iesika

Series Title: Kings Among Runaways
Story Title: Sitting Ducks
Summary: The AU where Tim ran away from home at the tender age of mumbledyteen, and Jason got let off with a warning, the night he met Batman.
Warnings: Sexual content including minors, both disturbing and hopefully not.
Note: The series is indexed here.

Sitting Ducks

The car they take isn't the same one Jason tried to strip, last year. Turns out there's a bunch of them, sleek, shining black things all over the damned cave on turntables and lifts. Batman had hustled them through before he'd had much time to look around. He'd had to grab Tim's hand for him to keep up, drag him past the cars and the computers and the goddamned dinosaur with his eyes wide, not even looking where they're going, just trusting Jason to lead him right.

They collect Tim's package - he hadn't been bluffing - and then Batman asks where they've been staying, and Tim tells the fucker, so they go empty their room at the Motel 7 and Batman leaves the keys and a few hundred dollars on the bed, which is the closest Batman gets to telling them they're not coming back.

Batman keeps calling Tim "Drake," and Tim keeps answering, so Jason figures that must really be his last name. It's kind of funny that he's never mentioned it before, but Jason's never really thought to ask. There's a lot of stuff Jason hasn't asked, and now he's kind of wishing he had - stuff like how Tim got so good at creeping around on rooftops.

Jason wishes he knew why Tim was so calm. He looks a little happy, even, in that quiet way he gets, triumphant, maybe, like after a score. He's acting like they won a motherfucking prize, and it's starting to freak Jason out a little. He doesn't say anything, though - just hustles Tim along when they get back to the cave, up the stairs after Old English, who takes them up into some kind of huge dining room and -

Okay, Jason can maybe understand the prize thing, now, because he's never seen a spread like this in his life. There's eggs and bacon and sausage, potatoes with onions, toast, juice, a huge bowl of fruit, and once he and Tim sit down and dig in - they haven't been starving lately, but it hasn't been that long, either - the guy leaves and comes back with a platter stacked high with pancakes, half blueberry and half chocolate chip.

The old guy stands in the corner and watches them eat. Jason thinks he's keeping an eye on the family silver, until he catches the guy smiling, out of the corner of his eye. After that, he's not sure what to think.

"This is really excellent," Tim tells the guy, who bows a little and smiles down at him in this really kind of fond way.

"Yeah," Jason says around a mouthful of the best pancake he's ever had. He gets an eyebrow, so he chews and swallows before he says, "thanks."

"It's my pleasure young sir. I haven't had the occasion to do a proper fry-up in quite some time."

"So, you're...Batman's cook?"

He gets the eyebrow again, but this time it's more amused than stern. "Among other things."

Tim coughs into his juice, and the guy hands him a napkin before Jason can move. After he wipes his chin, Tim looks up and says, "thank you, Mr. Pennyworth."

Pennyworth's eyebrows both go up, this time, but slowly, and Jason gets the feeling somehow that he's more impressed than surprised. "We will be having a little chat, once you've rested," he says, and then glances at the last few bites of pancake Jason really doesn't want to waste but can't possibly make room for. "Shall I show you to your-" his eyes dart between them "-room?"

"Please," Tim says, and his voice is thick with happiness.

The room turns out to be a suite with a couch and a fireplace, and the biggest goddamned bed Jason has ever seen. As soon as the door is shut, Jason wedges a chair under the nob and pulls Tim around by the shoulder.

Tim goes with it, and then lunges forward and up to wrap his arms around Jason and kiss him on the mouth. It's the first time Jason's ever pushed Tim away, and he feels awful doing it, but he presses Tim back to arm's length.

"What," he says, slowly, "the hell?"

Tim's just grinning at him and trying to slip his hold to get closer. After a minute, Jason caves and lets himself get hugged, but he turns his face away. "Seriously," he says.

Tim just laughs against his throat. "You smell like - I don't know. Chemicals. And there's something pink in your hair."

"What?" Jason touches the back of his head. His hair feels slightly sticky.

"Let's clean up," Tim says. He's so cheery he's fucking bouncing as he takes Jason by the hand and drags him into the bathroom.

"Oh my fucking God," Jason says when he sees it. There's a huge round tub sunk into the floor - probably a whirlpool, and a shower big enough for at least a dozen people, with heads and hoses at all kinds of angles. There are two sinks - full vanities, he realizes, and between them are two plastic toothbrushes still in their wrapping, and a brand new razor.

Tim goes right for the shower, stripping off as he steps in and sending his underwear at Jason's face. Jason catches it and gathers the rest of the fallen clothes, and then pokes his head out into the main room.

The chair is still where he left it.

"Come on," Tim says, laughing. When Jason's turning around, he's pulling a hose off the wall. "I will spray you."

"I've gotta piss," he says, but he's stalling. He checks the chair again after he does his business, then locks the bathroom door and strips out of his clothes before joining Tim in the shower.

He washes quick as he can. Tim kisses him, twice, and when Jason turns away, he wraps his arms around him from behind and kisses his shoulder. "Jay," he says, and there's a plea in his voice. Jason can feel him, hard, against the inside of his thigh, and Jason wants, but not now, not like this, and definitely not here. He shakes the water from his face and hair, and steps away, out of the shower to the fluffy towels on the rack - which is keeping them warm he realizes with a little moan.

"Jay?" Tim calls, but Jason ignores him as he dresses, because if he turns around and sees him, naked, wet and hard, reaching out for him --

They haven't done more than kiss and grope around a little. Tim's only - Jason's not actually sure how old he is - young enough to be pretty fucking gun-shy, mostly. And Jason knows all about early fucking blooming, but he's not some creep. He's been telling himself that Tim's gotta make the move - that he will, if he really wants it. Tim gets what he wants, damnit.

It's not going to be tonight, though, in some rich guy's house - Batman's house. There are stories about Batman, about that kid he used to keep around, and maybe Jason's not afraid of Batman, but he's not letting his guard down, not with Tim to look out for.

"Jason," Tim says, and this time he sounds frustrated. Jason cracks the door and peers out.

The chair has been returned to its spot by the window.

Jason shuts the door and grabs Tim's clothes. "Get out," he orders.

"What?"

"Get out of there. Get dressed, Tim. If we have to bolt--"

"We won't," Tim interrupts, but he hangs up the hose and cuts the taps. Jason hands him a towel, and he dries his hair. "We're perfectly safe," he argues.

"And you figure that how, exactly?"

When Tim steps out of the shower, he wraps his towel around his waist instead of taking his clothes. He heads over to the sinks and unwraps the green toothbrush. "There's precedent," he says, and opens the medicine cabinet to reveal about six kinds of toothpaste and a bunch of other stuff besides, including - Jason takes a step closer - three kinds of condoms, and a tube of medical lubricant. He shuts the cabinet and glares at Tim in the mirror.

"You did deliberately give him the impression that we're sleeping together," Tim says. He runs a little water on the toothbrush, squirts out a bit of paste - and then turns and sticks it into Jason's open mouth. Jason squawks in surprise and bites down to keep from dropping it.

We are, Jason wants to say, but his mouth is full. They're not having sex, not really, but they haven't slept more than a foot apart since October. He watches Tim fix up the other toothbrush, and then grumbles and starts scrubbing while he goes to check the door again.

Still no one in the bedroom. Jason ventures out of the bathroom, still brushing. Their stuff is where they left it. Other than the chair, the only thing that's changed is the striped pajamas laid out on the bed, one set a little bigger than the other.

Boys' pajamas. Jason turns on his heel, back into the bathroom, and spits. "Get dressed," he orders again. He rinses his mouth and wipes it, then returns to the bedroom and tries the door. It's unlocked, and the hallway is dark. He shuts it and crosses the room to the window, but when he pulls the curtains back, he finds it painted shut.

There's a noise behind him and he spins to find Tim watching him, still wearing the towel and nothing else. "I told you," he says, gently, "We're safe here, Jay." He sits down on the bed and picks up the smaller pajama shirt, pale blue striped with white. He holds it up to his own chest and looks down, tracing the "RG" monogrammed in dark thread over the heart.

"You don't wonder why he's got kids pajamas lying around? Or maybe what happened to Arr Gee?"

"He's in New York," Tim says, "dating a supermodel and saving the world on a regular basis."

Jason's mouth drops open, and he sits down in the wooden chair. "You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?"

Tim looks up at him, startled at first and then a little sheepish. "Um," he says. "I really haven't, have I?"

"Really not," Jason says, and then, because it's been bugging him. "Batman called you Drake."

"Oh," Tim says. He folds the shirt carefully and smooths it out on his lap. "Yes."

"And...You know his name?"

"Bruce Wayne."

Jason just stares. After a few seconds, he starts laughing. The giant-ass house make sense now, and how he's paying for all the cars.

"Robin's name is Dick Grayson. He was a circus acrobat until his parents were killed. Mr. Wayne took him in and made him a superhero."

Oh. Oh. That's...Tim's excitement makes a certain scary sense now. "Okay," Jason says, when he can breathe, "you know this how?"

"I..." Tim trails off and looks away. He sets the shirt carefully on the nightstand. "I met him once. Dick. He was really, really nice to me." He picks up the pants and folds those too before setting them on top of the shirt. "And then I saw his parents die. I saw him see his parents die."

Jason doesn't know what to say to that.

"And then when I saw Robin, later, I knew it was him, which meant Wayne had to be Batman." He looks up. "Come to bed, Jason. I want you to hold me."

Jason can't say no to that. He slips between the cool, smooth sheets when Tim folds them down, and pulls the other boy into his arms, to kiss his face and stroke his hair. The bed is huge - big enough for five more of them, at least, but they don't take up any more room here than they did on that tiny, dirty mattress they had hauled from squat to squat until they'd made it big.

Tim falls asleep pretty quickly. Jason keeps his body between him and the door until the sun comes up.

Dear

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