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Being Vulnerable

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It was an accident, Tim hadn’t really explored much of his sexuality before, he wasn’t a virgin but he had only been with the girl once before the relationship fell apart. What's more, he had never felt pressured to have sex. He had much more important things to think about on a nightly basis than how much sex he was having as compared to his peers, and so he didn’t spend much time dwelling on it.

Naturally, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get horny, and one night, when he had just been feeling it, he set some time to the side to relieve the tension. He had left some work processing on his computer, so that the time wouldn’t be completely wasted, grabbed a hand towel from his bathroom, and dug around his room to find his old bottle of lube.

The trouble that came was that this time, as opposed to the other times, he just couldn’t get it done. Maybe it was because it had been at least a year since he last had sex, he didn’t just let anyone close to him and he had decided to focus more on his work for the Owl rather than frivolous sexual relations, or maybe he just had bad technique, although it’s a rather simple motion so he didn’t think he needed to research how to properly handle himself.

Either way, he found himself in a spot of trouble, he didn’t want to waste more time trying to finish the job but he couldn’t just stop while he was already worked up and with no results for the time already wasted. Obviously, he needed an aid in the work, and the first one he thought of was porn. He pulled out his laptop open as the solution popped into his mind, and while he never found interest in watching others have sex before, he figured that it was worth a try considering it seems to help other people. So he went to Google and just typed the first keywords that came to mind:

“porn site”

Obviously, the results were numerous, and Tim felt a bit of disgusted before he turned it over in his mind, sex was a commodity that would always be in demand, he wondered if there was a way to profit off people’s base desires, without putting the Wayne name in it, of course… he pushed the thought back in favor of clicking on the first site in the results, ignoring the warning from his malware detector. He really did not have to worry, he made all his own hardware and software so he knew there was nothing that could possibly get past it on a measly porn site. Even if there was, there was nothing on this computer that could link to him or the Owls, it was merely the extra laptop he kept around for late night web-browsing.

Windows popped up of graphic images of people engaged in debased acts, Tim’s nose scrunching up as he closed them until one made him stop. It had been started half way into the video, likely to catch his attention at a more tempting moment than the beginning, but this one was distinctly different than the others. First off, it involved men, multiple men, about four, and it involved leather cuffs, a guy snapping a leather belt over the cuffed man’s ass, and another man slowly choking the abused man while also kissing him softly-
Before he could analyze anymore about the image, his computer’s screen turned blue, made a screeching noise, and then turned off.

Tim learned two lessons that night:

First was that he was not particularly interested in porn, but was definitely interested in whatever was happening in that video.

Second was that he should never underestimate the viruses on shady porn sites.

Several weeks passed before Tim would face this problem with his sexuality again. He didn’t see the need to spend more time on it after that night, his work as Red Talon was much more important than sex, so he ignored it for a while before he once again found himself in the mood and fruitlessly tugging at his own genitals.

It was becoming a problem now. It was troublesome that he had to put off work for any amount of time to deal with his own body forcing him to be aroused, but it was problematic for it to be repeatedly taking so much time and effort to relieve. This time he at least didn’t have to think too hard about pulling his (recently reset) laptop out and searching for his solution.

This time he knew exactly what to look for, too:

“gay men bdsm”

It worked last time, he thought that if he was stuck in this problem then he might as well answer another question nagging him at the same time... The answer to that question was yes, a definite yes. The very first video displayed two men, one receiving anal sex with his hands tied behind his back, the other handled him roughly, pulling his hair, holding his hand around his throat, and would slap his ass intermittently. While tamer than the video he had seen before his computer crashed last time, Tim definitely felt the same heat in his skin and the need pulse in him.

The porn did its job, and so he got back to work after that, but now he was becoming a bit more interested in the implications this had.

Being interested in sex was never a problem for him, he had little to no interest in it, only had sex with one girl in the past, to keep up appearances when she propositioned him. He was sure he would marry her after the tabloids blew up about their relationship when he took a larger role in Wayne Enterprises. She had demanded they have sex one night, which he begrudgingly agreed to as he didn't want to think about her spreading rumors to her friends about him refusing to have sex with her, and then she took issue with him leaving immediately after. Apparently, it was proper bedroom etiquette to remain in the same bed with the person you had sex with for at least a few minutes before leaving.

She broke up with him shortly after, as he continued to refuse sex and prioritize work, if the sex wasn't placating her then he saw no reason to prioritize it over work. While Bruce had lectured him on what Tim did already know: the media backlash of him being dumped rather publicly. Dick had to explain to him exactly why she broke up with him: he didn't make her feel desirable (although Tim knew she had been cheating on him for years, so he suspected it was more that she got sick of him not spending money on her as she thought he would).

What Tim found strange was that Bruce did not order any retribution on her. While it was not exactly a majorly important issue, their social image as a strong and powerful family was not one that Bruce liked tarnished, and letting her get away with breaking up with him—loudly, in a high-class restaurant—was counter-intuitive to that. It made Tim seem undesirable, and being one of Bruce’s adopted sons, it looked bad on the Wayne name. Bruce’s inaction to this was strange, and he could only conclude he either didn’t want to act against her (doubtful, she was neither important or from an important family) or thought Tim didn’t want him to act against her. And so, Tim had used this as an opportunity to earn his adoptive father’s respect back.

He started by asking Bruce to allow him to ruin her. At first, he seemed to think it was about revenge, but Tim had clarified that he wanted to do it to prove to Bruce--to the Owl--that he felt nothing for her, that he dated her only for their social image and only desired restoring that image. Bruce had that dark light in his eyes when he gave his approval, looking proud of him, but he is not one to hand out praise easily. Tim had to follow up on this to receive praise, more than just bare minimum, he had to impress.

A week later, the press was filled with headlines about his ex’s secret life. How she was addicted to several drugs (she wasn’t), and had been cheating on him with multiple men (she had), and had even been prostituting herself before Tim had begun dating her (now that was a tabloid original). In just a week she had a few sex tapes leaked (that actress could have been her twin), her phone number and home address were leaked (that was actually a random hacker), her bank account was hacked and drained (that was him), her social media accounts were hacked and began leaking her “nudes” (that same actress as before, who was disposed of afterwards), and she had been fired from her job (a predictable consequence). By the time two weeks passed, she committed suicide.

Suffice it to say, Gotham saw her as a dead, evil woman, and Tim as a hot and single bachelor once more. Most importantly, Bruce praised him with a simple “good job,” and Tim felt satisfied to have earned his respect back.

Looking back at it now, he had to wonder if it had not just been her, but if he had ever felt anything for anyone he’s known. He had sex with her that night, it had been alright. He had destroyed her reputation, causing her suicide without a moment of remorse, he had never felt anything for her. He couldn’t think of anyone he ever felt any sexual desire for. He supposes that is strange. He just turned 18 last week, most men had their heads full of sex. But as much as he thought about it, he could only think that while he found many people attractive (Red Hood, Nightingale, Spoiler, Arsenal, Tam Fox, Kon-El, etc.) he had never acted on any urge to engage with them sexually, despite some of them being in clear open relationships.

Its almost distressing, but only because it proves to be such a distraction. Even now he finds himself dwelling over this abnormality, staring blankly at his laptop’s screen in the Roost. His eyes lock on the progress bar, the video he is waiting on taking longer to process due to size and quality, and normally he would be multitasking with another side project as he waits, but his thoughts derailed him. It’s strange behavior for Tim, who is normally tapping away on his keyboard so much that the sound is like a constant white noise to those that accompany him, or at least for those who he trusts to not be completely on guard around.

The lack of the tapping was probably why Jason noticed something was off with him at all, as Tim is not the type to broadcast what he’s thinking or feeling. He didn’t try to muffle his footsteps as he walked up behind the younger man, but Tim either hasn’t noticed him or is ignoring him. More likely he’s being ignored, they’re Owls, after all, it’s extremely rare for them to be caught off guard.

“What’s on your mind, T?”

Tim twitches, a reaction that would normally go unnoticed by others, but they're both too well trained to not recognize it. He might as well have screamed, as Jason knows immediately he has surprised him, a regrettable sign of weakness for Tim, as there is no chance Jason will pass the chance to harass him.

Sure enough, Jason’s large hands suddenly grasp his shoulders tightly, making him sigh in resignation. Jason isn’t going to let him leave this chair until he’s extracted just what he wants out of Tim.

“Hold up, hold up--what’s got you all twitchy, Red?”

“None of your business, Hood, don’t you have something better to do than harass me?” He reaches out and switches to another window on his laptop, beginning to type out a short report on his patrol earlier and what he suspects is signs of hero activities. Small time heroes, no one of any actual threat, just idiots who thought they could keep under Owlman’s radar. Owlman is Gotham. Nothing escapes him here.

His laptop is suddenly snapped shut, his hands barely slipping out in time to not be squished. While normally someone touching his laptop is an offense he would kill (or at least greatly harm) over, the hand that closed it is attached to one of the few people he has sworn to never harm… Although, he doubts his ability to harm Dick Grayson. Said man is smirking down at him, and while that is normally his default expression, this is a bit sharp, a bit darker, a bit opportunistic. He tastes blood in the water, he’s hunting for prey, “Tell us, baby bird, we’re family, you can trust us.”

Dick reminds him of a mythological creature he once read about when he was much younger: Sirens. Singing deceptively sweet songs, they lured sailors out at seas to their deaths on rocky coasts. Point being, he doesn’t trust anything Dick says.

“I’m working, as you two should be, I’m just waiting for these files to finish processing. I’m not thinking about anything.”

What a horrible lie, he’s never not thinking about something.

“You expect us to believe that?” Jason shook his shoulders a bit, as if to remind him he isn’t getting out of this. As if Tim could forget, he’s trying to ignore the back of his mind pointing out how easily Jason could pin him down to a bed, too. Then another part of his mind realizes that he must be feeling sexual desire towards him to be thinking about such things. Another part begins worrying if researching his sexuality will begin to distract him from work, and perhaps he should stop.

Always thinking.

“Come on, Timmy,” Dick leans over the table, his face getting significantly closer to him, his teeth peeking out as the smirk turns to a sharp, satisfied smile, alarms beginning to go off in Tim’s head in warning, “What’s so bad that you can’t even tell us?”

His thoughts all come to a stop then, deciding to inform him right then of all simultaneous conclusions: if he knows anyone who might derive pleasure from inflicting pain (i.e. sadism) to him, that person would be Dick Grayson. He shoves the thought back, even as he begins to feel his skin heat up in response, he just tries to ignore it in favor of escaping this situation.

He keeps his face carefully devoid of emotion, trying to give nothing away, “I was thinking about my ex-girlfriend.”

The best lies have a bit of truth in them.

Dick’s smile isn’t fazed though, he knows that Tim never cared for her, and over his shoulder he feels Jason lean closer to his ear, “Aw, are you feeling a bit lonely in bed? Want our help, T?”

All it takes is the almost silent way his breathe caught in his throat at Jason’s joking proposition, and they’ve locked on to the subject to drill him on. It isn't uncommon for the two of them to make sexual passes at him, they became especially frequent recently since he turned 18, so he should have been prepared for this. His training is far better than how he’s acting now, he feels a bit embarrassed for the slip, he tries to calm his nerves as his heart begins to pick up pace.

“Oh? A little sexually frustrated then?” Jason is chuckling, a deep, rumbling sound in his chest, a sound that has always made Tim's throat dry up a little.

Dick reaches out, running his fingers up Tim’s neck, “We would be happy to help you, baby bird, that’s what family is for. You just have to ask, ask us very nicely and we will help you right now, even.”

His throat is completely dry now, but if he swallows then he will seem nervous. He supposes that’s because he is nervous. Jason’s thumbs slip over the collar of his loose white t-shirt to scrap his thumb nails lightly over the very edge of his collarbones. Dick’s fingers begin trailing back down his throat, down towards his chest, tugging his collar down just a bit, before a couple slip in and press to his chest.

He realizes then that Dick can feel how fast his heart is beating, and Jason probably knows from his lack of response that he is having a certain kind of reaction to what they’re saying. He can feel Jason’s lips at his earlobe as Dick continues to lean in, his lips and sharp smile growing dangerously close to Tim’s neck, something he would never trust Dick’s teeth near if he was in the right mind to refuse. Something he’s sure he’s not in right now, considering he can’t seem to simply will his body to refuse them. It’s taking his all to just try to stay still and composed, and he has to wonder if his mistake hadn’t been made from the moment he lost his focus while alone in the Roost with Dick and Jason.

Wait, are they alone?

The moment the thought crosses his mind, the sound of a throat clearing resonates through the room. Three pairs of eyes snapping over to the Roost’s Master Computer where Bruce is sitting in his chair, turned around fully to glare at them, “I’m still waiting on those patrol reports.”

Jason practically growls in his ear, and Tim shivers before he can stop himself, drawing the deepest, throatiest, most seductive chuckle he’s ever heard from the other man. But, begrudgingly, he stands up straight and lifts his hands from Tim’s shoulders. Dick, however, doesn’t move. Tim’s eyes turn to look back at him and he’s almost startled to see the intense gaze Dick has locked on him, his finger nails beginning to dig into his chest as a sharp smirk rises to his face. Tim sucks his breath in, holding it, as he feels the sharp points of pain digging into the space just over his heart.

“Dick, report.”

Bruce’s voice is booming, strong and full of authority. It used to make him flinch, back when he was in training, but flinching brought about a punishment, so he was slowly trained out of the reaction. Helpful now, as flinching may have caused Dick to leave claw marks instead of the neat, red, crescent shaped marks from finally pulling his nails out. Tim’s breath left him shakily, something that obviously pleased the other man.

Dick slowly stood up straight from leaning over the table, still smirking down towards Tim before turning and heading up towards Bruce. He watches as Jason also moves from behind him towards the stairs, his eyes a bit brighter green than normal and smirk still teasing as he stares back at Tim before following after Dick.

Slowing his breathing, he turns back to his laptop, immediately locking eyes with Damian, who may have been cleaning his sword at one point but had been clearly distracted, a touch of redness to his cheeks. He seemed to notice Tim staring back at him suddenly, his expression turning to a glare but his neck and face flushing bright and warm. He returns to cleaning his sword and pointedly turning away from him.

Tim pulls open his laptop and takes a final glance around, to see if he managed to somehow not notice someone else around, like maybe Alfred in the corner, also here to witness his embarrassment. Fortunately, Alfred nor anyone else seems to be present, although he doubts Alfred won’t just know. If Tim’s surveillance of Gotham is amazing, Alfred’s surveillance of the mansion is omniscient.

Trying to turn his attention back to his work and his report, he steals another glance to Dick, Jason and Bruce on the level up, his eyes tracing Dick and Jason’s bodies with thinly veiled interest. Sure, he’s found them attractive, but after the porn seeming to awaken his interest in sex, it’s like his desire is just waking up to how attractive they are… and strong, and deadly. He suppresses the shiver that threatens to run up his spine as he remembers their hands and attention on him just moments ago.

He doesn’t know whether to thank Bruce for saving him, or curse him for interrupting.

He tries to focus on his report again, adding a few more details and wrapping up the end of it. By the time he’s finished, or rather by the time he’s finally satisfied with it, Dick and Jason have already left. Damian is still over by the weapons, doing light training and sneaking glances at Tim that Tim is pretending to not notice. If it’s a problem, then it will be addressed by Bruce, he finds most of his interactions with the young Demon to be frustrating at best, infuriating at worst.

Tim sends his report to Bruce digitally, then closes his laptop and begins walking up towards his adoptive father. He waits patiently as Bruce seems to find a good spot to stop in his own research, then opens his file and skims it.

“Well done,” he feels the slight swell of pride in his chest at the praise, something that is not easy to earn from the man. Besides Dick, Tim is the only one who regularly receives that praise, although not near as often as Dick, and he would be lying if he tried to say he didn’t thrive on it. He supposes it is due to his real parent’s neglect, but that doesn’t matter now, Bruce disposed of them so that he could properly take Tim into the Wayne name.

“From now on, in cases where you suspect other party involvement, I want you to include who you suspect and your reasoning why,” He minimizes the report, likely saving it for further research later, “You have an impressive level of intellect and analysis for your age, I want to further develop this in you, and I want proper insight in your deductive reasoning.”

Finally, he turns his chair to be angled more towards Tim, who just nods in understanding, “Would you like me to begin with this report?”

“Start with the next, I want to talk about a different matter now, then I want you to rest. You will attend a meeting with me tomorrow morning at Wayne Tech., we leave at 6 a.m.,” that leaves four hours between then and now, considering the amount of time he needs to prepare for bed and to prepare before leaving, he’s guessing he will have 3 hours of sleep. Not counting the, maybe, hour of sleep on the ride, that’s assuming Bruce doesn’t wish to prepare for the meeting during the ride. That’s about an above average amount of sleep for him.

“Okay,” He just nods, he doesn’t ask about the meeting, Bruce will tell him anything he wants him to know.

Assuming he has been dismissed, he turns to leave only for Bruce to speak up once more, “About the discussion you were having with Dick and Jason earlier,” he would hardly call that a conversation, but he doesn't interrupt. Bruce’s face is still stoic, so Tim just nods once more, and tries not to give away how tense he feels from talking about this with him, “You already know of Dick and Jason’s relationship.”

And again, he can only nod in response. Dick and Jason aren’t exactly hiding their sexual exploits, although Tim would hardly call their furious fucking a relationship. But, considering his relationship history, he supposes he is hardly the person to make that judgement. Then again, Bruce’s relationship with Talia al Ghul, which had “gifted” them with the little Demon, doesn't put him high on the list of people Tim would look to for relationship advice either. So he'll just say, yes, he does know of their relations. He is not blind, he has seen the Roost's security footage.

“I take no issue with you joining their relationship, whether permanently or otherwise, on the basis that it will not affect your mission or your working relationship with them,” Bruce’s face is still stern, crossing his arms as he stares directly at the younger man.

Tim considers himself and the rest of the Owls extremely skilled at keeping a straight face, but this conversation is pushing it for him, “I have not made any agreement to joining their… ‘relationship,’ but I will always prioritize my work for you as Red Talon, and as Timothy Wayne, no matter what I do.”

Bruce made a deep hum of approval before uncrossing his arms, “I do not wish to push you towards something you do not want… however, I feel I should clarify myself," Time would really rather he didn't, "I am aware of how long it has been since your last relationship. I understand that you may have desires that are not being met due to your work," This is not a conversation he wants to have with Bruce Wayne, his adoptive father, about his adoptive brothers, "And I am personally experienced in how difficult it can be to find a partner willing to excuse frequent disappearances and seemingly random injuries without asking any questions, interfering, or suspecting anything. That being said, I would rather you sate your desires with Dick and Jason than seek out a relationship that could potentially distract you from your mission.”

He didn’t react for a moment, rolling this statement over in his mind as though he needed to verify with himself that the words that were just spoken indeed meant what he thought they meant. That Bruce essentially told him that he wanted him to have sex with his brothers. Granted, they're all adopted, and while he does refer to them as his brothers occasionally and does view them as the closest thing to a real family he's ever experienced, he does not share anything people call "familial love" for them. So, when he actually thinks about it, he theoretically doesn’t have a problem with the idea of sleeping with his adoptive brothers. But his adoptive father telling him to sleep with his adoptive brothers is just weird.

Very weird.

“I'm sorry, just to be clear: did you just give me permission to have sex with them?”

Bruce shrugs, “I gave my approval… it’s the simplest solution with the least amount of risk. In case you forgot how your last relationship went.”

Point taken, and he feels it stab his pride a bit. He nods slowly, taking the time to seriously consider what Bruce is telling him. It’s not that Bruce’s argument doesn’t make sense, but it’s not like it is impossible to find someone who would meet those requirements. There are many women who would date him purely for his wealth or his social status, and they would not only stay out of his business and ask no questions, they would likely be happy to do just that.

“I would prefer to avoid any future problems with the media,” Bruce adds before turning back towards his computer, just so casually winning the argument.

Avoiding another situation like his previous girlfriend is certainly a benefit. And Dick and Jason would likely be very good at the things he has seen online--not that he needs them to take care of that.

Bruce doesn't say anything more, leaving Tim feeling thoroughly dismissed. He turns towards the stairs leading back to the manor, thoughts turning over with this new development. He hears Damian's footsteps as he runs up to his father, having just reached the door at the top of the stairs himself, he barely catches what Damian says before it closes behind him, “Drake is gay now?”

The genders involved make little difference to him, he realizes, it is more what they can do to him that has sparked his interest.

He decides then that he will use the next few hours for research instead of sleep. Bruce won’t be happy about his disobedience, but he is hardly unused to sleepless nights.

Chapter Text

Bruce had been unhappy with him in the morning, Alfred ratted to him that Tim hadn’t slept, but it passed rather quickly. It was a small infraction that Tim would certainly pay for at another time, with either an increased amount of training or equipment maintenance he would be ordered to do, but it was not something Bruce would waste their time lecturing him for.

The meeting itself had been rather short but loaded, Bruce hadn’t given him any information going in, but he was put in charge of a new project during the meeting. Mr. Fox would be assisting him, but his workload would soon be increasing dramatically.

Tim can’t help but suspect that this might be a sudden change Bruce made to subtly push him to seek sexual relief with Jason and Dick rather than seek a new relationship, limit his time so he would have fewer options. So much for not wanting to push him towards something he doesn’t want. Not that Tim doesn’t want it. He just hasn’t made up his mind on it yet.

He had spent the few hours he had last night to research more about what it is in these situations that is peaking his interest. It is obvious to him that it is BDSM, but that is not a subject he has ever researched before (at what point in his training would that have been relevant?), so he had to spend a few hours looking into the details. What he found certainly interested him, but it also made him… nervous.

What he is interested in involves a great deal of vulnerability. Situations in which he is bound, being hurt and held down, those leave him at the mercy of his partner. While that vulnerability is what interests him, derives sexual urges from him, the fantasy alone causes his heart to race and his skin to heat, but actually allowing it to happen makes him nervous. It’s one thing if it is a sexual fantasy, then it’s hot to think of being overpowered and used, it’s another thing if he feels he is in real danger.

But if it were Dick and Jason… Being family, he certainly trusts them more than most anyone else--minus Bruce--and he is clearly sexually attracted to them--unlike Bruce. However, he'd be an idiot to intentionally put himself in a vulnerable position in front of those two. They are human weapons, the people of Gotham know all of them as monsters for good reason. Dick especially would take too much pleasure in tearing into him, giving him any permission to hurt him is out of the question, as much as Tim believes he would enjoy a degree of pain, he does not believe he would enjoy the degree of pain that Dick would liberally give him.

Thinking about it, actually, Jason is much more sympathetic than Dick. Strangely enough, considering he is the one who had fallen into the Lazarus Pit and driven half mad from it (not considering his already questionable mental state for becoming Talon before that). Dick is blood-lust defined, he enjoyed the work he did as Talon and now thrives off the work he does as Nightingale. He loves torturing heroes, tormenting those who oppose them, and treats assassination like a game.

He could always try to approach Jason alone, not involve Dick, at least not until he’s sure of his safety with him. He isn’t sure that can ever happen, but maybe if he could guarantee Jason’s cooperation, to stop Dick if he goes too far… He’s getting ahead of himself though, first he needs to see if Jason is even interested in something like this with him, he may have shown interest last night, but that was with Dick involved as well.

The driver drops him off back at the manor alone, as Bruce had further work at Wayne Tech and sent him along, like a child. His first plan was to catch a couple hours of sleep before patrol tonight. During tonight’s patrol, he will try to communicate to Jason that he’d like to speak to him privately, without letting Dick or Bruce know. Dick because he doesn’t want to deal with him yet, and Bruce because he doesn’t want to prove him right… or at least delay him finding out from Alfred later.

Heading up the stairs towards the manor, Damian swings the door open on his way out, Tim side-stepping it just barely. The little Demon gave his usual unsatisfied 'tsk' and glares at him, heading down the steps as Tim just ignores him and heads inside. Turning to shut the door behind himself, he catches sight of the younger man peering over his shoulder back at him, Tim just directs his own glare back at him.

Damian acting weird is hardly anything new for him, from the beginning they didn’t get along. Tim is the least physically skilled out of his brothers, but the most intellectually gifted. While his physical capabilities are nothing to scoff at, he is trained by the Owl, he feels anything he lacks he can make up with by simply outsmarting his opponent. Damian had disagreed, vocally. After the child had only been with them for about a week, Tim had decided it was time to teach him a lesson about that.

That’s a different story though, and he is too tired to really care about the little Demon right now, anyways. Slipping back into his room, he carefully steps around the papers and small piles of screws and bolts he has spread out on the floor (Alfred calls it a mess but he dubbed it an organized chaos), he immediately collapses into his bed and eagerly falls into unconsciousness.

Only a couple hours later, he wakes up to a couple light knocks at his door just before it began opening, “T? It’s time for patrol, Alfred said you were sleeping,” He sits up as Jason, already in his Red Hood suit, takes a couple steps into his room, carefully moving around Tim’s chaos, looking around slowly at the monitors covering the wall and computer towers lying out on his workbench and desk, “All this tech an' you couldn’t set an alarm?”

Tim just stretches his arms over his head casually before moving to get off his bed, almost knocking his laptop off the bed as he moves. Not his work laptop, the laptop he put together for the specific purpose of porn and sex research (and malware software research, conveniently) it seems he slept on it by accident, explains the soreness in his back, “I don’t sleep for more than a couple hours at a time, there’s usually no need for an alarm.”

Sleep felt like a blink to him. It’s like his body refuses to enter REM sleep, it has been like this since shortly after he had become Talon. He believes his training combined with his natural anxiousness has made him too tense and paranoid to fall into a deep sleep. Not that he is unsatisfied with it, two to three two hour naps throughout a day are enough for him.

“That can’t be healthy,” Hood scoffed, staring at him, “You usually sleep in a suit, too? So that's why Alfred was so mad when he said you were sleepin'. He’s gunna be pissed when he sees those wrinkles.”

He just shrugs, pulling the pieces of the suit off him and throwing them on his bed, Red Hood predictably stepping over to begin folding them, “Don’t be making it worse by throwing them on the bed,” Tim theorized that while Jason may have a case of mild OCD (his safehouses and room at the manor are spotless, not Alfred level clean but the closest Tim has ever seen), he believes it is almost a form of fidgeting for him as well. He never behaves this way in front of anyone besides family, as far as Tim has observed, but whenever his hands are not occupied (and now he’s remembering how strong those hands were on his shoulders last night) he would normally be finding something to organize or wipe down or fold.

Tim understands the behavior in a way, his entire room may look like a mess at first glance, but the “junk” on the floor is all spare parts organized into sectioned piles. Papers are parted similarly, blueprints in one place near their related parts while research and documents and manuals are sectioned out with associated parts and pieces. Everything is relative to the monitors that hold either a 3D rendering of the finished product at different angles, or YouTube videos that serve as background noise for him as he works.

Organized chaos. And if anything was touched or changed, he would know immediately. Alfred has become a master of navigating his room like a minefield.

He removes the business slacks last, throwing himself onto his back on the bed, eyes meeting Red Hood’s mask as he lifts his hips and slip out of the slacks, he could hear Hood chuckle, “Careful now, T, you don’t wanna be tempting me before a patrol.”

He just rolls his eyes, “It’s the easiest way to remove my pants without disturbing my room.”

“You could always, I dunno, get some tool chests? Some filing cabinets? A fucking closet?” The sarcasm is not appreciated, but he doesn’t respond, instead throwing his pants on the bed in front of the man and turning to move towards his dresser for sweats.

“I prefer having it all laid out in front of me, helps me think.”

“Yeah…” He ignores the brief lull of conversation as he pulls sweats out and step over to the safety of the bathroom to pull them on. He turns around to see Hood lay his folded pants on his bed, then remembers what he had been thinking about earlier.

“After patrol… could I discuss something with you?”

“Why not now?” Hood tilts his head, an action Tim knows is for his benefit, considering the other man’s expression is still covered by his mask. He suddenly just feels the difference in their state of dress, he knew that Red Hood was in full armor and armed while he had been stripping off his clothes, but he just now felt the power difference it implied. Hood is already stronger than him in armor, with Tim half naked and him armed… His throat goes a bit dry, and he shifts from one foot to the other, turning to begin making his way to the door.

He clears his throat, hoping it isn’t too obvious, “It might take a while, and the Owl is probably already waiting for us.”

He hears Jason begin moving behind him, before he speaks up again, “You ain’t forgettin' anythin'?”

Tim stops, his brain processing for a moment, he wouldn't ask him if he was forgetting anything unless he is forgetting something, right? He’s not forgetting anything though, is he? He looks back at that mask and raises an eyebrow, “No. I’m not. Why?”

Jason tilts his head again, then shrugs, “No reason.”

Tim didn’t like the sound of that.

Fortunately patrol went rather easily, a few groups of thugs thought they could start their own drug trade in the slums without the Owl noticing, so they took care of the different parts of their business and then took care of them. Nightingale made an example out of their leader, a reminder to the city about who is watching them and what exactly they would do.

Tim bet some asshole recorded it and put it up on YouTube, he’d have to search for the video later. He may not be able to trust Dick in bed yet, but he would certainly appreciate the sight of Nightingale taking someone apart in the street. He always looks so alive when he plays with a victim.

They got back early, after that display the Owl was sure that no one would be trying anything for the rest of the night, Tim was certainly okay with that. Well, until they actually got back.

“Red Talon, get in some sweats and get out on the mats, the rest of you can have the night off,” Bruce’s voice carries down to them as they exit the car on the lowest level, the garage.

Damian just snickers as he begins heading up the stairs towards the upper levels, where he’d be able to get out of the Talon uniform. Dick throws a still bloody arm around his shoulders, holding him against the slightly bigger man’s chest, making him tense, “Oh? Is someone in trouble? What did you do?”

“Don’t get blood all over me, Night,” he tries to swat the arm off, to pull away from the other man’s chest, until he feels teeth nip at his ear. Then he holds very still, heart beginning to hammer against his chest, and he wonders if Dick can feel it even underneath all their armor.

Nightingale kisses the spot he just nipped at before breathing in his ear, “Would you prefer it to be your own blood, Baby Bird?”

His breath catches, Nightingale backing up an inch as if to give him a better once over, and then a very dangerous looking smile spreads across his face-

“Nightingale, report!” Bruce’s voice calls down to them once more.

Night doesn’t move for a moment, his smile still present, then he leans in and bites at his throat, making him attempt to flinch away only to be held still by Night’s other arm snaking around his waist. His teeth sinks into the armor around his throat, strong enough for Tim to feel the pressure of it, and his hands come up to grip each of Night’s arms tightly, his breath freezing in his throat. He holds the position for a moment, Tim frozen and not knowing how to react, mind focusing most of it's power on feeling Night breath against his neck.

“Nightingale, now!”

The groan Night releases at the order makes Tim’s heart stutter, the teeth suddenly lifting from his throat and arms releasing him. Tim's breath comes out harshly, rapidly, as if his body suddenly forgot how it was trained not to. Night just chuckles lightly, pressing a quick kiss to his ear with a hissed “later!” before using the grapnel gun to quickly get to the top level.

He clenches his fists and tries to force his heart to calm, only for Red Hood (mask finally off) to step up and smirk down at him, “You're lookin' a bit flustered, T, you wanna talk later?”

He just glares, shoving past him and heading up the stairs, deciding to walk to try and clear his head and calm himself. He only gets to the top of the stairs just to see Damian smirking at him while sitting on the railing, “Grayson got you a little excited, Drake?”

Taking a pointed glance down, he looks back up and smirked at Damian “Got a little excited watching, Demon?”

It was nonsense, they wear cups, but the instinctual response of the kid looking down and expecting to see his own arousal is enough to tell Tim that, yes, Damian did get a little excited watching Nightingale hold and bite Red Talon. He isn’t sure what to do with that information at all. The Demon flushes, glares, makes his usual 'tsk,' and runs off, running up the stairs where Tim also has to go.

The night just keeps getting better.

Hours later, Tim finally leaves the Roost, now that Bruce seems to believe he has fully remembered why he does not disobey an order, no matter how insignificant it may seem. And, at least for the next couple weeks, Tim will be sure to adhere to his assigned bedtimes. It seems like that had not been the only reason for the harsh punishment though, Bruce implied he had noticed his poor resistance to his brother’s advancements. He has been trained by the Owl, still is trained by him, he works for him, and while Dick and Jason are certainly masterful at seduction, his resistance had been pathetic.

“If you are so desperate, then take your brother’s offer and get it out of your system. It will only make you weak to continue as you are now.”

He’s not desperate for sex. He’s never been desperate for sex. It’s true that it has been on his mind a lot more recently, he has been learning about himself in a new way, he wants to be informed, he wants to learn… While not a lie, it certainly sounds like an excuse, even to him. Fortunately, while being wiped from one end of the mat to the other, Tim had time to think the situation over. He is still a little unsure of Dick, of allowing Dick’s sadism loose. But… Dick is also trained by the Owl, he has self-restraint that he displays whenever he follows the Owl’s order, and as long as the Owl wants Tim in working condition he wouldn’t do anything to keep him from working. But that doesn’t mean much, Dick knows how to cause pain, how to torture, and how to keep the person in one piece doing it. Dick is a master at physically torturing a person for long periods of time. But... but his teeth had been on his neck and even just remembering how it felt makes his heart rate double.

What would keep him from fully torturing Tim, just like that man in the street earlier in the night, is that they are family. As Tim had stated before, he doesn't describe the care he does have for his brothers as "familial love," but he has reason to believe Dick does. When Jason had left, Dick had been a wreck about it. He had gone after him and brought him back, because he cared for Jason as family, and he's made it no secret that he considers Tim to be his brother and family as well. He doesn't know how much that would really protect him, but he at least thinks that Dick would never do something to drive him away, as forcing him to endure more pain than he likes would cause. It's something he can consider more, at least, when he's less tired and sore, maybe.

Returning to his room, he showers and, with nothing on but sweatpants and the fresh bruises settling into his skin, his bed is all that is on his mind. He has just enough energy left to maneuver his way around his organized chaos to make it to a safe collapse on his bed. As almost an afterthought, he moves his hand around on his bed, searching for his laptop so as to move it to a corner of the mattress and away from his back. He really doesn’t want to accidentally sleep on it again, the last thing he needs is something else adding to the soreness he would already be feeling tomorrow. He couldn’t feel it though, and after a full minute of frustratingly moving his hand around, blindly searching for it, he finally forces himself to sit up and look.

Except he doesn’t see it. And as he twists, turns, digs through the sheets, looks on the floor, looks on his end table, looks over to his desk and workbench, his heart steadily begins to beat faster and faster. His laptop is gone, and while the theft of any of his technology is enough to make him panic a bit, this one…

This one had all his search history for porn and all his research into sex and…

His breath was becoming short, he’s wide awake now, trying to think to himself where he could have left it. Everything he made is protected, if someone failed the password and fingerprint scan then the laptop would essentially self-combust and destroy any of the data it carried. The only ones who would be able to hack it are a select number of heroes, a couple villains, and any of the Owls. But he never lets anyone in his room, at least, not besides Alfred-

“You ain’t forgettin' anythin'?”

His stomach twists.

Jason hadn’t left the Roost immediately after changing, he was being “trained” by Bruce on the mats a couple levels below, and so only saw him briefly when he had gone up to tell Bruce he was ready. He had been at the main computer, the Owl’s computer. The only computer that could easily decipher his security. He would know, the Owl made him put the software to do it on the computer.

He is in the hall in seconds, ignoring the soreness of his muscles as he practically jogs down the couple of halls towards where Jason’s room is. Reaching it, he raises a fist to bang at the door, before taking a calming breath and just knocking. Loudly. Very loudly, especially for 1 in the morning. But still just knocking. A few moments later, Jason, hair tussled, shirt missing, underwear obviously just pulled on, swings the door open. Behind him, Dick stands stark naked, not ashamed or even trying to cover anything up. Tim just freezes, all panic drained from his system and then poured right back in. Tired, sore, and mentally scrambled, he really is not able to control the flush of his skin before it is too late.

“Tim?” Jason asks breathlessly, pausing a moment as if to process that Tim is in front of him and that there doesn’t seem to be an emergency and that Tim is only wearing some very low hanging sweats. He then smirks down at the other man, tone changing, “Oh, Tim.”

Said boy clears his throat, about to ask for his laptop, and then stops. What had he been expecting? If Jason had gotten into his laptop, then he’d know everything on it, and while Tim had been planning to talk to him about some of the stuff, he certainly hadn’t been planning on it being revealed so… shamefully, and without his consent. If Jason hadn’t gotten into his laptop, then coming over here in such a hurry and demanding it makes it clear that whatever he’s hiding on the laptop is something important, and Jason’s curiosity will be peaked. And if he didn’t take the laptop, and maybe Alfred had just misplaced it (chances of that are extremely unlikely, it’s Alfred), then Jason will then know he’s hiding something.

Worst of all, Dick is still standing there completely naked and giving him the look of a predator just spotting his dinner. And no matter what direction this conversation turns, he’s sure Dick will not stay quiet or out of it. Dick enjoys attention too much to stay quiet.

His voice cracks—cracks, like he's going through puberty again—for a moment, before he could remind his lips and tongue that they could help words happen in his mouth, “I… I wanted to talk… to you… privately…” That wasn’t… well, that wasn’t his best moment. He took a deep breath, feeling his skin hum with an old nervous energy, his heart rate beginning to increase.

“Private? There’s no secrets in this family, Baby Bird, just tell your brothers what’s bothering you,” Dick slides up behind Jason, his arms wrapping around the other man’s waist to hold him, Jason seems to practically melt into his touch. He suppresses a small shiver from running up his spine, as he could very clearly remember what he caught those hands doing to Jason last week on the Roost cameras, it would be hard to forget.

“I…” He has to stop himself from saying something stupid, he has to think before he says anything, otherwise Dick would just twist the words around to whatever suits him. He’ll just find some way to draw Tim into the room, to touch him, and as soon as he begins touching him it will be all over for Tim, his resistance would crumble.

Retreat would be best in this situation, so he clears his throat, and tries not to think about how dry it is, “It’s late… I’ll just talk to you another time.”

Jason chuckles, hand resting on Dick’s arm around him, and Tim turns to leave.

“I found your laptop.”

He stops, heart race beginning to pound at his chest, and looks back towards Jason. Dick kisses his shoulder and raises an eyebrow at them, “Timmy lost his laptop? That’s not like him.”

“Yeah, I had to use the software on the Owl’s computer to be sure, but it’s T’s. Don’t you want it back?” Jason has the worst shit-eating grin on his face, he knows he has Tim now.

“I… didn’t lose a laptop,” He would rather lose the piece entirely, but is there even a point to lying? He still wants to talk to Jason about this stuff anyways, but he invaded his laptop, it feels too personal for him to find out like that. The option had been taken away from him.

“Oh, really?” Jason’s surprise is so fake, his acting is starting to grate on his nerves, “Then, Dickie, have I got something to show you-“

“Don’t!” He hisses and spins around, taking a couple steps back towards them, freezing as their sharp grins turn towards him.

He lost, he lost a while ago, Jason already knew, he had him, he tried to slip away, he failed miserably.

“If you are so desperate, then take your brother’s offer…”

He’s smarter than this, trained better than this, why is this so hard, then?

Jason nudges Dick back, side-stepping to allow Tim enough room to cross the threshold, “Let’s talk, T.”

Chapter Text

Dick is a very touch-oriented person, even when just casually standing around with the rest of the Owls, he tends to be leaning on someone or wrapping an arm around their shoulders or waist. He doesn’t particularly care who is around, he just enjoys physical touch, it seems to calm him. Even when he is causing a victim pain, he gets his hands bloody, he traces their body with a weapon before using it, allowing them to twitch and flinch and twist underneath him, he makes such a violent act so sensual.

So Tim really isn’t surprised that the other man moves behind him to wrap his arms around his shoulders as soon as he enters the room. Dick has always praised his height, despite being shorter than almost everyone else in the family (Damian isn’t done growing yet though), Dick finds it easy to wrap his arms around him and rest his head next to Tim’s. While Tim is accustomed to this behavior from Dick, and would normally not pay it any mind, it is hard to ignore it after their most recent interactions. His teeth are so close to his neck again. There’s no doubt that Dick can feel his heart beating rapidly, and as Jason walks over to his desk to pick up Tim’s laptop, he becomes acutely aware of how restrained he is in Dick's arms, how easily the man could keep him from running from this casual embrace.

Jason holds the laptop with one hand, opening it and smirking at the other two, “Your search history is real interestin', T,” Dick’s lips begin gently kissing his ear, Tim’s breath catching in his throat for a moment as his body tenses. Jason chuckles again, deep, amused, “Distracted? Okay, okay, I know how Dick is. You wanna tell him what I found on this?”

He gulped, his throat dry, heart hammering against his chest. Dick’s lips slide down to his neck, his teeth nipping from just underneath his ear and heading down, each touch of teeth to his skin consuming his attention for the moment. He could tell them, he could demand the laptop back and leave, but he doesn't want to leave... and he doesn't want to tell them like this, he doesn't want to be forced to tell them.

“I think he’s a bit too tense for questioning right now, Jay, we should help him take the edge off first,” He can feel Dick’s smirk on his neck, one of Dick's hands tangling into his hair to tilt his head and give him more neck to work with.

In the back of his mind, a small part began to wonder if this is really so bad. This had been his goal, hadn’t it? So what's wrong in just letting this happen? Jason growls deep in his throat, putting the laptop back down on his desk and sliding forward to lean over Tim, “I won’t argue with that, Big Wing,” Jason's large hands settle on his sides, fingers gently running up and down before suddenly digging dull nails in and running them up to his ribs. He jerks, a throaty moan slipping from his throat, a noise he didn’t even realize he could make.

Yes, he wishes he could have had a proper conversation with them to settle his nerves, he wishes Jason hadn’t stolen his laptop and figured him out, he wishes he could have told them that he wanted this and not have the option to tell them taken from him. This is what he still wants, isn’t it?

Dick gasps in what can only be described as delight, teeth skimming back up his throat to his ear, pulling at the lobe gently, “It sounds like you really liked that, Baby Bird,” Jason’s fingers slip behind him and again dig his nails in before pulling them along to the front of his hips, a whine ripping from Tim's throat in response, “Oh, it sounds like you really like that!” Dick steps away and seconds later he’s being thrown on his back onto Jason’s bed, Dick crawling onto the bed over him, between his legs, his sharp blue eyes trailing down Tim's body.

“Little Wing, could you grab the lube for me?” He looks back up to Tim then, directly into his eyes, “You want us to stop, say so. We can talk more about this later, so just say stop if you don’t like something, Baby Bird.”

Dick says this just a moment before he tears Tim’s pants down, hands pressing into his hips and mouth moving dangerously close to Tim’s penis. If Tim hadn’t occasionally seen where Dick’s mouth has been on Jason, he would have never thought there is a chance Dick is about to suck him off, but he has, maybe even repeatedly, so all he can do is stare. Just stare, wide-eyed and holding his breath, as Dick smirks back at him and lowers his mouth to lick slowly up Tim’s penis, “And if you can’t speak, then tap out, we’ll stop. Promise, Baby Bird.”

Yes, he wants this. He definitely still wants this.

The only thing he resists is his own movement, Dick’s hands traveling around his body to fill his hands with Tim’s ass, groping and squeezing gently, before lips wrap around his head and Dick’s mouth sinks down his length quickly. Pleasure spikes up his spine very suddenly, making him flinch and his mouth drop open, sucking in a breath and then immediately losing it as Dick’s fingernails harshly drag down from his ass to his thighs.

Mouth already hanging open, he can’t stop the cry that spills out, hands clenching at the sheets beneath him. He feels the bed dip beside him, and he reopens his eyes, realizing he had clenched them shut. Jason is sitting beside him, his eyes burning a brighter green than normal, his underwear still on but Tim can see the outline of him through it. Dick pulls off him suddenly, making Tim shudder from the cool air hitting him, “Little Wing, show him some love, huh?”

Jason leans down, another low chuckle coming from his throat, the sound causing his skin to heat up, and Jason begins to kiss him hard and passionately. He hears a click but Dick’s mouth returns to his cock, setting a faster pace that causes Tim to moan into Jason’s mouth. Tim feels something wet and a bit cold slide along his entrance, and after all the porn he’s seen the past couple weeks and Dick asking for lube earlier, he figures it must be Dick’s finger.

Dick just messages the rim of his hole for a while, mouth still working what feels like a miracle on him as Jason finally detaches from his lips to bite at his neck, one of his hands reaching up to grip Jason’s bicep as he bites down suddenly. Shivering, he groans again, breath catching as he feels something squirming around in his ass, going deeper and feeling around. His entire body trembles for a moment, his fingers clenching at Jason’s bicep and the other hand pulls at the sheets. He just wants more, it all feels so good, he doesn’t know what took him so long to let this happen, it’s all just perfect, and he just wants more, more, more…

“What was that?” Jason is leaning over him more now, smirking down at him, one of those large hands drifting over to lay on his chest and rub gentle circles into his skin, “You say somethin', lil' Red?”

Did he say something? Did he just say what he had been thinking?

The finger started to move in and out of his ass, a second resting at his rim as if to tease him, and Dick sucks hard as he began lifting his head off of Tim’s cock, releasing it with an obscene pop, “You’re so tight on my finger, Baby Bird, how desperate are you?” Dick’s voice is so deliciously breathless and rough, pink lips still only an inch or so away from him, he’s barely comprehending what he’s even saying, “Tell us what you want, no need to be shy…”

“More,” His voice is a little shaky, but unhesitating, a small groan following the word as Dick slides the second finger inside him, the tiniest bit of pain with the stretch. Jason chuckles, one of his hands drifting to Tim’s nipple to begin teasing, twisting, and flicking. Dick’s mouth is on his thighs, licking and sucking and biting them, making Tim twitch as he feels each time Dick sinks his teeth in. Jason’s other hand reaches up towards Tim’s chest, gently rubbing the skin in the middle of his collarbone.

“Wanna repeat that for me?” Jason chuckles, licking his lips as he lowers his head and breaths over his neck.

Tim gulps, sucking air in a bit desperately, before forcing his eyes open and staring directly back at Jason, “I want more.”

Dick’s teeth sink in and Jason’s fingers wrap around his throat, pressing into the sides of his throat and blocking his breath, the resulting groan coming out a bit strangled but still loud, his muscles twitching as he feels Dick’s tongue soothing the bite mark, and his head swimming as he feels the pressure Jason is carefully applying to his throat.

“Good boy,” Jason mutters, leaning down to bite along his collarbone as he feels Dick’s fingers beginning to move in and out with more force, his bites trailing back up towards his cock. Suddenly desiring to feel them, he reaches out without thought to trail his hand over Jason’s back, pressing down with his finger nails to add a bit of pressure, Jason groaning lowly in approval.

His skin feels like it’s burning him from the inside out, teeth and nails digging in to his skin, his other hand reaches up to gently run fingers over the grip Jason has over his throat. Jason pauses, glancing up at him in evaluation, but Tim just nods a bit, feeling a warmth spread in his chest as Jason smirks back at him in that fond way he somehow manages to do. He feels on edge, like he’s strung so tight together but also trembling apart, his brain drifting away with only the occasional point of pain reminding him of his body.

Then Dick’s mouth slides over him again, and Jason’s grip loosens to allow him to breathe deeply, and all he’s sees is flashes of white and black. For a while, he just lays there, lightly coughing as his breathing regulates and Jason’s hand leaves his throat. He feels Dick pull his fingers out of him, and the leftover lube slightly drip from his hole down his ass crack. It takes a moment, but his eyes eventually register that Dick and Jason are both staring at him, Dick gently stroking his hair and Jason his side, as if to soothe him. It takes him longer to realize they’re saying something to each other and to him, it takes another moment for him to actually process what they’re saying.

“You did amazing, Baby Bird, you sounded so good screaming for us.”

“You looked beautiful coming with my hand on your throat.”

His hand twitches for a moment, eyes looking down a bit more to see their erections, Dick’s bare to the world and Jason’s somehow still covered by his boxers. Then his hand snaps up to grab Dick’s hand, both of the men looking a little surprised from the sudden motion. He thinks for a second, feels out his body for a moment, the sore spots, the weak spots, then looks back at them, “I want more.”

Dick laughs, sharp, loud, quick, then leans down and kisses him deeply, tongue sliding over his lips for a moment before pushing into his mouth and prodding his own tongue. He tastes salty and strange, until Tim remembers where his mouth had just been, then it makes more sense. He realizes Dick wants him to respond, unsure of what to do, he tries poking back at him, making Dick snicker in his mouth a bit. Not liking feeling teased, he sucks on the tongue, making Dick groan in his throat and push away, “Slowly, Baby Bird, no need to push yourself. Jay, why don’t you take that off and lay back on the bed, Timmy seems eager and I want to see him play with you.”

Jason groans a bit, sliding off the bed to slip his underwear off. Dick pulls Tim up, turning him around to have him on his knees with his back against Dick’s chest. His lips begin pressing down his neck again as he feels a couple fingers pressing back inside him again, he sucks in a breath at the feeling, a little oversensitive, but just pleasurable enough to still be acceptable. Jason moves back on the bed, shifting closer to them before laying back, further up the bed than Tim had been. He leans back against the pillows, throwing his arms behind his head and smirking down at them.

Tim reaches back to hold Dick’s hip, his other hand holding onto Dick’s arm around his waist, “Looks like Jason is ready… Dick?”

He moans as he feels a third finger suddenly pushing inside him, the arm around him sliding away to grasp one of his arms, holding it against his side. Dick pulls his fingers out, leaving Tim feeling strangely empty and stretched, he slides his palm up Tim’s spine until it reaches his upper back, pressing down to get Tim to lean forward. He hesitates a moment until he realizes where he’s leaning towards, his other hand reaching out to brace himself on Jason’s thigh. His face coming level with Jason’s erect cock, he shivers as Dick’s fingers return to tease his hole for a moment, then groans as they shove back inside him.

“Timmy, I want you to give Jason the same lovely treatment I gave you. You can do that for him, right?” He feels heat against his back as Dick leans over him, teeth nipping at his shoulders, he shivers.

Feeling that burning warmth spread through his body, he tenses his abs to hold himself up so he can use his spare hand to quickly tuck some of his hair behind his ear before returning it to Jason’s thigh to hold himself up again. He smirks up at Jason, making eye contact, “I would be happy to,” then presses a simple kiss to the base of Jason’s erection. He drags his tongue up his cock, swirling it around the head and tasting the saltiness of the precum there, trying to remember what he had felt Dick do and what he had seen in the porn. Jason is already so wet, Tim wraps his lips around the other man’s head and begins to sink his mouth down onto him. The sensation is strange, it’s harder to fit than he thought, making him tuck his lips in a bit to try and keep his teeth from scrapping it, and it’s surprisingly warm and salty on his tongue. Jason’s groan is low, deep, rumbling, as Dick’s fingers continue working him, making him feel so wet and open, he shivers with a small moan himself.

Jason’s fingers slide through his hair, finding purchase in the strands but not pulling or pushing, just resting for now, pulling his hair back so that Jason can see Tim’s head bob up and down his cock. Tim watches him do this, shivers rushing through him as he continues.

“How’s the view?” He hears Dick teasingly ask over his shoulder, light nips suddenly turning into teeth sinking into the spot between his neck and shoulder. He groans again, causing a chain reaction as Jason also moans and tightens his grip in his hair.

He chuckles, that low, rumbling, deep chuckle he does that just makes him sound like he's losing his sanity, and he’s positive that Dick feels the way it makes his thighs tremble a bit, “So beaut-e-ful, I’ll havta take a picture next time, he looks jus' like a girl with my hand in his hair and his priddy lil' lips wrapped around my cock,” another deep groan as Tim suddenly sucks and moves his mouth up Jason's cock.

A small moan slips out of his throat, Jason humming in pleasure at the small vibrations, and Dick chuckling, “Sounds like he's a natural, too, the way he's working you. He’s just about ready back here. How would you like Jason finishing in your ass, Timmy?”

A hard tremble wracks his body, a deep moan making Jason reply in kind, then he pushes himself up off Jason. Licking his lips and looking up at the venomous green eyes of the man in front of him, pit eyes, eyes that say he's just barely in control, “I want that.”

“Then climb on him and take it,” Dick’s fingers slip out of him, a small whine leaking out as he realizes he’s already half hard again. He is young, so getting hard again after a short period isn’t surprising, but this is new for him, he didn’t realize he could get hard again so quickly. Dick presses one last kiss to the back of his neck before moving back, and Tim moves forward to straddle Jason’s waist and lift himself to his knees. The back of his mind decides to remind him then that this was the position he had been in with his last girlfriend, only reversed, and part of him took interest in how much more interesting he finds it this time. Then he feels some fingers spreading him and he gasps as he begins lowering himself onto Jason’s cock, the head presses against his entrance stubbornly for a moment before it finally pops in.

Tim feels his hole spasm slightly as a twinge of pain runs through him, not enough to concern him, but enough to make him pause and clench around the large, hot piece entering him. Jason groans quietly underneath him, his large hands gripping his hips and seeming to urge him to go down more. He concedes after a moment, his thighs trembling from the feeling of more sliding deeper, and deeper. He stops once he feels the hair of Jason’s pubes and balls brush against his ass, and he trembles again, his mind just unhelpfully repeating that he has Jason balls deep in his ass and how amazing it feels. Some pain remains, just from the stretch and how it went deeper than Dick’s fingers could stretch him, but it still isn’t enough to make him stop. Not when it feels so good.

“You like it?” Dick whispers in his ear, suddenly present behind him again, he gives a small chuckle, “Just wait until you start moving. You’ll love bouncing on his dick, Baby Bird, trust me.”

Following the advice, he begins lifting himself, Jason’s fingers on his hips digging in and likely leaving bruises, and once he feels his head tugging his rim to pop out, he drops himself back down. Jason groans deeply, and it takes Tim a moment to reorganize his mind, a broken moan falling from him, a sharp, stabbing pleasure racing up his spine from the penetration. He’s lifting himself again a moment later when Dick’s hand reaches around him to give him a few hard strokes, causing him to clench around Jason’s head again.
“Fuck, T, that’s good, that’s great,” Jason mumbles, hands clenching and relaxing his hips as Tim lowers himself slower this time, just to begin lifting himself again without stopping.

The feeling is addicting, he’s discovering, as he begins moving faster, biting his lips to stop from letting out all the little moans out. He feels Dick move up behind him again, he hears a click but doesn’t have the presence of mine to think about what it is or why it should matter right now. Then, suddenly, Jason shouts and thrusts up into him, throwing off the slow rhythm he had set and forcing a sharp moan out of him.

He shudders as he hears Dick chuckle behind him, “Jay, let Timmy have his fun, or would you rather him using your hole instead?”

Tim groans, shuddering but increasing his previous pace of fucking himself on Jason’s cock, now knowing that Dick is likely fingering Jason’s ass behind him. He places his hands flat on Jason’s chest, and, as Dick suggested earlier, begins to lift and slam himself on Jason.

“Good, Tim, you’re doing great,” He huffs at Dick’s praise, continuing his pace and shuddering at the pleasure rushing through him. Dick’s nails suddenly leave long burning lines down his back and he moans loudly, shuddering, “How does our baby bird feel, Jay? Is he treating you well?”

“God, fuck, he's tight, it’s good, so good,” another jerk from Jason throws Tim’s rhythm off, the thrust making Tim shake for a moment before desperately returning to the previous rhythm.

“You like having Jason’s cock fucking you, Timmy?” Dick asks, breathing into Tim’s ear and digging his nails into his side, just above his hip.

He whines pathetically, not trusting that he would actually make words if he opens his mouth, instead opting for clutching Jason’s shoulders and trying to get more.

“I want an answer, Baby Bird. Jay told you how good you feel, you should return the favor,” Dick’s fingers leave his side to slide up and tightly pinch his nipple, making Tim yelp, “Do you like having Jason’s cock in you, Timmy? Answer me.”

He opens his mouth just for a loud moan to be released, shuddering as Dick rolls his nipple between his fingers and then pulls a bit, he takes another moment to remind his mouth to make words, “Yes, yes, fuck,” another whine, “More, so good, want more.”

“Shit,” Jason groans, and Tim feels Dick at his back thrust his fingers deeper into Jason. The hands on his hips grip so hard that he knows he’s going to have bruises there, they hold him still and Jason suddenly thrusts hard into him from beneath, he feels Jason releasing inside him, warm and deep.

He shudders hard and whines as he’s held still by those hands, like it’s a kind of torture to be forced to hold still now. Dick’s hand comes to his shoulder and pushes him, forcing him against Jason’s chest and he feels Jason pop out of his hole as a result, unable to lament the loss as Dick suddenly shoves into him. Hard and hot, longer but thinner than Jason, and without patience.

Tim shouts as Dick begins pounding inside him, deeper than before, and the hand on his shoulder holds him down as he tries to keep enough of his mind to figure out where to keep his hands to brace himself. Jason’s hands claw up his sides lazily, slowly, torturous, making Tim squirm his hips and moan at the different angles Dick thrusts into him as a result. He feels Jason’s hand slipping under him and heading towards his neck, the grip tight and pushing him lightly to make his hand brace against the bed and his body arch back. Dick notices and moves his hand from his shoulder to grab his hair, making him hold the arch as Jason’s pressing down on the sides of his throat to stop his breath again. Trembling, Tim reaches down to his cock, gripping himself for the first time that night and desperately trying to match the quick pace Dick has on his ass. A few tears welling up in his eyes, a loud, strangled moan slips out of him as he realizes just how close he is again. He said he wanted more, he certainly got it.

Jason loosens his grip a bit, allowing Tim to suck in a few gulps of breath eagerly, his head and body becoming light, the pleasure from his ass and his dick all he can feel, and then Jason tightens his grip again and it’s like every cell in his body turns extra-sensitive. A sharp slap to his ass makes him yelp, the sting sending shock waves through him again, “You’re starting to loosen up, Timmy, your ass is getting so used, you're so desperate for us, so cute,” Dick’s voice is breathless, tense, on edge. Another slap and Tim moans this time.

Jason’s grip loosens again, Tim trembles as he sucks the air in, feeling high before Jason tightens his grip once more. Dick’s other hand, resting in the same spot one of Jason’s had been on his hip, digs its nails in. Then Dick is leaning forward and bites, in the spot between his neck and his shoulder again, harder than before and definitely breaking skin. Tim tries to scream but it comes out strangled in Jason’s grip, his body feeling like its shaking to pieces as his sight starts spotting white and he releases for the second time that night, into his own hand this time. It takes a few moments for him to come back again, Dick having released his hair and Jason’s grip no longer tight, allowing him to take in harsh, desperate breaths. He notices Dick’s pace on him becoming fast and jerky, his mind still feels light, like he’s floating, but he realizes that it means Dick would probably be coming inside him soon.

“Watch him,” Jason mutters to him, making Tim look at him to see him staring at Dick. With a little effort, he glances over his shoulder to see Dick looming over him, breathing heavy, face flushed, and staring back down at him. He flinches as Dick slams into him harder, then he groans loudly and Tim feels the same warmth as before releasing in him, making him moan a bit.

They stay still for a moment, coming down, Jason messaging his throat gently before sitting up and wrapping an arm around Tim. It’s then he realizes just how intensely he’s shaking, a fact he finds disturbing. Jason lays him on the bed, his back to Jason’s chest as his arms wrap around his waist, as if he’s keeping him together. Dick lowers himself in front of Tim, a soft smirk Tim doesn’t believe he’s ever seen on his face before, and draws in close. Dick tangles their legs together, bringing his hand up to brush through Tim’s hair in a soothing act that surprises him a little. And warms him a little.

It feels loving, as though they’re treating him gently because he is precious to them. No one has ever treated him that way, not even his mother, not his father, and definitely not his foster father. He whines softly, unintentionally, worried about the sudden burst of emotions in his chest and the tears at his eyes. He tries ignore it, he’s never this emotional, he doesn’t cry this easily. You can cry all night, all day, an entire week, it doesn’t achieve anything, so he just doesn’t cry.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Baby Bird, Jason and I are here for you,” Dick kisses his forehead, pressing closer and gently pulling Tim’s head down against his chest.

Jason softly presses kisses to the base of his neck, squeezing him a bit tighter around the waist, “Anything you need, babe, we’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.”

He doesn’t know if it’s his heart or chest that shook, but he ignores it, reaching out to wrap his arms around Dick’s chest and hold on, body still trembling.

It takes a few minutes, but he suppresses the trembling and the worst of the emotions eventually, withdrawing his arm out from underneath Dick as it begins falling asleep. Instead wrapping it around Jason’s arms around him, while his other arm he leaves laying over Dick’s chest, no longer clutching but laying there peacefully.

Feeling thoroughly exhausted, he struggles to stay awake as the lethargy lays into his bones. Dick must have noticed after a while, gently whispering to him, “Sleep, Baby Bird, we’ll stay with you.”

And in his mind, right then, wrapped up in them, it just made sense that if Dick said it, then it must be true.

Chapter Text

When Tim wakes up, it’s to peace, quiet, and sunlight streaming in through the windows.

He immediately knows something isn’t right.

At the same time, his body feels so nice, like all the tension and stress was sucked out of him, and it really decreases his motivation to move. Instead, he turns his head slowly, taking in the room around him.

A practically immaculate bedroom, minus some gun parts spread out on a desk in the corner, he can hear the shower running from the bathroom, and he sees a familiar leather jacket draped over the side of the bed he’s lying on, it’s obviously Jason’s room. The moment he realizes this, he remembers the previous night, and then sits up immediately to look for Dick and Jason.

He feels some pain shooting up his ass, but it’s more on the side of soreness than actual pain. Dick had prepared him well, made sure he wouldn’t be in excessive pain, and he never hurt him to the point where Tim had to tell him to stop. He is a little surprised to realize that, but as he hears the shower turn off he jolts into realizing that he is still naked under the sheets and it’s light out and he has no idea how long he’s been asleep.

Tim is looking all around the room for his sweatpants, expecting them to be on the floor where Dick had thrown them last night, but instead finding them lying, neatly folded, on the end table next to him. He shuffles out of bed, ignoring the protest of his ass, grabs them and pulls them on. Immediately moving to bolt for the door, he hears Jason’s bathroom door opening just as he closes the door.

Not wasting any time, he moves quickly down the hall and around the corner, headed for his own bedroom, just to slam into someone as he rounds the corner.

This is the problem with everyone in the house walking as silently as a ninja.

“How dare—“ He recognizes the voice before his eyes even land on Damian’s wide eyes and red face. The kid makes a low strangled sound as his gaze on Tim shifts to look darker, and that’s when Tim remembers the biting and scratching and bruising.

Granted, some of the smaller bruises were from Bruce’s training, but Damian can tell the difference between a bruise from a bite and a fist, and Jason and Dick had not been gentle with his hips. He shivers as the memory of how their hands felt on his hips, holding him as they pounded into him.

Feeling a slight surge of embarrassment from his indecency, he fights down the blush, muttering, “Fuck off, Demon.”

He pushes past the kid and continues down the hall, paying no mind to the eyes that he could feel follow him. Waiting until he’s safely behind his own bedroom door to lean against it and slide down onto his butt, ignoring any disturbance he’s making to the organized chaos around him. Then he remembers, he forgot his laptop.

He just sits there for a while, holding his legs, head scrambling to keep up with him. What must he look like for Damian to look at him like that? His mind replaying last night, his breath catching in his throat as he remembers each bite, squeeze, slap, scratch, and feels the soreness in his ass, like a phantom presence inside him. Some part of his brain had cataloged each injury, trained too well for anything to turn it off, and it provided with a decent idea of what Damian had been seeing. Rising to his feet he shuffles to the bathroom, stubbornly not looking at the mirror when he steps in. Trying to calm the nervous beating in his chest, he heads for the shower first, letting his sweats drop and stepping in. The water warm, the bite Dick left on his neck surprisingly doesn’t sting as the water runs over it, and his body begins to relax immediately. He just stands under the spray for a while, enjoying the feeling, before a thought occurs to him.

Both Jason and Dick came in him last night, their sperm is likely… He reaches back, fingers running up his crack to his sore hole, hesitating from the dull sting he feels as he touches it. It is sore, but he can’t imagine it will hurt to just stick a finger in and try to wiggle out any semen still in there. It can’t be deep, it would have run down as he had been sitting up right or standing since he woke up, and it’s just a finger, Jason and Dick are a lot bigger than his finger and they went in just fine. The water should be enough to let him slide in.

At least, that’s what he thought.

He only barely slipped inside before he immediately pulled out, the sting telling him his assumptions are wrong. He sighs, pulling his finger back and letting the water run over his hand, the semen isn’t likely to do anything harmful to his body, except maybe some mild discomfort, he could probably just leave it. Instead, he reaches for his body wash, the anti-bacterial one first, to gently wash around the area Dick had bit him. It didn’t feel particularly bad, it isn’t deep, just a simple break in the skin. Dick isn’t known to hold back, so Tim wonders if he might just not be as interested in drawing blood as he had previously thought he’d be.

“You want us to stop, say so…”

Is it possible that Dick was being careful with him? He didn’t know Dick to be the kind of person to be careful with anyone, he didn’t need to be careful with anyone, if his partner didn’t meet his standards then Dick could easily find another to replace them. Dick doesn't even need a list, nearly anyone would jump at the chance to be with him. And Tim knows he's attractive, maybe not as much as Dick or Jason but still pretty attractive in his own right, but he knows that Dick could find someone more attractive than him that is willing to put up with any punishment he wants to dish out. On top of all that, he already has one of the hottest men they know: Jason.

He pauses at the thought. They all know that Jason came back into the family after his stint of rebellion because of Dick, but it’s private knowledge that while he works for the Owl and follows his orders, his true loyalty remains with Dick. Jason had returned to Gotham because of Dick, and stays in Gotham because of Dick. Tim hadn’t gotten to know him well before he left, he had only been Talon for a few months at the time and his training had been brutal. He had been locked in the isolation chamber when Jason had left, he was only aware something was wrong because of how long he had been in there for, counting seconds to keep himself grounded. When he had been let out, he realized that Bruce and Dick were there but Jason was not, they all trained him, no exceptions, but Jason was not there and his Red Talon suit was still clearly left out, that could only mean Jason was not in the picture anymore. He still doesn’t know the whole story, but it was something about the way Bruce treated them like tools rather than people that Jason didn’t like. Tim wasn’t surprised, Jason has always been more emotionally driven than the rest of them, but he was surprised that it took Jason that long, and he had always wondered what the final straw had been.

Either way, it took the better part of a year, and just as Bruce and Dick were ready to give their approval of him being street ready, Jason returned to Gotham. Dick had left, and a couple hours later he returned with the Red Hood, Jason’s new mask, and he had been dismissed so the three of them could talk. A couple years later, Damian showed up, and before Bruce could ask him, Tim was already planning to take the Red Talon mask. Looking back on it, he supposed he had been a little eager to. It felt almost like he was moving up, taking Jason’s old mask, and he had been surprised when Jason seemed to not care. But Jason didn’t really seem to care most of the time, about anything Tim did… yet he was the one he had trusted more than Dick to talk to about his sexual interests.

He feels like an idiot, just now noticing the crush he had been carrying for likely years now. Dick had been an attraction he couldn't deny he had, as Dick likes to be. Jason had been an attraction he didn't realize he felt, despite recognizing how attractive the man is, for years.

Finishing his shower, he climbs out and stands in front of the sink mirror, staring down at the faucet and bracing himself. He grabs the disinfectant wound spray on the side of his sink, held it for a moment, and finally looks up at his reflection. A shiver rushes over him as his eyes stop at the bruises first, the ones on his hips specifically. Jason’s hands are big, and they left delicious looking prints on his hips, making his waist seem small in comparison, especially in his memory of how he had held Tim on top of him. Just above his right hip bone is another, a bit smaller bruise, likely from where Dick had held him, his grip having become stronger and tighter as he came in—Tim’s thoughts are derailing.

He breaths out slowly and lets his eyes travel up, repeating to himself in his head to focus as his eyes trail up all the smaller bruises and hickeys they had left on his body, the lines their nails had made in his skin. He uncaps the spray and brings it up to his neck, stares for a moment as another shiver travels up his spine, thinking how undone Dick must have been for him to bite Tim like that, how tempted he was by Tim, how desperate Tim had made him by just pushing for them to give him more—he wasn’t going to get anywhere at this rate.

Spraying the disinfectant on the bite, he capped it and turned, leaving the bathroom determined to get something done today. He has wasted too much time on this, he has no idea how long he has slept for, but he knows the sun is out so it must be at least double what his normal amount is. Moving to his dresser, he pulls out a new pair of sweats, some briefs, and a red t-shirt as well, then moves towards his bed and slips the shirt on. He throws himself on his back on the bed and begins wiggling his hips as he slides the pants off.

“Careful now, T, you don’t wanna be tempting me before a patrol.”

A warm feeling curls in him as he remembers the half-lidded, predatorial look Jason had given him last night, his eyes having gone such a bright green. How excited had he made him--he’s quickly losing patience with his own attention span. Moving off the bed, new clothes on, he leaves his old pants on his bed for Alfred to get later. An uncomfortable feeling running through him as he realizes that Alfred likely knows exactly what happened last night, as he always does. Nothing he can do about that now, though, except maybe apologize when he sees the other man. It still felt wrong, Alfred is like a grandfather to them, it just makes him uncomfortable to think about.

He walks around to his desk, tapping the keyboard’s space bar to wake the computer up, all the screens on the walls instantly lighting up. And then Tim’s stomach drops.
5 p.m.

They had an early night last night, less so for Tim because of Bruce but still early. They returned at about 1:30 a.m., Bruce finished with him at about 2:30 a.m., so he must have been at Jason’s bedroom at around 3 a.m. Then… it couldn’t have been more than an hour or so, two hours at most. 5 a.m. would have been the time he fell asleep. He woke up only about an hour ago.

He slept for 11 hours.

He hasn’t done that sense… He can’t remember. Has he ever slept longer than a couple hours? He’s never been relaxed enough to do that, he’s never wanted to, sleeping that much just makes him vulnerable, how would he ever feel safe enough—

“Shhh, it’s okay, Baby Bird, Jason and I are here for you…”

“Anything you need, babe, we’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.”

“Sleep, Baby Bird, we’ll stay with you.”

A shiver rushes through him, his breath catches, but it’s not from excitement this time. Dick told him to sleep, and he did. Jason and Dick held him, told him they’d take care of him, and he fell asleep. He trusted them in that moment, years of anxiousness about being vulnerable, exacerbated by his training and work as Talon giving him a reason to be paranoid, and he fell asleep in their arms like a baby. Part of him was terrified about that, another part intensely embarrassed. Is he really that easy? He offered no resistance to what they did to him, he loved it, loved the attention, loved the vulnerability, loved handing himself over to them, loved feeling like he could hand himself over to them. He demanded more.

That’s what it really is, isn’t it? That he felt like he could hand himself over to them. He wanted it. He can’t lie to himself, he had the opportunity to tell them to stop, Dick told him to speak up if he wanted them to stop. Even later, when Jason had his hand on his throat, if he had struggled then they would have stopped. They may be sociopaths and psychopaths, but they wouldn’t hurt family. When it comes down to it, they are the only family they have. Dick murdered his original family, Jason watched his be murdered, and Tim asked Owlman to murder his. But those were the unfortunate hands they had been dealt, what they had no control over when they were born, and this family is the one they chose.

He knew he could trust their word, that while they could and would hurt him as they desire, they would not do it if he told them to stop. He didn’t even have to think about it, it’s not even a question of whether he trusts them in that, he just knows that it wouldn’t benefit them to do something against his will. Not as long as they remain family.

A warm feeling fills him, and he brings his knees up to his chest, hugging them and trying to contain the way his heart begins to pound against his ribs.

It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t need to talk to them, about boundaries and limits and what they all desire from this… He just hopes that last night wasn’t a one-time thing. No. As panicked as he had been this morning, he just needed the time to process it. He just needed the time to think to himself and figure out if this is something he is okay with allowing to proceed, and that he isn’t just being blinded by lust.

A beep sounds and a light flashes in the taskbar of his computer, catching his attention suddenly. An alarm he set, to remind him of the time while he’s consumed by work. And then he realizes he achieved absolutely nothing today. He got nothing done. No work. And now he needs to report for patrol.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, dropping his legs and fingers flying over the keyboards.

From his mental checklist, he pulls open a couple projects he needed to have the computer to process, something he could have run while he’s on patrol. Then he pulls open the software he has that analyzes the camera feeds from around the city, sending the feed to his tablet and grabbing it as he begins to jog from his room and down the hall. He begins trying to scrub through all the alerts, knowing Owlman would expect for him to have information on any hero and other unapproved activities in his city.

“Tim!” He is half down the hallway when he hears Jason jogging up behind him, the other man’s hand falling onto his shoulder as they keep walking towards the Roost entrance in Bruce’s office, “Hey, I came back to my room and Dick said you were gone when he got out of the shower…”

He hums, ears hearing the words but his brain on the video in front of him. Bright red hair and strange plant growth had been caught on camera: Mother Nature. Pamela Isley was caught on one of their cameras last night, entering a warehouse down on the docks, but Tim couldn’t tell if that is just her safehouse or if she was planning something there. She is an active hero, normally she sticks to promoting environmental awareness, but she does occasionally act out against Owlman’s strict control over Gotham, usually with the Jokester and Harlequin. He suspects it’s her infatuation with Harlequin that prompts her to even attempt to stand against the Owl, her shtick is more about the peaceful cohabitation of humans and plants, to increase environmental awareness, not violence.

“So, uh, well, I just wanna be sure that you’re, like, okay and shit… You're okay with what happened, right? Last night?” Jason places his hand over the clock face, his hand scanning and the clock moving to the side to reveal the entrance to the Roost.

He hums again, the next clip the software alerts him to is a clip of Harlequin. Dr. Harleen Quinzel is a psychiatrist operating in Gotham with the Jokester, and they are very active heroes that oppose Owlman. His clip shows her, just for a moment, slipping around the corner down an alley not far from the warehouse that Mother Nature was in. It’s no coincidence, he’s sure. He’ll have to give this to the Owl, if he doesn’t already know. It’s possible he doesn’t, he assigned most surveillance like this to Tim because of his ability to create software that so accurately recognizes their enemies faces, he does have a feed on his own computer but he has been distracted by some favor he is doing for Catwoman recently.

“Right… busy…” Jason mutters as they reach the bottom of the stairs, grabbing Tim’s shoulder and forcing him to turn to face him. Tim finally looks up from his tablet, eyes widening as Jason stares down at him, “After patrol: you, me and Dick gonna talk.”

“Uh, sure,” Tim nods, and Jason walks towards Owlman, Nightingale and Talon.

He curses to himself, realizing how late he is if they are already in suits. He follows after Jason, planning to point out the footage to the Owl first before getting in his suit. The Owl just stares at him as he approaches, making him feel nervous as he can already feel the disapproval over his tardiness.

Before giving him the chance to comment, he hands him his tablet and immediately jumps into it, “I apologize for reporting late, I just received this footage: Mother Nature entered a warehouse on the docks last night, and Harlequin showed up on one of the cameras only about a block away. I doubt it’s a coincidence.”

Owlman nods, watching the footage himself. The entire time he feels Nightingale and Talon’s gazes burning into him, he glances over to Nightingale, because he knows Dick hates being ignored and he doesn’t want to piss him off.

He doesn’t bother looking at Talon, because he knows Damian hates being ignored and he likes to piss him off.

Dick smirks at him, his tongue slipping out to lick his lip suggestively, and Tim feels his heartbeat pick up pace a bit. He fumbles with what expression to respond with. Does he flirt back? How does he flirt back? Is a wink too much? Can he even pull off a wink? He settles on an expression he can pull off: he smirks, holding eye contact with the bright blue eyes he knows are hidden behind that mask, then turns back to face the Owl. He hears Dick chuckle, an excited and amused sound that makes Tim relax, and he hears Damian’s normal irritated 'tsk' from being ignored. Red Hood approaches them, his head turning from Dick to Tim, but expression unreadable underneath his mask.

“Get in your suit, we will survey the warehouse tonight,” the Owl’s voice brings his attention back to the subject at hand, Owlman passing Tim his tablet back, “The rest of you: Red Hood I want in Old Gotham, Talon in the Diamond District, and I want Nightingale in Upper West Side. Communicators on, I want you all prepared to come to our location if I call you. Understood?”

He’s sure he’ll receive a lecture or some other kind of punishment for being late at another time, but Owlman seems appropriately distracted by the presence of Mother Nature and Harlequin free in his city. He has the police and Arkham Asylum on his payroll specifically for the purpose of having his own personal jail for these types of heroes, so the fact that Owlman wasn’t alerted to their release means they either broke out or someone released them. Neither are acceptable.

They left the Roost, he joined Owlman in the car while the others took their motorcycles. The ride was silent, as it normally was, the Owl drove and he switched between flipping through the automated reports he should have seen hours ago, and looking into how the two heroes managed to leave Arkham, something he hoped would win him some approval back from the Owl later. He is nowhere near caught up by the time they reached Chinatown, just East of Dixon Docks, where the warehouse is, but he has at least a little progress made in how Harley and Nature managed to get there. Owlman parks in a tight alley, so tight that they leave by the top rather than the doors, and head for the warehouses. They take to the roofs, jumping along until they reach the warehouse in the video, settling on a roof a good distance away, “Why here? Besides algae and seaweed, there’s no plant life here for Nature. Unless her and Harley are just using the warehouse as a temporary rendezvous point.”

“Or the warehouse belongs to Harley and not Nature, it could be Harley’s safehouse,” the Owl muttered, “See if you can access any cameras in the area, scrub through for any activity around this warehouse.”

Tim nods and sits crossed-legged on the roof, leaving the Owl to keep a lookout for him, he pulls his tablet and keyboard out and snaps them together to begin work, “She would give Nature access to her safehouse?” The Owl just nods, Tim’s fingers flying over the keyboard near silently, the keys made special to be quiet for field use, “Heroes can be so naively trusting.”

“Not just heroes…”

His fingers almost stumble over the keys, he takes a deep, hopefully silent, breath to calm his nerves. The next moment of silence feels long and nerve-wracking.

“I’m…” The Owl pauses after starting the sentence, making Tim glance up from his screen for a mere moment, but he isn’t looking towards him, “I was not aware of what your desires were when I told you to relieve them with your brothers. However, I am pleased that you trusted them… I don’t suggest putting that trust in just anyone, but if it’s them... We are Owls, with them you are safe. Don’t forget that.”

Tim has never asked about Bruce’s parents, never wanted to, he had heard enough rumors. He has a hard time believing it is as simple as they make it sound, that he plotted his parents murder to inherit their money, it always felt like there was more to the story. The way Bruce speaks to him in moments like this though, it makes him wonder if even the little bit he thought he knew is right.

He hesitates in his answer, not sure what to say, he finds this to be a problem he has a lot recently, “I had a similar conclusion.”

Owlman nods once, his approval, and a moment of silence comes over them. His computer isn’t showing anything for the cameras in the area yet, still processing, and he doesn’t know what to say now, he isn’t used to the Owl being… well, fatherly, in his own weird way.

“Next time, don’t let it interfere with work.”

That is much more familiar.

The rest of the night he spends on the roof, nothing happens, they see no activity around the warehouse and his computer comes up with nothing for the cameras in the area. They leave a few cameras of their own, small and hidden ones, they would continue surveillance in the area to be sure of what they would be getting into before they act. They still don't know if it's a trap or a safehouse, after all.

Returning to the Roost, he sits on the top floor at a table not far from the main computer, taking out his laptop for his Red Talon work to type up his report. It took a while, he remembered what Owlman told him to do last time he turned in a report, and he noticed Dick and Jason stuck around after they reported in, changed and showered. Jason seemed to be working on his bike, Dick just sitting nearby and talking at him. He noticed Damian staring at him more but paid it no attention, he had enough to think about right now with Dick and Jason.

Finishing his report, he sends it to the main computer and closes his laptop, walking over to stand by Bruce as he opens the report and skims it.

“I will handle looking into what Harlequin and Mother Nature are doing, you can return to your regular surveillance and work,” Bruce doesn’t sound angry, but he doesn’t sound impressed. It leaves a heavy weight in his gut, but he supposes that he didn’t really deserve any praise for not getting any work done the entire day and reporting the footage he did find so late.

Bruce dismisses him and he goes to the other end of the platform, where they leave their suits in cases that clean and sterilize them, something they have to do whenever they face enemies such as Mother Nature, who can leave pheromones and spores in clothing fibers. Even if they didn’t run into her, procedure is procedure. He already has his mask off when he hesitates to remove anything else, realizing that Bruce and Damian would be able to see what his body currently looks, granted Damian has already seen it, but he doesn’t need another look.

He feels someone approaching him then, turning to see Dick and Jason both there, “Oh, don’t mind us,” Jason chuckles, and Tim snorts but realizes they are effectively blocking sight of him from the rest of the Roost, and so takes the chance to change.

“Tim,” He freezes at the way Dick says his name, looking over his shoulder to him before continuing to undress, “You left Jason’s room in a hurry earlier. Are you alright?”

He slows, cape already off and gloves following, he realizes that the way he left, the way he didn’t say anything this entire time, his silence may imply unhappiness with something. That they might be perceiving this as something he regrets or is unsatisfied with in some way, and that they care about him being unhappy with it. That warm feeling that is very insistent on settling in his chest makes itself known again, and he fights back the smile that tries to creep on his face. Smirking softly, the softest expression he will consciously allow on his face, he looks at them, “I needed time to think about it. I’m fine, I’m…” He sighs, and unzips the top part of his suit, peeling the top layer off himself while trying to think of the right words to express his current emotions, “I don’t know what I am, but I enjoyed myself last night, and... would welcome repeat experiences.”

Warm arms wrap around him, causing his skin to feel hot where Dick’s arms touch it, almost making him drop his top, surprising him for just a second before the warm feeling that was previously in his chest felt like it was spreading through to the rest of the limbs of his body. Not knowing what else to do, he just wraps his arms around the other man’s middle, his eyes darting over to look at Jason just to see the brightest smile he’s ever seen on the other man. His eyes looking bright, but not pit-bright, it’s so much safer than the brightness of the pit.

Dick pulls away for a moment, pressing his lips to his forehead for a longer moment, making Tim flush a bit at the affection, “We were worried that you might have regretted last night, or that we might have hurt you.”

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, “I don’t regret it… but we need to talk about it.”

“What do you mean?” Jason asks, voice tense, almost nervous. Actually Tim never heard Jason nervous before, so maybe he is actually nervous. That’s pretty cute.

Dick squeezes him once more, pressing their foreheads together. Tim takes the moment to compose himself, then separates them to look back to Jason, “You stole my laptop, I wanted to talk to you two about it on my own, I wanted to say what I wanted from you. But the option was taken from me, and just because it went well, and I liked it, doesn’t mean I’m okay with you taking that away from me.”

Jason takes another step forward, hand coming to rest on his cheek, and Tim didn’t think he was capable of making such a sad expression, “I’m sorry, lil’ Red, I didn't mean to do that, I just…” He looks like he’s struggling to talk, his eyes darting away, glancing at Dick and then just down.

“What I think Little Wing's trying to tell you is that he has a giant crush on you, and he has no idea how to tell you, so he stole your laptop because he’s petty and wanted you to come to his room so he could seduce you,” Dick smirks, a sharp expression with teeth, Jason seeming to blush a bit as he looks over to him, “And my guess is that’s why he invited me there, too. Why did you bother to break into it, though?”

They both looked at Jason, he just shrugged, “Kids a genius, I thought it was his Red Talon one, I wanted to know what he’s always doin' on the damn thing.”

Tim just nods, “Okay, I get it, not the best plan you ever made,” Dick snorts, “but I get what you were trying to do. Next time, just tell me.” He leans his face more into Jason’s hand, feeling how Jason seems to relax now that he knows he’s forgiven.

“You got it, lil’ Red,” It’s so incredibly tender, and Dick kisses his forehead again, and it feels like his heart is burning in his chest. He never thought that these people could be so gentle, not after being trained by them and witnessing the horrific things they can do. He never thought he could even have these weird, warm, fuzzy feelings either.

“Before any repeat performances,” Jason’s tone turns teasing, his hand finally withdrawing but his smile bright, “We gotta talk about what we're doin', things like what we're okay with, what our limits are, maybe set up some safe words.”

He nods, the incredibly warm feeling not fading, even as Dick pulls himself off the smaller man to allow him to continue undressing. It takes a moment, but he clears his throat, trying to ignore the pink flush he knows is still on his cheeks, “The next chance we have?”

Dick chuckles, “Eager?”

He shivers at the deep tone Dick used, the same tone he recognizes as the one he uses in bed, and he reaches for his belt, unclasping it from around his waist and composing himself quickly as he places it on the shelf in front of him. He turns to face them, smirking up at Dick, “Aren’t you?”

He passes another meaningful look to Jason before turning back to the shelf and bending over as he peels the pants from his legs. Hearing Dick chuckle lightly and Jason sucking in a harsh breath behind him,

“Yes…”

Chapter Text

Tim uncaps the brow liner, making a couple more strokes over his eyebrows before leaning back and admiring his work. He looks beautiful, there’s no other way to describe it. Hair swept back, feathery and soft, styled more as a pixie cut than his normal, admittedly slightly messy, hair. Eyes lined dark, eyelashes thick, eyes looking like ice in comparison, just dangerously seductive. His lips are a deep red, outlined to add emphasis, to draw the eye. He gulps as he tests a few expressions out, enjoying how he looks, admiring the feminine appeal he didn’t realize he could have.

He hears a wolf-whistle, making him tense and look over his shoulder, Jason smirking as he walks towards him from the stairs of the top level of the Roost. He hooks a finger under Tim’s jaw and tilts his head up, “Looking sexy, I love my man in makeup.”

Feeling the blush forming on his face, he turns back around, switching off the light and folding the mirror down into the table. He grabs the makeup bag, something Tim didn’t realize they had until Bruce told him that he’d need it for the mission, and began placing each item he used back into it, “It’s just for the mission tonight…” Jason makes a distinctly disappointed sound, like a childish whine, comical coming from such a large man, and Tim just holds his breath, “But, I suppose, if you really like it that much… I can come to your room afterwards, before I take it off?”

“Wear the dress, too,” Dick’s voice surprises them, Tim’s eyes widening as he looks up to see the red and black piece Dick is holding, heels included.

He feels Jason’s fingers trace up his sides then, “Oh, babe, am I gonna have fun with you in that.”

His breath gets caught in his chest a little at the pet name, Jason kissing the side of his neck before pulling off him, he tries to hide any sign of his attraction to the idea by calmy standing and walking towards Dick to retrieve his outfit for the night, “I did not know you two were interested in that.”

“We are interested in what you’re interested in, Baby Bird,” Dick smirks, his eyes seeming to glitter in the dimmed lights of the Roost, “You think I didn’t see you admiring how pretty you look in the mirror?”

Tim can’t help the blush that rushes over his face then, damning Dick as he walks over to snatch the dress out of his hand. He couldn’t help but admire how beautiful he looks, how beautiful he feels. He knows he’s attractive normally, but when he stands next to Dick or Jason he usually feels… less than, just in comparison. The tabloid pictures of the three of them are the worst for him, some paranoid voice in the back of his head reminding him of how people drool over his brother’s but he seems like the ugly duckling between them. Even Damian is growing into an extremely beautiful man, an appropriate result of mixing Bruce and Talia’s genetics.

But right now he feels… seductive. Irresistible. Jason’s wolf-whistle fed into that, both of their demands for him to go to Jason’s room later emphasized it. He turns his nose up a bit, staring Dick back in the eye, “Maybe I do like it,” His lashes lower, he allows the mischievous smile to melt on his lips, “Maybe even as much as you do.” Dick’s smirk is amused, his hand reaching around to hold the back of Tim’s head as he leans in to press searing kisses along Tim’s neck, lips traveling up as Tim’s body seems to forget how to melt, before he finally feels hot lips against his ear, “I’m going to make you sing tonight, my Pretty Bird.”

Tim lets the moan slip out, knowing how much Dick and Jason enjoy it when he makes noise, sucking a breath to speak before he’s cut off, “If you are finished with this unsightly display,” Damian cuts in, his eyes venomous green slits as they stare Dick and Tim down from the stairs, “Drake is needed for the mission tonight and does not have the time to be fooling around with you two.”

“Aw, don’t get jealous, Brat,” Jason chuckles, “Relax! We ain’t gonna start anything while there’s work to be done, we’ll just take care of our lil' princess when he gets back,” Tim tries to ignore the rush of heat he feels run through his body as Jason steps up behind him, his hands gripping his hips and thumbs rubbing soothing circles into his sides. Shit, does he love Jason’s hands.

He glances over to Damian, smirking as he sees the snarl on his lips. The young Demon has grown a surprising amount in just a year, he used to be a small little shit, a snarling monster with a baby’s face, full of anger and eager to bleed his opponent. While still eager to bleed the next enemy that crosses his vision, he shot up and filled out, almost as tall and thick as Jason, and still growing. He already outgrew Tim, which is why he is the one disguising as a woman tonight and not Damian. But he doesn’t mind his own size. It is true that it would be easier to intimidate an opponent if he were bigger, but the moment they drop their guard because they underestimate him is quite a valuable opportunity.

“Don’t be foolish, Todd,” Damian’s eyes snapped up and down Tim’s form, focusing on his face, “I am not jealous.”

Tim suppresses the shiver from having that assessing gaze on him. It is unfair how attractive Damian has gotten, an amazing mixture of features from his mother and father, both sharp and strong. His eyes are by far the most breath-taking though, naturally green with the venomous flair of the pit that would glow as he becomes angry or upset. Or, if the way he gets Jason's eyes turning that same green is to be believed, when he gets turned on. Too bad he's such an asshole. Although their relationship has calmed over the year.

“I hear ya, Brat,” Jason growls, hand reaching around to cup Tim and make him stiffen, Jason’s gaze looks smug as he stares back at Damian, “But that look ain't nothin' but jealousy.”

Tim elbows him in the gut, making the other man grunt and withdraw his hands with a chuckle. Damian looks pissed for a moment, then just closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Tim feels Dick’s chuckle more than he hears it, the other man’s fingers still casually running through the hair on Tim’s nap soothingly as he watches his brothers bicker. He smirks when Damian opens his eyes and begins calmly walking down the stairs again, “I will be preparing myself, I suggest you finish as well, Drake. The Owl won’t be please if we are late.”

Tim had noticed the visible effort Damian put into controlling his anger, something Bruce had always disapproved of him losing control of. As Damian began to understand how the Owl’s worked, and that his place with them was cemented from the moment he had been accepted into their family, he seemed to feel less threatened by the previous Talons. He had always seemed to almost worship Nightingale, likely because he seemed to have been the perfect Talon to the Owl, and while he had always exchanged nasty words with Red Hood he did seem to have a respect for him, likely because he had shown the Owl that he could survive without him and that he is valuable enough to accept back even after leaving.

What Tim figured out recently, a little too recently for him to not be embarrassed at how obvious it seemed now, is that the reason Damian had always been especially nasty towards him is because the Owl seemed to see the most potential in Tim. Out of all the Talons, he is the one that could match him intellectually, maybe even best him, if he had the balls to try. Granted, they are still young and learning, but Tim is the one that got extra assignments from the Owl, who repeatedly excelled and earned his praise, who Bruce trusted with branches of Wayne Enterprises, who could make him proud time and time again. He realized that Damian had been afraid that Bruce wouldn’t want him, or that he would be cast aside if he did not prove himself as worthy of his station as Tim, or Jason, or Dick. The role of Talon only got bigger shoes to fill with each person who left them. And after what happened with Damian’s mother and grandfather, Talia and Ra’s al Ghul, he could understand how what may seem like an irrational fear could become a repeating nightmare for Damian. But Owls don't abandon their own.

He smacked his lips, having realized he had started becoming lost in his own thoughts, he shook his head. Slipping out from between Dick and Jason, he began walking back over to the workbench he had been using to apply makeup, just smirking back at the two men, “It’s like the Demon says, don’t want to keep the Owl waiting. I’ll see you two tonight.” Tim can see the desire in their expressions. Dick’s eyes dark, promising, the look Tim knows means whatever he’s planning will be such a sweet stinging pain. Jason’s eyes are beginning to glow already, his tongue running along his upper lip, his body tensed, as if he were planning to just grab him. And he doesn’t even have the dress on yet. He could really get used to this.

At least, that’s what he thought until he and Damian arrived at the gala, Damian disguised with blonde hair, blue eyes and an I.D. that places him as an expensive art appraiser. Tim hangs off his arm in his best impression of trophy wife, smiling and exchanging coy looks with some of the men—and women—around them. Keeping his mouth shut as earlier in the night Damian decided to tell someone that he is Russian, with a horrible accent, and much too shy to test his English in front of so many people. Asshole. On top of that, while he had enjoyed the looks his brothers had been giving him, and enjoyed the appreciative looks he got from those around him, he definitely did not enjoy their attempts to touch. A mere few hours into the party and he must have swatted away or slipped around more hands than he did in a full battle. That may be an exaggeration, but it certainly felt that way, especially when he repeatedly slapped away that same hand from the same old men over and over again. What’s more, he enjoyed his moment of attention, he enjoyed people staring at him and appreciating him, but it is beginning to make him anxious.

He operates in the shadows normally, the whole attention grabbing thing is Nightingale’s shtick, he found it to be flattering for a while but only for a while. After the flattery wore off he wanted to slip into the shadows again, and he found it… disconcerting when he was unable to. Damian, however, seemed to be handling it excellently. He had dealt with a lot more attention in the past couple years, being the “true Wayne heir” put him in the spotlight in the eyes of the press, and Tim had to admit that he found it impressive the guy didn’t shy away from it as Tim had. Maybe Tim's aversion to it is what drove him to do so well in it. Either way, Tim is coming to the realization that he should probably confront this discomfort before it becomes more of a problem in the future.

Not that it does much good for him right now.

Damian’s hand suddenly slips from his mid-back to his ass, a small squeeze making him jump. For a second, a mere second, he almost punched the kid. But he knew, he didn’t miss the guy now chuckling and walking away from behind them, he just hadn’t been able to maneuver himself right to avoid in time, so he faked the giggle, and lightly slapped Damian’s chest. Not the save he wanted, but it sufficed. Damian’s smile is fake, and he makes a comment on how he just couldn’t resist, purely for the benefit of the company in front of them.

But Tim’s face heats, because it did happen, even if the reason is fake, and Damian is attractive, even if he can be such an asshole sometimes. He has to remind himself, because Damian has calmed down over the year, and he has warmed up to them a bit, and he did stop that random douche bag from getting a free feel, but Damian still likely hates him… and he hates Damian, of course. Even if his heart rate doesn’t agree.

Someone dings their glass and announces the concert beginning in the dining hall, people begin to file in said direction.

“Move to point B,” Tim fights the urge to breathe a sigh of relief as the order from the Owl finally comes over their comms.

Damian suddenly jerks him to follow, Tim’s training the only thing keeping him on his feet in these heels, and they begin slipping from the party. They walk in silence, Damian seeming tense and Tim just noticing, wondering if this was a sudden change or something that built up over the course of the last hour. It is possible, maybe he is not as used to public interaction as Tim had begun to believe.

Taking a quick glance around, he sees they are alone in the hallway, quickly headed towards the security office, “Nervous, Demon?”

The growl that came from Damian’s throat is a warning, telling him to back off and shut up. They’re still undercover, so he just smirks and keeps it to himself. As they are walking past some of the items for the exhibit, Tim takes a glance inside and sees the target but no sign of Catwoman. The Owl is having them do all this as a favor for the Cat, Tim wonders just what the Owl is getting in return as he stares at the necklace in the center of the room. It’s unlikely she’s stealing it for herself, she’s notorious as a more ‘Robin Hood’ type so he doubts that the Owl is getting money from this transaction, however they have been very flirty with each other as of late, so it may be a… different type of transaction.

Damian stops suddenly, Tim nearly tripping over the heels, and he follows Damian’s line of sight to a sword hanging in the exhibit. No, calling it just a sword is an understatement. It’s a beautiful scimitar, sharpened and polished and with the most excellently decorative hilt. It looks like a decoration, it is a relic, and in Damian’s hands it could be a weapon. But they aren’t here for that. He elbows the younger man, Damian sneering down at him before they begin walking back towards security. Unhooking his arm from the other man, he reaches under the black, lacy shawl around his shoulders and into his cleavage, pulling his tablet out from behind the fake breasts, Damian snorting at his hiding place before pulling out the Glock and silencer from inside his suit. He attaches a wire to the keypad by the door and after a mere moment it clicks open, Damian holding it open for him and closing it behind them, almost like a real gentleman, except he’s holding a gun behind his back.

As the guards look up from their desks and computers, Tim counts 5 of them in the office and just looks back to his tablet, Damian could do it in his sleep. Just as one man opens his mouth, the younger man pulls the gun out and the silenced sounds of the Glock is background noise to Tim as he is walking up to one of the computers, plugging in and accessing the mainframe. Damian makes his trademark 'tsk,' reloading his gun and staring at it in disdain. It isn’t a weapon he likes, he prefers his sword, but with this being undercover they could hardly send him in with a sword. Putting aside the trouble of trying to hide that on his body naturally, there is also his fighting style that would likely give away his true identity to anyone clever enough to recognize it, and it doesn’t matter that they are disguised or that Tim is going to be erasing the footage of the security cameras, it’s not a risk worth taking.

It had been a lengthy argument, Damian had really wanted to bring his sword. Not that Tim could blame him, he prefers his bō staff, tech and sticking to the shadows to fight from range without ever being spotted. They all have their preferences. Dick prefers his escrima sticks, knives and acrobatic close-combat fighting style. Jason is really the only one that likes using guns, but he also enjoys explosives and some brutal close-combat punishment. He watches Damian pace the room, staring down at the security cameras, until Tim wipes and disables the cameras, then the alarms around the target, and then pauses a couple seconds before turning off a few more alarms.

He taps his comms, “Target is clear.”

“Move to point C.”

Damian is already headed towards the door, Tim following him, “The security on the target is on a grid, several other items will be vulnerable in this time.”

A moment of silence, then, “Change of plan then: grab some souvenirs on the way out.”

Damian’s smile can only be described as childish glee, a rare expression for him, and Tim would be lying if he said he isn’t a little happy to put it there.

By the time they return to the cave, Damian has a new toy and Tim has some convincing and expensive excuses for the big man.

He keeps his report short, they had done what they came for, didn’t even glimpse Catwoman when they went to the exhibit to pick up a few of the items themselves. There really wasn’t much to talk about, the mission had been simple. No one interesting at the party, even though Harvey Dent and Thomas Elliot had been on the guest list, neither showed. By the time he’s finishing, Dick and Jason return from patrol, Jason cat-calling while Dick licks his upper lip at him, and they walk up to report to the Owl. Tim just smirks, taking the chance to add a bit more to his report. Just a few details about what he believes Catwoman’s motives are, and what he suspects the Owl is getting out of this deal with her. Bruce has been saying Dick and Jason have been a bad influence on him.

As they finish their report, he’s lined up behind them to give his own, the two giving him lingering stares as they pass him to go remove their suits. Dick leaning a bit to whisper in his ear, “Make you sing, Pretty Bird.”

He releases the breath he just realizes he is holding, walking up to Bruce and nodding, “Wasn’t much to report on. The extra ‘souvenirs’ should net us some actual profit from this mission.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, just nods towards Tim, “You seem comfortable in that.”

Tim shrugs, smirking as he looks at the Owl through his lashes, “It looks good on me.”

“Just warn me if you plan to come out as Tim Wayne in that outfit, I’ll need to get PR to write me the appropriate speech,” Bruce nods and turns back to his computer.

He just blinks for a moment, not looking away, in a little shock, “You would let me go out in public in this? And not for a mission?”

Bruce doesn’t even look back over his shoulder, “I don’t see why not. I can’t think of anything overly important that would be worth telling you not to dress as you like. Might even help our public image.”

He nods, then turns to begin heading for the stairs. Bruce always manages to surprise him like this. Just in these random moments of ‘is he being a father?’ or ‘is he being cold and calculating?’ Tim likely won’t find out anytime soon, doesn’t bother him much though.

More importantly, Dick and Jason haven’t left the Roost yet, likely still stripping out of their armor and hitting the showers. He heads up the stairs, passing Alfred with a smirk and a, “Good evening, Alfred,” as the older man just raises an eyebrow at him.

He only just gets around the corner before Alfred manages a reply, “Looking lovely this evening, Master Timothy.”

His face heats a bit, nearly running up the stairs with a strange excitement that is just bubbling in his chest, he heads to his own room. Slipping inside, he carefully steps over the parts laying out on his floor, surprisingly easy in the heels, to head for the bathroom. He hesitates as he stares at his reflection in the mirror, turning slowly side to side as he looks at himself and the dress, just tight enough to show off the curve of his body but not give away what is actually under the fabric. He looks like a woman, his work is as impeccable as it needed to be to pass at that party, but it didn’t feel right.

Pulling the fake boobs out and throwing them on the bathroom counter, right next to the cologne, he feels a little bit better. The contouring still made his chest look a bit perky but the tits just felt off, to be honest. He takes another look at the shawl, a lacy piece that wraps around his shoulders and hangs to his waist, hiding the thickness of his arms and upper body. He debates for a moment, remembering what the simple satin dress looks like underneath. He’d have to buy a tighter dress for next time, but he’ll leave the shawl for now, it goes well. Moving closer to the mirror, he decides he’ll have to pick up his own makeup as well. His makeup still looks good, although he’d have liked to touch it up a bit, but just a little bit, just enough for it to still look natural, he thinks he’d like to try that again. Bruce did say he could. Wayne Enterprises might even benefit from some gay pride support, or something like that, he doesn’t work in PR but he’s sure those guys can spin it. Might lose some respect from the older generation on the board, but they’d fall in line, or Bruce would replace them.

It's a nice thought, a reminder of what family means to them, of how they protect each other. Even if he does just keep this for going undercover, or even just for the bedroom, he doesn't feel like he needs to go public like this, but the option is there for him.

He takes a few more minutes to prepare himself, knowing how Dick loves it when he shows up with a ready to use asshole. And the thought of preparing himself for Dick's satisfaction just makes him more heated. With one last glance at himself, he’s turning to carefully step around his organized chaos and make his way to the hallway. Shiny red heels not failing him yet, he makes it out of the room, closing the door behind himself and heading in the direction of Jason’s room. They always met in Jason’s room, it is the only room decent enough for them to move in. Tim’s, as explained before, is always chaos. Dick’s is an amazing mess. Even with Alfred’s work, Dick somehow manages to destroy it, leaving clothes and weapons and food just lying all over the place. Tim would hate to see his apartment. Jason though, he keeps his room perfect, so it is natural for them to play there. What isn’t natural is seeing Damian along the way. The kid is usually in either the Roost or his own room, he rarely wanders the halls.

To give him credit, he doesn’t blush when he sees Tim, he looks surprised for a moment, his eyes traveling up and down the other man’s body before snapping back up to meet Tim’s eyes, “Drake. What—“

“Like what you see, Demon?” He smirks, Damian’s jaw drops, and he begins walking past him, already around the corner when he hears Damian finally form words.

“You are headed to Todd’s room.”

Not a question, a statement. He just chuckles, letting that be his response as he doesn’t stick around to see what Damian says about it... or if he follows. Tim slips inside Jason’s room, smirking as he sees the other two men having already started. Jason going down on Dick, his hips hovering over Dick’s face as the other man plays with his cock and finger’s his ass. He lets the door fall shut behind him, moving his hips with a practiced sway as he steps further into the room. Jason glances up at him, groaning deeply as he pulls off Dick’s cock, moving to the side so Dick can sit up and take in Tim. Dick’s sharp smirk and dark voice sending a shiver down Tim’s spine, “My pretty bird. Come here.”

He pats the spot on the mattress next to him, but Tim just smirks at him, looking back at him through his eyelashes, “And crease my dress? Please.”

Jason’s eyes spark a bright green, “Is this how we are playing tonight? Oh, Baby Bird, you’re too good to me,” He’s crawling forward, pulling Tim closer to him to press a hard kiss to his lips. Hands running from his thighs up under his dress to grab his ass, digging his fingers in, and Tim just moans in it. Jason pulls away from his lips, letting Tim suck a hard breath in, smirking as those eyes begin taking on that dangerous brightness of the Pit, “Going commando, too? God, Baby Bird, wish I was fuckin' you, wish I was makin' you scream, but Dick thought of a different way to use these sweet red lips for me tonight.”

And then Jason is using those hands to swing him around and onto the bed, he doesn’t even get a single bounce on the mattress before Dick is on him, spinning him on his stomach and pushing his dress up. He has a moment to reorient himself before he feels a familiar warm wetness at his entrance, making his body arch as Dick’s tongue just slips right in, fucking him on it a few times before pulling away with a sweet bite to his ass cheek.

He notices Jason moving back on the bed with a couple items, lube and a butt plug, smirking down at him as Dick messages his hole with a couple fingers, “Oh, Pretty Bird, you got your ass all wet before even coming over here,” he’s practically purring it, the praising tone making Tim moan and arch his ass back into the fingers.

“What a good little slut our Timmy is,” Jason chuckles, bringing his fingers to Tim's lipstick smeared lips, “Put my plug in for me, Baby Bird? I want to get those lips wrapped around my dick.”

He nods eagerly, Jason placing the plug and lube on the bed next to him, laying back and scooting closer as Tim squirts some of the lube on his fingers, looking up to see Jason’s cock right in front of him. He reaches forward, grabbing Jason’s legs and sinking his mouth down his cock, the other man groaning. Tracing his fingers around to his ass and slipping a couple fingers in, feeling how loose Dick had already made the man. How long had they been playing while waiting for him?

“Don’t spend too much time on his ass, Pretty Bird. I did the work, Little Wing is all ready for it, we don't want him shooting his load too quick, do we?” Dick’s voice comes from behind him, his shawl being pulled from his shoulders as those fingers spread his ass, Dick likely appreciating the view, “I want your hands behind your back as soon as you’re done.”

He groans, mouth sinking down to take all of Jason, nose pressing against the skin on his pelvis, feeling the stubble of where his pubic hair would be if Dick didn’t insist they shave it. Tim wasn’t bothered by it, he shaved it before he had ever started this whatever with them, Jason had complained for weeks about how itchy it made him though. He pulls back, stopping when he feels Jason’s hand in his hair, but then pulls back more when he realizes he isn’t pushing or pulling, yet.

He grabs the plug, about the width of a few fingers and more than a few inches long, squirting more lube into his hand and rubbing it all over the toy. Returning his mouth to Jason’s cock, he notices the smears of lipstick, especially around the base, and tries to not giggle at it. Instead he shimmies down a bit, making Dick snort at the motion, and gently lifts and fondles the balls. He gives each ball a quick kiss, leaving more lipstick on them, before dragging his tongue down and circling Jason's entrance. The groan he receives is bone rattling with how satisfied it sounds. Dick's fingers suddenly slam deeper into Tim, the younger man jerking and moaning in response as Dick leans over his back, "As much as I would love to watch you drive Little Wing crazy, eating him out all night, I made you a promise, Baby Bird."

Time shudders, pressing a parting kiss to Jason's rim before he lines the plug up and begins pushing it in. Jason groans deeply, tugging Tim towards him by the hand in his hair, bringing him to hover over his cock once more. Tim locks onto the dangerously green eyes staring him down, shivers, and stops resisting as Jason pushes his head back down, making his mouth sink over his cock again.

“Fuck, Tim, that’s good,” Jason mutters, fingers tight in his hair, Tim relaxing his throat to allow more into him.

Dick suddenly twists his fingers, making Tim jerk and moan, Jason sucking in a breath as a result. He pulls off Jason’s cock one more time for a quick breath, peeking down to watch the other man’s ass swallowing the toy, the tight ring of muscle clenching on the base, only stopping at the flared end. He shudders, licking his lips as he feels Jason pull him back towards his cock.

“Move further up, Pretty Bird, and lay back more, Little Wing,” Dick sounds so strangely put together, the commanding voice leading them in this haze of lust. Tim moves forward until Dick stops him with a hand on his hip, his face just over Jason’s cock, and then Jason begins moving his head down over him. His lets the other man push his cock between his lips, teasing himself a bit by rubbing the head on Tim's lips before he begins pushing in.

Dick suddenly pull his fingers out of him and his arms are jerked behind him, a familiar and soft material wrapping around them behind his back. Dick knots the shawl around Tim's arms, holding him well enough for it to be a restraint, but they all know he could easily just rip the material to escape. A harsh slap to his ass and Jason is now holding his head still and thrusting his hips, sliding his cock in and out of Tim’s mouth, Tim focusing on relaxing his throat and repressing the gag reflex. The pressure of Dick’s penis makes itself known at his entrance a moment before sliding just the head in, the resulting shudder and groan rushing through Tim’s body.

“Oh, what a tight ass Pretty Bird has,” Dick chuckles, his voice sounding a little breathless. He teases, pulling the head of his penis out to just pop it back in, the initial stretch catching him again and again. He moans, Jason moaning in return, messaging the back of his head and slowing his thrusts a bit.

He’s drawing it out, making it last, and he sees him smirk over at Dick, “Beaut-e-ful mouth, too, don’t wanna cum too fast. When I do, swallow it all down, a'ight, Baby Bird?”

Dick shoves completely in suddenly, Tim’s resulting moan sounding suspiciously shriek like, and he can feel the way his ass is clenching around Dick. Jason moves then, hands moving to support his shoulders, holding him up, as Jason gets to his knees. Then he begins thrusting into Tim’s mouth again, groaning as Dick pounds into Tim and leans over to kiss Jason. Tim can only hear the sound of their lips together, feel Dick leaning over his dramatically arched back, and tremble between the cock pounding into his ass and the cock slamming into his throat. Tears begin welling up in his eyes, his throat becoming sore, his head becoming light from lack of air, but it all just adds to the used feeling that makes him want to shake apart. Another harsh slap to his ass, and he can feel the material of his dress finally detach from his sweat soaked stomach, hanging loosely from his torso and rubbing against the head of his cock.

“Shit, leave a big, red hand print right on his ass, Big Wing, mark it so he won’t forget who it belongs to,” Jason’s close, his voice sounds tight, his breathing harsh, his thrusts are becoming erratic, “I’m gonna fill your tummy with my cum, Baby Bird, you ready? Gonna drink it all down?”

He groans as another, even stronger, slap to his ass hits him, same exact spot as last time, and he knows Dick is doing exactly what Jason suggested. A few more slaps, a bruise he’s sure he’ll appreciate in the mirror tomorrow, and a dozen or so thrusts into his mouth, and Jason slams his mouth all the way down to the base. Hand moving to his head to hold him there as he feels Jason release into his throat, his esophagus messaging his cock as he tries to swallow all the cum down.

Another slap, and he feels Dick’s thrusts becoming more aggressive, his mouth pulling off of Jason’s cock and letting him cry a bit at the punishing rhythm. Dick grabbing him by his hair and forcing him back, he can feel the heat from Dick’s chest against his back as he leans over, “Sing for me, Pretty Bird.”

Jason catches his breath for a moment, then leans forward to bite along Tim’s neck, spare hand reaching down to grip Tim’s cock through the dress, the soft material and Jason’s strong grip feeling amazing around him. He can’t help the broken moans slipping from his sore throat now, one of Jason’s shoulders supporting his upper body as Dick’s free hand moves to slip a couple fingers over Tim’s teeth and hold his mouth open. Jason biting down on his weak spot, right between his neck and shoulder, and the moan ripped from his abused throat just sounds so high-pitched and weak.

“God, you just sound so beautiful, my pretty bird--my beautiful, pretty bird,” Dick’s voice breathes in his ear, heavy and breathless, and rushing to the edge until a deep, heavy groan rips through his chest and he feels him shuddering over him.

Jason’s teeth scraping across the same spot on the other side of his neck, the strong but soft slide of Jason’s hand over him, the pain each sound makes in his used throat, and the feeling of Dick releasing in his ass. It's too much. He comes apart, either screaming or trying to scream, he’s a bit too distracted to care, his brain feeling like it’s numb. And when he’s able to focus again, he realizes his arms are untied and he’s lying on his stomach, he can feel Dick panting over him, his eyes coming back to the world to see Jason pulling the plug out of his ass and throwing it to the side of the bed, onto the floor.

Before anything else is said, Tim musters up any power left in his throat, looking over his shoulder to the door, “Like-,” he clears his throat again, “Like what you see, Demon?”

The cracked door shuts quickly and silently, and they don’t hear Damian leave but they know he’s gone. Jason’s already laughing hysterically on the pillows, Dick chuckling into Tim’s shoulder as they still haven’t parted yet, but Tim is a bit disappointed he stumbled over the line. Well, it delivered, that’s all that mattered.

“He’s above the age of consent, we should invite him already,” Dick breathes, still chuckling lightly, quieting as he finally pulls out of Tim.

Tim just sighs, letting his body relax in the afterglow. Jason pulls him up to lay over his chest, wrapping his arms around the smaller man, “No. We're waitin' until he’s an adult, just like we did with Tim.”

“The only thing not adult about the Owlet is his age,” Dick smirks, laying down against Jason’s side and throwing an arm over Tim’s body, “We all grew up very fast, Little Wing, he can make this decision himself.”

Jason just levels him with a stern gaze, the kind of look Jason gives when you know he’s not budging on the subject. Even Dick only had about a small shot at changing his mind when he gets like that, “We all grew up real fast, and that’s why he should be stayin' a kid for as long as he can.”

“He’s a 17 year old trained assassin, I’d hardly call him a kid—“

“Enough,” Tim’s voice sounds even more broken after having gotten a brief minute to rest it, he snakes an arm around Dick’s waist and messages circles into Jason’s chest with his fingers. Lifting his upper body enough to look at the both of them, his muscles are feeling so wonderfully relaxed, and he's already starting to feel excited again, “It’s only a year, no point in arguing about waiting such a small amount of time. Why don’t you instead spend that time trying to convince me why I would want to sleep with the Demon.”

Dick just chuckles, the tension already out of his voice, “Aw, Pretty Bird, that’s cute.”

Jason just snorts, “You already wanna do it, don’t lie.”

He just shrugs, clearing his throat again, “Fine, maybe when he isn't being an asshole I might think it wouldn't be horrible… more importantly, help me get this dress off," He licks his upper lip, knowing how smeared the lipstick is by now likely turning the other two on, "Then... I want more.”

Jason’s laugh is bright and relaxed again, Dick smiling in amusement, and that familiar, wonderful, warm feeling fill Tim’s chest again.

Chapter Text

The EMP in Harlequin’s mine took out half his gear and fried the rest. He had felt the trackers in his suit blow, it hurt worse than being shot, and the tablet in his free hand is still trying to reboot.

But it’s Harlequin, not the Jokester, and his tech is only down for a limited time, he is confident he can hold her off for long enough. Speaking of her, she cartwheels down the alley, taking a swing at him with her mallet, making him backflip away and put distance between them, “Now, now, I’m gonna need ya to come quietly,” She grins, swinging her mallet around with a practiced ease.

He just smirks back, taking his bō staff from his belt and snapping it to full length, “I’m flattered, but I’ll have to pass. You’re just not my type, Harley.”

She frowns, or more like pouts, “I keep tellin' ya! Call me Dr. Quinzel!” Then she lunges, using the sharpened handle of the mallet to make a stab at him, but he parries it away with his staff, "You know how much that doctorate cost me!"

Instinctively, he hits the button on the side, that would charge it with electricity, then remembers the reason he’s in the fight in the first place. She smiles at him, “Ah, ah, ah. Bad lil' boys don’t get to play with toys!” Her knee is aimed for his crotch, she misses and clips his shoulder with her heel as she turns it into a backflip.

Distance reestablished between them, he’s reminded why he always hates fighting her. She's flexible, like Dick, except with Dick he can use that for fun and she just hurts. His tablet beeps though, making him smirk, that puts at least half his suits functions back online, and some of his “toys” would work, too. He reaches for one of said toys when a vine twists around his ankle and throws him up, slamming him against the rooftop above the alley, he tries to turn it into a roll but it still lays him out pretty hard.

Moments later, he’s getting to his feet as Pamela Isley, also known as Mother Nature, lifts herself and Harlequin up to the roof. He tries to ignore the dull pain in the side of his ribs, likely just bruising, and focuses on the two in front of him. He still has his tablet in one hand and bō staff in the other, but there’s no way that’s going to be enough. He’d have to contact the Owl now, he could probably take either of them individually, but together without half his tech is pretty bad odds for him.

Reaching up to tap his comm, a baton slams into his arm, making him shout and roll forward and away from the attacker: the Jokester. The man just laughing as he twirls the baton with the cartoonish bobble head of himself at the end, “No calling Daddy on us, kiddo! We just want to have a little talk, that’s all, promise!”

“Aw, but he'll be so disappointed to miss this reunion,” He tries to chuckle, tries to hide the growing unease. He's holding his arm, maybe fractured but likely bruised, the Jokester doesn’t pull his punches, and he has a serious grudge against the Owls. This night just turned into a shit show for Tim, he has to call the Owl, now. But as he goes to tap his comm again, he gets jumped, literally.

He drops his staff and tablet as a mask is thrown over his face and he flips the person over his back, kicking them across the roof. He immediately reaches up, but as he recognizes the coat of Dr. Crane, he knows he’s too late. He throws the mask down and doesn’t even get the chance to reach for the comm before vines are slamming him into the ground, his tablet just close enough to hit one of the few features not blown by Harlequin’s EMP before one of the smaller vines slide it away.

With it armed, he waits for them to approach, then throws his hands up, comical considering how she has his arms pinned, “Alright, alright! You got me! I'm sorry I didn't invite you to my birthday party, but it would have been embarrassing in front of the other villains, and no one likes clowns, lets be real.”

“Shut the hell up, kid,” the Jokester seems surprisingly unlike himself, usually rising to any chance at banter, “Nature, get the suit off him. That EMP was strong but we don’t take chances with the Owl.”

That really would not work for him, he knows the trackers in the suit were likely all blown, but he knows the Owl had put trackers under the skin of all his Talon's (different places on each), so he wasn't concerned about that. The tracker wouldn't blow, likely protected better considering it is in their bodies, but he doesn't know if it still works after the EMP anyways. Nature’s vines begin pulling at his suit, and while it holds for a moment, it begins to tear from the strength of the vines once they find purchase. The way they have to stop pinning him to remove the suit from him does give him a chance, is it worth taking though? It wouldn’t take any of them down if it’s just the vines touching him, it’s more likely to hurt him than to them. The belt is ripped from his waist, the shock from it making Nature yelp and curl the vine back towards herself. Cooing to her vine, soothing it, like a small child.

Pamela Isley doesn’t care for violence, and even less for violence against her precious plants. He might be able to get rid of at least one of them, do enough damage to her plants to drive her away to care for them. Between the suit being pulled off and the vines loosening the hold to wind around him, all he has to do is snap an arm up and tap the zipper on his back. Fortunately, he had been able to activate it in time before they got him down. Unfortunately, his suit is supposed to protect him from the electricity coursing through it, but if the suit is being pulled in pieces off him then it isn’t going to do him any good.

It hurts. It burns. His heart feels like its exploding, and there’s a sharp rushing burning pain that races through his limbs. But, on the bright side, he gets to hear Mother Nature scream as he passes out.

Hours later, on the other side of the city, in the Roost, Damian paces back up to the main computer. He sniffles as he finishes attaching the cape to his shoulders, not bothering to pull the cowl and goggles over his head, he didn’t want to get snot all over it. At least, not before he has to.

”Where is he?”

Dick’s voice comes over the comms as a sharp hiss, the tone making Damian tense, he’s never heard him so angry. He waits another moment, watching the computer’s results pop up on the screen. All the trackers reporting back with an error.

“The trackers have failed, I am unable to locate him,” He clears his throat, ignoring the scratch of a cough. He’s aware of the tightness in his own tone and of the uncomfortable weight in his gut, making him slam his fists into the console. This has never happened before, maybe before he came to Owlman but not since, and he had no idea how to handle this.

It’s Drake, the guy has more contingencies than the Pentagon, this sort of thing doesn’t happen with him. It can’t, he knows everything that happens in this city, he’d know if someone was coming for him. Unless he just didn’t report it as it was happening, but how stupid could that idiot be?

No, this is Drake, he’s brilliant, he doesn’t fall into traps, he doesn’t go without a plan, he doesn’t fail. Damian’s watched him so closely from the day he entered this family, he knows how strong Drake really is. He doesn’t just get taken like this. Where is he? How did it happen? And why wasn’t he there? Because he’s a little sick? What a pathetic excuse. Drake went out sick all the time, he’d shake it off, work through it, sweat it out. Damian couldn’t let himself be babied anymore, not when this shit happens when he’s out. Why had he stayed home? He’d have been in the patrol route that overlapped with Drake, he might have been there to help, or notice the fight. But instead he had been napping in bed as Tim was taken. This sort of thing is why Father continues to be disappointed in him, and this sort of thing is why Tim doesn't see him as worthy of his time.

”Owlman to Roost: Activate Tracker RT0215-19.”

The computer reacts to Bruce’s command, Damian watching as a program seems to activate on the screen, a progress bar starting as a map of Gotham begins forming behind it, “What is this? You have secret trackers?”

He wants to be angry, he really does, but all he can feel is a moment of relief. Please let this tracker work, please tell them where Drake is, because he can’t imagine how he’d feel if he were gone. He doesn’t want to think how it’d feel. As much as he pretends to hate the guy, he knows it would hurt if he were to die. And not just him, it would hurt all of them. It would put a hole in the family. Not that he feels any of those soft feelings his brothers seem to share. It’s a resentment he feels, because Drake has his father’s attention and pride, because he had his title before Damian had ever entered the picture, because he had earned his father’s approval so easily and it is so difficult for him to do the same. Because he had fallen into whatever fucked up relationship Dick and Jason had and lets them do whatever they want to him without any concern for himself, or for Damian. Why does he let those idiots touch him and not Damian? What do those idiots have that Damian lacks?

It takes a moment, but he holds back the sneeze, trying to ignore the way his body is telling him he’s ill and should be in bed right now. Alfred can scold him later, he can sleep later, Tim is in danger now. He hears a bike’s engine, modified to be quiet, not immediately noticeable but he is trained better, it’s already parking in the garage at the bottom level. Probably Jason. His attention is taken back to the screen as Owlman speaks again, ”What is the progress?”

Turning back to the computer, he looks at the unmoving progress bar, “It has no ETA.”

”Find one.”

“I am not Drake,” Damian just growls back, because he doesn’t know where Drake is, doesn’t know if he’s alive, doesn’t know who has him, and doesn’t have any leads. All he does know is what his failure could result in.

When Tim finally reaches consciousness, he’s surprised he’s not dead. It’s not often he gets captured, and he puts odds of his capture being much more likely at the hands of another villain than a hero (probably Ultraman, he has it out for the Owl), so best to be prepared for the worst-case scenario. He’ll have to add this to his list of what worst-case scenarios are though, because he certainly feels dead.

His head is spinning and his stomach turning. His eyes sting, his limbs feel stiff and sore, and it feels like someone wrapped a sheet over his brain and began spinning it. He’s dimly aware of there being a source of light, some voices, he tries to listen.

“His heart rate-“ He’s jerked and his stomach flips.

“This mixture isn’t working,” Shit, the idiots poisoned him, didn’t they?

“An allergy?” He doesn’t have any, not that he can quite say that right now.

“-heart rate climbing-“ His blood feels like fire, his sweat like lava.

“-flush him of toxins-“

Then someone jerks him forward, a loud clanging echoing in his head, he can’t move, everything is so hot, and he’s dimly aware of the vomit burning from his stomach up his esophagus and out his mouth. Someone is shouting. He tries to groan, to vocalize the suffering, and he feels the gentle trail of fingers on his back, trying to soothe him.

It doesn’t help. Moments later Tim blacks out once more.

Jason’s boots are positively booming compared to how they usually walk, the Red Hood pacing the floor immediately in front of the console. The first thing he had done when he reached the Roost was insert four samples from Tim’s last known location into the computer, to be analyzed.

“The computer is analyzing the samples from the scene now,” Damian speaks, watching the computer’s analysis popping up, almost immediately for 3 of 4 of the samples, “Three of the samples match Mother Nature’s pollen, Crane’s sleep powder, and Jokester’s giggle gas. Last one is still processing.”

”Report when you have results,” Bruce’s voice is that kind of gravelly it gets when he’s pissed off and ready to eliminate the one who is pissing him off, just making Damian tenser, then Bruce speaks again, ”Nightingale, where do you think you’re going?”

Dick’s voice comes over the comms, the wind rushing past and his voice a bit strained from him swinging over and around rooftops, ”Nature’s last known safehouse.”

Damian tries to not shiver at the low, dark, tone of Dick’s. He holds his breath and glances over to Jason, who is being surprisingly quiet, all things considered. The other man just stood by the computer with his arms crossed, staring at the screen, his helmet still on. Disturbingly still, deceptively calm.

And really, the man is just a mess on the inside. He’s hyper aware of the hum in his skin and the curl of familiar heat in his chest, trying to push him, consume him, engulf him in the flame of rage. Bruce sent him back because he knew that he would be angry, that he would be fighting the pit for control of his own temper, and yet Dick is out there ready to rip apart any person who dared to get in the way of his search. Well, at least he can rage vicariously through him.

All he can think about is Tim, everything he should have said to him, everything he hadn’t been able to do for him, every mistake he had ever made. His heart aches remembering the way he has been able to relax more around him and Dick, melting into their touch with just so much trust. He remembers his icy blue eyes the first time they met, a gaze that looks darker and older than any child should have. He fell in love with him that day, wanted to scoop him up and never let go, and didn’t even realize it until Tim had taken up his Red Talon mantle. And he regrets it, that he had tried—tried so hard—to make Bruce change and treat him like family, like a son, because it killed him to see Tim suffer the way he and Dick had in training. And he regrets that he didn’t take Tim with him when he had left the first time, didn’t take him out of this life back then, back when he still could.

He knows Tim would never have wanted that, he knows that Tim wanted to be Talon—just like Jason had asked to be Talon. But he was too young, too small, too fragile—at least, at the time—for Jason to be okay with him becoming another one of Bruce’s tools. Even now, he wishes he could stop all this, stop Bruce, calm Dick’s bloodlust, and give Tim and Damian the accepting family that they really desire. But he fell in love with Dick, too. Dick, who would bleed a victim to watch their life drain, but treat his lovers and his family even more precious than his own heart. All because, as much as he loves to bleed others, his heart bleeds more for those he loves—the ones who have promised their love to him.

Jason knows he can’t break apart this family now, but it conflicts with that pain in his heart that wonders what could have been if he had stopped it back then. If he had never fallen in love with Dick or Tim, if he had stayed gone, if Tim hadn’t become Talon, if he had fully betrayed the Owl and worked with heroes. Would he have gotten Dick and Tim out? Would Damian have a normal life?

A beep from the computer in front of him snaps him out of his thoughts. Damian’s voice already reporting to Bruce on the comms, but his eyes are just focused on the results in front of him and the solidifying weight of regret in his gut.

“The last sample seems to be a liquid: sodium thiopental.”

Truth serum. It had been in a needle.

Just like the needle currently sitting on the floor in front of Tim. His eyes had trouble focusing on it for a moment, then he just giggled when he did finally see it, the voices in the room stopping as they seemed to notice him. The silence would be rattling, but he hears a light rhythmic beeping from somewhere behind him.

Slowly, blinking as his brain feels like it’s floating, his eyes travel up to look at the people around him: the Jokester, Harlequin, Mother Nature, and Dr. Crane. He giggles again, because they drugged him, because they don’t kill and they’re in Gotham so they can’t get him arrested, so they drugged him. It’s hilarious, really. He tries to sit up, realizing his body is chained to the metal chair he’s sitting on, and he’s wondering how long he’s been here because his hands are behind him and all tingly and he can’t tell if they’re asleep or not. He feels hot though, the chair such a pleasant coolness against his skin.

“Hey, hey, calm down there…” Harlequin’s voice is soothing, low, sweet. His head turns slowly, allowing his eyes to find her face, her eyes watching him hesitantly. She’s crouching in front of him, watching him carefully, and he just smiles. It takes a moment, but she smiles back, almost surprised, “Hey, there ya are. How ya feelin', Darlin'?”

He goes to speak, surprised when he hears how scratchy his voice is, but his throat surprisingly doesn’t hurt, “I-“ he clears his throat again, “I feel…” He stops, tilting his head to the side, giggling as he feels his hair shift with the tilt, “Weird.”

She giggles back, looking amused, and he’s not used to that expression being pointed to him because she usually looks angry with him. She cuts off his thoughts though, “Hey, over here, can ya look at me?”

Tim realizes his eyes had begun drifting to the side, to Dr. Crane, standing in the shadows of the room, with a camera. He shifts, not liking the feel of the chains against his legs, his arms, and then he wonders, “Did you take off my mask?”

Harlequin smiles at him, “Of course not, we wouldn’ do that,” it’s a sweet voice, a believable voice. Would they do that?

The Jokester chuckles from the couch—hey, there’s a couch, why can’t he be on the couch, the couch looks a lot comfier than this chair, “Of course not, no one wanted to take one for the team after your suit!”

“’One for the team?’” Mother Nature cuts in, standing a couple feet behind the couch the Jokester is on, looking offended, “My vines experienced more than enough tonight, Clown.”

Harlequin snaps her head around and shushes them, turning back to him with a smile, “Your suit shocked Pammy and you pretty bad when she took it off ya, we didn’ wanna test what your mask would’a done.”

He lifts his head back up straight, realizing it was still tilted, and gulped to try and get the metallic taste out of his mouth, “Why does he get to be on the couch?”

Jokester laughs, a hysteric sound, his grin a little meaner looking than what he shows the kids and TV crews on the streets, “Well, vomit all over your own pants next time, and maybe we’ll let you sit on the couch.”

Tim notices the blanket, and then breaks into a series of giggles again, “Haha, you’re naked?”

Harlequin turns back to him, “Only half naked, don’t ya worry about it, sugah. His pants are in the dry-ah already.”

The giggles don’t stop, only turn into full laughter. Mother Nature finally walks forward up behind the couch Jokester is on, “Strange, he sounds like a kid when he is laughing like that.”

The Jokester shrugs, “According to Red Hood, he is just a kid.”

Red Hood? They talked to Hood? “You talked to Hood?”

Harlequin looks a little nervous over how fast he stopped laughing to ask that question, but she still sounds just as sweet and soothing when she speaks, her normally think accent sound more clear and careful, “We did. He’s your brother. He was a friend of ours.”

Tim pauses at that. Hood had been friends with the heroes? “Why?”

“Well, he wanted to save you, sugah.”

“Save?” It’s out the moment it pops in his head. What does ‘save’ mean? He needed saving? “From who? Why? When?”

“Whoa, there, there, calm down, it’s okay,” Harlequin has her hand on his arm, and he realizes he’s wearing a normal t-shirt and sweat pants. They said they didn’t take his mask off though, he reminds himself of that. His mask is on, he is Red Talon, he is not Tim Wayne right now. He is Red Talon, and these are heroes, and he's not Tim Drake, never again. Her hand runs up and down his forearm, trying to be soothing, but all he can do is look at the bruises and burns on his skin, “It’s okay, you’re safe right now. We talked to Hood years ago. He ran away from the Owl, he wanted us to help him save you.”

Then the laughter is back, because there is so much wrong with that sentence that he can’t do anything but laugh. Harlequin smiles back hesitantly, assessing, unsure if she should be smiling, but she does anyways, “We’re happy to save you, sugah, but it was really hard, we risked our lives. And we want to save the rest of your brothers, ya know?”

He nods in response, the giggles slowing down, that beeping from before is starting to sound slower, too, strange, but he’s distracted because Harlequin is talking again already, “Red Hood, Talon, even Nightingale, we wanna try and save ‘em. Hood said the Owl didn’ treat you guys right, so we wanna help. To do that, we need'ta know a bit more about the Owl, ya know?”

He nods again, and she smiles wide, her eyes seeming to sparkle, “That’s good, sugah, that’s real good of ya. Now... who is Owlman?”

“My father,” He responds, smiling with a light giggle, like it’s just natural. His brain feeling more sluggish now, his body too hot, he shifts against the chains, but even the chair isn’t feeling cool anymore. His mouth continues before he really processes what he’s saying, “I asked to be Talon, I asked to be part of the family, because my parents didn’t want me, because I wanted a family...”

He trails off, forgetting what the question was until Harlequin speaks again, softly, “It’s okay, sugah, take your time. Owlman is ya dad, then? Well, can ya tell me about him?”

“Father? No, he’s not really…” He pauses, sucking in a breath, because it doesn’t make sense, he's got the words floating in his head but he can't figure out how they match, “I-I don’t have a father. He’s dead. Owlman killed him. My mom, too.”

Another wave of heat rolls through him, and he looks up to see the saddest smile on Harlequin’s face, a smile forced to her face to hide a much more devastated expression, and his sight blurs as he realizes he said something wrong, “No, no, no, I mean, I asked. I asked Owlman to kill them, he was proud of me, he adopted me.”

His eyes refocus to see the frozen smile on Harlequin’s face, unnatural, and it makes him uncomfortable. She didn’t like what he said, and he only became surer of it when he looked up to see the looks of hate or sorrow on the faces of the others in the room, “I-I mean… I didn’t, he didn’t, adopt me. He doesn’t care about me. He hates me?”

The room is just quiet, they don’t look happier, Harlequin’s eyebrows scrunch together and then she looks surprised, “Aw, crap, we need more giggle gas!”

She stands and goes to the table, grabbing the unlabeled container and mask attached to it, running back over to him, “Don’ worry, sugah, just breath deep, okay?”

“Wait,” Crane moves from the side of the room, dropping the camera on the couch and walking behind Tim where he hears more beeping, “It’s not safe yet, his heart rate hasn’t evened out.”

Oh, the beeping is his heart rate. They’re monitoring him. He looks slightly over his shoulder, and sees the monitor, wires and the I.V. bag hanging just above the monitor leading back to him. Wires going under the shirt, probably attached to his chest, and the I.V. leads to his inner arm. He lifts his head again, seeing Harlequin—no, Harleen Quinzel—arguing with Jonathan Crane behind him, "He'll start sayin' wha'ever he thinks we wanna hear if we don' use the giggle gas to balance out the amount of endorphin release-"

Crane waving his hand, "His heart rate isn't in a safe zone for that yet, let the sodium thiopental put him to sleep and we can start again."

Pamela Isley is walking across the room, "We don't have time for that, do you forget where we are? The Owl will find us sooner than later."

His mind is still a little sluggish, but focused enough to recognize the Jokester staring him down from the couch.

“You’re beyond help, kid.”

The argument stops, and Tim feels tired as he just tilts his head again, “I never asked for help.”

“Mistah J-“

“But that so-called brother of yours did,” Jokester leans forward, pushing on, “You call Hood family, right?”

“Yes,” Of course.

Jokester is still frowning, “He asked us for help. You would help your brother, right?”

“Yes,” Anything for Jason, or Dick, or Bruce, or Alfred, even Damian. They’re family.

"Let me tell ya a secret, kid," the Jokester grins, not the same one he uses for kids or cameras, its the mean one, the one that reminds Tim just how much he hates the Owls, "I already know who the Owl is. You don't fight him for this long without learning a bit about him."

He knows? But how...

The Jokester keeps talking, "I know why he started his little crusade, thinking he's protecting Gotham by controlling it. I know about his day job, it takes a lot of money to keep up these nightly activities. I know about those sons of his, your so-called brothers. I know how he picked each one up. But it doesn't matter that I know, because who would believe me? What proof do I have? I would get buried in lawyers, he'd sue me for libel or some bullshit like that," Jokester's voice is getting mean, the kind of tone he used when he snapped, when he didn't care about being a hero anymore and cared about just hurting them, "But..." a deep breath, calming himself, bringing himself back, "But. You can help. You can tell us who the Owl is. Then we have proof, then we can help you, because we know that you aren't these merciless assassins the media talks about. You're just a bunch of lost, scared little kids, who just wanted to have someone love you, and the Owl took advantage of that."

The room is silent for a long moment, the thoughts spinning around in his head so fast it hurt, he's so tired, it's so hard to think. Is what he's saying even making sense anymore?

“Telling us who the Owl is helps your brothers. Help your brothers: tell us Owlman’s real name.”

He opens his mouth, hesitates, because he’s never answered this question, he’s never supposed to answer this question, and he knows that. But he wants to help his brothers, they're saying Dick and Jason and Damian are hurting, right? He’s so tired, and his body is beginning to hurt, and he just wants to sleep. He's not supposed to answer this question, he knows that, the most important thing of all, he can't forget, you don't use real names with the mask on.

There’s an explosion, and there’s gunshots, screaming, blood. His chair gets thrown to the floor from the force of what must have been a bomb, his head knocking against the concrete, and he spins into darkness.

As Red Hood is providing cover fire, and the Owl and Talon are swooping in, Dick slips between the furniture to grab Tim’s chair and pull it back. Using a knife to cut the vines that try to start a tug-of-war with him, hacking away at one of the thicker ones as he hears Mother Nature scream. Getting Tim to the side of the wall, he begins picking the locks on the chains, letting them fall away so he can scoop up his brother’s unconscious body.

He doesn’t have time to inspect him though, holding his brother with a single arm as Nature’s vines suddenly start swinging and striking at him. Dodging the first couple, he can't keep this up and protect Tim, he's never had to protect someone while he fights. He slips his knife out again, cutting the smaller vines trying to wrap and hold them, making her shriek.

“Hood!” He shouts, and seconds later there's a small circular ball flying from the opposite side of the warehouse, from where Jason is fighting Crane. With a small fiery explosion rocking the side of the warehouse the vines were coming from, Nature’s shrieks turn tortured as she surely began to burn. Tim must have done some damage to her already, she normally would put up more of a fight.

No time to pay her any attention though, he moves towards the hole they exploded into the wall to get in. It wasn’t the Owl’s style (stealth, quiet), but when Jason shows up with a rocket launcher and a lot of suppressed rage, it’s smarter to just let him work it out. He at least scanned for heat signatures to verify that he wasn't about to blow Tim up at the same time.

He focuses on trying to get them out of the warehouse, Tim clearly not in any good condition, they left Alfred on standby to treat him at the Roost, they have an emergency kit—a real emergency kit, not that shit they sell at pharmacies, an Owl emergency kit—in the Owl Wing, and he knows that none of those heroes are killers but if they accidentally fucked up, if they went too far-

A gunshot ricochets off the floor, making him stop and glance over to see Harlequin staring him down, “Sorry, Bird Boy, I can’t just be lettin' ya run off with my patient.”

The way she’s looking at him, the hurt in her eyes, the sorrow, she seems strangely invested in this. What did they do? Before she can do anything else, he holds his free hand up, making her cock an eyebrow, “Let me just put him down, he's not looking good, I don’t want him to get anymore hurt in a fight.”

She looks wary of him, but nods and lets him bend to begin gently laying Tim out on the floor, heroes are always so reliably generous, just for Talon to flip back from the Jokester's baton shot and introduce his boot to the back of her head. Scooping Tim back up, he jumps out the hole and grapples to the nearest rooftop, holding Tim to his chest as he taps the comm in his ear and orders the computer to send the Owl Wing.

Finally getting the chance, he looks down at Tim, taking vitals as best as he can while also clinging to his body as though he were about to disappear. Once sure his vitals are steady, he allows himself to take a deep breath. He at least seems fine, for the moment. Then he’s taking in the bruises and burns on his skin. They ripped the suit off him, he had seen the remains of it on the roof where they had lost him, but the electricity built in to shock anyone trying to remove the suit shouldn’t have gotten him, it should have only gone off if they had touched the clasp.

Did they torture him? His blood boiled at the thought, but that isn’t like the heroes. Well, the Jokester maybe, he’d do anything to get an upper hand on the Owl, but not if Harlequin is involved, she wouldn’t stand for it. It must have been the suit, but how did it activate? Did Tim do it? To protect himself? No… to go down fighting.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts as he hears feet hit the roof, instinctively jumping away and covering Tim before he realizes it’s Talon. Turning around, he still hugs Tim close to his chest as Damian seems to stiffen at the sight of the other man. Then he hears over the comms, ”Red Hood, return with Red Talon.”

”Fuck that, Jokester’s gettin' away, I’m gonna kill that mutha-“

”I am on the Jokester,” Bruce’s voice is harsh, he can hear the wind rushing past him over the comm, ”I want you with Red Talon. Now.”

The line goes quiet, but he doesn’t pay it any more attention. Damian is walking over to him, and all he can do is watch the grimace form over his features as he looks down at Tim’s injuries. A moment of silence, and they hear a grappling hook, Jason joining them on the roof.

Damian sucks in a breath, “He’s breathing, his heart rate is steady, but he has puncture wounds. From needles. They injected him with something. Probably the sodium thiopental.”

“Fuckin' plant bitch is burnin', fuckin' clown bitch is gone, fuckin' doctor bastard is hangin',” Jason just looks at Tim for a second, still lying in Dick’s arms, and turns away, “Where the fuck is the plane?”

Hugging Tim closer to him, he felt so fragile, so small, he watched his brothers for a moment. Damian looks incredibly anxious, a very rare expression from him. And Jason looks on edge, nearly crazed, an expression he hasn’t seen in years on him. And finally he looks down at Tim, his pretty bird, one of his precious younger brothers, one of his lovers. So light in his arms, like he’s not even there. He resists the urge to kiss his forehead, to bury his nose in his hair and breath the smell of his shampoo, because he doesn’t know if Nature’s pollen or Crane’s sleep powder or Jokester’s giggle gas is still on Tim and he needs to protect him right now, he can't be compromised, even though all he wants to do is take his glove off and press his hand on Tim's chest and feel his heart beat, he can't risk taking his armor off, he needs to be ready to protect Tim, he needs to keep Tim in his arms and know he's okay.

But Nightingale was trained to kill not protect, trained to assassinate not rescue, and frankly it scares him to think there might be a chance he could lose Tim because of that.

“We have antidotes-“

He cuts Damian short, “We don’t know if they can be treated the same way when combined, or if they put him on anything else, or if it’s safe to use the antidotes while he’s also under the effects of the sodium thiopental.”

He can’t do anything, all he can do is watch, all he can do is wait. He could have the antidote in his hand and he wouldn’t know. He doesn’t even know if he’s dying or not.

“His vitals-“

He interrupts Jason, shaking his head, “Stable, from what I can tell. But if they were using all that stuff on him, who knows? His heart could fail, fighting the effects each toxin has-“

“Night,” Jason has hands on both his shoulders, making him look up and realize he hadn’t looked away from Tim that entire time, Jason took his mask off, he leaves just the domino, makes it a bit more personal, “We have him. They’re heroes, and doctors, they wouldn’t kill him. We’ll take him home, Alfred will patch him up, he’ll sleep it off.”

And it feels like his heart is being strangled, because he can’t lose Tim, he can’t lose any of them. Like a cruel slideshow, he remembers his parents, remembers looking at the receipt of sale with his name on it, remembers the lies. And he remembers cutting the rope, watching them fall, still holding hands, watching them lay on the ground, blood pooling. Because as much as he loved his parents, they didn't love him, and he didn’t want to be given away, he wanted to stay a family. Even if they could only stay his family in death.

But not Tim. Tim loves him. Tim is part of his family, and he loves him as much as Dick loves him, and he can't die.

“I can’t lose him, Jay,” Jason nods, looking at him, expression twisted in this way that just looks too sad to be real, “I can’t save him. All I can do is kill. All I was meant to do is kill.”

“You saved him,” Damian mutters, drawing their attention, still sitting beside them, still resting his hand on Tim's arm, looking like he can't let go, “You didn’t fight. You got him out. You didn't kill, you ran in and rescued him.”

Jason chuckles a bit, fingers gently running down the side of Dick's throat, "You're his bona fide hero, Night."

The Owl Wing swoops in over their heads, and he can hear sirens closing in. Jason shakes his shoulder again, a bit hard, waking him up a bit. His hands grip the body in his arms, feeling Tim’s weight, the solid presence of him in his arms. Alive, safe, because of him.

This family won’t push him away, this one won’t sell him off, this one cares for him as much as he cares for them, he will protect this family.

And after he makes sure Tim is safe, he'll start protecting his family by killing those that hurt his precious Pretty Bird.

Chapter Text

He carefully lifts the small green smoke bomb capsule from the table, holding it in his palm in front of himself.

It took the better part of a month, having found it difficult to slowly acquire and preserve enough samples of Mother Nature's pheromones to even make this attempt at his little science project. Lucky for him, he even managed to get it in one of the smoke bomb capsules, one he painted green to differentiate it from the others, so he could probably try it next time he goes into the field. Nothing better than a live test subject, it will likely make a good tool for interrogation or torture. It would certainly be humiliating. Well, as long as it doesn’t interfere with whatever mission the Owl has him out on.

“Report!”

Speak of the devil.

Tim looks up from his desk in the Roost, just a level below from the top level where Bruce is, he hears Damian’s training on the level below him stop. He looks back to the capsule, standing and slipping it into his smoke bomb pouch on his utility belt, he grabs his tablet from the table and heads for the stairs. Damian sprints up the stairs past him, he ignores whatever look the Demon may throw over his shoulder back at him and begins bringing up his notes.

He hadn’t found much of anything in his automatic surveillance reports from last night, but the Owl will still want the information for his records. It is useful at times, when they need to know more about something that once seemed insignificant but is important in context. He reaches the top to see Damian standing ready by his father, the Owl nods as he walks over to them, and they hear the door up the stairs to the manor open.

“Nothing of note to report from last night,” Tim starts, using his tablet to bring up a video on the main computer, the monitor looming over them as Dick and Jason walk towards them from the stairs. On the screen shows Roman Sionis walking into an apartment complex, a jump cut springing time forward to show him leaving hours later, “Sionis still seems to be holding meetings in these apartments in Upper West Side, heat signature readings cross-referenced with blueprints of the building show the exact room they meet in to be on the first floor: #152. His intentions are still a mystery, he seems to be gathering people at these meetings but we don't know for what purpose.”

Dick hums, throwing an arm around Jason’s shoulder and leaning his weight against his brother’s body, “Is he still trying to win back his company from Bruce Wayne?”

Tim shakes his head, “Unlikely, the buyout of his father’s company definitely hurt his pride but he wouldn’t stoop to any shady practices to win it back. If he is trying to get it back, it will be in a board room, or a court, not in an apartment building.”

He looks up to catch sight of Bruce nodding subtly, then glances over to Dick and Jason to see them staring at the video repeating on the computer in front of them. Jason sighs, crossing his arms, “You already tried gettin’ into the security cameras or placin’ bugs in the buildin’?”

“The security cameras seem to have been removed, or at least aren’t receiving any power. They seem to have signal jammers placed through-out the building, I discovered them when trying to use a drone to survey the building on a different occasion. Physical infiltration is our next step,” Tim glances back to the Owl, repressing the sigh of relief when he sees him nod once again. He’s done well then.

“Will he be having another meeting tonight?” The Owl is moving away from the computer, walking over to the case of weapons and gadgets that unfolds into a display before him.

Tim shakes his head, “Based on his pattern thus far, his next meeting will be in two days. A few residents of the building itself do enter the room on occasion, however it tends to be empty between the hours of 10 p.m. and 5 a.m. with the exception of nights where Sionis is there for a meeting.”

The Owl pauses, “Are all residents of the building involved?”

“It doesn’t seem that way, there are 30 apartments in this building with about 55 residents, I have observed only about 5 of those residents actually interacting with the apartment in question. I believe one of those is the landlord, there are others that come and go from the apartment but they don’t seem to be residents,” Tim brings up the recording of the heat signatures, speeding it up to show the multiple days of people coming and going.

The Owl pauses as he watches it, “Red Talon will do the infiltration, I want Nightingale to be prepared at Red’s entry and exit point in case he needs back up. Red Hood, I want you across the street, bring a sniper rifle with you. N, you’re leader. Talon, you’re with me tonight.”

They all nod, Dick and Jason turning to head across the platform to get their uniforms on. Tim sees Talon frowning (he would call it pouting but that sounded too cute to describe the scowl on that man), but he just brushes it off and follows after his brothers. Damian probably thought he’d have a boring night with his father, but Tim doubted that the Owl wasn’t going to pay Sionis a visit.

It would set the man on edge, but their history with Sionis shows his tendency to get sloppy when his emotions run higher. His reaction to knowing the Owl is watching him may cause him to leave an opening for them to properly observe his movements.

By the time they reach the apartments it’s already 11 p.m., another cold and cloudy night with the sounds of police sirens in the distance echoing off old brick buildings. Common for Gotham, familiar and calming for them. Red Hood is across the street facing the front of the building, watching the entrance. Red and N slip into the alley on the side of building, at the window leading into the apartment, their movements silent as Tim adjusts the lenses on his mask to see heat signatures. He gives a nod to N as he sees nothing in the other room, both leaning up to observe the windowsill and check it for any alarms or traps.

Across the street, Hood taps the comms in his ear, relaying to the Owl their positions and progress. Not far from their location, in the Diamond District, the Owl and Talon stand on the roof of a high-class hotel. The Owl clicks his comms to mute and nods to his son, the younger man slips into the vent behind him and he walks off to grapple down the side of the building.

By this time, N and Red have the window cracked, surveying the room quickly once more before Red opens it more to slip inside. The room is meticulously organized, a desk and chair in the corner, papers carefully stacked on it, couches along the walls to allow the maximum amount of people to sit in the room. He heads for the desk, slipping behind it to get a better look at the documents laying on top, clicking his comms on to communicate to N and Hood.

“’False Face Society,’ he’s starting a secret society.”

The Owl slips through curtains as he enters the dark room by the window, three evenly timed taps in his comms telling him Damian is in position in the vents above them. Above him and Sionis, that is. The man peacefully watching TV on a couch in front of him, his back helpfully facing the Owl.

Tim continues skimming the documents, “Members include Gotham residents, average people, no recognizable names. They have substantial funding, and they are purchasing a lot of supplies… Wait,” Red pauses, reading over the materials that are being purchased, an equation working through his head.

The Owl stands silently behind the man in the chair, pressing a button on his gauntlet, sending out a small electrical pulse. The TV turns off, and he takes satisfaction in the way Sionis’ face drops when he sees the Owl’s reflection in the dark screen.

“They’re building a bomb.”

“What?” Hood hisses back at Red, “What kind? Where and when?”

“I have everything we need here, I’m bringing it back,” Red taps the hidden button on the side of his mask, the lenses taking snapshots of the documents in front of him.

Sionis stands, turning and backing himself up towards the large TV, the Owl remaining still in his spot behind the couch. It would hardly stop him from reaching the other man if he needed to. When he reaches into his pocket, the Owl has three small Owl-wings embedded into his arm before he can react, but he is unbothered as he pulls the cell from his pocket and double taps the screen. The man’s face literally begins to melt, and the Owl grimaces, his suspicions proven right as the smirk forms even through the deformation.

“Owl,” is the familiar growl.

“Clayface.”

The door bursts in, Red ducking behind the desk as bullets rinse the room, his comms cracking as he can hear N and Hood trying to say something to him, something beginning to distort their voices. He has no time to worry about it as a flash grenade rolls into view, he has a second to cover his eyes before it goes off, reaching for his smoke bombs as he hears boots rushing into the room. Guns surround him and the desk as he drops three of the capsules on the floor around him, smoke and…

Some of the smoke is green.

His stomach drops. Shit.

Talon taps his comms, watching the fight between Clayface and the Owl, waiting for his father to signal him to jump from the vent into the room. He whispers to N and Hood that Clayface was pretending to be Sionis.

“We got a problem here, T,” Hood's voice is strained, stressed, and it immediately makes Talon’s heart jump into his throat.

“Gas mask, Hood!” N shouts over the line.

He tosses a spare mask to Nightingale as his boots hit the asphalt of the alley, grapple zipping back into the gun as Nightingale jumps in the room and he hears gun shots, small burst of light flashing in the room. Hood launches himself through the window, tackling a man by the middle and slamming him to the ground. An elbow to the face lays the enemy out, giving Hood the chance to take in his surroundings.

Red is curled in on himself in the corner, Nightingale flipping over one man to land on another’s shoulders and snap his neck with his thighs. Hood charges forward and drives his knife through the other’s neck, pulling back to quick draw his gun and shoot the last man across the room. Considering how many people were in the room, he guesses Red had taken a few out himself before they even got in.

“Hey, Pretty Bird,” Nightingale whispers as he and Hood approach the curled form of their brother. The younger man seems to shiver, fingers digging into his own biceps.

Hood steps up, getting a nod from Dick before wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s body, shuddering at the deep moan Red lets out, “We need to move, this was an ambush, we can’t stay here.”

Talon hates fighting things that he can’t cut with a sword. It’s just annoying. He wipes the residual “clay” from his sword as the Owl searches the room. He taps his comms, “Clayface ran like a coward. What is your status?”

A crackle of sound, then N comes through, “Ambush is taken care of, Red got hit with something weird, we’re going to bring him to one of Hood’s safe houses to treat him first.”

He wrinkles his nose at that, “What? Shouldn’t you bring Drake to the Roost first? What did he get hit with?”

“We don’t know what it was, it was mixed in with a bunch of smoke and he inhaled it,” No response for a moment, then N’s voice comes back over, the rush of wind in the background as they presumably grapple towards Hood’s safe house, “He’s acting weird and we want to make sure he’s stabilized before trying to get him back to the Roost.”

The Owl grimaces across the room, looking over to him before tapping his comm as well, “Report back as soon as he’s stable, we need the information he got.”

Red doesn’t particularly care about that at the moment. All he cares about is the burning in his skin, the way his heart is hammering against his chest, how good Hood smells (a mixture of gunfire, explosives and soap). He whines a bit as he feels his body rub against Hood’s back, only half aware of them slipping into an apartment, he clings to the other man as N tries to tug him off.

“C’mon, Baby Bird, you gotta lemme go, we gotta look at you,” the whine that comes out of him in response makes Hood shudder, N biting his lip as he finally manages to get Red on the bed. He starts reaching around, deactivating the security on the suit and mask, him and Hood stripping the very obviously excited Red.

Tim gasps, his hips thrusting up as Nightingale pulls the lower half of his suit from his skin, the cool air feeling like such a relief on his skin. Hood is rubbing something over his mask and peeling it from his face, his voice a deep and soothing tone as he speaks. Tim tries to pay attention to the words, tries to remember what they were doing and what got him here, but their hands are all over him, tugging his clothes off and pressing him down and he knows how much they care for him and…

“Pheromones,” He breathes, trembling as Dick rests his head over Tim’s chest, and heat seems to just melt through his skin and into his ribs, “It’s pheromones.”

“We’re going to need more than that, Pretty Bird,” Dick whispers, “Your heart rate is really high,” Tim groans and tries to wrap his arms around the other man, tries to get closer to him, wants to be held by someone. But Dick pulls away, gently stroking his arms as he places them back down on the bed, “In a moment, we need to make sure you’re okay first.”

“No,” Tim huffs, gasping as Jason reappears, mask gone, green eyes looking so concerned and making a sad feeling crawl into his stomach as he presses an ice pack to his forehead.

“You don’t look like you’re doin’ fine, Baby Bird,” Jason snorts.

He groans, pushing the ice pack away and throwing his arms around the other man, forcing his lips on Jason’s, hoping the warm feeling rushing through his body can be transferred. Dick’s hands tug him back, throwing him on the bed, the older man crawling over him to pin him down as Tim jerks against him.

“Tim,” Dick growls, making said man still underneath him, cold fear rushing through him, “We need to take care of you first. Stay still.”

He just shakes his head, groaning as his hips roll up, trying to reach Dick’s hips, or any part of him, “No, no, no, fine, it’s fine, my fault, wanted to test it.”

Dick just stares down at him, face eerily calm, “What do you mean?”

Tim whines, body feeling colder from the way Dick is staring at him as Jason slips around behind him, placing his hand against his forehead. Tim tilts his head back towards him unconsciously, trying to get closer to him, “I did it, I made it, the pheromones, I’m fine.”

“He’s not burnin’ up anymore,” Jason mutters, fingers moving to run soothingly through the younger man’s hair, warmth running through him again as he feels Jason caring for him, “You sayin’ you did this to yourself, Baby Bird?”

“Yes,” Tim breathes, shuddering as the heat seems to sink further into his muscles, making them feel like putty, a lazy rolling pleasure running through him, “I need it, please, more.”

He hears Dick suck in a breath, sharp, a long pause in the air as he closes his eyes and breaths out slowly. His eyes open again, calmly, and a dark smirk rises to his face as he leans down close to Tim’s neck, “We’ll take care of you, Pretty Bird, but when we’re done we are going to talk about this.”

Tim gasps as Dick’s teeth sink into his neck feeling Jason shift from the bed, his voice still nearby, “Don’t like gettin’ scares like this, that was very bad of you.”

Dick’s teeth travel lower, leaving sharp little bites along his collarbone, the whine escaping Tim’s throat embarrassingly shrill, “Sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t be mad,” Don’t be upset, don’t leave, help, touch, stay.

The deep chuckle that comes from Jason makes his heart skip, the man leaning over him and Tim’s eyes trail down his now bare body, “You need’ta do better than just say sorry, Baby Bird, you had us runnin’ all the way over here, thinkin’ you in some real trouble.”

Dick’s teeth are traveling back up the other side of his neck, locking on to that sensitive soft spot just behind his ear, Tim can’t help the little twitches of his hips underneath him, feeling Jason shifting the bed as he moves around on it. His moans spilling from his mouth without restraint, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” worry building in his chest.

Jason’s arms wrap around his chest and tug him back into the other man, leaving Dick at the end of the bed, his eyes watching him hungrily as he begins to peel his suit off, “You’ll have to be punished for scaring us, Pretty Bird, you should know better than to do something like that to us.”

Tim’s eyes are locked on to the way Dick just seems to slide out of the Nightingale suit, like it isn’t the tightest suit any of them have ever seen, skin being revealed to him until Jason grabs his chin and turns his head to lock their lips together. He moans into the other man’s mouth, hands coming up to clench at Jason’s biceps as he feels his large hands traveling all over his hips and down to his ass. Jason bites down on his lip, sucking on it and pulling it out a bit, letting it go with a pop, “We know just how to take care of you, Baby Bird, we know just what you need,” His hands cupping Tim’s ass cheeks and messaging them roughly.

He groans, breathing becoming rougher as he grinds back down on Jason’s hand, “More, please, oh, please, Jay,” some part of his brain is a little embarrassed from how pathetic and desperate he sounds, the rest of it doesn’t give shit, just needs.

Dick returns to the bed, Tim just realizing he had left, and throws a black bag beside them, Jason chuckling as he notices it. Before he can ask about the bags contents, Dick’s hands suddenly grab Tim’s thighs, spreading them and resting them on his shoulders, breath running over Tim’s leaking cock. The youngest whines at the feeling, trying to grind up towards his mouth but restrained by Jason’s hands.

“Let him go, Little Wing, grab the lube and some toys for our Pretty Bird,” Dick grins, rolling his body backwards in the most fluid and impressive way, lifting Tim’s ass just enough to lean forward and bury his tongue inside the young man.

Tim tries to resist the urge to scream in the most pathetic way, biting at his lower lip and squealing in the highest pitch his throat can muster, his ass spasms around the invading wet muscle as his body trembles. He feels warmth spread over his stomach, air leaving him in stuttering breaths as he can hear the laughter in Jason’s teasing tone, “You come just from havin’ Dick get a lil’ taste of your ass? Oh, Baby, we can’t have that, this is suppose to be your punishment.”

He can hear Jason digging around in the bag, feel him tossing what is probably the lube to Dick, and then he glances over and sees him pulling a leather blindfold from the bag. Jason doesn’t ask, doesn’t have to, it isn’t the first or last time they’ve used a blindfold on him, and when Tim feels the leather cuffs being secured over his wrists, connecting them behind his back, it’s not unexpected.

The cracked cry that comes from his throat sounds so pathetic to his own ears, Dick’s fingers digging into the flesh of his ass, teeth lightly biting the sensitive skin around his rim, “Mmm, Pretty Bird, you sound so good for us,” he stops then, and Tim can’t see what expression he’s making but the lack of movement is frustrating enough for him to whine.

“I just had a great idea,” Dick growls it, Tim’s heart jumping as heat seems to rush through him at the pure danger he feels from it. He can hear Jason chuckle, only able to assume they communicated to each other somehow nonverbally.

“Oh, Baby Bird,” Jason purrs against his ear, pressing a few gentle kisses there, “Can you repeat your safe words for us?”

His breath catching, excitement building inside him, “Green is good,” he feels Dick’s fingers moving inside him suddenly, so much lube on his fingers it drips down his ass, and he moans loudly from the penetration, a fire rushing through his body, “Y-Yellow is wait,” Jason’s fingers dig into his sides and drag up, a sting rushing up his sides and making him shake and tug at his cuffs in response, “Ah, and red is stop.”

Jason hums, pleased, then kisses his ear once more, “Good boy. Now, can you promise us you’ll use it if you need us to stop?”

He nods his head rapidly, feeling Dick already slipping more fingers inside him and he’s never felt something go inside him so easily, his ass accepting the insertion so eagerly. Was it the pheromones? Were they making his muscles more pliable or something? He just can't muster the attention span to care right now.

“Not good enough,” Jason growls, and Tim’s heart clenches suddenly, “Promise us, Baby Bird, I wanna hear you say it.”

“I promise, I will, please, I promise,” He breathes out as Dick is already spreading his fingers, and it’s like little bolts of pleasure spiking up his spine, he’s never felt so good.

“What a good boy, our Pretty Bird,” Dick praises him as he kisses along his hips down towards his cock, leaving little love bites while he continues the scissoring motion with fingers, “You think you can take both of us tonight, Pretty Bird? Sing real pretty and take us both deep.”

He shudders as Dick’s mouth sinks over his cock, Tim just nodding rapidly in response as he reminds himself to breath. Jason chuckles into his ear, fingers scratching up his abdomen to his nipples to twist and tug at them, “He means at the same time, Baby Bird, we wanna share your ass tonight, not just take turns.”

As much as he is able, he clenches around Dick’s fingers and arches, humping his ass on them and back up into his mouth. He whines again, his lips against Jason’s collarbone and pressing little kisses along the skin, heat burning through him at the thought of both of them taking him, whining, “Please, more, please.”

He feels as much as hears the way Jason sucks his next breath in, nearly a hiss, “Fuck, Baby Bird, you’re so hot, I can’t wait to make you scream for us.”

Dick just laughs a bit, vibrations shooting through Tim and making him moan into Jason’s skin. Dick squeezes his pinky inside, hollowing his cheeks and slowly pulling his mouth up and off him with a pop. Tim shakes, panting into Jason’s neck for a moment before he feels Jason adjusting his hands, gasping as he feels Jason’s dick slip into his hands. He takes the chance, playing with the head of Jason's cock, feeling all the precum leaking from him.

Dick groans, “He feels so loose already, Little Wing, he’s so desperate for us to give it to him, such a good boy.”

Jason goes to lightly bite and suck at Tim’s neck, jerking up into Tim’s hands softly, so as not to jostle him too much. His fingers pinch his nipples harder, twisting them and pulling them, rougher than he would do with anyone else, knowing how much Tim enjoys the little stings of pain. He stops for a moment, messaging the skin of his chest around them, “We should get these nipples pierced, two lil’ hoops that we can attach a chain to. Can just tug on it and make you cry all night…”

Tim swallows the whine, panting as he can’t help grinding down on Dick’s fingers, eager for them to move on, feeling Dick lick up his cock again and swirl around the head teasingly. He feels more pressure at his entrance, his mouth dropping open as he feels the fingers suddenly go deeper, and a little part of his mind wonders if the pheromones are somehow making this easier for him, the rest wishes he could see the other two. He shakes as he feels the stretch, stilling as his body spasms, twitching, heat washing over him in waves. His head falls back, and he distantly hears Dick saying something, “Pretty Bird, how are you doing?”

He breathes deeply, trying to gather himself as moans spill from his mouth with some whispered, “Green, green, green.”

Jason jerks his hips quickly, his head grinding against Tim’s lower back and he can feel the precum stick to his skin as he repeats the action a few more times, “Wait, wait,” Jason mutters, and he distantly hears a click and the familiar thick watery texture of lube dripping on his fingers and over Jason’s cock in his hands, “Tighten your grip a bit, Baby Bird,” Jason begins rutting into his hands, making Tim gasp as he feels the head of his cock rubbing against his lower back and Dick’s fingers stretching him out.

He feels the fingers—or maybe the hand by now—retreat from him suddenly, leaving him sadly empty. Whining for a moment before Jason is lifting him and whispering into his ear, “You ready, Baby Bird?”

He nods and Jason’s hands begin to guide him down, Dick’s fingers reappearing on his rim as he feels the penetration, easily sliding down on Jason and sighing in satisfaction. He hears the click of the lube again, his heart picking up as he knows what’s next, Jason not letting him dwell on it as he lazily moves in and out of him as they wait.

Jason suddenly leans back and takes Tim with him, holding Tim on his cock as Dick lifts his legs and wraps them around his shoulders, “Oh, Pretty Bird, you look so good with Jason filling you up. Think you can fit me in there, too?” The responding moan is a positive sign, and Dick teases his head against the younger man’s rim for a moment before leaning over both of the men, “Remember your safe word if you need us to stop.”

He nods quickly, and the teasing turns into a pressure as he feels the stretch of his rim. He can feel what a tight fit it is, the resistance, the tiniest amount of pain that just adds this flavor to the pleasure. Jason sucks a breath in through his teeth, Dick grunting as he tries squeezing inside, the heat of their bodies on either side of him, and he just wants to see them, to watch the pleasure on their faces. He feels the head finally push inside, and he just trembles as he feels Dick slide inside him with Jason, both of them holding so absolutely still for the longest moment.

“How you feelin’, Baby Bird?” He can hear the shuddering breath Jason is taking in his ear, pleasure running through him knowing how good the other two must feel as well.

“Pretty Bird?” Dick whispers, his breathing a bit ragged, “Talk to us.”

Tim shudders, “C-Can I see?”

Dick hums, kissing up his chest as Jason’s fingers rub soothing circles into his hips, he feels Dick’s fingers sliding up his chest to tug at the blindfold, the cloth slipping down to hang around his neck. The first thing he sees being Dick’s intense eyes watching him from between his thighs, Dick’s face flushed a light pink with a thin layer of sweat causing a few strands of hair to stick to his forehead. He clenches around them, and he doesn’t know if the reactionary jerk he feels is from Dick or Jason but it doesn't matter with the resulting spike of pleasure up his spine and a rush of heat through his skin.

He moans, shaking a bit as he feels Jason begin to move underneath him, Dick also tensing and groaning at the feeling of the man gently grinding into Tim’s packed ass. Turning his head, he’s surprised to see the venomously green eyes half-lidded, Jason pressing his lips into the side of Tim’s neck and staring back at him, just watching him as he slowly moves inside him.

“Fuck, Pretty Bird,” Dick sounds so breathless it’s incredible, his hands pushing Jason’s out of the way on his hips, Jason’s moving to his chest.

Dick begins dragging himself out, quickly moving back in again and Tim would be moaning if his body was capable of even making a sound right now. Instead, he leans back, mouth open as something soundless and breathless leaves him, making Dick growl a bit, “I want to hear you, Timmy, I want to hear how much you love us, scream for us, sing for me, Pretty Bird.”

“Watch him,” Jason whispers in his ears, as if Tim could look anywhere but at the man coming apart over him, “Look how good you make him feel.”

And Dick just smirks, a dangerous but sexy expression on him, staring down at them, "Because he's so perfect for us, he feels so good for us, our good Bird."

And that sends him trembling again, even more so than Dick’s pace picking up, just Dick calling him a good Bird, the loaded meaning catching him off guard. Unable to focus on just why it means so much to him, just basking in the warmth that it makes spread in his chest. Jason begins grinding harder into him, hips jerking him up in time with Dick's thrusts, while reaching down to finally touch his cock, leaking obscenely over his own stomach.

A particularly loud groan from Dick makes him return his attention to the man, having difficulty focusing, his eyes just wanting to fall shut or glaze over as his world just becomes the feeling of the two men inside him. Another roll of heat through his body, and he distantly realizes it is nowhere near as intense or frequent as it had been when it had started.

Then Dick bites his inner thigh, a spot closer to his knee than the center of his thigh, moaning into the bite, and Tim just doesn’t care what he was thinking about before. Jason’s thumb presses down on the head of his cock and he’s clenching around them, crying out as he gets a very good feeling of how tight the fit inside him is. Dick finally spreads his thighs fully, returning his hands to Tim’s hips, and begins driving into the smaller man.

“So beautiful, my Pretty Bird, you sound so amazing,” Dick breathes over him, his hips creating a lewd slapping sound against his ass with each hard thrust.

Tim can hear Jason’s groans coming from underneath him, deep and gravelly in his ear, but it’s just then he realizes his own noises, just pouring from his mouth. He can’t bring himself to bother to stop, not when Dick seems to enjoy it so much. And just as he thinks that, Dick leans over them, hips still making fluid hard thrusting motions into him even as he would seem to be so off balance from the angle. Dick’s lips hovering over Jason’s by his ear, “Such a good Bird for us tonight, good Pretty Bird. You deserve something for being so good, don’t you?”

“Ah, but this is his punishment,” Jason mutters, voice becoming tight, his hand jerking Tim off hard now and making him resist squirming, “He wasn’t bein' so good earlier, remember?”

Dick gasps, a harsher thrust rocking them a bit up the bed, and Tim whines as he tries so hard to thrust in either direction and can’t with Dick’s hands on his hips. Dick just grins down at him, “T-That’s right, I almost forgot,” one of his hands lifts, moving around, and slaps his ass hard, a sting racing up Tim’s spine and making him shout.

Jason chuckles in his ear, “But you like that, don’t ya?”

Another slap, and Tim manages a tiny jerk with only one of Dick’s hands on his hips, not nearly enough when he’s so close. Another slap, and he gasps, feeling his back already arching, his chest jutting out as he whines for more. Another slap, and he can feel the spot that will remind him of this all week whenever he sits down, the entire rest of his body feeling secondary to the intense pleasure rushing through him. Another slap, and he’s screaming, feeling himself shaking as his vision gets fuzzy and the heat is rushing over him a final time with his second orgasm.

He feels like jelly, weightless, and when he feels his insides shooting pleasure through him again already, he realizes Dick and Jason haven’t stopped.

“Lil’ sensitive, Baby Bird?” Jason snickers in his ear, Dick’s grin looking so hungry over him as he leans back and just focuses on thrusting into him.

Tim’s gasping for air, whining and moaning between light-headed breaths, his left leg twitching. His hole is sore already, a little sting to the very pleasurable stretch, and Jason lets go of his cock to just hold his hips over Dick’s hands, to grind into him harder. The pleasure shoots through him, his trembling hasn’t even stopped, and he nearly cries as he feels himself hardening again.

It’s too much, too hard, too fast, too good, too perfect. As Dick suddenly rams into him and stills, a telling warmth spreading inside him, he does scream, the harsh sound ripping his throat up a bit. He feels Dick’s teeth sink into the spot between his shoulder and neck, Jason grinding into him a few more times before wrapping bringing his hand up and laying it over Tim’s throat, the last few jerks inside him adding more warmth.

He’s gasping for breath too hard already as Dick leans up and wraps his hand around Tim’s cock, they haven’t even pulled out yet, the nerves so sensitive it’s nearly unpleasant but right now it’s just enough to set him off.

His third orgasm makes him fuzzy, the darkness behind his eyelids making him feel as though he’s drifting, the warmth of the two bodies on either side of him feeling like it’s seeping into his bones. Dimly aware of Dick and Jason talking, Jason’s soft words whispered into his ear, but Dick…

“Enjoy the show, little Owlet?”

What did he just say?

“Shhh, it’s all good, Baby Bird, relax, sleep,” Jason whispers in his ear softly, his fingers are running through his hair, and he feels Dick’s fingers release his wrists from the cuffs, messaging the skin.

“Father sent me to retrieve you when you didn’t return or call…” Damian is in the room, and Tim tenses a little, trying to focus on Dick’s hand soothingly running down his side and Jason’s fingers messaging the nape of his neck instead.

“We were distracted,” Dick’s voice is carefully calm, and Tim can’t open his eyes—doesn’t want to—as Dick brings a blanket over their bodies, “Report back for us, tell him we are all okay.”

“You expect he will just accept that? You need to report, Father needs that information, it is the mission,” Damian’s tone is sharp, it sounds closer, “What did you do to Drake?”

His breathing picked up at some point, and he just turns his head to bury his face into the pillow, biting his lip as he feels the world become painfully real around him. Because it’s true. He can’t just lay here, he has a job, he needs to do that job. What is he doing? Why is he doing this? It’s a waste of his time, it leaves him brainless and shamefully vulnerable, and all for sexual relief?

“Demon, leave.”

Jason’s voice is deep, stern, not harsh yet but the threat was buried there. Shit. Jason can’t get angry, shouldn’t be, not over something like this, Tim shouldn’t have even done this. It’s all his fault. All because he gave in to his pointless sexual desires, because he made that stupid pheromone pill, because he was irresponsible just mixing it with the other smoke bombs, because he wasn’t careful about grabbing only smoke bombs, because he wasn’t smart enough to know it was an ambush, because he was dumb enough to get the others involved in an ambush, because he was spending all this time on this pointless endeavor to just get off with his brothers.

This is fucked and he is such a waste.

Dick’s arms wrap around him, tugging him back against his body, “Shhh, it’s okay, you are so amazing for us, Pretty Bird, such a good boy for us.”

“Stop talking to him like he’s a—” He feels Dick make a nod against him and Jason is standing, his heat leaving Tim’s arms and the lack of his presence is disconcertingly distressing for Tim.

“Out,” Jason’s voice is retreating as he hears shuffling, a shout of protest from Damian as a door nearly slams shut.

Tim is trying to bury his face in the pillow when Dick starts forcing his body to turn, holding his face still as he peppers his forehead and nose and cheeks with small kisses, “Come back to me, Pretty Bird, don’t hide, you don’t get to hide on me, you understand?”

He releases a trembling breath, eyes cracking open the smallest amount before shutting again. It’s better to not have to see it, better to be in the darkness, to almost pretend this is a dream and he doesn’t have to face it.

“No, no,” Dick mutters, free hand trailing down to his neck and circle his fingers around the back, fingers tightening and creating a firm hold on the back of his neck. His kisses trail down, to his throat, just under his Adam’s apple, and he bites.

His mouth drops open, a cracked low whine slipping out at the feeling of his skin being pierced by Dick’s teeth. It takes a moment, but Dick growls lowly into his skin and releases him, kissing back up to his jaw, “I told you… you don’t get to hide,” he pulls back, and a moment of silence passes, a long moment where Tim is intensely aware of the strong hold Dick has on the back of his neck, before Dick finally speaks again, “Open your eyes.”

Tim sucks in a small breath, releasing it as his eyes slowly open, staring up at the dark look Dick is focusing on him. He makes the conscious effort to not make the pathetic noise that wants out from his throat, his throat which still stings from the feeling of Dick’s teeth being buried in it. Dick’s eyes look dark for the bright blue they usually are, look dangerous in a way that Tim is just unaccustomed to seeing, wondering if this is how they look under the mask when he stares at someone he’s about to kill.

Dick nearly purrs his next words, “Very good, Pretty Bird,” his expression finally changes, looking much more pleased, a familiar sharp and dangerous grin coming over his lips, “See? It’s much better when you just do what I say, isn’t it? Don’t even think about what anyone else wants, just do what I tell you here. It is all fine. I’ll protect you. I’ll keep you safe. You just need to do what I tell you and everything will be okay.”

His heart is slowing, and he doesn’t understand it, but he nods slowly because the panic is receding a bit and he doesn’t feel like he’s falling apart with Dick looking at him like that and… And as long as he can have a place with them then the rest doesn’t seem as important anymore.

Dick must feel him relaxing, or see it in his face, because his expression becomes the tiniest bit warmer. He leans over Tim, pressing a few kisses from his forehead to his nose to his lips, and Tim feels a little silly but the warmth he feels from the affection is just making him feel so much better.

Dick doesn’t move as the door to the room clicks open again, but Tim’s eyes snap over to see Jason’s carefully controlled expression (his eyes still a dangerous bright green though) as the man slips back into the room. Dick just nods and the other man’s face seems to melt into that soft smirk, his eyes dulling back to a safe greenish-blue, and he crawls back onto the bed to run his fingers through Tim’s hair. He doesn’t comment on Dick still holding the back of Tim’s neck, doesn’t seem perturbed by what must be a bright red and maybe bleeding bite mark on Tim’s neck, and Tim just feels himself relax because it must mean everything is okay again.

Dick presses another kiss to Tim’s lips, strangely gentle for it being from Dick but he would accept any kisses from him. He shivers at the deep hum from Dick, “Good, Pretty Bird, will you go to sleep now for us? You’re so tired, you have to rest, you need to sleep for us now.”

Dick’s fingers relieve the pressure on the back of his neck, dragging back over to the front of his throat the gently message the bite mark, and Tim nods as he releases a shuddering breath. His eyes closing as he feels how relaxed his body is now, how he is very tired, and how so comfortable he is now.

He’s not certain when he falls asleep, it isn’t immediate, just letting himself bask in the warmth and comfort of having Dick and Jason cuddle and spoil him.