#it's giving unimpressed greek god about to cause trouble

[formulaonedirection]

Pre-season press conference, Bahrain 2024

[violetsmoak]

Philtatos [8/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/48475991

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire–for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there’s more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #secrets

First Chapter

Author's Note: So the action scene I was writing became long and unwieldy and complicated, and threw off my planned chapter ending, so I had to put some filler. I hope you guys don't mind some Batfam chatter in its place. I'll try to get to the meaty action scene soon. ________________________________________________________________

Tim gets out of his shower at the Nest, reaching for his phone before his towel. The digital numbers tell him he hasn’t been away from the manor for more than an hour; Jason should still be okay.

When Tim left, the older man was sleeping like a log. He didn’t even stir when Tim tripped and accidentally knocked into his display of Gundam models. That’s a bit concerning—everyone in the family has been trained to sleep lightly and react to any inexplicable shift or creak in a room.

Clearly the infection’s taking it out of him…

He towels off, struggles into his gear and applies the spirit gum to keep his mask in place, then checks his phone again. Another ten minutes have passed.

It’s fine. Jason will be fine. There’s still time to get back.

He’s finding it a bit nerve-wracking, being Jason’s anchor; knowing that right now he’s the only one able to call back his mind if it meanders into self-destructive obsession. It constantly lingers on the edge of his mind that he can’t keep this up forever.

Eventually Jason will be beyond his reach if they don’t get the diviners back. And even if—when—they get them back, will Tim be able to just resume the way things were before?

He grips the edge of the counter beside the shower, forcing himself to breathe. He can’t let himself go there.

Table that problem until after Jason’s safe.

He straightens up and heads for the holding cell, where he finds Eros sitting cross-legged on his cot, wings out and hands wrapped around one of the edges of a painting Tim brought from upstairs. Insubstantial golden threads collect around his fingers and the canvas, like a spider’s web, but pulsing.

After several moments, the glow disappears, and Eros cracks an eye open. “Will wonders never cease—you let me finish this time.”

“You’re not leaving bodily fluids this time,” Tim retorts, and hurries to cut off whatever smart-ass comment is imminent. “We may have found the person who took your bow and arrows. We’re not a hundred percent sure, but it’s looking that way.”

Eros tosses the painting to one side, eyes gleaming. “That’s excellent news! Who was it?”

“Her name’s Carrie Cutter.”

“Never heard of her,” Eros says immediately.

Tim sighs, and brings up the holographic screen of his arm-computer; it projects a three-dimensional image of Cutter’s military file. A thin-faced woman with auburn hair and green eyes.

Eros blinks and then points a finger. “Hey! Clingy Redhead!”

Well, now that we have a definite connection…

“She also goes by Cupid,” Tim says, half-expecting to get another rant on appropriating the names of ancient Greek mythological figures.

Instead, Eros snorts and says, “Well, she’s welcome to the name, but I want my shit back.”

“How did she even manage to steal them from you to begin with?”

“I was really stoned?”

“You’re sure that’s all?” Tim presses. “There’s no way she could have had help from a god or someone who knows a lot about gods?”

Eros scratches his chin. “Well, I mean, anything’s possible.”

Tim rolls his eyes.

“Who in your family has a grudge against you?”

“Do you want the alphabetical or chronological list?”

“True. You’ve ticked off a lot of people in the past. From what I’ve read, things don’t really turn out all that well for the people you help.”

“I take offense to that!” Eros complains. “Any time I’ve genuinely joined souls fated to be together, there’s been nothing but happiness. The only time my matches have gotten twisted is when some divine prima donna gets their perizoma in a bunch and interferes.”

“Which brings us back to there probably being a god involved in all this. It would help to know which one.”

“There are usually signs, if you look hard enough for them.”

“What exactly do you think we’re trying to do?”

“No, I mean…” Eros folds his arms, thoughtful. “Every Olympian—every god that I’ve ever heard of, anyway—has a signature. Something they’re drawn to, habits that don’t just vanish over the centuries. Symbols they’re drawn to, whether they notice it or not.”

“We would have noticed in any of the crime reports by now.”

“Maybe, maybe not. It might be completely obscure. Like I said, we don’t always notice when we do it. If you find anything even resembling a pattern, let me know what it is. I might recognize it.”

“You didn’t recognize it when you were getting robbed.”

“I—was—stoned—!”

And that’s as far as we’re getting with that avenue.

Tim glances at his phone again; there’s still time. “Going back over everything again and trying to find symbols that might possibly be related? It might take longer than we have—I’m on a deadline here.”

“You could always just summon this Cupid woman.”

“If it were that easy, the government would have figured out how to do it ages ago. She’s trained specifically to avoid detection. There’s a reason we only found traces of her days after she’s been in a given location.”

“I don’t mean just pick up the phone and call her or satellite stalk her or whatever you capes do,” Eros dismisses, “I mean use the summoning spell for my bow and arrows.”

Silence rings.

I…did not just hear what I think I heard, did I?

Tim counts to ten. Twice. And then does it in Cantonese for good measure.

“I lose you there somewhere, pretty boy?”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Tim replies, expounding far more concentration that he should be keeping his voice level. “You just arbitrarily decide, ‘hey, you look sufficiently frustrated, so now I’ll come up with some pearl of wisdom I could have shared earlier’, don’t you?”

“Screw you, birdboy, I don’t make the rules!” Eros spits. “I’m not a Magic-Ball, here to answer you whenever you humans come a-knockin’. Do you have any idea how much trouble that caused way back when?” Eros adopts a falsetto. “Oh, high-crowned goddess of love, woe is me, I’m a rich and spoiled daddy’s boy and can’t get no respect! Please steal the heart of the most beautiful woman in the world for me! Oh, most feared goddess of retribution, the boy I like rejected me, so after I kill myself, make him fall in love with his reflection so he starves to death while feasting on the sight of himself!” Eros shoots Tim an irritated glare. “You really think we came up with that crap? Trust me, things were a hell of a lot worse when we just up and did everything for you. And then, when you hairless apes realized we weren’t giving you everything you wanted anymore, you stopped paying tribute to us and jumped on the hobo carpenter bandwagon.”

“I’m Jewish,” Tim replies, unimpressed with the tangent.

“Yeah, well, so was he. Anyway. Do you know how many Olympians have wasted away when people stopped believing in them? Point it, we had to get used to holding back. Give a human the answers without them having to work for it, and you get Hiroshima.”

“Fine, whatever,” Tim growls. “How do we summon the bow and arrow.”

“Weren’t you listening? A spell.”

“We’re not big on magic around here.”

“Tough noogies. Do you want to know what to do, or not?”

“Get on with it.”

“Right. So first, you need a rose—”

“A rose? Now I know you’re messing with me.”

“Roses are my symbol, asshat, and they act as an instrument of grounding when channeling my will,” Eros snaps, causing Tim to hold his hands up in surrender. “Right, so get a rose and sharpen its stem to a point. Get Helmet Head and join hands with him, and he has to say—”

“Hold on. Go back—Red Hood has to be here for this?” Tim interrupts. He’s not sure that’s a good idea, considering the circumstances.

“Of course he has to be there, he’s the key to making the spell work.” Eros says slowly, like he’s talking to someone intellectually slow. “He’s the one who desires you most in the world, which is a powerful spell component. And he’s the only one in the world right now that has my blood running in his veins. Since I can’t be let out of this glass cage of yours, he’s the only other choice.”

Tim rubs his temples; of the two options, Jason is better than letting Eros free. “And naturally there’s blood involved…”

“All magic has a price,” Eros agrees. “Now, you have to get him to speak these words—” He grabs one of the nearby magazines and a pen, then scrawls something on the cover, “—and then you have to pierce both your palms with the rose. Wait until the blood stops flowing, and then use what falls in place to mark my symbol in the earth.”

He shoves the magazine through the hatch in the wall, and Tim frowns at the note. “This doesn’t look like Greek.”

“It’s not. More proto-Greek. Close to what the Minoans spoke.”

“The problem here being that no one knows what the Minoans spoke, least of all us.”

“Tall, Dark and Angry can read it. Consider it a perk of being infected with my blood.”

“Maybe the only one,” Tim mutters.

“Once the spell is complete, it will act as a beacon or magnet that draws the diviners to the symbol. And thus the one wielding them, wherever they are.”

“No offense, but this is ridiculous. It’s like something out of an episode of Charmed.”

“For your sake I hope you’re talking about the original and not the remake,” Eros sniffs.

“If you always had this spell in your back pocket, why didn’t you cast it when you realized your bow and arrows were missing?”

Eros’ expression becomes cold marble again. “The one who desired me most in the world is gone, remember?”

Tim frowns. “You’re the god of love. You could get anyone to desire you.”

“It doesn’t work like that, darlin’,” Eros smiles bitterly. “There’s a special kind of person for that to work, to activate the power of my blood. Someone with pure conviction, and that’s a rare trait to find. By the time I might track down someone like that…well, let’s just say it’s lucky for everyone that your brawny boy toy got tagged, because he’s got it.”

Tim can’t really argue with that, because Jason has conviction in spades. Even years later, he has never wavered in his dedication to his own version of Bruce’s mission, even if it’s at odds with what Batman stands for. He has no qualms about crossing lines if he must, and still believes himself to be in the right.

“Okay, fine, I’ll give you that,” he allows grudgingly. “But that still leaves the problem of taking out Cutter herself. She’s no slouch, considering her training, and I doubt she’s going to want to give up her new toys without a fight.”

“What a shame you don’t know a bunch of people who regularly dress up in spandex and deal with this kind of thing all the time,” Eros drawls.

Tim rolls his eyes and wanders away and keys in Batman’s call sign to his comm. He knows Bruce isn’t going to like any of this, but he might be able to offer some perspective.

“B? You busy?”

“No.” The voice crackles in his ear. “Returning to Gotham now; I’m just over the Atlantic.”

“Find anything?”

“Yes. Your information on Cupid helped.”

“So did any other customer see her?” Tim asks.

“I don’t know. The coffeeshop has been shut down.”

Tim blinks, going over that information once more in his head. “What? Why?”

“Potential health concerns. Within the past week, three people fell into comas while visiting the shop,” Batman informs him. “There’s concern in the city of a possible outbreak.”

“That…wasn’t in any of my research.”

“The authorities only shut it down today, and the shop hasn’t been named in the media.”

“And how did knowing about Cupid help then?”

“I tracked down the barista. She remembered her.”

“So she was definitely there,” Tim says, breathing out in relief. Finally, something.

“Yes. And when I went to examine the scene, I found something on the bottom of a cup.”

“A…cup.”

“Yes. If there were an actual contagion spreading from the shop, chances are it would be passed via utensils or dishes.” Batman pauses, and then grants, “It took a while.”

“So what did you find?”

“A Svefnthorn.”

“A what?”

“An Asgardian formula to sink someone into a deep sleep. It’s their version of Stygian Sleep, but it wouldn’t work permanently on an Olympian. Different magic, different rules. But it would be strong enough to put something like Eros enough of a stupor that he wouldn’t notice the theft of his diviners.”

“And not many people would know that,” Tim muses.

“No.”

“I don’t know about you, B, but I’m leaning more and more toward the idea that Cupid’s got a god backing her.”

Tim gives a quick explanation of his conversation with Eros, as well as his method to track the bow and arrow.

“Convenient of him to mention it now,” Batman remarks in a neutral tone.

“That’s what I figured.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Figured that, too.”

“Wait until I return. We’ll decide how to make our move then. We need to be prepared—you can’t go into this blind.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, even though he doesn’t want to wait longer than he must. “See you when you get back.”

“Acknowl—”

Bruce’s comm suddenly cuts off, and Barbara’s voice snaps in his ear, “Red Robin, get back to Red Hood now.”

Tim’s heart leaps into his throat. “What happened? Is he okay? He’s supposed to be sleeping—”

“Well, he woke up. I was able to keep him on the line for about fifteen minutes before he stopped responding.”

Tim stumbles as he runs toward the garage. “Is he—?”

“He’s still putting out bio-signals. I sent Jeeves and Robin to check on him, but you need to be here yesterday.”

“On my way.”

For the second time in two days, Tim is racing toward the Batcave, a pit in his stomach.

I’m a moron. I shouldn’t have been away for so long. I should have called Bruce when I was already on the way, I should have just asked Eros questions without reacting, like I was trained to do, instead of bitching at him about a stupid spell. Get in, get the information, move on.

When he arrives at the manor, Alfred isn’t there to greet him, which sends alarm bells ringing in his mind. Taking the steps to the second floor two at a time, he doesn’t pause until he passes the bathroom outside of Bruce’s study.

Alfred is leaning over Damian, cleaning and dressing a bloody wound on the boy’s head.

“What the hell happened?” he demands, more breathless than he should be.

“Language, Master Timothy,” Alfred chides, unflappable as always. When Damian swears as he presses an alcohol swab to the wound, he adds, “And you too, Master Damian. I would rather this not need actual stitches.”

“I’ll live,” Damian snaps, jerking his head out of Alfred’s reach and glaring at Tim. “Todd’s losing it. He was becoming unruly again and Pennyworth and attempted to help him. Then he threw an alarm clock at me.”

“And you didn’t dodge it?” Tim cries, hurrying off.

“I was—I was attempting to shield Pennyworth from taking the brunt of it to the face!” Damian shouts after him, but Tim doesn’t dwell on something he would normally tease the boy about.

Now that he knows there’s nothing major, he needs to get to his room.

Tim returns to find Jason sitting on the floor in his room, pressing himself into the wall the same way he was doing with the holding cell. His fingers are in his hair, tugging at the strands in agitation; his entire scalp and forehead an angry red at the irritation and he’s knocking his head against the wall just shy of the force needed for a concussion.

Tim practically vaults over his bed to crouch in front of Jason, grabbing his hands away from his hair. He notices they’re bleeding, hangnails and dry skin picked and scratched open.

“Jason…Jason, I’m here. I’m sorry.” Jason’s expression loses some of its distant, frantic mania. “I had to speak to Eros. I really thought you’d still be asleep when I got back.” He swallows back the nauseous feeling creeping up his throat. “I made a mistake. I’m sorry. Why didn’t you call me?”

Jason blinks a few more times, clutching back at Tim’s hands as though to ground himself; it takes a bit before clarity returns to his eyes.

“I knew you were coming back,” he says shakily. “I mean…I did. But I didn’t? I couldn’t stop thinking you weren’t coming back. Even though I knew…” He trails off, gives a manic chuckle. “I mean, fuck, this is your room. This is your house, obviously you’d be coming back, but…” This time Tim can’t tell if the sound is meant to be a bitter laugh or choked sob. “I’m going crazy here, babybird.”

Cold, angry fury suffuses Tim’s body at how broken he sounds. At the fact that Jason Todd—the Robin he idolized, the one that’s always had to duck life’s hardest curveballs, the one that makes the hard decisions, who is supposed to be strong and fierce and good—is being reduced to this. Right before Tim’s eyes.

He’s vulnerable right now not because he actually trusts Tim, but because something is making him. Something is turning him into a victim.

At which point Tim makes a decision.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“We’re getting out of here,” Tim insists, trying to tug Jason to his feet.

“Uh, that’s probably one of your worse ideas,” the other man replies cautiously, resisting the pull. “I’ll be fine. I mean, you’re here now.”

Tim’s heart clenches.

“Yeah. Right now I’m here.” What happens the next time he leaves though? But seeing Jason’s reluctance, he sighs. “Okay, Jason, it’s your choice. We’ll stay here until B gets here. Should be a few hours still. You can recover, and then we’ll all go together.”

“Where?”

“I might have a way to get the bow and arrows. Tonight,” Tim explains. “B wants to wait until he gets here for back-up, but—”

Jason stumbles to his feet, practically dragging Tim up with him. “No way. Let’s go. Right now.”

“But you just said—”

“I know what I said, and I’m not waiting another minute if I don’t have to!” Jason snaps.

“But he was right, we probably will need back-up.”

“I’ve got all the back-up I need,” Jason insists, tugging Tim close by the shoulder, “Now come on, I need to get my helmet.”

⁂

Tim, paranoid freak that he is, isn’t keen on busting in on Cupid just the two of them and without an actual plan. Despite Jason’s confidence that they could easily take out someone like Carrie Cutter together, mystical weapons or not (and hell, he’s got mystical weapons too, if it comes down to it), Tim insists on being responsible and summons whatever Bats are still in the city to coordinate an actual impromptu sting.

Damian is already in the cave when they arrive, changing into his uniform. Jason grins at him. “No hard feelings about nearly braining you, right?”

“Tt. I look forward to you regaining all your faculties,” the kid retorts. “It will make beating you within an inch of your life that much more enjoyable.”

“Geeze, kid, you could just say you’re going to kill me. Fewer words.”

“Master Damian has already reached his weekly allotment of death threats,” Alfred remarks in a mild voice as he checks a line of tranquilizer rifles. “Any further instances and he will not be permitted to visit with Master Jonathan this weekend.”

Damian bristles at the word ‘permitted’ but doesn’t argue beyond a mutinous scowl.

Jason whistles appreciatively, both at the implicit power Alfred has over the kid (and let’s face it, the entire family), and the collection of sedatives laid out on the table. The concentrations range from human-sized targets to someone of Wonder Woman’s constitution. Since there’s no way of knowing whether Cupid intends to show up alone or with her divine ringer, Tim maintained that it was better to be safer than sorry.

Jason is eager to get out, tired of waiting and antsy. His skin itches, which has been a symptom ever since this whole infection thing began. As he rubs at his neck, he tries not to feel like he’s being pulled in a million different directions. He wants so many things right now—a fight where he doesn’t have to hold back, a cold shower, to sleep for eight hours, to run his fingers through Tim’s hair—

Jason shakes himself.

At least one of those things is imminent, so he decides to focus on that.

Finding Carrie Cutter and taking her out. Getting Eros’ diviners so he can get himself back to his normal level of screwed-up. Leaving Gotham in his rear-view long enough that he won’t have trouble looking anyone in the eye for a wile.

That he won’t have trouble looking Tim in the eye for a while.

The cave seems less claustrophobic this time around.

Jason attributes that to the fact he’s not locked in a giant glass box like a creature at a zoo. Also, the conspicuous lack of looming disapproval that is Bruce Wayne.

“Remember, Jason—non-lethal,” Tim says as Jason they both go through the routine gear and weapons’ check before suiting up.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason replies, reaching around Tim to grab a few extra flash grenades; he doesn’t need to draw his arm along the length of Tim’s shoulders, or lean into him a half second longer than acceptable, but it’s a small comfort after his recent attack of paranoia. “Not like B would have left anything capable of doing actual lasting damage, since my stuff’s been sitting out here nice and open the past few days.”

“Lethal and doing lasting damage are two different things.”

“Not in B’s mind.”

“He knows there’d be no point to removing or tampering with your things. You have enough caches around Gotham to replace anything he might take.”

Jason shoots him a suspicious glance. “And how do you know that?”

Tim smirks at him, and Jason’s heart stutters.

That expression’s been turned on him before, but usually he’s just done something to piss the other vigilante off. This time, it’s almost conspiratorial, like he and Jason are in on the same joker. And holy hell, that should not be as hot to him as it is.

Eros’ blood. Supernatural roofie. I wouldn’t actually think so under normal circumstances.

But a niggling thought at the back of his head thinks that even once he gets cured, his mind is going to go directly back to that if Tim ever turns that look on him again.

The sound of tires squealing against stone and metal grating echo in the cave, and everyone looks up to watch Batgirl peel in the cave on her bike.

“Hey guys,” Blondie says, dismounting her bike and grinning at them. “I heard we were throwing ourselves headfirst into trouble?”

“That’s not what I said,” Tim mutters from his spot at the computer, scrolling rapidly through several different satellite images of Gotham.

“It’s what I heard.” She turns her gaze on Jason, surveying him with pursed lips. “Why is the homicidal maniac out of his cage?”

“Steph!”

“I’m not a maniac,” Jason informs her.

“I notice you don’t argue the homicidal part.”

“I don’t lie about important stuff. Unlike some people in this room.”

“Everyone in this cave lies for a living.”

“Not me. You’re the ones who are so concerned about secret identities. I died, remember?”

“Who here hasn’t?”

“Not you, from what I hear.”

“Six minutes dead is still dead.”

“Try six months.”

“Try almost a year and a half,” Damian cuts in.

“Is this really the time to play Who-Was-Dead-Longest game?” Tim asks, shooting an exasperated look in their direction. Jason’s pretty sure it’s mostly directed at Blondie, but he still feels a measure of guilt.

“It’s really not,” Dick’s voice carries down the stairs from the upper level. He dismounts, cape flowing behind them and fixes them with a disapproving look. “And if you can’t get along, we’re not doing this tonight. We’re already a man down since Cass is still in Hong Kong and Babs has Duke en route to Greece.”

“Greece?” Tim turns away from the computer, confused.

Debating for a moment whether it’s something he wants to share or not, Jason decides to fill everyone else in on what Barbara told him.

Tim’s expression becomes dark. “I’m liking this entire situation less and less with every passing hour.”

“Tell me about it,” Dick sighs. “I still think we should wait. This is an op we shouldn’t run without Batman.”

“You’re already here,” Tim points out.

Dick frowns at him. “Very funny. You know what I mean.”

“Screw that,” Jason interrupts. “I’m not waiting for him to drift on in here. He won’t get here for hours and I want this done now.”

“We have to do something,” Tim agrees. “Not just because of what’s going on with Jason, but the longer Cupid’s out there, the more likely she’s continuing her murder spree.”

“Planet don’t stop spinning just because B isn’t in Gotham. People all over the world gotta do shit without relying on him to show up. I know I’ve learned not to hold my breath.”

“Jason!” Dick and Tim chorus, shooting him disapproving looks.

“That attitude is why you will ever be the disgrace,” Damian sniffs. “I agree with Richard. This is a bad idea.”

“You’re right. You should stay here,” Tim says.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it, Drake!”

The kid looks about two seconds away from stomping his foot.

“He’s messing with you, Dami. If he didn’t actually need you, you wouldn’t be here,” Blondie offers.

The kid scowls. “I do not need you to coddle me, Brown. I am aware of Drake’s methods, basic as they are.”

“We don’t know the timeframe we’re working with,” Tim goes on, getting up from his place at the computer and approaching Dick with a mulish expression. “Jason could be fine for the next five hours until B gets here, or he could progress to the next stage of the infection. Despite monitoring his symptoms, there doesn’t seem to be a standard rate of mental decay, and that’s thrown off by outside factors anyway. We still don’t know what all-out succumbing to this could look like.”

“And I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to,” Jason adds.

“Also, let’s not forget who was advocating using Stygian Sleep the last time Jason’s condition declined sharply.”

Dick shoots Tim a betrayed look. “Excuse me for not wanting to watch my brother rip himself to pieces in front of me.”

“No, you’d rather send my soul directly to Hell, or Hades, or wherever,” Jason deadpans. “’Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200’.”

“That’s not how it works!”

“Oh, excuse me—temporarily send my soul directly to Hell, or Hades, or wherever. There’s a distinction. Excuse me if I’m more confident with Tim’s idea.”

“You don’t get a vote; you’d be confident about anything Tim proposed, even if it involved a Box-and-Stick Trap,” Damian interjects.

“Would not,” Jason mutters, although he thinks if anyone could make something as obvious as that work, it would probably be Tim. “I’m confident about Tim because since this whole thing’s started he’s done the most to help me through it, instead of keeping my locked in a box.”

“You wanted to be locked up!”

“Before Tim figured out, I didn’t need to be, as long as he was around!”

“Wait, what?” Steph asks, looking between the two. “This part I missed.”

“And he did that even after all the shit I’ve put him through, which is more than I can say for—”

“Don’t accuse anyone here of not trying to help you,” Dick snaps. “Damian and I have been spending overtime on patrol all week trying to track Cupid. Duke is on his way to Greece right now to follow a lead that might have nothing to do with any of this just because you and Babs have a theory. Even Steph’s put all her cases on hold to be here tonight.”

Jason pauses, somewhat caught off guard because he hadn’t known that bit of information. Then he crosses his arms defensively. “Yeah, well, I didn’t ask her to. Blondie doesn’t even like be—barely knows me.”

“Since when does that matter in this Family, you giant idiot?” Blondie grumbles.

“Jay, you’d be less surprised about everyone willing to help you if you didn’t try to keep yourself apart from everyone all the time,” Dick concludes with a sigh. “That’s at least one silver lining to all this. You’re finally letting someone in—even if it’s just Tim right now.”

He reaches out to clap a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“Hey! Hands off!” Jason snarls, shoving Dick away and pulling Tim toward him. It’s not done violently or in a manner meant to hurt him, but this time Tim does go stiff in his arms. The three other vigilantes immediately move like they’re about to spread out around them, expressions as a serious as if they need to diffuse a bomb.

Jason’s wits return, and he quickly releases his hold on the smaller man. “Sorry.”

Blondie looks between the two of them, mouth gaping a bit. “Damn. They weren’t kidding. That’s one hell of a one-eighty you pulled there, Hood.”

“Personally, I preferred him trying to kill Drake instead of grope him.”

“Damian!” several voices protest, but the kid looks unrepentant.

“Dick, just listen to me,” Tim implores, cheeks flushed with obvious embarrassment over the situation. “I have a plan.”

The man in the cowl continues to look wary, but they’ve all worked with Tim long enough to respect when he has a plan. Eventually, he relaxes and nods, indicating he’s listening.

Tim outlines everything, starting with finding a suitable location. Summoning Cupid to the Cave isn’t going to happen, since they can’t compromise its location, and they can’t be too close to the city either. If Roy’s stories are anything to go by, Carrie Cutter has never been choosy when it comes to collateral damage.

“And if what Eros is saying is true, gods are like that but with more firepower,” Tim says. “We still don’t know who’s backing Cupid.”

“Feathers had no idea?”

“Apparently the list of people he’s pissed off starts with us and goes around the block twice.”

“I’m so surprised.”

Tim has chosen a strategically promising position that will be empty at this time of night, with enough natural cover that they can easily stay out of sight until needed. The downside is it’s worryingly close to the part of Robinson Park that Poison Ivy’s claimed as her own.

“I don’t like it,” Dick says. “Not your plan—most of it’s sound. But that last bit. Anything that draws Ivy’s attention while we’re doing this could go badly for us.”

“On the contrary, I’m pretty sure it would work out. We know better than to cause intentional harm to the flora in the area; Cupid doesn’t. And since when she fights, she doesn’t care what she destroys, she’s more likely to draw Poison Ivy’s attention than we are.”

“Or she could be in one of those moods where she decides she hates men and the only one who makes it out alive is Blondie,” Jason points out.

“I’m okay with that,” she pipes up helpfully.

Tim rolls his eyes. “Ivy likes me. We have an understanding.”

“I call bullshit,” Jason shoots back.

“No, really. I calculate a high probability that if she sees me there she’ll focus her attention on what she considers to be the greatest threat to her plants, giving all of us a chance to retreat if necessary.”

“Oh yeah? And what gives you that certainty?”

“Well, she kissed me and I’m not dead,” Tim says. “Considering the number of guys she’s left for dead that way…Jason? Are you okay?”

“I’ll kill her,” Jason growls, a murderous rage suddenly suffusing his entire body. “If she comes anywhere near you, I’m going to string you up with her own vines and feed her pesticides until she rots.”

There’s a heavy silence, and everyone is staring at him, once again like a rapid animal about to spring. Jason blinks, running over his last words, and shakes his head, feeling suddenly dizzy and drained.

“Sorry,” he says. “That came out of nowhere.” He tries to explain it to Tim. “I just—”

“No, uh…it’s fine.”

Jason scowls. “I could learn to hate that word.”

“Me too,” Dick says darkly. “If you can’t control yourself in the field, maybe you should stay here.”

“Not happening,” he insists, at the same time Tim cries, “No!”

“Tim, come on, you just saw—”

“If we leave him here alone and locked up he could hurt himself if we’re gone for a long time. Besides, my plan calls for all of us and the chances of success diminish exponentially with fewer people.”

“Then we’ll call in Selina, or Kate, or Helena or—”

“On holiday in Austria, temporarily out of commission, undercover,” Tim rattles off.

“Then call in the Titans—”

“They still wouldn’t get here right away and then we might as well wait for B,” Tim snaps. “Dick, we’ve been standing here arguing for ten minutes and look what he’s done to his hands.” He reaches over and grabs hold of Jason’s right hand, holding it up to show the bloody mess of picked and scratched skin.

Damn it. I didn’t even realize I was doing that.

The immediacy of the sight at least seems to finally convince Dick of Tim’s argument, because his shoulders slump and he says, “Tell me the rest of your plan.”

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

This blog isn’t my primary, so my reblogs don’t show up very well. As such, please reblog the fic, otherwise not a lot of people are going to see it :)

<3 Violet

[sserpente]

Cool me down | Loki Summer Series Part II Imagine Tony Stark invites you all to spend a relaxing week in Greece. You insist that Loki joins you and after some agitated convincing on your behalf, he does. Sounds like a promising vacation, no? 

Part I can be found on my masterlist!

A/N: Heyho there my lovelies! Here goes Part II! I never expected this little series to receive so much love, like, what?! So I hope you enjoy it! ♥

Words: 2073 Warnings: none

Your bikini was green, complimenting the precious necklace Loki had bought for you. The next day, after an amazing breakfast in your suite, you had convinced the God of Mischief to join you at the beach. The heat he really did not appreciate, still, you promised to find a shadowy spot, take an umbrella with you and buy him some ice cream, which for some reason, he had never eaten before.

Hiding your swimwear underneath some black hotpants and a loose shirt, you dragged Loki to the beach. Thor was already there, growling happily as he slid into the cool water of the sea shirtless. None of the other Avengers paid attention to you two (mainly because they were still cross you sided with Loki) so apart from the Thunderer’s content grin, it remained quiet.

“Loki, can you help me there?” You struggled to bore the umbrella into the dark sand, almost flinching when his cool hands came up from behind you to apply more force so you could put it up. You cleared your throat as you spread a soft picnic blanket on the ground and then proceeded to take off your clothes until all there was left was your green bikini.

The God of Mischief’s eyes lingered on your form only a second too long. Longingly, his blue gaze took in every inch of your exposed skin. The green colour suited you perfectly, matching his golden gift around your neck.

His breathing quickened without him knowing, yet before you could notice the alluring view aroused him, he turned away and narrowed his eyes in an attempt to regain composure and control. You were beautiful, so what? Many women were, certainly, he would be allowed to look without harbouring possessive thoughts about making you his?

Much to his luck, you never noticed his internal struggle. You had already applied sunscreen in the suite, not, however, done your back. Would it be wise to ask Loki to do it? You might lose it upon feeling his cool hands on your skin, rubbing sunscreen on it but then again… if not a spicy vacation in Greece, then how would you get even closer to the Trickster?

“Loki… would you mind… I mean… putting some sunscreen on my back?”

The God of Mischief frowned, surprised by your odd request. “What for?”

“So I don’t get a sunburn. I’m guessing Asgardians don’t need that.” You concluded unimpressed.

“I am not Asgardian, my dear. But no. As a Frost Giant, I am immune to the sun and its deadly beams. The heat simply feels very uncomfortable.”

You nodded. “So… would you?”

Loki sighed. “Come here.”

He did not forewarn you before touching you. Taking the bottle of sunscreen from your hands, he poured some of it on his hands and then rubbed it on your back, making sure not to miss a single spot. It nearly felt like a massage. Loki applied just enough pressure, focusing on the sore spots that demanded his attention. You held back a moan. His caring treatment made you press your legs together in a desperate attempt to hide your inevitable arousal. Wetness was pooling in your bikini bottom, having you chew on your lower lip. You were going to pounce on him if he didn’t finish soon.

Still, you were disappointed when he pulled away and removed his skilled hands from your back.

“All done,” he said hoarsely. Hoarsely?

“T-thank you. Just call me if you need anything. There is something to drink for you in my bag. I’m going for a swim.” I’m going to cool down and swim far enough to masturbate to your hands, you added silently, suppressing a mischievous smile.

Loki stared at you, that lustful gaze returning unwillingly. Maybe he had already decided. You were to be his, no one else’s—and no one else should be allowed to look at your luscious curves, those perfect breasts and your juicy behind he had noticed right before you had sat down.

“I’ll come with you.” His sudden outburst surprised you. Loki sulking away in the Greek sun voluntarily? Suppressing a happy squeal, you let him join you as you hopped into the water and let the soft waves flush around your ankles, calves and thighs until the wonderful salt water was deep enough for you to dive in completely and swim.

When you turned around, Loki was right behind you. He had replaced his attire again, this time revealing more skin than ever before. His emerald green swimming trunks clung to his strong and muscly thighs, matching your own swimwear and his body… he truly was a god. He was not as muscly as Thor, yet his pale muscles were well-defined. Like a predator, he approached you in the water, noticing your curious staring at him. Even though his movements were as graceful as ever, you could clearly tell he was being overly cautious.

“Have you never swum in the sea before?” You asked to distract yourself a little.

“I have never swum in water whose temperature was not regulated. However, bathtubs on Asgard are even bigger than what you called a whirlpool in our suite last night.” Our suite. Why was your heart beating so fast?

“It’s supposed to cool you down, you know.” You said, swimming a little farther until your feet barely touched the ground anymore. “That’s why we all come to the sea in the first place.”

“Yes. On Asgard, the maids used to prepare my baths. I always made sure they kept the water at a cool temperature.”

Giggling, you turned around to float in the water on your back. “You can be such a princess.”

But perhaps, it was the wrong thing to say—hypothetically. Loki’s expression instantly darkened. You knew you were in trouble.

“You better swim fast now, little minx.” He threatened teasingly. But your laughter nearly made it impossible for you to do what he had advised you to. So you settled for splashing instead, attempting half-heartedly to keep him away from you.

Loki continued to chase you in the water and you doubted not even for a second that he would have any difficulties with actually catching you. He was about to reach you, wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled you towards him for you to collide with his wet chest, heart racing like a steam hammer, when suddenly, you heard Thor’s voice in the distance.

“Loki! Look! We found a squid!” The God of Mischief rolled his eyes, causing you to giggle even though disappointment spread in your guts. Your moment was over. Loki was rarely ever playful. You revelled in the sweet moments you laughed together as friends, secretly hoping that maybe one day, you would be more.

Sighing, you shifted a little to grant Loki more access. You were dreaming of his hands. They were rubbing your back with sunscreen again, massaging you gently but firmly. Only this time, there was no bothersome bikini in the way, you had removed it to tan a little in the Greek sun.

Your sigh turned into a quiet moan as you imagined what his soft and skilled hands would feel like if you simply lay on your back and presented your breasts to him. Would he cup them, give them the exact same delicious treatment he gave your sore back muscles?

Your eyes flattered open. It took you only a second to realise you had not been dreaming. Loki was indeed rubbing your back again and now slowly worked himself downwards to cover the undersides of your legs with the protective sunscreen as well.

Your heart was racing. His hands were way too close to where you so desperately wanted him—right now. Regardless of potential witnesses.

Only when he was done Loki looked up and into your face, meeting your tired eyes. “Thank you.” You mumbled, trying a sleepy smile. In your mind, you were screaming.

Loki nodded.

“You fell asleep,” he explained the obvious. “You were going to get a sunburn, my dear.”

Right. You remembered. After Thor had ‘slayed’ a squid and excitedly asked Loki to take a look, you had returned to your spot on the beach, undone the straps of your bikini top and lied down to tan, hoping that at some point, you would get to continue playing cat and mouse with the God of Mischief. As of now, however, you were happy he spent some casual time with his brother. Then you had fallen asleep and now here you were.

Loki’s blue eyes lingered on your bare back, inconspicuously grazing your waist where parts of your breasts were visible to him.

You resisted the urge to bite your lower lip. “So, what happened to the squid?” You asked to quickly to change the topic.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Thor is such an oaf. It was a jellyfish. The soldier almost got stung.”

Giggling, you sat up carefully and pressed your bikini top to your chest to cover your breasts before tying it back together. Loki’s eyes wandered down almost automatically but instead of making you uncomfortable, his almost greedy gaze made you confident.

“Would you like to get some ice cream?”

“You have been raving about it forever. What is so special about it?”

“Go and see for yourself.” You teased him. Grabbing your towel, money and phone, you stood and watched him doing the same.

There was an ice cream shop right around the corner, you had found it last night when taking a walk with him.

“Hey, where are you two going?” You heard Tony yell in the background.

You didn’t even turn around to reply. “Getting some ice cream!” You never noticed how he shook his head—nor that Steve, Bruce, Natasha and him began pondering over what exactly was going on between you to. If only you knew yourself already.

Instead, you focused on a much more comforting problem. You had no idea which ice cream flavour to choose. The vendor was about to explain what flavour the pink-coloured ice cream was when Loki pointed at a picture on the wall.

“What about this one?” It was a much larger print of the menu, featuring a giant sundae with fruits and waffles.

“That’s enough ice cream to keep me going for the entire week.” You giggled. “You want to try it?”

The God of Mischief smirked. “Eat it with me then.”

He can’t hear your heart, you asserted. He can’t hear it. Was he aware that what he was suggesting was what couples usually did on vacation? Sharing a sundae? You doubted you would be feeding each other like crazy lovebirds on their honeymoon, still, as soon as the vendor put the giant ice cream in front of you on the table you had chosen, he winked, obviously thinking you two were indeed a couple.

What would that be like, you wondered?

“It looks delightful.” Loki exclaimed, blue eyes fixed on the sundae. He looked mesmerised—so much that you couldn’t help but reach for your phone to take a picture. It was then Loki took the first bite.

Giggling, your jaw dropped. “Loki, you’re not supposed to chew it! It’s way too cold!”

“It is rather pleasant… and sweet. I understand now why you are so fond of this treat.”

“Right. Frost Giant, I presume?” Raising an eyebrow, you grinned at him.

“Indeed,” he replied hoarsely before biting down on another portion. Then, he winked.

Quickly, you snapped the picture, swallowing thickly in the process. Loki only shook his head and quite frankly, you were surprised he did not complain. The thoughtful glare he kept shooting you made thousands of butterflies in your belly go wild. What was it that was going through his mind? It felt like there was something he wanted to say, something he wanted to do even… and yet he seemed to hold back as much as you did. But was it the same thing?

Unconsciously, you reached for the golden necklace around your neck all the while shoving a spoonful of vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce into your mouth. Where the hell this was going you did not know. But the more time you got to spend with Loki, without the rest of the Avengers around, the more he appeared to open up, confirming over and over why you had fallen for him in the first place.

A/N: If you like this story, would you care to support me a little by buying me a cuppa to help me publish my first novel? I would appreciate it so much! ko-fi.com/sserpente

Part III can be found on my masterlist!