Archive of Our Own ^beta

The gala is in full swing when they arrive.

Dick is blinded by the flashing cameras and deafened by the shouts of reporters, all wanting a scoop on tonight’s event. He has his hands resting on his two younger siblings, steering Tim and Damian through the onslaught towards the door of the ballroom. At least it will be marginally more calm in there. Jason doesn’t attend these events, seeing as the public still thinks he’s dead, and instead is moonlighting as Red Hood tonight, patrolling the streets while everyone else is otherwise preoccupied.

Bruce is already inside, having arrived half an hour earlier. Luckily, Dick and his brother were allowed to come somewhat fashionably late, and he has never felt more grateful. Every minute they get to spend away from the gala is a brain cell saved. Damian in particular had taken some extra coaxing, as he is still relatively new to these kinds of events and has yet to learn how to curb his distaste for them. When they split up to make their rounds upon first arriving, Dick is sure that Damian beelines straight for Bruce in an attempt to convince him to let them leave as soon as possible.

Dick makes some obligatory introductions to some people, making sure that his presence is well known before slinking off to hide for a bit. He finds Tim leaning up against a shadowy wall, drink in hand.

“Bored yet?” Dick calls teasingly, sliding into place next to him.

Tim grins up at him. “I’ve made my escape from the Wayne Enterprise group for now, but I’ll have to go rub elbows with them again shortly, I’m sure.”

That’s not too bad then. Dick spotted Lucius Fox earlier, and he’s a good member of WE. Tim should have no problem finding someone to talk to and something to talk about, even if it just ends up being about work. At least then he won’t be like Dick, who spent the last 20 minutes feigning interest in the recent vacation of a random Gotham elite.

“Is that alcohol?” Dick questions, eyes narrowing as he studies the drink in his underage brother’s hand.

“I’m missing my spleen, not my liver.” Tim deadpans, letting out a surprised squeak as Dick snatches the glass out of his hand.

“You’re not legal yet,” Dick says, but his tone is half teasing. He doesn’t really care, knowing that there were much worse places to get alcohol underage, and, well, it’s not like Dick never did it either. He’s mostly just using his role as an overbearing older brother to snatch a drink since he hasn’t gotten a chance to get one yet himself.

“I’m literally the CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”

“Baby,” Dick says, downing the small champagne glass in one go. “You’re a baby.” He wrinkles his nose at the sour taste. “And this stuff isn’t even that good.”

“You know, I can just get another one.”

“Fine,” Dick says, placing his hand over his forehead overdramatically, like a Victorian maiden. “I guess there’s nothing I can do to stop my brothers from becoming delinquents.”

Tim laughs, and Dick grins down at him. “Seriously though, don’t—“

“—Drink enough to get drunk and cause a scene.” Tim finishes for him. “You’d think I’d never been to one of these things before.”

“Just doing my duty. Someone has got to keep an eye on all of you.”

“Just be glad Jason isn’t here.”

“You two are such a bad influence on each other, and you enable Damian.” Dick sighs, imagining the headache.

Tim grins, patting Dick faux-consolingly on the shoulder. “I’m going to find something to drink and insert myself back into a conversation before Vickie Vale can find me.”

Dick’s eyes widen slightly. “She’s here tonight?”

Tim nods with a grimace.

“Shit, I better find Damian.”

“Good luck!” Tim calls and disappears into the crowd.

Dick scans the crowd to find his youngest brother but has little luck. He expected as much. Not only is Damian shorter than the majority of people here, but he often tucks himself away in little hidden corners to avoid being found by people he doesn’t want. Maybe if Dick finds him, he should join him in hiding where he is so the rest of the night can pass without boring himself to death. Dick slowly circles the large room, looking in places his brother might hide while also being genial and discrete.

After about 20 minutes, Dick stumbles over seemingly nothing and has to catch himself against the wall. He blinked, feeling tired suddenly and trying to remember what he was doing. He blinks again, the bright lights making his head hurt, and ducks into a dark hallway off of the ballroom. He allows himself to lean against the wall and take a break out of the sight of the crowd, his vision swimming. He slides down the wall, burying his face in his hands, and takes the moment to just breathe, trying to regain control of his senses. After a few minutes with no success, he decides that he needs to get help.

He tries to stand, maybe to find Tim or Bruce, but quickly falls back to the floor as the world spins around him, his limbs growing heavy as tiredness overtakes him. He blinks a few more times, trying desperately to stay awake, but to no avail.

He knew that drink tasted funny.

___ ___ ___
Tim is not surprised to feel a tap on his shoulder, drawing him away from his conversation.

He is surprised, however, to turn and see Damian standing there.

“Everything okay?” Tim asks, shuffling minutely closer and lowering his voice enough to get lost in the roar of the crowd.

Damian tuts. “Of course. I was just inquiring about the location of Richard. I haven’t seen him in a while.”

The corners of Tim’s mouth tick down. “He said he was going to find you.” Tim notices the way Damian tenses slightly at the implication Dick is unaccounted for and tries to comfort him. “He probably just got caught up in conversation or needed to hide out somewhere for a bit.”

Damian seems marginally satisfied with his answer. “I will continue to look for him.”

“Hey,” Tim says, catching Damian’s arm as he starts to walk away. “Come get me if you need help.”

Let me know if there’s trouble, he means, and Damian seems to understand.

Tim watches him go, trying to ignore the lingering feeling in his gut as he turns back to the group. “Sorry,” Tim apologizes, hating the words even as they come out of his mouth. “You know how kids are.”

The group laughs and commiserates in the way he expects them to, and Tim tries not to feel too bad about reducing Damian’s public persona to a whiny child. He’s sure he would understand, but even still, he’s glad his younger brother wasn’t around to hear his poor excuse. Tim’s not quite sure he would escape evisceration for it. Just a few minutes later, a scream pierces the air, almost making Tim drop his glass.

“BABA!” the person cries, and Tim turns towards it on instinct. He recognizes that voice, though he rarely hears it so high-pitched and childish.

That’s Damian.

Tim knows the cry isn’t for him, but he can’t stop himself from launching into action, needing to be at his brother’s side. There’s no polite excuse this time, no graceful exit from the conversation, but Tim doesn’t care. He’s across the room, following the sound and general commotion until he finds himself in a poorly lit hallway. Damian stands with his back to the doorway, staring at where two strange men have an unconscious Dick on the floor between them.

“Timothy,” Damian says seriously, sounding distraught. “They have Richard.”

Tim unthinkingly pulls his brother close, noting the tears running down his cheeks in something like concern even as he keeps an eye on the two men. Something must really be wrong if it means Damian is clinging to his side like a scared child. He’s half surprised that Damian didn’t just deal with the men himself, but he supposes he should be thankful his younger brother is thinking about not incriminating their civilian identities.

The two would-be kidnappers are obvious amateurs, given the way they’ve frozen in place. They whisper something to each other, glancing at Tim meaningfully, seeming to be stuck in indecision. They launch into action when Bruce comes into the small hallway with Commissioner Gordon, taking off in an attempt to escape, not bothering to bring Dick’s unconscious body with them. Gordon chases after them, yelling into his radio, while Bruce quickly kneels by Dick’s side, checking him over for injuries.

“Are you okay, Damian?” Tim asks, concern leaking into his voice as he stares down at his brother, who has buried his face in his suit jacket.

Upon noticing that there are no other people in the room, Damian steps back, removing himself from Tim’s side.

“Of course,” Damian tuts. “But I played the part of scared civilian child well enough, don’t you think?” He grins up at Tim mischievously, and Tim can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of his chest.

“You sure did. You scared even me.”

Damian seems satisfied with the response and turns to Bruce. “Will he be okay, Father?”

“He’s fine.” Bruce reassures, “Just unconscious. Someone must have slipped something in his drink. It looks like a sedative.”

“Those men wanted to kidnap Drake.” Damian reports and Tim tries to tamp down the bolt of alarm that shoots through him. “Something about using him to get money from Wayne Enterprises. They were discussing whether or not they should take Richard instead when I found them. How they were so incompetent that they drugged the wrong person, I do not know.”

Tim knows.

Tim knows with startling clarity.

“They didn’t.” He admits nervously. His hands shake a little as he realizes his brother unknowingly took a metaphorical bullet for him. “Dick was teasing me earlier and stole my drink.” He leaves out the part about alcohol, just in case. “He said it tasted weird, but I thought that was him just trying to discourage me from getting more.”

“It’s okay, Tim,” Bruce reassures, coming over to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. When Tim still seems unable to calm down, Bruce pulls him into a hug. “Thank you for telling me. We’ll get Dick back to the cave where we can watch over him. He’ll be alright.”

“It’s my fault.” Tim insists.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Drake. Unless you’ve spontaneously developed psychic abilities without telling us, there is no way you could have predicted this. If anything, Richard getting drugged instead messed with the kidnappers' plans enough for them to be stopped before anyone could be injured.”

“Your brother’s right, Tim,” Bruce says, pulling back to look him in the eyes. “You can’t control every detail, and you sprang into action as soon as you were aware of the problem.”

“If Richard has to lecture you as soon as he wakes up, I will never forgive you.” Damian threatens.

It makes Tim feel better, strangely enough. “Alright, I get it. He would be proud of me, I know.”

Bruce squeezes his shoulder reassuringly once more before moving back and pulling Dick into his arms. “Now, for the hard part. We have to get out of here without causing too much attention.” Bruce wants to avoid seeing his son’s unconscious body dangling from his arms on the news if he can.

“Finally,” Damian says, looking delighted. “A challenge.”

They get back to the manor with relative ease and settle Dick on one of the cots in the cave. Bruce is upstairs talking to Gordon when he awakes. Tim and Damian are alerted to his presence by a small groan, Dick shifting to sit up as he clutches at his head.

“What happened?” He asks somewhat groggily.

“Richard,” Damian leaps to his feet, standing next to him.

“How are you feeling?” Tim asks, settling on the other side.

“Tired,” Dick reports slowly, seeming to catalog his body. “Head hurts. Slightly nauseous.”

“That would be the drugs,” Damian informs.

“I was drugged?”

“Yeah,” Tim confirms somewhat sheepishly. “The drink of mine you stole was drugged.”

“No wonder it tasted like shit.” Dick grins. “Is everyone else okay?”

“No one else was harmed. Drake is feeling guilty, and Father is worried, but we are fine.”

Dick’s gaze flickers over to Tim with concern, but he brushes him off. “Damian is just as worried. He played the perfect scared child tonight. It was so convincing that even I was nervous for a bit.”

“You would have been proud of me, Richard. I didn’t even stab anyone.” He reports, and Dick does look a little impressed. “Although, can we skip the next one? I’m tired of Father having to look clumsy, you pretending to be an imbecile, Drake’s life being threatened, and me having to be a crying child. It’s unbecoming.”

“We’ll have to ask Bruce,” Dick admits.

“You know that Jason is going to add this to his list of evidence on why we shouldn’t attend galas anymore,” Tim notes, eyes sparkling.

Dick grins, and Damian agrees with a quick nod. “Father would do well to listen to him.”

“You know,” Dick says after a moment. “Now is the best time for us to cuddle.” He lowers his voice conspiratorially. “We can probably even convince Bruce to join us.”

This is the type of thing that Tim might normally roll his eyes at, but right now, he can’t deny the appeal.

“How would we do that?” Damian asks, showing his support for the idea as he wonders about the plan.

“Use that same wide, teary-eyed look you had at the gala, and he won’t be able to say no,” Tim suggests.

Dick nods in agreement. “Bruce could never resist when I did them either. I’m too old for it now, but you’re the perfect age.”

Damian doesn’t seem too thrilled about the idea of making himself appear so childish again.

“Think of it as a way of subterfuge, or as a manipulation technique,” Tim suggests. He doesn’t really think Bruce needs to be manipulated to cuddle with them—in fact, Tim is fairly sure he’d be more than willing to if they just ask—but this is more fun.

Damian appears to like that better and agrees.

“Great,” Dick says, swinging his legs over the side of the cot. “Let’s see about heading upstairs.”

“Just where do you think you’re going?” Bruce asks, appearing from around the corner and walking towards them. He must’ve finished his call with Gordon then.

“Upstairs. I want somewhere more comfortable to cuddle in a pile.” Dick replies and then shoots a quick, subtle look at Damian.

“Yes, Father,” Damian agrees, eyes widening and starting to tear up, looking slightly pitiful. “Tonight was very traumatic.”

“If you joined us, I think we would all feel better,” Tim chimes in. He might not have the cuteness factor like Damian does, but he can help pull on their father’s heartstrings, looking at him imploringly.

It doesn’t take but a few seconds for Bruce to cave, and Tim grins.

“Can we use your bed?” Dick asks. “It’s so much bigger and comfier.”

“Of course, chum.”

Dick stands to his feet, wobbling a little, and Tim is quickly at his side for his brother to lean on.

“Are you not going to carry Richard, Father?” Damian asks, seemingly out of genuine curiosity. “He is obviously not well enough to travel himself.”

“I’m fine, Dames,” Dick reassures. “I’m too old for that anyway.”

Damian glances between them. “When will I be too old to carry?” He asks, adding a small bit of sad innocence to his tone. Tim turns his head slightly, hoping to hide his smile. He can practically see Damian’s puppy dog eyes staring achingly at Bruce.

“Never, Damian. Your brother is just being ridiculous.” He says, and Tim moves out of the way as Bruce gently sweeps Dick up into his arms, similarly to how he had just hours ago. Dick snuggles easily into Bruce’s chest and lets himself be carried with little protest, Tim and Damian following closely behind.

They change into more comfortable clothes and settle on Bruce’s bed, all in one big pile. Dick happily settles into the middle, and the others are careful not to jostle him too much, even as they are desperate to be reassured he’s okay.

“What did Commissioner Gordon have to say?” Tim inquires curiously.

“The two men got away, but they have a decent idea of what they looked like, so they’re going to try to track them down.”

“That is if Todd doesn’t get to them first.” Damian reminds sleepily.

Tim had forgotten that Jason wasn’t with them tonight, so he’s slightly out of the loop. He’s sure Oracle updated him, but Jason will be unbearable about it for days. He searches through the darkness to find Dick.

“You know Jason’s going to motherhen us about this, right?” He asks and watches in amusement as Dick’s eyes fly open, staring up at the ceiling in a mild panic.

“Fuck.”