Dramatis Personae

closed starter for @dramatisperscnae

The warehouse reeked of bleach, sweat, and cheap cologne layered over something sour that would never really be washed out. Men laughed too loudly, money changed hands, and someone cried behind a locked door; the sound was cut short almost as quickly as it began.

Every instinct Jason had screamed to tear the place apart brick by brick. Instead, he leaned against a support beam with his arms folded, wearing the scowl they'd come to expect from one of their hired bruisers. Hood stayed low. His voice stayed rough. Eyes stayed sharp.

Weeks of work had gotten him inside. One wrong move would burn everything.

"Fresh shipment's here."

Jason barely looked up at first.

He couldn't afford curiosity.

The side door rolled open, revealing a handful of dazed figures being shoved inside. Some stumbled on unsteady legs. Others had to be dragged. Their wrists were zip-tied, their expressions slack with whatever cocktail these bastards favored.

He counted automatically.

One.

Two.

Three—

His stomach dropped.

No.

It couldn't—

Dick.

Jason's pulse hitched so violently he thought everyone in the room had to hear it. Dick Grayson sagged convincingly between two traffickers, head lolling against one man's shoulder. His pupils were blown just enough to sell the effects of the drugs, his breathing slow and uneven, every inch of him performing helplessness with terrifying precision.

Jason recognized the movements for the performance that it was.

There had been no briefing. No encrypted message. No warning from Bruce. Fucking nothing.

What the hell are they thinking?

One of the traffickers grabbed Dick by the jaw, forcing his face upward.

"Pretty one," the man snorted, turning Dick's head from side to side like he was inspecting livestock. "This one's gonna sell fast."

Jason's fingernails bit into his palms.

Don't move.

Don't react.

Don't.

Another shove sent Dick stumbling onto his knees.

The same man laughed before grabbing a fistful of Dick's hair and hauling him back upright hard enough to wrench his neck, and something cold unfurled beneath Jason's ribs.

Not anger.

Something quieter.

Deadlier.

Something that remembered the rough hands and the complete absence of control. Something that remembered being looked at like an object instead of a person.

One of the buyers wandered closer, circling Dick with open interest. His gaze lingered too long, too hungrily.

Jason hated how quickly jealousy stabbed through his panic. It wasn't rational. It wasn't about trust. It was possessive in the ugliest, most instinctive way, tangled up with fear and memories he had never dared voice to Dick, but he wanted to break every finger that reached toward him.

Instead, he scratched absently at the stubble on his jaw and forced out a humorless chuckle. "Careful," he drawled, pitching his voice into the lazy boredom expected of him. ''The boss said not to damage the merchandise before it's paid for."

The room laughed.

The buyer rolled his eyes but eased his grip.

Barely.

Jason let his gaze slide over Dick for the briefest fraction of a second.

It was the only acknowledgment he could risk.

Not enough for anyone else to notice.

Just enough that, if Dick were as aware as Jason knew he was, he'd recognize the warning buried beneath Jason's carefully blank expression.

I'm here.

Don't look at me.

Jason pushed himself off the beam when another thug jerked his chin toward him.

"You."

A ring of keys was tossed into his hand. "Take this one downstairs."

This was an insane plan, he knew. Bruce would have told him not to, as would have Tim or Donna or just about anyone else, which was why he hadn't told them. Taking down a trafficking ring was one thing, but finding the poor souls who'd already been lost in it was something else altogether. He could have posed as one of the people behind it, worked his way up to a trusted position, but that took too long. It wasted time that some of those victims wouldn't have. Becoming a target himself was far easier, simpler, and faster.

Sure it was dangerous, going in like this without his usual suit and gear to fall back on, but it got him the answers he wanted.

The van finally came to a stop, light blinding him as the door was opened and he found himself dragged out into some kind of warehouse. One that had been used for this for a while, by the stale sour smell of chemicals and fear. And now he knew the location, after maintaining careful track of each turn the van had made after he'd been loaded into it with the others.

He let his body sag between the two men holding him up, playing up the drug they'd tried to slip into him when he'd been taken. It was vital that they think they'd succeeded here. His only chance lay in being underestimated, in making sure none of these men knew just how aware he was of what was going on around him. The longer he could fool them, the more intel he could gather and the more complete the takedown would be later.

A hand gripped his jaw, jerking his face up, and he had to remind himself not to react. His stomach turned as it always did when he was 'admired', but that was the point here, wasn't it? His looks? That was what made him marketable to these people.

It was just new, having someone be so open about viewing him as a piece of meat rather than a person.

Usually the stares and comments were a shade more subtle.

Someone's hand planted itself between his shoulderblades, sending him stumbling forward to his hands and knees. His jaw clenched, but his body went with the motion. He could handle this, and as long as the focus was on him then the other poor souls in that van were being spared the worst of it for now.

He hoped so, anyway.

And then he was hauled back up by his hair, biting back a yelp and the urge to shatter the man's knee with a single kick. He couldn't do that, not yet. Not here. Stay calm, stay focused, that was the key.

It was just hard to do that when he could see the sharks circling around him, looking him over with clear hunger in their eyes.

At least letting his discomfort show helped to support the act; his skin was already crawling with the feeling of half-remembered ghostly hands.

Stay focused.

Give them what they expect.

It's just another show.

He held onto those thoughts as one of the prospective buyers came closer, only the hand in his hair keeping him from flinching away from the inevitable groping.

That never came.

A voice cut through the discomfort and the haze that had Dick's heart suddenly stuttering in his chest, eyes darting to its source in barely concealed shock for half a second before the grip in his hair eased and he let himself sag forward again.

Jason?

What is Jason doing here?

Even with the stubble and the drawling voice, Dick knew who had spoken. But why was he here? Dick knew better than to think even for a second that Jason was willingly working with these monsters, which meant that he wasn't the only one undercover here. Jason had simply taken a different route.

Had Jason recognized him? It was possible. Dick Grayson hadn't gone missing out in the world, but that didn't mean Jason couldn't see through the vague disguise Dick was using right now. Was that why Jason had spoken up? Maybe, but then again it could have been anyone being manhandled that would have gotten that comment.

Most importantly, the initial shock was giving way to a surge of hope.

Jason's here.

I'm not alone.

He couldn't risk even glancing in Jason's direction, of course, but that didn't matter right now. Jason was there, which meant if things went south Dick had backup. And so did Jason. They could work together here, if they could find a way to communicate and plan.

That was going to be the tricky part.

For the moment Dick just let himself be manhandled, mind already spinning. The others from the van were already being examined, taken to various holding areas. His turn was coming, he knew. He kept his eyes down, maintaining the appearance of a frightened, drugged captive as he was pushed towards an elevator. Downstairs, huh…?

Something he'd been carrying for years without ever finding the courage to name.

The kiss was impossibly gentle.

Jason had expected hesitation—maybe even rejection once Dick realized what he was doing—but instead Dick met him halfway, and the careful brush of their lips unraveled the last of the tension wound through Jason's chest.

His eyes slipped shut.

Dick's arm drew him closer, and Jason let himself be pulled without resistance. The hand disappearing into his damp hair sent a quiet shiver through him, not from surprise but from the tenderness of it. Dick always touched him like he was something precious.

Jason had never believed he was.

His fingers loosened from Dick's wrist only to slide higher, settling lightly against his forearm before, almost uncertainly, finding Dick's shoulder. He held there, careful of the bruise he'd left behind hours earlier.

Slowly, Jason leaned into the kiss just a little more, answering it with quiet certainty rather than urgency. There was no desperation in it, no frantic attempt to forget what had happened.

Only relief.

Only trust.

When they finally drew back enough to breathe, Jason didn't move far. Their foreheads nearly brushed, his breath mingling with Dick's in the small space beneath the blankets.

Jason searched Dick's face as though trying to convince himself this wasn't another trick of an exhausted mind—that Dick was really here, that he hadn't imagined any of it.

His thumb traced one absent, almost reverent stroke against Dick's shoulder.

If this kiss never ended, Dick wouldn't complain.

But it did, after what felt like both an eternity and nowhere near long enough.

And Jason didn't pull back.

Dick's eyes fluttered open, looking up at Jason across the scant inch or so that separated them now. He could still feel Jason's breath against his lips, hardly daring to breathe himself as silence stretched between them. What would happen now…?

There hadn't been any desperation in that kiss, there was no urgency or concern or regret in Jason's eyes now. Absently Dick let his fingers run gently through Jason's hair, savoring the contact and the feeling of soft strands against his hand even as the brush of Jason's thumb along his shoulder sends a quiet shiver down his spine.

And then Jason smiled.

Not much, not widely, but it was there. Dick could see it, hovering at the corner of Jason's mouth, and couldn't help but move to caress that smile gently. "…Yeah," he agreed, just as softly. "Always." He let his forehead rest fully against Jason's, torn between staying like this and stealing another kiss. The first one had been sudden enough; a second might be pushing his luck.

"If you don't want me fucking with them, then don't let them come here," he almost growls the words, clearly not about to back down. "Because I know you didn't send them. Which means that they're acting on their own when they're down here. Which means that they're not your boys. Which makes them as fair game as any other two-bit gangbanger in the 'haven."

Of course, if for some reason Jason is sending his guys down here, that's an entirely different problem; Dick's fought too goddamned hard to get the 'haven under some semblance of order to risk a new power trying to muscle its way in.

"I'm just telling you that I'll handle it. So back. Off." His voice had dropped dangerously, growling deep in his chest. "Stay out of my way, and leave those morons to me." He scoffed. "I'm not gonna dirty your precious fucking city, Nightwing." The codename was laced with venom and sarcastic respect in equal measure.

"Frankly, I don't give a good goddamn who deals with it or how it gets dealt with. Gotham's problems are not my concern and haven't been for years. But I am not going to stop protecting my own goddamned city just because you want to whine about your rogue dumbasses getting their asses handed to them by someone who isn't you. Grow the fuck up."

🎉 My favorite Bucky Barnes' looks

"They might be starting shit, but it's my job to deal with them. It's not yours." He growled, yanking his hand out of Dick's grip. "You never wanted anything to do with me before, so why get involved with my shit now?"

"If you don't want me fucking with them, then don't let them come here," he almost growls the words, clearly not about to back down. "Because I know you didn't send them. Which means that they're acting on their own when they're down here. Which means that they're not your boys. Which makes them as fair game as any other two-bit gangbanger in the 'haven."

Of course, if for some reason Jason is sending his guys down here, that's an entirely different problem; Dick's fought too goddamned hard to get the 'haven under some semblance of order to risk a new power trying to muscle its way in.

-- There was a soft snarl from beneath the helmet as he pushed hard against Dick's shoulders. "Do you think this is fucking funny?" Fingers dug in hard, gloves the only thing stopping his nails from biting into Dick's suit.

"I fucking told you to stay the Hell out of my way. I'd stay out of yours, and you guys could pretend to be one big fucked up family. And what do I see when I have a staff meeting with my guys?"

Currently, it sounds like a lecture.

An undeserved one.

His eyes flash behind his mask's lenses, jaw tightening in clear anger. One hand reaches up to peel Jason's hand off his shoulder. "If one of your guys decides to start trouble in my city," he snaps, "then he's gonna deal with me. You might want to remind them of that fact. Or take five seconds to remember that Gotham isn't my problem anymore. You want to start shit back there in Crime Alley, fine, dandy, go right ahead, but you want to start shit here? I've got enough trouble without your goons making things worse."

Dick made it look easy.

Dick always had.

"I care about you."

The words echoed, the truth of them painfully obvious.

They shouldn't have hurt.

They shouldn't have felt like the thing that finally cracked something open inside him. Jason's hand moved almost on instinct, catching gently around Dick's wrist—not to stop him, not to pull him away, just to keep him there.

''... I know,'' he breathed and his thumb brushed lightly against Dick's wrist, almost absentmindedly. He shouldn't, but Jason's eyes flickered to Dick's, seeing the weight of his words on his expression. And he should draw back, should find an excuse, pretend to have to leave, or something—

But he couldn't.

He didn't want to.

Suddenly the atmosphere had changed into something intense, almost electric.

Dick had to silently remind himself to breathe as he stared at Jason, keenly aware of the scant distance between them. Aware of Jason's hand on his wrist, the gentle caress that threatened to send shivers down his spine. What was happening? Was he reading this right? Did Jason…was there something more there in Jason's eyes than quiet gratitude?

Maybe.

He felt almost frozen, not daring to move, barely daring to breathe as Jason leaned forward. His eyes flicked down to Jason's lips, his own suddenly feeling far too dry. It was hardly the first time Dick had been in such a situation, he knew what was surely coming if he let this happen, but for it to be Jason…

For Jason to want this, to want him…

Was it real? Did Jason actually have deeper feelings for him? Or was this a coping mechanism, a need for closeness and intimacy regardless of who was here right now?

Did it matter?

No.

If this was what Jason wanted, what he needed, right now, then Dick would give it to him gladly. He'd been fighting the desire himself since they'd settled into the blanket fort to begin with; surely this counted as permission to act on it, right?

God, he hoped so.