. Wayne," the guard said with a small bow. Damian ignored him and entered the brightly lit mansion, wandering around until he found the ballroom. I really doubt anyone's going sneak past that guard, Damian thought as he walked into the already filled room, taking in the scene as he did so. Creamy walls were laced with garland and strings of lights, and several banners with 'happy birthday' printed across them hung from a high ceiling. A glance at the large clock told him it was already 9 'o clock; the party had started more than an hour ago. Well patrol is more important than this nonsense anyway. He made his way over to an empty corner and prepared to sulk for the remaining hour of the party. A few kids tried to talk to him, but he wasn't able to keep any conversation going for more than a few minutes before someone walked away offended. There was a toast at 9:30 to honor the birthday boy, and Damian forced himself to participate when a waiter offered him a glance of water.

"Finally," Damian muttered as the clock chimed ten. The party's host, a twelve year old in a nine-hundred dollar suit, walked to the center of the room and began thanking everyone who had attended. He must have been a politician's son because he ended up going on and on about nothing for another half an hour. Damian actually found himself falling asleep at some point, and didn't wake up until almost all of the other guests had left. He mentally slapped himself for spending longer than necessary in such a place, and began walking back to the front door. The boy who'd given the speech thanked him for coming but Damian shook his head and kept walking.

By the time he'd managed to find his way back to the main hallway he'd developed a bit of a headache, and his ears were ringing. That's weird, Damian thought to himself as his vision blurred slightly and his legs began to feel weak. He stopped until his vision had returned to normal. "I didn't eat or drink anything, so I couldn't have been drugged..." he mumbled before he continued stumbling down the hall. "Well, there was the water at the 9:30 toast, but everyone drank tha-" he stopped mid-sentence as he tripped and came close to falling on his face. "Shit."

By this time he had passed the turn he'd needed to make to get back to the main entrance, and was completely lost. He thought about using his communicator to contact Grayson, but the idea of asking him for help was even less appealing than the thought of wandering around for another half-hour. He probably would have wandered for much longer than that if a blow to the back of his head hadn't knocked him out cold.

Ah yes, Damian thought as he looked around the dimly lit room. Definitely Grayson's fault. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he began to make out clusters of furniture and several dried pools of what he could only assume must be blood. In the dim light he couldn't see much, but the walls appeared to be red, and the carpeting looked about the same color, aside from the areas where blood had stained it a darker color. He made one attempt to stand, but found that he was even weaker now than he had been just after the party, and decided that sitting was probably in his best interest for the moment. He thought for awhile, then came to the conclusion that now was the time to use the communicator.

"Hey Grayson," Damian said quietly into to small mike. He hadn't seen anyone in the room, but that didn't mean no one was watching. Let them assume he was talking to a body guard or something. There was some static on the other line, and for a moment Damian worried that he might be out of signal range.

"Damian!" Dicks voice buzzed in his ear. "What happened to you? It's almost one in the morning, I thought the party ended at ten!"

"I found the killer- well, I guess technically he found me." There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds.

"Where. Are. You."

"I'm not really sure," Damian said nervously- or as nervously as someone with a superiority complex like his could sound. Batman had seemed almost... scared, and that was enough to put him on edge. "There aren't any windows, but I think I can hear cars somewhere above me." He couldn't be sure how far away from the house he was since he'd been unconscious for whatever ride he'd taken.

"Alright, your tracker's signal is being jammed, which is why I didn't find you earlier. I can't see exactly where you are, but there are only a few places with basements in that area so I'll be there as soon as possible." Damian nodded, more to himself than to Dick.

"Ok, I'll see you s-" a cold hand covered his mouth and his eyes widened. So much for being alone.

"Damian? You still there?" Dick's voice faded to a far away mumble as the figure who'd grabbed Damian removed his communicator, throwing it into the dark room.

"Now that's interesting," a smooth male voice whispered in his now empty ear. His hand dropped away from Damian's mouth and Damian scooted away from the man until he hit a cold wall. Nothing wrong with a little distance between you and a murderer, right? "Why would a boy like you need a mike?" Damian said nothing, pressing his lips in a firm line. "Does the young Mr. Wayne have a body guard? Or maybe you're working with the police... No matter. If they don't know where you are, there isn't much they can do, is there?" The man in front of him was slowly coming into focus; his hair was dark brown, and he was probably about six feet tall and somewhere between eighteen and twenty. Not your typical pedophile, Damian thought to himself, but then again, murders are never really 'normal' anyway. He got a little closer and Damian recognized him as one of the waiters from the party. The one that gave me the water, he thought as his eyes narrowed.

"You're the killer I assume?" Damian asked in his usual condescending voice, the effect of which was slightly marred as his speech slurred a little with the drug.

"'Killer' is such a harsh word," the man said with a sigh.

"Well there's always 'murderer' and 'psychopath' if you prefer." The man laughed and shook his head.

"How do you feel about that suit, Damian?" he asked quietly.

"That's a bit of a subject change." The man pulled out a knife and Damian mentally chided himself for egging on a known killer.

"Well our other conversation was so me-centric," he said as he wiped off his knife and placed it back in his belt. "I figured it was only polite to turn it over to you." he smiled and Damian resisted the urge to make a gagging noise. "So I'll ask you again; how do you feel about that suit?" Damian was tempted not to answer, but he knew enough about crazed murders to realize that if he didn't cooperate now, things could go bad rather quickly.

"Well I'm really not much of a suit person," he answered carefully, "but as they go I suppose this one's alright." The man frowned and titled his head.

"Not much of a suit person you say? And why might that be?"

"Ummm..." Damian trailed off, trying to think of a non-offensive response. Based on the state of the victims after they'd been found, he was going to guess the killer had a thing for suits. Ew.

"Maybe you just haven't found the right suit yet," the man said with a smile as he crouched down in front of Damian.

"No, I don't think that's the iss- nng!" his reply was cut off as the man grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the wall behind him before quickly dragging him to his feet. Alright, Damian thought as a shooting pain made his way through his shoulders. This has officially gone badly.

"Maybe it's the color. Red is really the only color to go with, don't you think?" the man asked as he brought his face closer to Damian's. Damian again resisted the urge to gag, pressing his lips into a white line. If he get's any closer, I swear I'm going to hurl. Damian tried to sink further into the wall, but the man grabbed his chin and tilted his face towards his own. Damian closed his eyes tightly as the man continued to lean in closer, pressing his lips to Damian's closed ones. Ew, Damian thought as the man's tongue tried to find a crack in his closed lips. He was almost irritated that he hadn't eaten at the party, maybe then he would've been able to puke all over this creep's face. The man brought his face back an inch or two, his expression thoughtful.

"Now that just won't do, Damian. You've got to relax," as he said this last word, he jerked Damian's arm slightly upward. He was still unable to keep his legs steady, so the weight on his sore shoulders was excruciating. He bit his lip until it bled in an attempt to keep from crying out, but the man just dragged his wrists farther up.

"Nng-" the man saw his opening and took it. This is disgusting, Damian thought as a warm tongue slid into his mouth. He took the only course of action one has in such a time, and bit down. Hard. The man pulled back and released Damian's chin to wipe the blood off his mouth.

"That was uncalled for, Damian," the man said dangerously. Damian glared but said nothing. He tilted his head and considered the boy for a moment. "I suppose I'll have to punish you."

He could feel the drug starting to wear off, and Damian had begun to regain a small amount of strength in his legs. The man started to reach for his knife and at that moment he knew exactly where to use this strength. As the killer pulled his blade out, Damian brought his knee up with enough force to make the man drop both his wrists and the knife.

"You little-" he let out a string of curses as he recovered from the boy's attack from his position on the floor. Damian had started crawling away the second he'd hit the ground, searching for a door in the dark room. He heard the man get up and he dragged himself under a table, hoping the darkness would buy him at least a little time. Grayson has to be close by now, he thought as he heard the man search the room. The killer slowly walked around the room, and as he got closer Damian realized that 'close' probably wasn't going to be close enough. He held his breath as the man walked by his table, but he still hesitated as he walked in front of it. Damian silently cursed as the man stopped and slowly bent over, grinning as he saw the hiding boy.

"Why don't you come out, Damian?" he asked in an eerily cheerful voice. Damian couldn't see his knife, but he was guessing it wasn't far.

"Actually, I'd rather not."

"And why's that?"

"Hmmm... I think I'll let you try and figure that one out." The man laughed and shook his head.

"You've definitely got more fight in you than those others did," he said with a smile. "I guess I'll have to give you an extra dose of this." He held up a small syringe, and Damian quickly decided that it would be best if he kept some distance between himself and the clear liquid it held. The man got on his knees and began to crawl under the table, so Damian turned around and crawled in the opposite direction. There must have been more of the drug left in him than he'd thought, because it took only a few second for a cold hand to latch onto his ankle. Damian swore and tried to kick himself free, but a sharp pain told him he wasn't quick enough.

The drug entered his system faster through his blood than it had when he drank it, so by the time he managed to kick himself free and crawl past the table he was already getting dizzy. He tried to move faster when he heard the man walk up behind him, but before he could make it to a second table the killer kicked Damian with enough force to send him flying back towards the wall. He landed with a grunt and curled up around a bruised rib. Who the hell wears steel-tipped boots anymore?

"Ahh-" he gasped as the man stepped on his back, pressing his injured rib into the carpeted floor. The pressure increased for a few moments before the foot was lifted. Damian gasped for breath as the man flipped him over. He knelt next to the boy and rested one hand on his cheek.

"Are you going to behave now?" Damian simply spit in his face. The man smiled and wiped away the saliva. "I'll take that as a no." he rolled Damian back over and rested his foot on his back again. Damian bit his lip to keep from crying out as the man then grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled. He then made a move to reach for his knife, but a loud crash on the other end of the room followed by a stream of light caused him to stop.

"What took you so long?" he shouted before the man shoved his face into the ground. Dick's head jerked toward the noise.

"Damian!" he said with relief as he hurried toward his partner. The man holding Damian narrowed his eyes.

"Why the hell is Batman here?" he asked as Dick came closer. Damian wished he could slap Grayson for being so familiar while in uniform. I wouldn't really care if I thought the twat was going to kill him, he ranted to himself. Now the idiot was going to have to make up a story for himself, because Damian found it was somewhat difficult to talk through a mouthful of carpet.

"The boy's guardians reported him missing, and I was asked to find him," Dick said as he slipped into his Batman voice. Still room for suspicion, but I guess it'll have to do. The murder's eyes narrowed.

"Well take a step closer and you'll have to tell them why I slit his throat before you brought him back." Damian noticed that Dick's eyes immediately flicked to the man's still-sheathed knife and he smiled. This was already over.

The man reached for his knife again, but Dick was already there- ending the fight with a quick kick to the head before it even started. He offered Damian a hand but the boy blushed and averted his eyes.

"He drugged me with something," he mumbled with embarrassment. "I can't stand up."

"I'll just have to carry you then."

"Wha-nng!" Damian's protests were cut off before he started when Dick's strong arms brushed against his bruised rib. "Watch the rib!"

"Oops, sorry," he said as he readjusted his hold on the boy, carrying him bridal style to avoid further injuring him. This is ridiculous, Damian thought as Dick finished adjusting his hold on the boy.

"What are we going to do about him?" he asked with a nod towards the killer, who appeared to be out cold.

"Don't worry, the police are on their way. They should be here any- Ah, there they are." A squad of officers rushed through the open door, and while they busied themselves securing the murderer, Dick slipped out of the building with Damian. He carried him to the Batmobile and set him carefully inside, doing what he could to avoid putting pressure on his injured ribs. The ride back to the cave was quick and uneventful, and it was only a matter of minutes before Dick removed his cowl and pulled the now-sleepy Robin out of the car. Damian yawned and prepared to scold his mentor before the drug completely knocked him out.

"Tt. I hope you're happy with yourself," he started as Dick carried him up the cave's stairs.

"Happy with what?" he asked with a frown.

"Because of this stupid case, I had to put up with a room full of idiots for an hour, and a psycho kissing me before trying to kill me. Just to be clear, this is completely your fault." Dick raised an eyebrow.

"He kissed you, hmm?"

"Yes, and it was disgusting."

"Was it anything like this?" Damian started to open his mouth to ask what the hell 'this' was when Dick's lips pressed against his own, effectively cutting of the question. Damian's eyes widened as a foreign tongue entered his mouth for the second time that night. Oddly enough though, he couldn't make himself bite Dick's tongue as he had the killer's. Must be the drugs... he thought as his vision blurred a bit. Dick pulled back and Damian found himself panting. "Well?" Damian took a moment to remember Dick's question.

"Mmm... I guess yours was better," he answered sleepily. Dick smiled and tucked the tired boy into bed, kissing him on the forehead this time before saying good night and leaving the room. Damian just shook his head. Only one more though passed through his head before he fell asleep. This is ridiculous...

And we're done. Thanks so much for reading, as I mentioned earlier this was my first fic so reviews would be awesome