Chapter Text
Tim still isn't sure how Dick talked him into tagging along with him to fetch Duke and Damian.
"It'll be fun," he'd said. "You, me, the open road. And if we leave ahead of time, we can get in some stops before we get there. Visit some local scenes." By that, of course, he mostly meant bars and night clubs.
Tim doesn’t really consider that the definition of ‘fun’ and traveling all the way back with Damian... Yeah, he’s pretty sure that's the definition of ‘torture.’ Which is why he had said, “No.”
Or, he’s pretty sure he had. The conversation is a little fuzzy in his mind and he suspects there might have been an aspect of dubious consent involved. It wouldn’t be the first time Dick has gotten him to agree to something by taking advantage of his tendency to go through extended periods without adequate sleep.
No matter how it had happened, he certainly hadn’t agreed to the terrifying prospect of picking up a hitchhiker!
“We should stop,” Dick says of the young man they’d just passed sitting on the side of the road.
“What? No! Are you crazy?”
“It’s called being kind,” Dick counters, pulling over to the emergency lane and putting the car in reverse.
“It’s called being stupid,” Tim argues. “He could be a killer!”
Dick scoffs. “You watch way too many true crime documentaries, Tim.”
“Which is why I know how to avoid situations where I’m statistically more likely to become the subject of one.”
“I’m a cop in Bludhaven,” which Tim knows translates to ‘I’ve seen some shit,’ “and even I think you’re being paranoid.”
But that doesn't persuade Tim in the least. Because he's Dick Grayson. And Dick Grayson is literally the only person in the world who could grow up in Gotham, become a cop and still have the audacity to trust people.
“Great," Tim groans, "I’m going to die because Bruce Wayne sent a golden retriever to pick up his children instead of putting them on a plane like a normal person.” It's not like they aren't old enough.
Dick just laughs and shakes his head as he puts the car in park. He gets out, and Tim definitely does not.
“Hey, which direction you headed?” Dick calls to the man.
Tim does spy on the stranger via the passenger side mirror. Up close he looks like he's somewhere between his and Dick's age. And he looks as wary of the prospect as Tim is. Dick can have that effect on people, for a multitude of reasons.
“Uh, same as you, by the looks of it. Trying to get to the nearest town so I can catch a bus. Unless you have a phone I can borrow so I can call for an Uber or something. Mine is dead so I'd be pretty grateful.”
Tim has a phone!
He quickly gets out to offer it to the stranger, only to stop short when he sees the man more completely.
He’s tall, broad, and Tim means broad, and his thighs! His thighs look like they could bench at least twice the man’s body weight, crush a man’s skull between them, or just plain treat a lover right.
He’s massive and beautiful and absolutely looks like the kind of guy from a true crime documentary.
Nope! Tim is not going to let a pair of thighs be his undoing, no matter how glorious.
“No need to make a call,” Dick is saying during Tim’s mental breakdown. “We can take you to the nearest town. But I should warn you, if you’re wanted by the police I’m a cop,” Dick says with a laugh.
As if it’s funny. As if the guy couldn’t possibly be wanted by the police and already planning their demise.
Tim watches the man’s reaction. He still seems wary, but that’s really not indicative of anything other than Dick being annoying. Or fatally attractive. That happens a lot too.
The man meets Tim's gaze with a raised eyebrow.
Tim swallows hard. “Uh, or if you’d rather borrow a phone,” he offers, trying to sound polite rather than make it obvious that’s what he would prefer.
“Nonsense," Dick interjects. "The nearest town is like an hour from here. You should really come with us. It's no trouble," he insists.
“If you’re sure…”
“Of course. The name is Dick.”
The stranger’s eyes widen, like he’s not sure if he’s heard the name right.
Dick takes it in stride with another easy laugh. “It’s a well earned name.”
“Okay.” He seems even less sure than before, but says, “My name is Jason. Jason Todd.”
"Alright, welcome to the party, Jason," Dick says and then opens the trunk of their rental car for Jason’s lone piece of luggage – a carry-on sized suitcase with wheels and a handle that extends.
Jason hesitates a moment more, and Tim wonders if it’s because Dick is a cop and he’s contemplating if it’s worth the sentence if he kills a cop and gets caught, before hoisting it in.
He then turns to get into the car, but before he can, Tim opens the door to the backseat and takes the position for himself. He scoots over to sit behind the driver seat for good measure.
Jason gives him a curious look.
“I’ll be back here where I can see you and throw myself from the car if I have to, thank you very much,” Tim answers, if not quite aloud.
“Yeah, you can take the front seat,” Dick tells Jason, tone still friendly as if this is all normal.
Jason shrugs and gets into the passenger seat.
They drive in awkward silence for what can’t be more than five minutes even if it feels much longer.
“So, how did you end up hitchhiking?” Dick breaks that silence. “I’ve always wondered what that would be like.”
“I wasn’t hitchhiking,” Jason answers. “I was just resting for a little bit from walking. The how is personal.”
Tim narrows his eyes. Personal as in illegal behavior? Strike one for potentially suspicious.
"The only kind of personal I believe in is being too personal," Dick remarks and Tim sees the slight waggle of his eyebrows in the rearview mirror.
Tim rolls his eyes, but wonders if Dick is trying to pick up this stranger in a different context. It wouldn't be out of character. But Tim definitely isn't going to let a pair of thighs be his undoing if he doesn't even get to be the one climbing them. He is Janet Drake's son, after all. He has to have that much dignity at least.
"In that case," Jason says, and looks over his shoulder just enough to acknowledge Tim as part of the conversation, "how about you tell me more about yourself instead."
Strike two, but Tim can admit there's definitely something dangerously inviting in the strong jaw saying the words…
And, no. No. That's how they get you. They're dangerous. Full stop. Being attractive doesn't mean anything.
It's just too bad that the world's worst detective doesn't understand that principle, because Dick takes Jason up on the invitation to divulge enough personal information to make them vulnerable.
Before they're even halfway to their destination, Jason knows where they're from and where they're going and why they're going there – because, hey, telling a stranger you're associated with one of the richest men in the world isn't asking for this to turn into a ransom situation.
And now he knows Tim's name, damn it.
Jason shifts to meet Tim's gaze directly and says, "Nice to meet you, Tim."
It's a friendly enough greeting, and somehow not friendly at all. That dangerous edge is there and a shiver runs up Tim's spine. Is he imagining things or has Jason's demeanor changed since Dick started spilling their secrets? He's almost certain it has. Strike three, just in case.
Drawing on years of well-rehearsed calm, or coldness if you asked Dick, Tim says, "Nice to meet you, Jason."
Let it be known that Tim Drake is a fantastic liar.