989 words of Batfam feels staring Tim and Damian, with an appearance from Kate.
Prompt: "The hero shows up on the villain's doorstep one night. They're shivering, bleeding, scared. There's also a slighty dazed look in their eyes - they were drugged. They look like they wereassaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they're close to passing out, they mumble "...didn't know where else to go..." then collapse into the villain's arms." (Prompt from a one-lonely-whumperfly tumblr post screencap via Instagram.)
Written for my 2019 Summer Prompt Challenge on Ao3.
Safety
It was a slow night, Tim had knocked off patrol early because Kate had literally dropped from the sky to inform him he was benched until he had slept at least 36 hours. Batwoman was not, technically, in his chain of command - arguable Red Robin was a soloist at this point - but Kate carried more weapons than Jason and had a shorter temper. So…he was home.
He was not, however, sleeping. Tim loved his small rebellions and he had essays to write for the college classes Bruce had shoved at him in August.
The windows were being pelted with rain and lightning struck his roof at least three times. Gotham did love its ominous foreshadowing. To confirm, there were three knocks - booming and irregular in rhythm.
"What the -" Tim blinked, rubbed his eyes, and then checked the peephole again. Yup. Still the same.
Damian, in civies, huddled against the hallway wall.
Tim opened the door and Damian's head pulled up to face him. His neck was bruised, a blue and green splotted thing that was curling over his jaw onto his cheek. His green eyes were muddled, pupils pinpricked.
"I didn't know where else to go…" Damian croaked out. He didn't move his body away from the wall, but he started to slide down it so Tim lunged forward to keep him up.
Damian's body was a dead weight as Tim carried him over the threshold into his apartment. In any other situation, Tim would have dropped Damian on the floor like a sack of potatoes and called Bruce to pick up his demonic son.
Tim honestly couldn't think of a single scenario in which Damian would come to him for help though, so he walked the 15 year old demon to his couch. Damian curled in on himself.
"What's up demon-brat?" Tim crouched in front of him, he scanned up and down the lanky teenager's body. He was holding his left arm against his chest. His shirt was torn. His belt was cut. "What happened?"
Damian's eyes fluttered open. The pupils were still constricted, but they were fluctuating, expanding in uneven intervals.
"You were drugged." Tim started, standing to grab the blanket on the back of the couch. Damian's whole body spasmed in a flinch. Tim pulled back, he laid the blanket beside the couch on the floor, within reach. "Someone attacked you."
Tim's stomach tightened. Damian had closed his eyes again.
"Do you want me to call Bruce?" Damian stirred just enough to shake his head before wincing. "Alright. I'm gonna grab the med kit."
The med kit was extensive - Alfred had packed it - there were IVs and the stuff for a blood draw. If Damian had been on patrol when he was drugged Tim wouldn't have thought twice, he might not even have asked before cornering the brat.
"Do…" Tim sighed, grumbled to himself. He set the med kit on the coffee table, sat beside it.
Damian's eyes opened again. "I don't want anyone to know." Damian's voice was quiet, cracking worse than it had at the door. Tim ran a hand through his hair. His leg bounced. Damian watched it rather than Tim's face.
"What happened Dami?"
Green eyes snapped to Tim's face. Whether it was the soft voice or the use of Dick's nickname for him, Damian answered. "I went to this…establishment I heard about from the idiots at school. I was…unprepared, for the social terrain."
"Someone slipped you something." Tim clarified, watching Damian scowl. "You let your guard down because it was civilians. It's not your fault - we probably should have told you about stuff like this."
When Damian remained silent, Tim sighed. He rubbed at his eyes, only slightly wishing he'd followed Kate's order to sleep. He knelt on the ground by the couch again. Damian tensed.
"Is your arm hurt?"
Damian glanced down at his left arm, still held against his body. He stretched it forward. Tim was unprepared for the literal handprints bruising the brown skin beneath Damian's jackets.
"You got away, even drugged, you fought back." Tim assessed the injury. No broken bones. Wrist was definitely sprained.
"As if I would let a bunch of degenerates take advantage of me." Damian huffed out. His voice cracked a bit, but this time it also shook. Tim caught the fear.
Tim swallowed down his words. "Duh. You're you, they had no chance." A quirk of Damian's lips helped the tight knot in Tim's stomach. Great. He was empathizing with the kid who threatened his life on a weekly basis.
Damian let him check the rest of his body over for injuries. The wrist was the worst of it, though his abdomen was bruised pretty well and his jaw was starting to swell. Tim couldn't rule out a concussion, not with the drugging, but Damian stayed awake so he didn't worry too much.
"I can get you some clothes to change into." Tim stood up and Damian's right hand shot out to grab Tim's wrist. There was blinking. There was a lip trembling. There was a lot of eye contact being avoided.
Tim sat back down on the floor. Damian released his wrist. They remained there until light streamed into Tim's living room window. By that time, Tim was drooling into the blanket he was using as a makeshift pillow and Damian was snoring lightly.
When Batwoman's shadow darkened the window, she slipped inside. Technically, Red Robin was sleeping, so she didn't need to enforce any bedtimes. She crept forward all the same, eyed Damian's torn and cut clothing, the bandage wrap around his wrist, the bruises.
Kate produced a black light from her utility belt and shined it onto the back of Damian's hand. Once on the other side of the window again she tapped her comms - there was a nightclub downtown that was about to get a visit from a few bats.
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