Archive of Our Own

Dick was pretty sure he was screwed.

He was bound from what felt like head to toe. Chains connected his ankles together and to the floor. His arms were bound behind his back, forearm to forearm. A chain looped tightly around his waist and connected to a short, concrete pillar behind him. There was a tight collar around his neck that tightened with every pull. To top it off, everything seemed to be coated in silver, so he couldn't even shift to his wolf form to break out. And silver itched. 

The man who'd captured him had called himself Stranglehold early in the monologue, but Dick had never run into him before. He wished that living in Gotham didn’t encourage people to embrace their inner costumed lunatic. The man was in his forties or fifties, with short salt-and-pepper hair and no mask. He was almost certainly a plain human—no Fae ears or vampire teeth, and he had seemed perfectly comfortable adjusting the silver chains, so a shifter was out of the question. 

As it was, this guy had been monologuing for forever, and Dick thought that maybe this was a revenge plot about Batman, but honestly his voice was going to drive Dick insane—it was a thin, reedy thing that just kept getting higher as he got more excited.

Dick's suit had been stripped down to his waist, though his mask had been left on. Stranglehold had ominously said it would be so much sweeter for Dick to take it off himself eventually, but he planned to be long gone by then. Pacing back and forth in front of Dick, he gestured with the large and sharp blade in his hand to emphasize a point about Bat-shaped consequences. He stopped abruptly, feet planted firmly on the rough concrete

"You'll be my little pet, won't you, Nightwing?" the man crooned, coming a little closer.

"I'm not really into puppy play," Dick said, grinning at him. "Though I could probably recommend some good kink clubs in Gotham."

The man's face twisted briefly in disgust before it settled back into self-satisfaction. "Oh, you'll be into anything I want. You won't have much of a choice, you know? That's the best part about these bindings. They leash bad puppies like you."

Dick swallowed hard. Bindings were old magic, and they were illegal. A bound wolf could be turned on anyone or anything, and he wouldn't have a choice. A strong binding could make you forget everything you'd known before if the leashholder didn't want you to remember. They were one of the true downsides of being a shifter. 

He'd pressed his panic button, Dick reminded himself, the team was going to come for him. He just needed to stall. He’d been doing this since he was 12. He had this.

"I don't like to kinkshame, but you do seem weirdly into this whole puppy aspect." He looked down at his naked chest. "Especially for this much silver."

"I'm not into puppies!" Stranglehold yelled at him. "Why are you like this?"

"You could say I grew up wild," Dick said. He tried to stretch his hands to reach one of the locks, any of the locks, but there wasn’t enough give in the chains.

"No matter. You'll be leashed soon enough."

Stranglehold approached him with the knife in deliberate, predatory steps. He dragged the tip of the knife down Dick's bare chest, not pressing hard enough to cut the skin, but leaving a thin white trail everywhere he went. Dick's heart was thumping, but he kept his breathing even. Stranglehold pressed the flat of the blade under Dick’s chin and tilted his head up to meet his eyes through the domino mask.

“And here lies the great Nightwing.” His grin churned Dick’s stomach as Stranglehold savored the power. “Nothing to say now?”

The pressure under Dick’s chin vanished, and then the knife was slicing into his chest with no hesitation. The blade was sharp enough that it barely hurt at first. Dick flinched back instinctively and nearly dislocated his shoulder for the effort. Stranglehold’s focused face didn’t even twitch. 

So much for stalling. 

Stranglehold cut one large circle, though Dick couldn't see how even it was, then started up on his left pec. He was silent as he carved. Dick wasn’t sure if it was worse that he couldn't see what was happening to him or if it was a relief. Because he could feel parts of his skin being peeled off like an orange, and that wasn’t a visual he needed haunting his dreams. The feeling would be enough. He tried to track the design in his mind—Bruce could probably have done it—but all he could think was— 

Would he tell Stranglehold all of the Bats’ secrets? Would he show him the team's triggers and traumas? How the taste of mud could bring Jason to his knees? How Bruce panicked when one of them was shot in an alley? How about Damian's pride and his need to protect them?

The exact design seemed unimportant after all that. He could look in a mirror later. For now, he needed to get out.

He tried to wiggle his fingers again, see if maybe he'd just missed something. If he broke his thumb. If he broke all the bones. Could he get out? Could he save himself? Could he protect his family?

The cuffs were too tight.

He was helpless.

He sucked in a shaking breath as Stranglehold cut one smooth last line then stepped back, the blade held casually in his hand. He admired his work as the blood dripped. A smile grew slowly across his face that Dick didn't like one bit. He stepped closer again and leaned his face in, and Dick just had a moment to panic about what was going to happen before he… He licked across the carvings. It hurt, but more than that, it was violating.

"Okay. Now I'm kinkshaming!" Dick yelled. He tried to push forward and knock the guy in the face, even if it was with his own chest, but he couldn't get enough movement.The collar around his neck yanked him back in place with a force that left him choking. 

Stranglehold looked up at him, mouth covered in Dick's blood, and he grinned. Fuck. Even his teeth had Dick's blood on them. "This is how it begins, Nightwing. Consuming your blood will make the bond stronger, and it needs to be strong if you're to be my good little puppy."

He walked around to Dick's unprotected back, and Dick began struggling anew.

“Again with the puppy play. Let me out of these chains, and I’ll show you just how much of a puppy I can be,” Dick growled. 

Stranglehold didn’t rise to the bait. "Just a bit more, puppy. Then you'll be leashed, and you won't have to worry about this anymore. No, instead you'll tell me all your pretty little secrets. Won't that be nice? Hmmm? Tell me how to break the Batman and his little Robin. Is this one a wolf like the first two? Or something more like the third?"

Dick growled, baring his teeth. The vibration burned against his bloody chest, but some instincts couldn’t be fought.

"Hold still. I would hate to cut deeper than I mean to," he said, his tone patronizing. 

Then the blade was back. Cutting and slicing and pulling. Dick couldn't be sure, but it felt like the same design as on his front. Blood dripped down Dick's entire chest, coating his stomach and running in rivulets down the front of his legs where it wasn't pooling up in the runched up parts of his suit. Wounds like this bled a lot, he knew, even if it wasn't going to be enough to be life-threatening. 

When Dick’s back was as carved up and sticky as his front, Stranglehold sighed and stopped cutting. It was, unfortunately, a content sigh. He walked in circles around Dick, smiling like he'd already won the war.

"Did you know," he began softly, "that blood bindings are one of the oldest magics in the world? They're terribly easy to complete, and they're impossible to undo. The only things you need are the right power symbols, a hint of magic, and blood." Stranglehold raised the knife he'd just butchered Dick with to his mouth and licked it again.

Dick grimaced. "That is so gross and so unhealthy, dude. What if I have something?"

He frowned like that hadn't occurred to him then just shrugged. "It is of no import to me. No, what matters is that I have everything we need. Everything I need to get myself my own attack dog." Then he sliced through the palm of his left hand and blood immediately began to pour.

"I only need to touch the center of each symbol, and you're mine." He reached out. "Any last free words, Nightwing?"

"Yeah, eat shit," Dick said.

Dick absolutely loved the universe sometimes because at that moment, the door to the room blew open. Batman came in like vengeance itself and there was a brighter shadow darting in that must have been Robin. They had saved him. He was—

His chest exploded in a burning flare as magic ripped through him from the bloody handprint directly on his sternum. Dick screamed. There was fire in veins and in his soul. It wrapped around him. Stranglehold was everywhere. Stranglehold was important. Dick tried to struggle away from the hand and the feeling, but the silver collar around his neck had him gagging and gasping for breath. 

But then the lingering slap onto the wound was the least of his concerns with the way his whole chest began to glow an uncomfortably bright blue. Stranglehold was frantically reaching for Dick's back when a batarang hit him in the arm followed closely by Bruce's fist to his face.

"Don't let him touch my back," Dick called, voice hoarse.

Bruce grunted in acknowledgement, and he snapped out an arm to block Stranglehold from closing in on Dick. The fight was over in a matter of seconds. Stranglehold wasn't exactly prime fighting material, and he'd only successfully kidnapped Dick by luring him in with a bunch of street kids then gassing him before Dick could get to his rebreather. An irritatingly effective strategy.

For now, though, Dick was breathing slowly through his burning chest and trying to ignore how close he'd gotten to becoming an animal slave, a pet. Maybe the puppy play jokes hadn’t been as funny as he’d thought. His whole chest itched, the blood beginning to dry tacky.

Damian knelt in front of him, carefully picking the locks on each of the cuffs on his ankles before moving up to the shackles on his forearms. Bruce finished tying up Stranglehold then undid the collar around Dick’s neck that Damian couldn’t reach.

Dick was... floating? His back felt empty, and his chest was still glowing blue, and it was still itchy, and it was still bleeding, and he just wanted to go home. Why did this have to hurt so much? If he could just shift and lick his wounds… He would be safe as a wolf, but no amount of knocks to the head could erase the years of instructions to never shift under unknown magic.

The world tilted as the last restraint was released and Dick was suddenly expected to hold his own weight. He didn't want to. Damian reached out to steady him as two more people entered the room. Dick readied himself, but the shapes were familiar. One man, one wolf. 

Jason paused in the doorway then growled at the restrained form of Stranglehold, a low rumble that caused goosebumps to race up Dick’s arms. His black fur rose up in a threatening display. 

"B, the building is clear," Tim reported in a steady tone.

"Take Nightwing to the Batmobile. I'll clean up here and meet you there. Hood, behave," Batman ordered.

Jason approached Dick and nosed at him, but it was Tim who hooked an arm under Dick's shoulder and asked, "Can you walk?"

Dick nodded automatically. Oh, that was a terrible idea. The world spun around him. Maybe walking wasn’t an option. He was woozy and tired and... "Why is it so empty?" he asked quietly.

"Why is what so empty?"

That was a good question. What was empty? Dick took a moment to think even as he heard muffled voices around him grow slightly more panicked.

"Me. I think. I'm empty? Yes. I'm empty." Dick turned his head towards Tim, but it rolled a little more than he'd anticipated. "I don't think I can walk."

Then he collapsed.

The world passed by in very slow blinks. It was dark. Then his eyes opened, and he was moving across a blurry, dark room. He blinked. He was against a hard leather-coated chest and there was a rolling, anxious rumble coming from it. He blinked. Everything under him was rumbling—the Batmobile? He blinked. He was in the cave. He... blinked...

***

Dick's eyes felt crusty and dry, and his chest and back ached like a motherfucker. He could feel gauze wrapped around his entire torso, and there was a steady beeping in the background. His feet were unusually warm. He dragged in a deep inhale, and yes, there was the slightly damp smell of the Cave. He was home. He dragged his eyes open with effort.

A slightly blurry Tim sat on his bedside. He blinked a few times and Tim came into focus. Had he been standing vigil the whole time?

"Hey Dick," Tim said softly. "Sleep good?"

"Like a carved up baby," Dick said, his voice a little hoarse. "How long?"

"Just a couple of hours. You were almost awake a few times, but..." Tim leaned over to a small tray and picked up a cup of water, bringing the straw to Dick’s lips. 

Dick tilted his head up to drink from it and regretted it instantly, the move straining his upper back. But he was thirsty, so he drank quickly and laid his head back down on the firm pillow. He wiggled his toes and met resistance. Frowning, he picked his head up again just enough to look down and. Aww. Damian was curled up in his dark grey wolf form, still fluffy with pup-fur. He snored lightly, and Dick smiled, flopping back down. 

"I'll let the others know you're awake. Alfred will want to check on the bandages again," Tim said, standing up.

Dick hummed and turned his head to face Tim. It was heavy, but he was awake for real by now. “Stay for another minute?” he asked quietly, now cognizant of the sleeping pup.

“Of course.” Tim sat back down. “Do you need anything?”

Dick his rolled his head from side to side. “Just a little company before—” he waved one hand around to indicate the whole of the Batcave “—everything.” 

Tim grinned, and he settled back in the chair. This was one of the reasons that Dick liked Tim. He understood that everyone could be a bit much, and he was content to be just quiet sometimes. Part of it was the Fae blood, granting magic that let him go sight unseen through the night if he could touch something from nature. But Dick suspected that most of that calming quiet was just Tim. 

Lately, he’d begun to like Tim in ways that he knew he shouldn’t, but the young man was gorgeous. And Dick couldn’t deny the way his heart had clenched when he’d realized that Tim was waiting by his bedside, couldn’t deny the warmth he felt in his soul at being cared for.

After a few quiet minutes of listening to Damian snore together, Tim squeezed Dick’s shoulder lightly and stood up. “Alfred will have my head if I don’t tell him you’re awake.” His tone was apologetic but firm.

Dick hummed in acknowledgement. Tim brushed a hand through his hair, then his footsteps echoed and faded as he moved further into the cave and then up the stairs. With Tim gone, he took stock of his body. There were the general aches in his shoulders and shins from being tied up, and he wasn't surprised that his chest and back still burned and ached, but he was distressed to find that he felt... unclean. 

No amount of Bat-grade soap was going to wash this feeling off, but he was going to give it his level-best at the first opportunity.

It wasn't the dirt or the sweat that was surely still clinging to his skin from patrol. It was the soul-deep knowledge that someone else's blood was running through his veins, no matter how little. There was a partial bond there, and it was pulling at him. He had never wanted to know what it was like to be tethered to another person, to be drawn to them, pulled out of the safety of the Cave and into danger. He had never wanted to know what it felt like to be owned by someone, and he was beginning to panic that this would never go away. He would never be free of Stranglehold. What if he came back? All he needed to do was get a papercut on Dick's back, and he'd be leashed; he'd be bound; he'd be broken.

He would never fly again. Never hold Damian’s little ball of fluff wolf-form or tussle with Jason on a day off. Never feel Tim brush him after a long patrol. Never be free. 

He needed to not panic with Damian at his feet, but what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t endanger everyone like this. He needed to leave. If he made it to the last safehouse he still has in Gotham, he could certainly make it to Bludhaven. From there, he’d just lie low for a few days and then head out. He had nowhere to go, but that didn’t matter. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t hurt them. 

He would do whatever it took to protect his family. Whatever it took.

"Dick. Dick! You need to breathe." Tim's voice came from far away.

Of course he needed to breathe. Everyone needed to breathe.

There was a weight on his chest, right over his bandages, right over his heart and—

"Hey," he grumbled weakly.

The weight pushed a little harder, and he sucked in a huge breath.

"That hurts," he snapped.

"Good." Tim's voice was short. "It’ll stop hurting if you open your eyes."

When had he shut them? He peered up at Tim who looked wrecked next to him. True to his word, he took his hand off of Dick's chest as soon as they made eye contact.

"I leave you for two minutes, and your heart rate goes through the roof!" Tim flopped back in his chair. “What the hell happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Dick,” Tim said flatly.

Dick grinned tiredly at him. "What can I say? I love to cause drama."

Tim sighed. "It's a good thing everyone else was slow. And that you didn’t wake Damian."

Dick said nothing, just watched Tim watching him. 

“Seriously, though, are you okay?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Never going to happen,” Tim muttered.

The family trickled in as Dick pondered Tim’s comment. Everyone in the family worried; it was just part of the life. It didn’t mean anything. When Alfred arrived, he fussed as Dick knew he would. The bandages were unwound and the injuries checked. Damian woke up with adorable snuffles, shifted back to his human form, and climbed off the cot.

"Can I look in a mirror?" Dick asked quietly.

Alfred paused then, "Of course, Master Dick."

A small handheld mirror was procured from somewhere, and Dick saw the extent of the damage for the first time.

It could have been beautiful as a tattoo or even as intentional scarification. Magic runes, especially old ones, gave off a sense of power even if none was running through them at the moment. And the concentric circles on Dick's chest with runes carved in even spacing inside each ring—those still had power running through them. Dick could feel it, warm and throbbing. He wished he could have it in him to feel grateful that the design wasn’t hideous and that Stranglehold could carve miraculously steady circles. But all he felt was bitter and dirty and on edge.

"Is it the same on my back?"

"Yes," Bruce said quietly.

Dick took a moment then said softly, “Okay.” He set the mirror face-down on the cot next to him and let Alfred fuss over him.

“What happened?” Bruce asked.

In as even a tone as he could manage, Dick reported on his capture, then, “I woke up where you found me, and Stranglehold was just monologuing. He wanted…” Dick swallowed hard. “He wanted to leash me. Use me as his attack dog. He finished all of the runes. He just needed to touch blood to both of them.”

There was silence in the room, and it grew, getting more oppressive with each second. Finally Bruce broke it.

“Did he?”

Dick shook his head. “He got my chest, but not my back.”

“So you have a half-formed bond,” Tim said.

Dick nodded.

“We’ll figure this out,” Bruce said.

“You will be quite alright, Master Dick,” Alfred said in a brisk tone as he rewrapped the bandages.

Dick wished he could be as confident as them.

***

Zatanna showed up the next morning.

Dick wanted to make a quip or two as he shed his shirt and sat on the cot in the medbay, but his whole body ached, and his chest and back were itchy and still sluggishly leaking blood, and he was just goddamn tired. So he sat still as she looked him over, and he answered her questions in as few words as possible.

The wounds had almost scabbed over, but Zatanna didn’t think they would heal to scars for a long time, possibly months, unless the ritual was completed. However, she reassured him that he could still shift with the active ritual. He was grateful for that, at least.

“Do you feel any different? Any compulsions or longings?” she asked.

Dick took a moment to really feel his body out, and he was almost queasy as he nodded. There was a pull in his chest—he wanted to leave, he wanted to run, he wanted to follow it. And he knew it would lead to Stranglehold because magic always wants to complete. That’s the first thing anyone learns about magic. Once you give it a path, it will race to finish.

“There is a compulsion… I want to go to him.”

Zatanna nodded and moved on. She traced runes in the air, copied down the symbols on his chest, and made notes. Finally, she sat down next to him on the cot.

“This is old magic, Dick. And it’s not kind.” She met his eyes steadily. “I know that leashing is one of the worst things for a wolf, so I’m going to lay out your options as best as I can, but…”

“There are no good options,” he finished for her.

She nodded slowly. “You can leave it as is. You’ll feel the compulsion to go to Stranglehold, and maybe it gets stronger or maybe it stays the same. If he gets blood on your back or anyone gets blood on both sigils, you’ll be leashed. Or, we can try to break the binding, but it’s dangerous. Really dangerous. Magic that’s already inside a vessel?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t want to just leave. The most likely outcome of us breaking the partial binding is that your mind shatters. We’d never get you back.”

“So, stay a liability or go insane?”

“Or,” she said slowly.

No.

“Find someone you trust. Someone that won’t abuse the leash.”

He swallowed hard. “So, stay a liability, go insane, or willingly become a slave. Right. No good options.”

“I can’t tell you what to do,” Zatanna said. “And I don’t pretend that this is an easy choice, but your friends and family are here for you, and… I hope there’s someone you can trust with this.”

He nodded. “Thank you. I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

***

Bruce was, predictably, furious when informed of Dick’s options. The rest of the family just stood in horrified silence. 

“We’ll get another opinion. You will not be bound.”

Dick sighed. They’d been over this. “Zatanna was confident that it couldn’t be undone. I don’t like this any more than you do—I like this less than you do. But these are the choices I have.”

“What are you going to do?” Tim asked.

“No,” Bruce interrupted. “No one is doing anything until we get another opinion.”

Dick just sighed, and his chest throbbed.

***

Dick was lounging on his bed in the manor that evening when someone knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

Tim poked his head through. “Bruce says that Constantine will be here tomorrow night.”

“Okay.”

Tim came into the room and shut the door behind him. Something about the evening sun coming through the window made his skin almost glow. He didn’t have a lot of Fae heritage, but there was enough that he was just… different. Dick thought he was beautiful.

Dick sat up on the bed and watched Tim wander closer. They both let the silence linger.

“You seemed confident about Zatanna earlier.”

“I am.”

Tim nodded solemnly. “Have you eliminated any of the options?”

“I don’t think I can leave it as-is. I’m too much of a liability.”

“Dick!” Tim sounded outraged.

“I am,” Dick insisted. “At any point, I could be taken down and what would we do? Can you imagine if the Joker leashed me? Or Scarecrow? Or hell, any of the random thugs? I could ruin everything. Or maybe I’m lucky, and no one gets me, and eventually I just can’t resist anymore, and I walk myself straight back to Stranglehold.” Dick shook his head. “I can’t risk it.”

“You could hold out forever. I know you have the will to do it.”

The faith was heartwarming, but Dick had been in this business for too long. “When have we ever had that kind of luck?”

Tim looked wounded, but he couldn’t disagree. Their lives and their luck had sucked.

“But breaking the binding will… You said it would shatter your mind.”

“Most likely.”

“Dick.” Now Tim just sounded pained.

“That’s not my plan.”

Tim sucked in a harsh breath. “You’re going to leash yourself? To Bruce?”

Dick surprised them both with a bark of laughter. “To Bruce? What, am I insane? I can hardly stand him telling me what to do on a normal day.”

“Then who?”

Dick smiled at him. “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, alright?”

Tim nodded, letting him delay.

"For tonight," Dick said. "I just want my pack. Can you..."

"Of course. Do you want me to get the others?"

"No. Just this is good.” He should want his whole pack. He should want his pack alpha to keep him safe, and he should want to cuddle up with Damian and Jason, and he would, he would want that tomorrow. Tonight, though, his wolf wanted his partner. He couldn’t exactly tell Tim that, though. They weren’t together. “Do you mind if I...?"

"No, no. Go ahead."

Dick stripped quickly from his shirt and sweatpants, leaving them in a bundle on the floor. Tim had turned away during the process, so Dick shucked off the boxers as well. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd changed in front of Tim, but he appreciated the thought nonetheless. He breathed in deeply and focused on the warm core inside him, beckoning gently to the wolf and allowing his body to change. There was the familiar stretching and burning sensation, though luckily, his senses always whited out during the process so it was more tugging than painful. Between one blink and the next, his vision blurred then cleared and suddenly the world was sharper. 

Where before there had been a naked man, there was now a large grey and brown wolf, mottled with spots and standing gingerly to avoid aggravating the wounds on his back, currently wrapped in the stretchable gauze bandages they’d developed specifically for shifted injuries. In this state, he could smell Tim next to him clearly. His scent was always a little sharp, a little cold like the best kind of spearmint gum. It was his Fae blood and damn if it didn't make a shiver run down Dick's spine.

Dick leapt up onto his bed, thick canine muscles rippling with the easy movement. He nosed the blankets into the kind of nest he wanted, and he ignored Tim's huff of laughter when he circled three times before settling down. He looked up at Tim and whined a little when the young man didn't immediately crawl into his nest with him.

"I'm coming. I'm coming," Tim said, reaching out one hand to scratch behind Dick's ear.

Dick would adamantly deny that he wagged his tail.

(Tim would call him a dirty, dirty liar.)

Tim settled onto the bed and into the curve of Dick, his body much cooler than Dick's wolf form and so much smaller. Dick was smaller than Bruce and Jason in both of their forms, but he was still significantly larger than Tim, and he was careful not to squish him as they settled down.

Tim reached up above his head and began to pet Dick, hand smoothly running the length of him from the top of his head down his side before a quick scritch at the base of his tail. Then he raised his hand and did it again. It was unbelievably soothing. Part of Dick was aware that Tim was avoiding the cuts over his spine, and he was keeping pressure off of Dick's chest by angling his head, but Dick chose to ignore it all in favor of relaxing under the pack bonding. He nuzzled his head against Tim's before reaching out with one long tongue and licking Tim's face, chin to forehead.

Tim spluttered. "Dick!"

Dick let out an amused huff and rubbed his furry face against Tim's, drying the face. When he pulled back, there was some loose fur stuck to the spit on Tim's face, and Tim's entire face was scrunched up in displeasure. Dick's tail began wagging again, entirely without its owner’s permission.

"Oh, I'm going to get you for that," Tim threatened. He shoved Dick’s head down and scrambled to lay on top of it

He was never going to win, avoiding Dick’s entire back. Plus, Dick had easily a hundred pounds on him and Tim had no weapons or armor. So really, Dick just had to sit on him to pin him. Which he did.

Tim tapped out breathlessly, and they settled back down. Dick curled around Tim, keeping him safe in the warmth of his fur, and he felt himself relax. The feel of Tim’s breath in and out against his neck only calmed him more. For the first time since he'd been rescued, he felt safe; he felt warm; he felt calm. 

He drifted off to sleep surrounded by the icy, clean smell of Tim.

***

Dick woke up with Tim sprawled on top of him, and the utter peace in Tim’s face was almost enough to make up for the sheer nausea of the bond tugging at his soul. Almost.

As it was, he had to slide out from underneath Tim and shift back into human form just to put his head between his knees and gasp for air. The arch of his back was painful but helped to ground him. He was in the Manor. He was in control. He was safe. 

A hand gently landed on his shoulder, and he leant back into it. Tim ran the hand from the edge of his shoulder up to curl the nape of his neck. 

“What do you need?” 

“The family den.” 

“And maybe some toast.”

Dick’s face twisted. He didn’t want to eat anything, but Alfred would be sad. “Maybe some toast.” 

“Thank you.” 

Tim walked with him to the den and tucked him in with all the extra nesting blankets. “I’ll let them know that you need pack cuddles.”

“And then you’ll come back?” Dick asked, curling into the blankets that still held a trace of Tim’s warmth.

Tim paused, and Dick’s heart sank. 

“I’ll bring my laptop,” Tim offered.

Dick grinned. “Works for me.”

Ten minutes later, Bruce’s massive black wolf form was stretched out behind Dick who was using him as a headrest. Damian leaned against the nest walls, sketching, with his feet just brushing Dick’s thigh. Tim sat cross-legged next to Dick, knee pressed firmly against his other thigh. Jason napped in wolf-form off to the side, but his tail was stretched out to touch Dick as well. Dick wasn’t sure the last time that he’d felt so cared for. 

It was enough that he could nap on and off throughout the day until Constantine came that night. 

***

"You're wrong," Bruce snapped.

"I wish I was," Constantine snapped back. "But you can bring as many magic experts as you can find in here, but the only thing you'll do is increase the risk that one of them takes advantage of Dick."

"There has to be a way to break it," Jason interjected.

Dick laid still on the medbay cot and wondered for the dozenth time why he had allowed the others to be present for this. Not that he really could have kept them away, but still. At least Alfred had Damian distracted upstairs.

The trio continued to argue above him with things like "almost certain insanity" and "if you were more skilled" and "level of acceptable risk" and "go fuck yourself" thrown around. Tim's voice was conspicuously absent from the discussion. Dick let it all wash over him for a while. Constantine hadn't had any more suggestions than Zatanna. His options were the same—leave it and be a risk, break it and more than likely go insane, or leash himself to someone he trusted. Constantine had brought forth a few good ideas about mitigating the leashing risk, ways that he could handle it with someone he trusted, and Dick appreciated those. He would need them.

Seeing Dick taking the tips seriously had been what set Bruce off.

While they were all distracted, Dick calmly palmed and then pocketed a scalpel from the drawer of medical supplies beside him.

"Constantine, thank you for your help," Dick said, sitting up. "But you don't need to listen to this anymore."

Everyone paused, and Constantine turned to him. He nodded. Then he was gone.

Dick turned to face the remaining trio. "I can't believe I'm still having this argument with you, B. I am an adult. This decision is my decision, and mine alone. You don't have to like it. But you will accept it."

"I will not accept you pointlessly risking your life and your freedom just because you're too impatient to seek another opinion," Bruce seethed. He rumbled, deep in his chest, and Dick was unimpressed by the display.

"Those were our two most experienced opinions, and they both agreed. These are my options. And look, I've lost my mind before. It's not pretty, and I don't want it. We have far too many enemies for me to leave this target on my back. It is fucking wishful thinking to think that no one will get to it eventually or that we can break this. So I need to make a decision, and I'll need to adjust. But I will need to do that. Not you." No amount of being the pack alpha meant that Dick would just rollover and let Bruce do what he wanted.

"This is a terrible decision, Dickhead," Jason said.

"Thanks for your input," Dick said sarcastically.

"I just had to say it. But... I do know how it feels to lose your mind, and I wouldn't wish that on you."

There was a solid breath of silence where Dick nodded appreciatively in Jason's direction. Then Bruce threw something at the wall, and it shattered. Dick had hoped they could come out of this without a Batman temper tantrum, but he supposed it was a miracle that they weren't all screaming at this point. Tim stood against the far wall with his arms crossed. Bruce breathed in heavily while visibly calming himself. Then he glared at Dick.

"What's your plan then?"

"I'll complete the ritual with someone I trust. And we’ll work through Constantine's suggestions to make it as even and fair a bond as possible. Then life will go on."

"Who?"

"That's between me and them. The less people who know, the less people who can exploit it."

"You don't trust me?"

"Honestly, B, that's a bit rich coming from you."

Jason snorted, and Bruce shot him a withering glare.

"Who, Dick?" Bruce pressed.

"No."

"Dick."

"Bruce."

"You are being reckless and careless with your safety and the safety of this family if you are going to leash yourself to someone that you don't even trust enough to share the name with us."

"Jesus Christ, Bruce. What if I was going to pick you and I just didn't want to air that in front of everyone?"

Bruce blinked, the only sign that he may have been surprised. "Is that true?"

Dick took in a deep breath. "No."

"Then who?" he demanded.

"This conversation just proves to me that I've made the right choice. You would never have respected my autonomy enough. When it becomes relevant to you, I will share the information."

"And if you can't share because you've picked poorly and they forbid you to?"

"Then I guess we'll be in a world of hurt." Dick shrugged. "For now, I'm going to get something to eat, then I'm going to make some calls. Stay out of my way."

***

Dick had texted with some of his friends that afternoon for moral support, but he hadn't shared any of the details with them, and he wasn't going to. He knew that Bruce was monitoring his communications, trying to figure out who Dick would willingly leash himself to. And maybe he had some inkling that it was going to be one of the Robins, but Dick knew that Bruce had blindspots when it came to the Robins' relationships with each other.

Damian was a child, and Dick could never put that responsibility on him. Jason had come a long way with the family, but they didn’t have that gut level trust needed for this. And Tim? Well...

He wasn't surprised that Bruce was loitering outside of his room that evening when he went to leave. He simply turned back around and undid the latches and security around his window before hopping out and scaling the walls to the room four doors down—Tim's room. He tapped gently on the window.

Tim looked up from where he sat at his desk, startled. He reacted quickly, though, getting up and undoing the security on his own window to let Dick in.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Dick was silent as he shut the window behind him. He'd come this far, and he was committed, but he wasn't sure he could say the words, not sure he could ask to be leashed. So instead, he pulled out the scalpel from his pocket and held it out to Tim.

Tim took a step back. "Dick?" His tone was cautious, and his voice shook a little.

"You were the only one who didn't tell me what to do.” I trust you.

"That is not enough to base this decision on."

"No, it's not. And it's not everything. But it's the decision I've made." Dick holds the scalpel out again.

Tim shook his head. "I'm not saying no, but this is a lot. I need..."

Tim paced around the room, running his hands through his hair, gripping and tugging the ends occasionally. He stopped in front of Dick. "Tell me everything you know about the ritual."

So Dick did; he shared the information that Zatanna had told him, what Stranglehold had said, what he had read in his research, and what Constantine had shared. It wasn't all that much, and it wasn't super pretty.

"So," Tim said with a hard swallow. "I touch my blood to the center of the two runes, and you're mine. If I give an order, you obey it. No consent. No chance to say no. If I want to know every thought in your head, you share it. If I want to push my pain on you, you take it. If I want to know how you're feeling, I just take that information because this ritual forms a low-level telepathic bond. You would be mine. That doesn't scare you?"

Of course it scared him. Dick opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"It scares me," Tim offered when Dick said nothing. "And this is irreversible. Why would you give me that kind of trust? I could make you do anything. I could make you kill. I could make you run naked through the streets." Tim eyed him speculatively. "I could make you worship me like a god."

"You could," Dick said in a deliberately even tone. This was not the time to be horny. 

Tim slumped against the wall. "If we do this, I need to know your limits now. And I need us to go over everything Constantine said about evening this out."

"My limits?"

"You won't be able to tell me no, and I can only refrain from giving orders as much as possible. If I'm not careful, I'm going to make you do something that you would absolutely tell me no to, and you won't be able to. So I need to know now, when you're completely free, what your hard limits are. What are the things you absolutely never want me to make you do?"

Dick wanted to say, "Anything." He didn't want to receive any orders. He didn’t want to be bound. But that wasn't a helpful answer. So he took the time to mull the question over.

"I don't want to be ordered to be silent. I know you'll tell me to shut up, and that can't really be helped, but I need you to undo it."

"Alright."

"Don't order me to cross lines."

"Killing. Torturing," Tim said. "Unprovoked assault." He raised an expectant eyebrow at Dick.

"No sex."

"I would never order you to have sex."

What if I asked you to? "I know, Tim," Dick said instead. "But you wanted limits. And honeypot missions are so dubious to begin with."

"Anything else?"

"Don't order me as a punishment," Dick said. "Even if you're mad at me, I need to trust that you won't abuse that to... make me do something humiliating or stay gone."

“Okay. And?”

Dick should mention his crush. He should tell Tim that he was interested now, and it wouldn’t be crossing boundaries, but there was only so much vulnerability he could deal with at one time. 

“That’s it.”

Tim nodded slowly. "I can agree to those terms."

Something in Dick unclenched at the implied agreement to the plan in general.

"As for evening the bond..."

They spent the next hour going over all the things they could do to make things more fair. Dick couldn't leash Tim in return, but they could limit the amount of blood that Tim shared, and Dick could willingly provide Tim some of his which would drag the magic more evenly through them. There were rituals they could do later which would grant Dick more freedom. Nothing that would let him outright defy an order but some that would let him delay it or otherwise manipulate the bond.

"I have a few more questions, and you may not like them," Tim said.

"I don't like any of this, so out with it."

"Are you dating anyone right now?"

"Why?" Dick asked defensively.

"Because this is going to cause consent issues of all kinds, and we need to know if another person is involved."

"No, there's no one. I just..." want you.

When Dick didn’t finish the sentence, Tim prompted, “You just?”

“I’m just interested in someone right now, but it’s not going to happen, so it’s not going to be a problem.” Dick shrugged, feeling self-conscious.

Tim blinked at him. “Who doesn’t want you?”

Dick chuckled awkwardly. “Lots of people, Timbers. Don’t worry about it.”

Tim frowned and asked, “Why don’t you ask them to hold the leash?”

Dick surprised himself when he said, “I did.”

Tim deflated. “Oh. I’m sorry they said no.”

“That’s not—” Dick sighed. “It’s fine. Just don’t worry about me and sex and leash issues. We’re good.” 

"Okay. Do you have somewhere we can go to test the bond?"

"I have my apartment."

"Only Oracle knows how many cameras Bruce has up in that place. We should go to my Nest. He hasn’t gotten a chance there yet."

It was nearly three in the morning when they were done which wasn’t necessarily late for the vigilante crew, but it had been an emotionally exhausting evening, and they were both flagging. Dick offered Tim the scalpel again, and Tim curled Dick's fingers back over the handle.

"We'll sleep on this. If you're still sure, we'll do it in the morning."

"Okay." Then with a very small voice, "Can I stay here tonight?"

"You can stay every night." Tim's voice is quiet, but Dick hears him.

***

"This is at your pace, Dick."

"I know."

Dick had dozens of chances to back out over the last few hours. He was under no illusions that Bruce didn't know that he'd left with Tim, but they hadn't been stopped, and Alfred had given them breakfast for the road. So here they were. He was taking off his shirt in the empty living room of Tim's Nest, and Tim was holding the scalpel that would change both of their lives forever. Dick shivered a little in the cool air.

"Do you want me to turn the heat up?" Tim offered.

"No. No, I'm good."

"Okay." 

Tim held the scalpel back out to Dick, and Dick frowned. Was he backing out? "Tim?"

"You are in control, Dick. You cut me. You place the blood. You decide if and how I receive blood from you."

Dick was touched by the last show of autonomy and the last chance to back out, but it also made him 100% complicit in what happened. He took the blade in one hand and caught Tim's hand in the other.

"Do you trust me?" Dick asked.

"Isn't that my line?" Tim joked, but he was a little breathless.

"This is asking a lot of you, Tim. I won't make you do it."

"I trust you, and I want to do this for you."

Dick didn't insult him by asking again. He sliced the blade lightly across the pad of his index finger and let the blood well up. He swiped it across his chest, hissing as the magic flared up again in his chest. It was significantly less painful than the handful of blood that Stranglehold had used. Only a small burning sensation and a warm blue glow, bordering on purple. It felt like Tim, like Tim was holding him safe and close. He swayed towards Tim and gripped his hand tight for support. Breathing deeply, he let the magic settle as much as it would before he twisted to show his back to Tim.

"I'm flexible, but I can't see behind me. You'll have to do this one."

Tim rested his non-bloody hand on Dick's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "I've got you." Then he swiped his finger across the center of the runes.

Dick's world was consumed with fire in an instant. It didn't hurt, though. It was like when he shifted, and the world just went white and staticky. All of his nerves shut off then rebooted, letting sensation run rampant through every part of him. He gasped, and his knees buckled. He could feel Tim somewhere inside his chest, concern bleeding through that wasn't his, and he wanted to assuage the concern. He wanted to make his master feel better.

"Dick! Dick!" someone was calling.

Dick blinked, but the world was still fuzzy.

"Dick, look at me," the voice commanded.

And the voice was Master. So Dick did. He focused, and he saw Tim standing in front of him. He looked up and up until their eyes met, and he smiled.

"Yes, Master?"

Tim blanched and shook his head violently. "No." 

"No?" What had he done wrong?

"Do not call me that."

"Okay," Dick said cautiously.

"Dick, do you remember what's going on?"

Dick sorted through his memories. It was coming back to him. He had been leashed, right? He had agreed to let Tim take control, and they were in the Nest, and...

"We completed the bond."

"Not yet," Tim said. He spoke slowly, like he was thinking through each word before he spoke. "The plan was for you to do the next step. You had planned to share some of your blood."

That was true. The longer they spoke, the less overwhelming the instinct screaming inside him to obey was. His face flushed hot and red. He hadn’t expected it to just take over like that. Climbing to his feet, he said, "Yeah, of course. Can I have the scalpel?"

"It needs to be cleaned," Tim said.

Dick bit down on his lip to stifle the sudden surge of I can clean it. Please let me. They would get control of this.

Tim came back a few minutes later with a clean blade that he offered to Dick. Dick cut a one inch slice on his left forearm and held it up to Tim. "Drink up, buddy."

Tim scrunched his nose but took the offered arm gently. He leaned in and lapped at the blood that was spilling out before fitting his mouth around the wound and sucking. It sent a flame of heat down Dick’s body, and goddamnit he was getting hard. He whimpered a little when Tim pulled another deep drag. Tim immediately backed off.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No."

"Then what's wrong?" He stared hard at Dick.

The tone was too much to ignore. And Tim's mouth was smeared with blood. Dick's blood. This was so different from when Stranglehold had licked him. "It's just hot," Dick admitted.

"It's... Oh. Oh."

"We can ignore it," Dick said hurriedly. "It's probably just a remnant of the spell."

Tim's face was rapidly becoming horrified. "Is this like a date rape ritual? Are you going to be suddenly attracted to me?"

Dick weighed his options. He wanted to be helpful and answer, but there wasn’t an overwhelming need to do so. He could ignore the questions, but Tim was moving towards panic, and it wasn't like this secret was going to stay hidden.

"No, it's not. Tim, relax. I've been—" he swallowed hard "—I've been attracted to you for a while now. You know, you were the only one I asked to do this.” He let that sink in, watched the realization play across Tim’s face, before going for broke and adding, “And apparently I have a blood kink?"

Tim eyed him speculatively then brought the arm still in his hands back up to his mouth and licked the wound slow and steady. He licked his lips, tongue catching the sticky red liquid and drawing it into his mouth. "How much blood do we think it needs to be even?"

"Maybe a little more," Dick said breathlessly.

Tim's grin was wicked as he leaned back in.