A/N: This is a crosspost from AO3, where I post under the same name.
Hi, it's been a while! But here we are. I did plan for this to be four chapters, but um... well that's increased, unsurprisingly. Hopefully I can keep this to five chapters, but we'll see.
I can't promise when the next chapter will come, but I am working on it! The meaty stuff is coming, so please enjoy.
Steph had resorted to counting silhouettes through the office windows when Tim decided he wanted to visit a record store in town. With nothing keeping them at the office, they were free to leave early, and the promise of not having to count shadows for three more hours meant Steph gave in with minimal fuss.
So far, Steph's job had been relatively easy. Despite the apparent threat Tim was under, Steph hadn't needed to do much aside from warning off rabid paparazzi, but she still felt a little antsy any time she accompanied Tim out of the office. Today was no different, but despite the unseasonal fresh air, she felt somewhat more on edge than usual.
The street was bustling, civilians bobbing back and forth and setting off Steph's nerves. She resisted the urge to yank Tim back under her arm. He flitted against the flow, forcing his way up the steps to the record store while tapping madly at his phone.
"Yes, yes, I'm here, I don't know why you couldn't just come yourself and— okay, yeah, but you could've met me here and— okay, jeez," he muttered into his earbud. He hadn't told Steph who he was calling, and she wasn't curious enough to ask when she could focus on deciphering her amped up nerves instead.
The store seemed normal, for a Gotham building. The decrepit building around it was crumbling, but the stoop was swept clean, and a cheery sign—in a legible death metal font, no less—proclaimed the store to be open. The steps were worn-smooth, and promised a tumble if one wasn't careful making their way up.
A vivid memory of Tim's loafers losing their grip on a slick tile in R ran through Steph's mind. He hadn't been grievously hurt, but the bloody nose was messy. With a twitch of her eye, she moved closer, ready to catch Tim if he did slip.
In a blink, Steph was awash in a wave of adrenaline. A black-clad arm had slunk out from the passing crowd and wrapped around Tim's shoulders, pulling him down the steps, slipping through Steph's hyperawareness like a scalpel through pulled flesh.
She was moving before her brain even processed what had happened. She sprung forward, bowling over an inconspicuous man reaching for his hip and knocking him to the concrete, his gun skittering from its halter. Using her momentum, she flipped over his prone, groaning body and drew her gun in one fluid motion, kicking his gun further away as she landed.
"Let him go now," Steph said forcefully, gun trained at the shadowy figure.
The sea of pedestrians had parted quickly, the few shrieks of horror quickly stifled as bystanders rushed away. Steph was half aware of a few who'd seen the guns and pulled out their phones to make frantic calls to the GCPD.
Though Tim was a Wayne, she knew they wouldn't be of any help.
Tim was still struggling in the arms of his captor despite the gun held to his head, blatantly ignoring his hostage training. His arms were pinned to his sides, but he was kicking ineffectively at the man's shins with his polished loafers. The jerky movements obscured Steph's aim, and she grimaced as Tim continued to try and force his way out. He was panicking, and Steph had no way to tell him to just calm down and make it easier to help him.
"I won't say it again," Steph warned. "Let him go."
The captor glanced down at his fallen partner in consternation, and tightened his grip on Tim, who froze and shivered as the gunmetal pressed at his forehead.
The man opened his mouth as though to bark out his own demands when Tim went limp in his arm. He looked down in shock, grip slackening as Tim dropped, the gun finally clear of Tim's head.
Steph popped a rubber bullet in the man's shoulder and threw herself forward, wrenching Tim from his slackened grip into her side and as far away from the gun as she could. She could see the red and blue lights of the GCPD in the corner of her eye as she hauled Tim clear of the crowd that still lingered at a distance.
She glanced down, thinking Tim had fainted, but he looked wide eyed and alert.
He craned his neck over his shoulder to watch the mess left behind. "Get down," Steph hissed, and yanked Tim in under her arm. He went meekly as she shot him a glare and hurried them away.
The second the men were out of sight, Steph tapped her earpiece and activated the emergency line, tersely reporting the incident to Tam when she picked up. Her gut squeezed as she killed the line, the moment Tim was snatched repeating in her mind's eye like a broken record.
The crowds had thinned, but Steph's shoulders remained taut as pulled thread, her heart rate a steady patter in her chest. Her jaw tensed whenever Tim moved in her grip, but blessedly he stayed quiet and didn't complain at her rougher-than-usual treatment.
They were almost two blocks away when Steph allowed them to slow and relaxed her hyper-vigilance a bare fraction. She meant to ask if Tim was hurt, but instead she blurted, "What is wrong with you?"
Tim gave an aborted wriggle. Steph glanced down to see her fist still locked around Tim's wrist, and she consciously had to let her fingers go one by one. She twitched as Tim stepped back.
"You'll have to be more specific," Tim said wryly.
Steph's patience evaporated. "Aside from the everything," she growled. "No, look, just— what was that? He had a gun to your head, why did you not stop moving?"
If she hadn't been there to see the entire ordeal unfold, Steph wouldn't have had a clue Tim had just been held hostage, even taking his dishevelled clothing into account. He didn't look the slightest bit panicked or scared, and his breathing was even.
Maybe he was used to the kidnapping attempts, or maybe he'd learnt something in hostage training after all. Steph still couldn't help irked over Tim's suspicious calm.
The man in question scraped the toe of his Converse against the grimy gutter.
"This is Gotham, half the people here with guns don't even know how to use them," Tim muttered, and hastily backtracked when Steph recoiled. "Okay, okay, I know those guys are more dangerous, but he hadn't even pulled back the safety."
Steph froze, thinking back. In the rush of movement, the heat of the moment, she'd been focused purely on how close the gunmetal came to Tim's head, not whether there'd been a click of the safety being cocked.
Tim was right. Despite him panicking and circumventing her best efforts to get him free sooner, he'd still noticed.
Eventually, Steph grunted, "You're okay, right?"
Tim shrugged a shoulder. "A few bruises, maybe. I'll live," he said, and looked morosely back towards the store they'd had to leave without even entering.
Steph knocked her elbow into his. "I'll take you back after we get lunch, when the GCPD has cleaned up," she promised.
She pretended she wasn't gladdened by how quickly Tim perked up.
A quick lunch of pho at a hole-in-a-wall stand led to a quicker trip back to the record store once they'd allowed a few hours for the clean up to be finished; nothing stuck for long in Gotham.
Steph stuck closer to Tim than before, almost looming over his shoulder as he browsed, ready to grab at the damp wool of his overcoat and pull him to safety. He didn't complain. She still felt twitchy, but the impending dread from earlier had at least abated somewhat, and though Tim was a Wayne two attempted attacks in one day was uncommon.
Her heart rate didn't fully settle until Tim was tucked back in the car, and deposited safely back at his apartment, a paper bag packed thick with plastic-wrapped vinyls slung over his arm.
Steph walked Tim to the door and watched him closely until the door latched shut, hackles still up as she nodded at the concierge and doorman on her way back down to the car.
With the car door pulled shut, the locks engaged, Steph gave herself a moment.
She bent forward and let out a long groan into the steering wheel, white-knuckling the smooth leather. She wanted to scream, but she was still in sight of the doorman, and anything more than that would definitely have her side-eyed.
With one last glance up at the building, Steph pulled away from the kerb, fervently hoping that incident would be the worst, and the last.
She'd have a long report to make to Tam and Bruce Wayne in the morning.
The clatter of cutlery and muffled laughter was loud in the little café. Kara beamed over her huge pile of scrambled eggs and toast.
"I'm still so proud of you," she gushed, "this was totally the break you needed!"
Steph smiled back, poking at her own poached eggs to make them wobble. Kara didn't know how right she was—it had been a few weeks since the attempted hostage situation, and Steph hadn't allowed herself to properly relax since.
"I miss hanging out with you, though," Kara added with a pout.
"Them's the breaks of full time work," Steph sighed. "You barely saw me at my last jobs with those crummy hours, too, this can't be that different."
"True, I suppose…" Kara slumped over the table, her cheek squishing into the palm of her hand.
Her home-manicured nails were chipped, but the buff reflected the nigh-unnatural electric blue glow of her eyes. They flicked back to Steph, and she felt a twinge of unease of their full power staring right at her.
"I mean.." Kara started slowly, "with all this money you're making, it won't take long to save and—"
"Kara," Steph cut in, her stomach whirling into a pit. "Not again. Just don't."
Kara let out a sigh, but she didn't prod further.
Steph sliced at her eggs, the yolk bursting out and soaking into the sourdough. Kara's disappointment at Steph pushing her off dripped from the exaggerated moue of her face. Steph hoped her hacking at the bread with her knife was a clear enough indicator she didn't want to talk about this.
A few minutes of silent eating passed without issue until Kara perked up. "Doesn't W.E. have a tuition fund for employees? Maybe they would pay for you to go, instead of saving up yourself."
Steph coughed on her eggs.
"I thought we were dropping this? Anyway, it's Wayne Enterprises. There's no way, I'm not administrative staff; plus, like they'd let me take days off when I'm meant to be watching Tim non-stop!"
"You aren't watching him now," Kara pointed out.
Steph grumbled. "He's at the Manor for the weekend. He said there's enough security there to rival the Pentagon and I didn't need to worry."
Kara stayed quiet, and tilted her head to the side.
Steph gave in. "It's college," she burst out, "and I'm just the security. They'd laugh me out of the room if I brought it up."
It was something Steph had always aspired for when she was little. Despite the shit her dad got into, despite the shit he dragged home, college was something she wanted to work for—and for his innumerable flaws, it was one of the few things she and her dad had agreed on. Steph would go to college.
Well, until she turned fifteen and tossed all that into the harbour.
Steph looked away, her shoulders tensing. "You know why I wanted you to stop bringing this up."
"Okay, okay, I'll let it go," said Kara placatingly. "In general though, y'know, you're doing all good there, right? Despite…" she trailed off.
Steph stilled. Kara was right, though she tried not to think on it often.
It was a lapse of judgement; Steph, drunk and furious and tearful after he father had been sent back to Blackgate after his supposed reformation—she never saw him, but she thought the Suicide Squad thing had done him good—had let slip her father was back in prison when Kara had asked what was wrong.
With a grimacing Cluemaster still broadcast across the late-evening news, it hasn't been hard to put two and two together, and though Steph regretted it immediately, she couldn't walk that knowledge back.
Kara had gleaned that Steph had done an odd job or two for Cluemaster, and no more. Steph had never let her think otherwise.
She didn't have too many good memories about her dad, but the one time she thought she'd fucked up for good, he handled it—and before the Bat and his ilk got wind.
Cluemaster had for once gone above and beyond to keep Steph's name out of his business after he'd solved her colossal fuck-up, leaving her with a reluctant gratitude and work experience most teen girls would be hard fought to get. Work experience only the darker side of Gotham would ever expect; sure, I did security for Cluemaster would get a few laughs at any dive bar, but it would also staple a direct target on her back.
The clatter of tumbling cutlery from a nearby table brought Steph back to the present. From the look on Kara's face, the grimace on Steph's probably displayed her thoughts well enough.
"Alright, I'll drop it for real this time, I promise," said Kara. "But only if you tell me if there's anyone you've got your eye on." She wiggled her eyebrows in an outrageous manner that had Steph snorting into her breakfast.
She choked down a giggle, wheezing, "I'm a professional, there's no way."
"But."
"But. Maybe the secretary is cute, she's probably your type."
Kara squealed. "She is, I looked her up, have you seen her Instagram? Oh my gosh, are you into her? Please say yes, we could go on double dates…"
Steph shook her head with another snort. "We're friends, Kara. Friends. She's technically my boss in a sense, too."
"The power differential could be kind of kinky, if you're into that," said Kara blithely.
"No way," hissed Steph. "Quit it, I know you're just working up to a point!"
Steph didn't like where this was going.
Kara tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "I saw your history when I borrowed your laptop a while back," she said slowly. "Cassandra Wayne works out a lot, huh?"
Steph just groaned and hoped the prickling heat attacking her cheeks wasn't showing on her face. Great. This was the last thing she wanted brought up.
"Can you take my word that this is just surface level attraction and nothing more, for once?" she said with a grimace.
Kara leant in with a smirk. "Maybe I could. Maybe if you promise to tell me if she's as hot in person as she is in the glimpses you get on Dick Grayson's instagram?"
"Wouldn't you like to know," said Steph, rolling her eyes and pretending her cheeks weren't darkening with every word.
Kara's silence and growing grin were answer enough.
Steph brought the car to a stop, the late-setting Gotham sun glowing a burnished bronze through the shade of her sunglasses.
With a flick of her wrist, she tossed an empty water bottle into the back seat, and Tim let out a groan when the bottle audibly bounced off his head. Steph closed her eyes and visualised making a fist pump.
"You're all good to go?" she said, glancing into the rear view mirror when Tim didn't move.
"Yeah, in a sec," he yawned, and Steph watched him rub at his eyes.
She huffed lightly and slid out the door. It was the work of a few moments to tug Tim from the seat and usher him and his bag into his building complex and up the elevator into his apartment.
Steph slid off her boots at the door, watching Tim kicking his converse in completely separate directions.
"Can you order me takeout?" said Tim as he ducked towards his bedroom, shedding his jacket onto a faded armchair on the way. "I'll owe you."
"You already owe me," sighed Steph, but a glance at her watch showed it was twenty to six; she was still on the clock. "I'm ordering you Thai, do you still like the pad see ew?" she called towards the bedroom as she paced down the hallway.
"Make that two," said a voice, and Cassandra Wayne stepped out of the kitchen with a grin.
Steph's hands froze, her tie half-loosened. "Cass," she squeaked. "Uh, Cassandra. Hi. Didn't expect to see you here."
She tilted her head, a sly smile climbing up towards her cheek. "I was in the area. Hi."
Steph swallowed, and before she could reply Tim bounded into the room.
"Cassie!" He slid to a stop on the floorboards in front of her, and tugged Cass into a quick hug. "You're early, what gives? Not that I don't want to see you, but…" he trailed off.
Cass snorted, her eyes creasing at the corners. "You mean I'm late. You can say it, little brother," she said, lightly knocking on his shoulder with her fist. "I'm here to talk to her."
Cassandra's smile widened, the glimmer in her eyes near hypnotising.
Steph felt faint.
Tim looked between them and let out an ohh under his breath. "Okay! You have fun with that, I'll just go change." He leant into Cassandra's side, giving her another squeeze, before throwing up a thumbs up behind her back and mouthing good luck.
Had she not been standing in front of Cassandra, Steph would have mouthed back something appropriate like you too, bitch, and ignored the consequences.
Once Tim's bedroom door latched shut with a decisive click, Cassandra flicked her eyes back towards Steph and cocked her head towards the door.
"Talk in the lobby?" she said.
Steph swallowed. "Sure."
They left the apartment and moved towards the elevator together, trading looks when the silver doors slid shut in front of them. Cassandra was watching Steph out of the corner of her eye, a slight smile covered by her hand. With each new glance she looked more pleased by the attention Steph couldn't help but give her.
Steph still felt lightheaded, a tipsy rush of warmth running through her veins.
She'd be a fool to pretend Cassandra hadn't picked up on her instant attraction, and that grin said there wasn't complete disinterest at least. Obviously, nothing could come of it, and it would be an incredibly stupid decision, but…
The elevator came to a stop with a gentle ping, and Cassandra led the two of them towards a fire exit rather than back to the lobby. She flicked an unobtrusive latch and with a solid grip on the handle, shouldered the supposedly locked door up and open.
She glanced back towards Steph with a pleased grin on her lips that dimmed slightly at the unimpressed look Steph was aiming her way.
"Don't worry, that one's mine," she said with a quiet murmur. "The others stay locked unless an alarm is going off."
That lowered Steph's hackles somewhat, but her pulse still thrummed to a fast pace as she watched Cassandra slip through the door with a thoughtless grace. Steph paused, half of a mind to return to Tim's upstairs apartment, but she still followed Cassandra through the crack in security, unable to resist the temptation.
The door let out into a neat little brick-lined back alley, with only a hint of urine rather than the usual overpowering stench of the stuff.
Cassandra leant back against the wall, uncaring of any damage the exposed rough brick could do to her expensive athleisure wear.
Steph, well aware of how expensive her suit was, planted her feet opposite her and stood straight. "I guess this is an interrogation?" she asked, forcing back her giddiness from earlier. They'd been damn near flirting, but Steph wasn't under any illusions of why she'd really been led back here.
Cassandra let out a snort. "Could be. Done anything that needs interrogating?" Her dark eyes sharpened and reflected the scant light, in a way the uptick of her lips didn't.
"I really couldn't say. I'm just doing my job." Steph resisted the urge to swallow nervously, the back of her neck prickling with sweat. Her pulse jumped at the close quarters, and despite feeling near hypnotised at being close enough to feel the body heat of Cassandra, a heavy pit in her stomach had started to form.
"I know."
But is that enough? went unspoken.
They fell quiet, and Steph fought the urge to break the silence. She had been doing her job, and she'd been doing it well. Aside from the obvious, or sheer unavoidable accidents, from what Tam said any incidents involving Tim had markedly decreased since Steph's hiring. That didn't seem to change the fact she was clearly still an outsider to the rest of the family.
Or someone they couldn't fully trust.
Being in close proximity to a woman she may or may not have a tiny crush on didn't stop the looming fear of being somehow found out.
"Tim isn't my littlest brother…" Cassandra said after the long silence, "but he's… obvious. Exposed. Like Damian isn't. I worry."
Steph shuffled her feet, something in her gut twisting at Cassandra's words.
"I know you all care about him," she said quietly. "I do too. I'd almost say he feels like a friend, if I could."
At that Cassandra smiled, and this time it reached her eyes. "He'd like that. Tim is friendly. But… he doesn't have the same friends at work as other places. Or people to trust. We want to trust you. So please be someone we can trust."
Cassandra's posture hadn't changed, but there was something in her face that almost looked imploring, as though Steph was important enough to Tim that Cassandra needed her to understand how important being trustworthy was.
"Of course," said Steph, and pushed the guilt saying she'd already broken that trust deep, deep down. "You can rely on me."
At that, something in Cassandra's frame settled, a tenseness disappearing, and the earlier fraught silence fell into something more pleasant.
Steph couldn't erase her nerves entirely, but they took back the original flavour from when they'd first come downstairs.
The hypnotic draw of the body heat she'd sworn she imagined, the thick black hair fluttering with each breath, the tight cling of workout wear —that small rush of fear melded with the attraction she'd been trying to ignore.
The light clack of Cassandra's nails on the brick and her continued eye contact dragged up an urge to just try. After all, the worst that could happen was a gentle rejection and having to ignore a woman she would in all likelihood see a maximum of three times a year.
"You know," said Steph after a while gathering her nerves, "it feels like you're waiting for me to say something else."
Cassandra tilted her head back, her silky hair slipping off her shoulder and baring a thin black strap covering golden skin. "Maybe," she said. "What would you say if I was?"
Surprised at her own words being thrown back, Steph cleared her throat and looked away. "Not sure I should say," she managed.
Cassandra lapsed into a contemplative silence, before crossing the alley to lean up against the wall next to Steph. Breath hitching, she leant back, her clothed shoulder brushing up against exposed skin.
Steph burned.
"I don't often…" Cassandra started, a slight hitch to her voice that she bit back with a small grunt. "I looked you up. I… I've seen you work. You're good," she said.
Steph let out a giddy laugh. "Thank you," she said, and managed to meet Cassandra's eyes.
Cassandra cracked a smile, and scratched at her arm, eyes flicking down then back to catch Steph's eye. "It doesn't have to be… serious."
Her heart skipped a beat. "Yeah?" said Steph.
"Yeah," said Cassandra.
Inhaling sharply, Steph took another leap. "I'll give you my number. Call me when you're free?" she asked, losing the battle to a small grin in the process.
Cass bit her lip and nodded, her own matching grin returning full force. "I'll call."
Thunk.
Steph twitched at the sound of an apartment window closing nearby, frustrated at being jolted out of the moment, and realised the time. "I'll see you back in there? I can still order you that Thai," she said with an apologetic nudge Cassandra's way.
Cassandra shook her head. "It's okay. I should go. But, maybe we can keep this from…" she pointed back inside, and it took Steph a moment to realise what she meant.
Even the thought of Tim's reaction to finding out his sister and bodyguard had a thing was enough for her to break out in a cold sweat. Steph nodded frantically. "Definitely, definitely keep it from Tim."
Cassandra's cheeks rounded with mirth. "Our secret, then," she said, holding a finger to her lips.
Steph's eyes flicked down to her mouth and she wrenched them back with all the strength she had. "Well, uh, I'll see you around then," she said, and pushed off the wall to leave.
"Oh," called Cassandra, just as Steph hitched the door back open, "Before you go…"
Steph looked back over her shoulder.
"Call me Cass," she said, and winked.
"You know, I don't think I've ever heard you whistle before," said Tam.
Steph came to a halt, nearly stumbling in the hallway the two were walking down on their way to the cafeteria. "I was whistling?"
"And Auld Lang Syne, no less. Feeling festive?"
"I had to learn it on piano," Steph said distractedly, fighting to keep pace as her phone buzzed in her pocket, off silent now she was on her break. She knew who that was.
Tam let out a hum and resumed walking, the steady clack of her heels already a familiar sound. "Well, still surprised me. Something good happen recently?"
Her phone buzzed again. "Maybe I'm just in a good mood," said Steph, and decided to check her messages for dinner plans when no one would see her grinning stupidly at the screen.