Chapter Text
"You're stalking me," Duke grumbles in disbelief when he climbs the fence behind a supermarket, only to be met with an annoyingly familiar bike parked in the back alley.
Red Hood shrugs, leaning against the bike with his arms crossed, "It's a small city."
It certainly is not, but Duke's not going to argue with a guy who's got knives strapped to his legs. Instead, he side steps him and his bike and continues on his half-walk half-run, pulling his hood right over his head and covering as much of his face as he can. He's really not in the mood to talk to anyone today, let alone the Red Hood.
It's been a grand total of two days since he last saw him and received that slightly-yellow blanket. Duke hadn't stuck around for long, and as soon as the buses started running again the following morning, he'd bought himself a ticket to Old Gotham. He's able to get around quicker, since what was once a few hours of walking across the city has become less than an hour of travelling, thanks to the slowly dwindling funds from Hood.
It was getting colder now too, so Duke managed to find a jacket in a charity shop around his size. The boots he had to buy were brand new though, because he wanted them to last and it seemed like a worthy investment to get through the next winter in one piece. The jacket just happened to be maroon, practically red, for no reason other than the fact that it was the only one in his size.
Unfortunately for him, arriving in a new part of the city and immediately buying new shoes caught him some unwanted attention very quickly. His black eye is proof of that.
"I don't want to do this right now," Duke grumbles when he hears the scuffing of shoes following after him, not sure what this really is but confident that Red Hood is the last person he wants to see judging him.
Hood doesn't seem to understand the message though, since he takes a few long strides to end up beside him, keeping up with Duke's pace easily, "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"
"Nowhere," Duke grumbles.
"You okay?" Hood asks, sounding a little more serious.
"None of your business," Duke adds for good measure, truly ready to start sprinting away from the vigilante if it comes down to it, regardless of the throbbing pain coursing up and down his leg.
The man just hums, "Probably not. But you're limping, so I'm going to make it my business. What happened?"
Had this conversation been held earlier this week, Duke might have frozen at being caught injured. He would have felt guilty for being rude to someone who's trying to care, or more pressingly, worried about what sort of reaction Red Hood would give him now that Duke's at a disadvantage. It's hardly a fight if one of the two has a twisted ankle, and is about five times smaller than the other.
But over the last few days, Duke's come to realise that Red Hood is a lot of things, but a bad guy he is not. Which is a little funny, because Hood's still the Red Hood. Except the guy, for some reason, has taken pity or interest (Duke's not sure which is worse) on some kid he found jacking his tires and now he's trying to play the fairy godmother of Gotham.
Which ultimately means, he's not going to hurt Duke.
So, Duke starts running.
"Hey wait!" Hood calls after him, but as Duke expected, he doesn't run after him, "Duke!"
He'd be a fool to do so, breaking any sort of trust they've built between each other by chasing Duke through a dark alley. Hood knows this as much as Duke does, which is why the man lets him run off.
Maybe it's wrong to use someone's kindness against them like this, but Duke has very little options left. He's hurt and tired and he doesn't need Hood to monopolise on that by swooping in to save the day. In fact, the last thing he wants right now is having to receive another handout.
So he runs down the alley, and once he makes it to the main road, he blends in with the small crowds of people out for the night. The one good thing about coming to the busiest part of the city is there's always people around, and for kids like Duke who need to hide fast, it's great.
There's a group of drunk girls tripping over themselves across the street that are just out of it enough to be amused by the kid hobbling along between them. Once they've crossed the road, Duke hides as close as he can behind a man with a large briefcase until they pass an alley between two restaurants.
It's the adrenaline from the run that has Duke not thinking twice before he slips between the buildings and slinks into the shadows, jumping over forgotten trash and thrown out food while he ignores the smell as best he can. He has a split moment to panic when he reaches the back of the alley and is met with the back of another building. A dead end.
When he doesn't hear the sound of footsteps behind him, he almost relaxes.
"You're good," A voice then says from the entrance of the alley, sounding amused and deeply impressed, "I almost lost you for a sec. Got some secret stealth training I don't know about?"
Duke doesn't bother turning around, just leans his head against the back wall of the alley tiredly, "You know how much of a stalker you sound like right now?"
Hood doesn't rise to the bait, evidently done humouring Duke's pathetic attempts at escape in order to save what fragile trust they've created, "What happened to you?"
"I got into a fight, okay?" Duke states in exasperation, suddenly weary down to the very bone, "No big deal. Some guy tried to take my shit so I defended myself."
It's really not worth all this fuss. Someone had got it into their head that Duke wasn't going to share what little he had and tried to take his bag when he was leaving a shelter. It was the third shelter of the day that he had checked, finding no sign or records of his parents in any of them.
The kid got a good hit or two in for having caught Duke off guard, but Duke fought back hard once he got his bearings back. They rolled around in the dirt for a bit, kicking at each other until someone shouted from their window for them to cut it out or they were going to call the cops. The kid had run off before Duke could get a good look at them after that.
Not that it mattered. Duke didn't care who this random kid looking to survive another day was. They're both tipping back and forth on the same boat and Duke's not one for revenge.
Hood however, didn't share the sentiment, "You got hurt good," he grumbles, now obviously unamused.
Duke reaches up to rub his face, feeling the way it's begun to swell, "You should see the other guy."
Hood's glare doesn't falter, and Duke curses the perfectly angled lamp post behind him that's no doubt illuminating his bruised and scratched up face. He cleaned it as best he could in the public bathroom, using the last of his plasters to try and close the split on his brow.
"Your leg?" Hood asks, not looking down at it.
Duke holds the stare, glaring back as best as he can with a swollen eye, "It's fine. Not broken. Just… hurts."
"Could be broken," Hood grumbles, turning around and cocking his head to the side for Duke to follow, "Let's go."
Duke's feet stay rooted to the spot, "Where?"
"To get your leg checked out," Hood tells him vaguely.
Panic surges through Duke all at once. Maybe it was too good to be true then, that Red Hood understood in some way that the other grown ups didn't, that he was one of them in all the ways that are important. Then comes anger, betrayal, because Duke's noticed the change Hood's been enforcing over the week, hearing more and more stories of kids reaching out to him for help, and him offering it first.
Maybe it's all misplaced belief then, because if — if Hood's going to report him just for a stupid sprained ankle then —
Duke's not sure what sort of expression he has on his face, but it must be telling enough to have Hood stiffen in surprise, turning around gently, like he's one action away from making Duke run. Which he is, but Hood's also blocking the only exit.
Duke is trapped.
"Leslie's Clinic," Hood tells him slowly and clearly, somehow cutting through the sound of the general street bustling behind him, a passing ambulance siren perfectly on cue.
"That's all the way on the other side of Gotham!" Duke counters, arms crossed and not budging from his spot. The fear is slowly fading into frustration, the stress of another failed day spent alone weighing him down.
Hood shrugs, still blocking the exit with his huge frame, "Either that or I will drag you to St Luke's Hospital."
Duke's mouth drops open in disbelief, "You're threatening me!"
"You'll thank me later," Red Hood waves him off, cracking all his knuckles in one fell swoop (which, totally adds to the whole threatening development) before looking back at Duke over his shoulder, "So what'll it be?"
Fuck you is what is should be, and Duke really is tempted to say something along those lines, but now that Duke's been forced to confront the pain in his leg and face, its growing unbearable. Realistically, he knows his leg is probably going to hurt even more tomorrow if he ignores it, same with the black eye.
"Leslie will report me," Duke says quietly, since he's not got the spirit left to fight. He's hurt and it feels like he's always hurting.
Hood doesn't disagree with him. Leslie's Clinic in the centre of Crime Alley is a beacon in all things dark and dangerous, having withstood gang war after gang war on the basis of being neutral and impartial. Duke's been there once before, the first time he got sick after running away from his foster house, when he had a fever so bad it was splitting his head into two.
Leslie had taken pity on him, turned her back after she had given him some medicine that tasted like bananas, letting him run out the clinic before she asked questions. How old are you? Where do you live? Is there a parent I can contact? Do you need help? Are you alone?
Are you alone?
"She won't report you," Hood consoles him, like it's the truth.
Duke feels his eyes sting, whether it's from the throbbing in his face or the cold and lonely blanket that's draped itself over him, "She will."
"Not if she doesn't see us," Hood's speaking very softly now, and maybe Duke should feel grossed out that he's being spoken to like he's a weak and emotional child.
"Come on kid," the man calls to him, never stepping towards him or away, "I've got your back."
For now, Duke thinks as he takes heavy steps forward, willing the tightness in his chest to leave and let him catch his breath.
"Nice jacket, by the way," Hood says a few minutes later once they've made it back to the alley Duke ran out from, sounding just flattered enough that Duke can tell he's not being made fun of. It still makes him roll his eyes.
They climb onto the bike in a painfully rehearsed fashion, like this is a casual, usual and normal action, like this will always be an option for them. Duke can't stop himself from reaching forward to grab onto the back of Hood's own jacket, hands shaking just a little at the vice grip.
Red Hood doesn't say anything about it. He tightens his gloves, cracks his knuckles again while checking over something on the bike. Nothing is out of the ordinary.
"I'm sorry," Duke mumbles when he feels Hood get ready to start the bike.
"You don't have anything to be sorry about," Hood replies immediately.
"I had a bad day and took it out on you," Duke continues just as quickly, not really looking for forgiveness (he knows Hood would give it to him anyway) but just wanting to get at least one of the crushing weights of guilt off his shoulder, "Sorry man."
There's a moment of silence. It's not foreboding, but Duke still finds himself growing restless, because Hood seems to be deep in thought.
Finally, he moves to start the bike, revving the engine obnoxiously as he whispers a barely audible, "You're a good kid, Duke."
Duke holds on tight the whole drive.
"Do my eyes deceive me?" Duke hears a bright voice jeer the moment they step through the back entrance of the clinic.
Red Hood groans in annoyance, stopping so abruptly Duke walks straight into him, not that it makes him move at all. It feels like walking into a brick wall, except the brick wall has hands that reach out to steady him when Duke almost topples backwards.
"What are you doing here?"
"Probably the same reason you're here," the voice jokes dryly, and Duke peers over Red Hood's frame to catch a glance at whoever they're antagonising.
Someone in a dark purple and black suit waves around their arm, which is wrapped in a thick layer of bandages. Duke blinks in surprise at the black mask that covers their entire face, not showing a single slip of skin. Recognition filters through him a moment later.
Spoiler scoffs, "I got nicked by some asshole playing with a gun he doesn't know how to use."
Hood manages to sound both concerned and exasperated at that, "And you're here and not in the cave because…"
"Because technically I'm not supposed to be patrolling tonight," She shrugs, "Besides, if I didn't come here, I would have missed the Red Hood willingly reaching out for medical help. It's a Christmas miracle!"
Duke snorts, because it's September. The noise alerts Hood, who sighs tiredly. He mumbles something that sounds like Oh great, there's two of them, before walking further into the clinic and letting Duke follow him in, "I'm not here for me."
The humour of the strange situation disappears the moment the attention is on him, and Duke stiffens when a faceless gaze lands on him. His hands tighten around his bag straps as Spoiler tilts her head to the side, as if sizing him up and trying to figure him out with nothing but a once over.
"Damn," she mumbles, gaze finally landing on his black eye and adopting a very serious tone all of a sudden, not dissimilar to the one Hood had when he noticed the bruise too, "Who did that to you?"
"I got into a fight," he shrugs, really not wanting to talk about it again, looking away and opting to stare down at Red Hood's (surprisingly clean) boots. The man nudges Duke further into the small room, hands not really touching his shoulders as he's gently pushed towards the second vigilante.
Spoiler whistles, "Did you win?"
Hood laughs, "He did," he informs her before Duke can answer. There's pride in his voice when he tells her and for some reason, Duke's filled with warmth, despite his twisted ankle and bruised face.
"Good job kid," Spoiler chuckles, patting the space on the gurney next to her.
Duke's too taken aback by the idea that he's standing in a room with two masked vigilantes to be nervous, but he still limps over cautiously, making sure there's as much distance as he can make between him and Spoiler when he sits down. Spoiler watches him critically the whole time, or, he thinks she is, since it's hard to tell what she's looking at with her face covered.
With a little annoyance, Duke realises he's the most expressive person in the room.
"Must have been one hell of a fight if Red Hood got involved," Spoiler continues, kicking her legs back and forth as she turns to face Duke.
Duke glares at Red Hood's back as he shuffles around the small medical room in search of an ice pack, "He wasn't there. He's just stalking me."
Hood sighs, not bothering to look back when he repeats, "I am not stalking you. Don't you think I got better shit to do with my free time?"
"Not really," Duke grumbles loud enough for him to hear, but Hood ignores him anyway.
Spoiler startles him by laughing boisterously, looking between them hurriedly, "What makes you think he's stalking you? I wouldn't hold it against him to be honest, he's sort of known for being a weirdo."
"That's not true," Hood tries and fails to sound convincing, walking back to them with an ice pack wrapped in tissue paper for Duke.
For a moment, it looks like Hood was going to place the ice pack on Duke himself, but thinks better of it at the last second. Wordlessly, he holds it out for Duke, who grabs it carefully, slowly placing it against the swelling side of his face. He hisses at first, grimacing at the cold contact, but Hood's watching him expectantly, so Duke preserves.
When the cold becomes a little less unbearable, Duke turns to face Spoiler, shrugging, "He's been following me for days."
"I haven't seen you since Tuesday!" Hood exclaims. He sounds like he's smiling.
Spoiler laughs again, "What did you do to end up on Hood's radar?"
Duke's tempted to tell her the truth. It must be evident on his face, because Hood's head snaps over to him.
"No," Hood whispers sharply, "You promised."
Raising a brow — the one that isn't going numb from the ice pack — Duke does think about it. He had promised he wouldn't tell anyone about how he'd basically almost-stole Red Hood's tires. But surely that promise didn't branch over to other vigilantes and is only applicable to the other kids Duke might meet.
Besides, Spoiler won't do anything. Duke's seen her right bright purple minivan. She doesn't need Red Hood's tires.
This reasoning is why Duke doesn't feel the slightest bit bad when he grins at her, innocently saying, "I tried to steal his tires."
"Dammit," Hood mutters.
"No fucking way," Spoiler chortles, slapping her hand so aggressively on the gurney as she laughs that Duke becomes worried about her injured hand, "You're kidding! This is like —"
"I can't believe you'd betray me like this," Hood sighs, but Duke's too busy laughing at him.
Spoiler's moving the entire gurney with her laughter, and Duke can't help but laugh even harder as they both shake from the force of it. It's a miracle Leslie hasn't stormed to the back of her clinic in search of what's causing this earthquake.
Laughter is still on her lips as she turns to speak with him, "You need to tell me everything. In as much detail as possible. I've got at least three other people to relay this story to."
Duke's hopelessly amused. He laughs again, his side hurting (from both the bruise he knows is there and at how hard he's been laughing), almost letting the ice pack slip out of his hands. Before it can, Hood is there, grabbing it out of his grasp and holding it against Duke's swollen eye.
Duke's still grinning when he looks up at the vigilante, before eagerly turning back to Spoiler. He's on the high of giddiness, enthusiastically telling her exactly how easy it was to find the bike and break it apart, moving his hands around.
"My reputation is in shambles," Hood grumbles when Duke mentions the tacos.
Duke snorts, "As if it wasn't before."
"Oh I like this one," Spoiler chuckles, "What's your name kid?"
"Duke Thomas," Duke replies easily.
Spoiler moves along quickly, distracting him by asking him to explain the rest of the evening and how the drive-through worker reacted when Red Hood pulled up to the window with a kid on his back asking for ten waffles. Duke doesn't even realise he's given away his full name, too busy mocking Hood's modulated voice politely saying Please remove the peanut toppings.
Hood gives away no indication that he's noticed the slip up either, unaffected by the information Duke wasn't willing to share before but so easily offered now. Duke's moved on to talk about one of his favourite kebab shops in The Narrows, gasping in fake offence when Spoiler announces she's never been a fan of kebabs.
Red Hood stands there quietly, holding the ice pack against the kid's bruised face, listening intently as he laughs at his own jokes — which only makes Spoiler laugh harder.