Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bruce had tried to stop Stray when they first showed up, saying that Gotham was no place for kids to be running on rooftops, completely ignoring his own hypocrisy. Later he tried the same speech on Puzzler and Ace. Obviously, Tim hadn’t listened. Bruce eventually gave up on stopping them but still took measures to make sure they were safe, giving each of the 3 mini-rouges a Bat Panic-Button and checking up on them midway through stopping their heists. 

Essentially, Batman might have been annoying, but the Red Hood was actively making Tim’s life worse.

—

Just like all the other times the two had interacted, the first time Tim had met the man in red was a disaster.

He was out as Stray, playing distraction while Catwoman swiped a couple cat paintings for her own collection on the other side of town. Normally, he could stand on a rooftop in full regalia for no more than 5 minutes before either Spoiler or Black Bat was sent after him to check if was actually committing a crime, or just wanted to hang out. This weekend however, Barbara Gordon was in Bludhaven with her dad for some kind of police ball between the sister cities, meaning that he would have to deal without the constant surveillance of Oracle.

At the 13 minute mark Tim decided to disregard the promise he made to sit still until the Bat caught wind of the little thief's wearabout, and instead have a little fun. Fun being a heist of his own, of course! Selina wasn’t around to connect any dots, so he could finally enact a plan that incorporated both Stray’s schtick and the Puzzler's. 

The goal was to finally get his hands on a new camera lens for distance shots, as his old one had broken in a crossfire between Killer Croc and the Batman. The only reason he hadn’t been worried about the lens up until now was because with all the training from his additional mentors added on to his school work, he hadn't gotten the chance to take some shots for himself. And as for why he couldn’t just buy a new one, Tim’s parents might be rather lenient when it comes to spending (Under the iron fist of Janet Drake, D.I. wasn’t in fear of going bankrupt any time soon), they were still strict on facing the consequence of your actions. Breaking a new lens 2 months after he got it meant that as a punishment for his recklessness, Tim has to deal with a plain old camera until they decide he has learned his lesson. A.k.a, a long, long time. 

What? Just because he had become a rouge to help Batman doesn’t mean he can’t help himself sometimes. What good is a villain that doesn’t have a slightly skewed moral code? 

It’s not like it was really Tim’s fault that it broke either, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because he was supposed to be in bed at 3:00 AM and not on the streets of the most crime-ridden city in the world. Okay so maybe it was his fault. But he was trying to solve a problem- and his actions in regard to solving that problem had worked so far, so it goes back to not being Tim’s fault, meaning that this heist to get a camera lens is entirely justified.

Not that it needed to be justified! Tim was a villain, that was the whole point of this. Tim groaned as he leaned back on the wall of the rooftop. Recently, with all the improvement seen from Batman's mental state, thoughts like this had kept plaguing him. He had become a rouge for a specific purpose, but now that the purpose had been mostly fulfilled, what was he meant to do now? It felt weird to keep committing crimes without reason, but he didn’t want to leave and risk causing a relapse for Bruce.

And to add on to that, something he struggled to even admit to himself, Tim liked it. He liked the click in his brain as he plotted a heist, the meticulousness of setting up a trap, and seeing his plans come to life when it went off without a hitch; he liked the way the wind brushed through his hair as he jumped from building to building, the feeling of his boots hitting the ground as he broke into a run, and the sound of his heartbeat as he made a quick escape into the shadows; he liked everything that added to the rush that came with a plan well executed, and he liked being part of Gotham’s nightlife, as someone more than an observer, and Tim wasn’t ready to give that up.

Raising his head from he had dropped it onto his raised knee, Tim checked his watch. Fuck. Another groan. If still wanted to execute his plan on time he would have to cut down on his usual amount of sidetracking and red herrings. Maybe he did have some luck, for this to happen on the one day that Oracle wasn’t watching him like a hawk.

Chapter Text

Tim really needed to stop jinxing himself by talking about luck.

That was the only thought running through the young rouge’s mind as he lay stuck under a door. Not just any door mind you, the false door to the false room he had made to falsify the video footage with his false heist. His own door, betraying him.

His plan had been to make it seem like Puzzler and Stray were working together, with Puzzler assisting and Stray doing the actual theft. While technically “Stray” could have done it without help, it would further establish that they were different people, just in case anyone was getting a little too close to the truth. Puzzler’s part was to cover Stray’s tracks with planted video footage created in a false room that Tim had finished the pieces for and was storing in an abandoned warehouse a couple of months ago. The replacement footage would feature Stray “stealing something” but it would hide his real methods when it came to the actual heist, as well as leave small clues that reveal that it’s a false room so Puzzler’s involvement was clear. Not to mention, it would also make it so that the Batman would have to know that he was tricked by “two” teenagers.

The reality of his plan was far less funny. 

He had to record the false footage on the same day as the actual heist in order to know what light conditions he would have to fabricate, so that the average police officer couldn’t tell the difference, and that also meant he couldn’t just build the room and leave, as it was inevitable that one of the Bat’s would find it and be clued into his plan.

So now, on a bit of a time crunch after finishing half of the room then getting a text from Selina that said she was wrapping up early, and no where near the actual heist, Tim had tried to overcompensate and set the door up to a wall that wasn’t yet installed, because it would be quicker to just to all the bolts and hinges at once wouldn’t it?

It was not quicker. Tim is now stuck under a door.

Who would have thought that an unstable piece of metal (because of course rich people had fancy metal doors and Tim wasn’t one to skip out on accuracy) would tilt, ultimately falling on and trapping the person who propped it up? Clearly not Tim.

Perhaps he could use this time to think about the meaning of life. 

A loud crash cut that train of thought out almost immediately (all he had gotten to was “be gay, do crime”) and Tim let out what must have been his 100th groan of the night. Great, now the entire room was falling apart.

“What the fuck?”

Tim was pretty sure that the walls didn’t talk, seeing as he was the one who made them, but that was clearly a voice saying “What the fuck?” so either someone had stumbled on his operation, one of the artifacts in Drake Manor that were secretly magical was messing with Tim again, or John Constatine was in Gotham because he and King Shark were on a break, and what better place to wallow then the city made on wallowing, and the British man had passed by Clay-Man who made a comment and Constantine, in a perfectly appropriate reaction, raised various wall-shaped metal demons to fight him.

The last one sounds ridiculous but it literally happened last month, so Tim was willing to entertain the possibility.

“You okay there kid? That looks heavy.”

Too kind to be a wall-shaped metal demon. Turns out the first answer was the right one for once.

“Kid? Kid? Please don’t be dead- Let me get that off-” The now determined to be a person’s voice’s body heaved the slab of metal off, revealing a very blurry man-like shape thanks to Stray’s goggles being smushed into Tim’s face from the fall. “Holy shit you’re Batman’s sidekick. I thought you were blonde. And a girl.”

That broke Tim out of his stupor. “I’m not with Batman.”

“Okay?...Then why are you dressed like you’re going to a costume party in the middle of May?”

“Who said I wasn't?

“Because anyone with a Gotham accent knows that costume parties are a plea for a rogue attack. And the fact that you were stuck under an 80 pound door in the middle of an abandoned warehouse.” The man reached out a hand and Tim grasped his forearm to pull himself up. “I’m pretty sure none of the Rogues are 13, so Batman’s sidekick is the only option.”

“Well first of all, I’m not 13. Second, Batman has two partners, three if you count Nightwing, and both of them are girls -so you were right about that- and 3rd of all, you also have a Gotham accent, how do you not know about Stray, Puzzler, and Ace?”

“Rip-off versions of Catwoman, Riddler, and Joker?”

“Harley Quinn actually. And they’re not rip-offs, they’re teenage sidekicks.”

It was the man’s turn to be baffled, and the silence gave Tim the chance to fix his goggles so that he could actually see.

Holy fucking Batman.

Tim’s savior was none other than the newest addition to Gotham’s nightlife -on the criminal’s side: Red Hood.

Chapter Text

“You’re one to talk about costume parties,” Tim continued to talk despite every nerve in his body yelling at him to run away. Red Hood wasn’t a well known public figure just yet, but as soon as he first appeared on the streets with his red helmet Tim had begun his research. Apparently he had a rule not to hurt kids, but the man was still dangerous—8 heads in a bag is a very effective threatening strategy. Not to mention the mural of a bat with curved wings (read: Spoiler) painted in blood at the border between The Bowery and Park Row. Wait- 

“Why did you think I was Spoiler? You’re the one who did the blood mural, clearly you know who she is.”

Red Hood, who had been quiet as the wheels were turning in Tim’s head, reacted to that. “It was a very confusing situation!” And then, slightly mumbled under his breath, “besides, a teenager with black hair, a shitty costume, and who clearly hadn’t thought the whole thing through, fits with the last two.” Then it was Hood’s turn to be taken aback. “What blood mural? The bat? It’s spray paint, blood would be so unhygienic, especially in Crime Alley, why the fuck would I do it in blood– and whose blood would I do it in?” His hands began gesturing with his bewilderment.

“The eight guys whose heads you chopped off?” Now why would he bring that up? 

Hood’s voice sharpened and his hands stilled; Tim made a mental reminder to learn how to shut up. “Enough about me. Which one of the teenage Rogue goons are you, kid?”

“Sidekicks, and seeing as I’m wearing cat ears, I feel like it’s pretty obvious.” For the love of god Tim, stop sassing the crime boss.

“Well then, go home to mama cat and stay there, you clearly aren’t fit for the nightlife if all it takes to knock you down is a wooden door.”

“Excuse you, it is a metal door.” Despite the fact that the man was wearing a helmet it was clear that Tim’s statement had not impressed him.

“Okay, come on, kid,“ and before Tim could react, and his reflexes were pretty damn fast, his front half was upside down and the Red Hood was holding him in a fireman’s carry. 

Tim struggled all the way to the actual warehouse door before giving up. As Hood walked out he paused at his motorcycle. He looked at Tim, looked back at his motorcycle, then pulled out a burner phone. He dialed a number and held it to the ear closest to Tim’s own, allowing him to hear the other side of the conversation.

“Hey Greg, could you send a car down to the warehouses near Dixon docks? And pick up my bike.”

“Sure boss. What’s going on- need any backup?”

“Nah, I just found a kitten wandering where he shouldn’t.” Tim kicked at his ribs for the kitten comment but Hood didn’t flinch.

“...Okay? On my way boss.”

While they waited for ‘Greg’, Tim asked where Hood was trying to take him.

“Hopefully to your actual home, with a stern talking to your parents so that you’re not on the streets anymore-”

“Absolutely not.”

“I figured. In that case, Catwoman’s somewhere on the Upper East Side. I’ll leave you on a rooftop somewhere for her to find.”

“What’s gonna stop me from running once you leave?” It wasn’t like the crime boss was going to stay, he had probably come to the docs for a reason. Tim could sneak back to the docs and clean up the warehouse before Selina realized anything was up.

“I’ll wait with you then.” Did the universe take joy in Tim’s suffering?

Five minutes later of awkward silence, Stray still being held over Hood’s shoulder, a plain-looking maroon coupe pulled up, and out stepped a 20-something man. He waved at his boss and acknowledged the other teenager. “Ohhh- by ‘kitten’ you meant Stray!” ‘Greg’ was rather cheery for someone who worked for a crime boss.

“You know this kid?”

“He’s been around for a couple of years. And I used to work for the Riddler, he was always talking about getting Stray to hang out with his kid.” 

Tim could see the wheels turning in Hood’s head at the last statement and he needed that train of thought to stop immediately. “I’m- He’s not Riddler’s kid.” 

Oops. Hopefully they would miss the slip up.

“You’re Riddler’s kid?!”

Nevermind.

“I am no ones kid-”

“You’re an orphan?!”

“No! I’m not a Rogue’s kid-” This interaction was a downward spiral from the start. “If you’re going to force me to go, can we please leave now?”

“Sure, kid,” Hood said, reaching into his pocket and tossing a key ring to ‘Greg’. “The spare helmet’s in the seat.”

“Got it, boss.” ‘Greg’ swung his leg over the seat of the motorcycle. “Bye, Stray!" he called, then peeled off.

Tim gave a wave at the departing figure over Hood’s shoulder only to be suddenly jostled as he was let back down in front of the open passenger door of the car the man left behind. He briefly considered making a break for it, but decided against it—getting caught twice would be a blow to his dignity. He sat down and Hood closed the door, keeping an eye on him as he went around to the driver’s side.

Hood started the car without saying anything and while Tim debated being an annoying passenger, he figured he could take the time to plan a more stealthy escape. Before that however, Tim made a mental note: Once this disaster of a night was over, he was going to learn better self-defense. He knew the basics, just like any Gotham kid, but not to the extent of the vigilantes and rogues he was starting to be surrounded by. Red Hood might not hurt kids and Spoiler and Black Bat didn’t actually try to fight him, but Tim relied too much on not being seen rather than not being caught . His mom had mentioned a friend—a martial artist—who was in Detroit for a bit. Maybe she would be willing to teach him?

Until then, all there was to do was sit in the silent car and think.