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Andrew is putting away groceries when he hears Midnighter say, "If it isn't Spyral's sexiest agent."
Andrew rolls his eyes, and continues organizing the grain cabinet. Only then he hears M ask, "Who is this?"
That's…that's pretty unusual. Midnighter's "direct line" isn't exactly easy to come by. He wanders out of the kitchen and into the living area, where Midnighter is sitting a little too-straight on the couch. After a second he says, "All right, stay where you are, I'm coming to you."
Andrew can't actually see the connection, of course, but it's always evident to him when Midnighter has cut the line. There's a shift in his focus. "Trouble on the boy toy front?"
Midnighter's huff of appreciation is notably muted. He leans in for a kiss. "Up for helping me find said boy toy? That was one of the baby bats. Grayson's been missing for at least forty-eight hours. Baby Bat hacked Grayson's phone to find me, since evidently Grayson name dropped me before falling off the face of the planet."
Andrew nods. "Spyral business?"
Midnighter shrugs. "Or him just wanting someone who could portal. In which case, I should probably think in terms of interplanetary and interdimensional problems."
"Sure, I mean, we haven't had a date night in a while."
That does get Midnighter to laugh. "I'll even door to a CVS and get you some of that shitty licorice you like."
Andrew's having none of this self-sacrificing bullshit. "You like the way it tastes on me."
Midnighter's clearly already running scenarios and gathering facts, both in his mind and on the tablet he's tapping at, but he admits, "Guilty as charged."
*
The particular Baby Bat in question turns out to be Red Robin. He's managed to trace Grayson's last few hours, but the trail ends abruptly. Andrew murmurs, "Kinda like your trails."
Midnighter nods. "Yeah, there was some snatching going on." He looks over at Red. "You know if he'd recently pissed anyone off?"
The kid rubs his neck. "Who the hell knows? He wouldn't tell me if he had, and it's kind of our job to piss people off."
"Would he tell anyone?" Andrew asks.
"Probably not."
"All right," Midnighter says. "I'm not getting any read on…anything here, which means it's definitely not my kind of tech which transported him. You have a key to his place?"
"Um," the kid hedges.
"C'mon, world's second greatest detective." Midnighter slaps Red on his shoulder. "Let's go detect."
*
Joking aside, the kid is pretty good at what he does, because it takes him all of seven minutes in Grayson's apartments to make a series of deductions that actually lead the three of them to Grayson. Who has definitely seen better days. Andrew's never met the guy in person, but it seems safe to assume he's not usually hanging from a ceiling by hooks in his shoulders, with one leg sporting a compound fracture and bound to the other, and most of his midsection covered in second degree burns.
As a general rule, Andrew's pretty into leaving the bad guys alive to pay for what they've done. He's not a Bat, and he doesn't understand their level of fanaticism about it, but he leans more toward it than Midnighter's scorched earth approach. He's currently wishing M had ignored this shit out of Red and put his fist through the throat of every person they dropped on the way in here.
He doesn't waste time thinking about it, though. Grayson doesn't seem to be tracking particularly well, and the fact that three people have just burst into a room where the guy has been seemingly alternately left alone to die and had the everloving shit tortured out of him is understandably causing his breathing to pick up, although he's doing a good job of forcing himself not to struggle.
Andrew floats up to where he can take a closer look at the hooks. He glances around at Midnighter, who's wearing rage likes he does black: entirely and making it look good. Andrew says, "I'm going to need you and Red to steady him. I can't sear off the points, the metal will heat too much and might cauterize inside the wound. I'm gonna have to just try and get them out the exact way they went in."
Both men are careful not to jostle Grayson too badly, not to put any strain on the injured leg, but even so, he swallows convulsively, wheezing and biting his lips in lieu of crying out. Andrew murmurs, "Grayson? Dick?"
Grayson's eyes flutter open a little, but Andrew's not sure if he's seeing anything. Just in case, Andrew says, "Red Robin brought Midnighter and me. We're going to get you down and take you somewhere safe."
Grayson's eyes close again, which is either consent or the response of someone who thinks he's hallucinating and isn't going to grant his own illusions the dignity of a reply. Either way, Andrew gets to work. It's tricky. Grayson goes tight with agony the second Andrew starts moving the first hook, hyperventilating. Red's talking in calm, steady tones, reminding Grayson they're getting him free, it's just going to be a little bit longer, he's doing well.
Finally, after what feels like about half a day, the first shoulder is free and clear. Despite Midnighter and Red doing their best, there's still a small shift at the sudden lack of dual support and Grayson does scream at that. Midnighter says, "Yeah, I bet. One more, then its Door and morphine time. Take a breath. Take a few."
Andrew doesn't wait for Grayson to listen, or even for M to finish the first sentence. The second hook goes even more slowly than the first, because the weight distribution is different, which means more chance of damage, and try as he might to keep himself still, Grayson's in shock and the shivering has set in. Andrew can't help speaking his own nonsense, stuff about how the other guy is holding up well—true—about how they're almost done—for a long time, less true—about how everything is going to be fine—possibly true?
Eventually, though, they have him down, and Andrew's pretty sure they haven't caused more harm, at the very least. He says to Midnighter, "Get us out here," but the guy's already on it. Red's face is porcelain-white, shocking and harsh against the domino. He follows without hesitation, though, and a few minutes later, they're at Andrew's place, the place Andrew is (perhaps dangerously) beginning to think of as "theirs."
Red says, "We should go to the Cave, it's fully stocked—"
"Seriously?" Midnighter asks. "You think I'm not?"
Red says, "Alfred's a medic."
"Mm," Midnighter says, already having found the morphine and pumping it right into one of Grayson's veins. "Got that covered too. Any other thoughts?"
To his credit, Red's only follow up is, "What can I do?"
*
It takes a few hours, another dose of morphine, one hundred and twelve stitches, a bone re-setting and surgical maneuvers to clean the area out and reduce the risk of infection, debriding fourteen burn wounds, and wrapping basically every inch of Grayson in gauze, but they get him patched. Red looks about to fall over, and Andrew isn't surprised when Midnighter ushers the kid to the reading chair right off the couch, bitches at him to take his damn shoes off, and covers him in two throws.
He turns to look at Andrew, then, disheveled and quiet and open in a way he only ever is when it's the two of them. Andrew mouths, "C'mon," and turns to go into their bedroom. M hesitates at the door. "I should—"
"Close it," Andrew finishes for him. "We'll still hear if there's a problem."
M runs a hand over his face. "Yeah. Course."
Andrew pulls Midnighter through the room, into the en suite. He doesn't take his time undressing either of them, just gets them both out of their uniforms as efficiently as possible and under the spray of the shower. It's almost too hot, but neither of them is complaining. After a moment, Andrew tips Midnighter's face up so he'll stop looking at the swirl of red running down the drain. He kisses Midnighter and murmurs, "We won."
"Yeah," Midnighter says, and it's genuine agreement, if a bit ragged around the edges.
Andrew massages shampoo into Midnighter's hair, not pressing hard, but putting enough pressure that when he lets up, Midnighter seems to unfurl a bit. Andrew pushes him back under the water, cleaning the suds from his strands, and then pulling him out from the stream, caressing at his cheek, kissing him. There's still a trace of iron in the flavor of the kiss, but mostly just water and skin.
It takes them a while to get clean. Not even because they're so distracted—a kiss here and there is nothing—but because they're worn, and every move takes willpower. They stumble into bed with each other, neither able to bother with clothing, but not interested in sex, either. Rather, it's the expanse of their skin against the other, the heat they share under the covers, the kind of touch that's nearly inextricable with life, with safety.
Midnighter says, "Love you," and Andrew means to respond, but he thinks they might both fall asleep before it can happen.
*
There is a very small, very angry person perched on the back of Andrew's couch when he wakes and stumbles his way toward the kitchen and its promise of cereal. He really hopes they remembered milk in yesterday's grocery run. Probably. Midnighter is weirdly good at keeping the kitchen stocked. Like, sometimes Andrew secretly wonders if his fight computer is actually more of just a…computer. With alarms and reminders.
Andrew glances over at the miniature human and offers, "Cereal?"
The toy human, who's probably the current Robin, glares at him. From the floor next to the couch, where he's evidently migrated to sometime in the night, Red, who appears to be sleeping but is obviously not, says, "Yes for me, Robin lives on rage and the souls of those he's consumed."
Andrew snorts and pours three bowels. "M go out for a run?"
It's usually the first thing Midnighter does when he wakes up from troubled dreams. They come and go, which Andrew figures is reasonable for a guy who was taken apart and rebuilt as a weapon. They get worse when people Midnighter cares about are threatened. The guy went into hell for Andrew, so Andrew's going to call that an earned behavior, and possibly make him French toast with bananas and caramel. Midnighter loves that. And Andrew loves kissing him afterward. Win win.
Red pushes himself up, straightening his mask. His hair's a mess and Andrew has to wonder exactly how old the guy is. Older than Angry Bird perched on the couch. Younger than Big Bird sleeping on the couch. "Yeah, he said he'd be about an hour, maybe a little longer, but to call if Dick woke up."
Andrew pours milk into the bowls, grabs spoons, and lets Red take two. He can either eat both of them, or get the tiny asshole in Andrew's living room to act like a human. Either way. He moves around the kitchen, taking things out for the French toast. "When was the last time you gave him anything for the pain?"
"Couple of hours ago. He got restless."
Andrew nods. "Then it's probably going to be a while."
"Yeah," Red says, pushing the bowl into Robin's hands. Robin opens his mouth, probably to say something rude, and Red pushes a spoonful of cereal into it with a deftness Andrew has to admire.
Red turns. "You have coffee?"
Andrew pulls a bag out of the freezer. "Grinder's in the corner," he says, pointing, "next to the French press. Go crazy."
"He will," Robin says. He also eats the whole bowl of cereal.
*
Midnighter walks in, says, "I love banana French bread," to Andrew the same way he says, "I love you," then looks over at Red and Robin and says, "No masks in the house."
Both of them start up at once and Midnighter says calmly, "This is my home. You can take the masks off, and stay, or you can leave. He's safe here. You know that, you wouldn't have asked for my help otherwise. But I don't have people whose faces I'm not allowed to see in my home. So faces or I'll call you when he's on his own two feet."
Andrew pours M a cup of coffee, murmurs, "Your home, huh?" against his jaw while handing it to him.
M takes a sip and then twists to kiss him. "Mornin', Sunshine."
Andrew rolls his eyes and lightly shoves Midnighter in the direction of the bathroom. He goes, but not until both Red and Robin have taken their masks off. He throws off a, "Morning, Timothy, Damian," and then disappears to go take a shower.
Red, or Timothy, evidently, blinks. Damian, unshockingly, scowls, and says, "Drake, you can't just—"
"Don't start with me, Damian," Red slash Timothy slash Drake says. "I didn't tell him. The guy has a precognitive fight computer for a brain, about eighty enhanced senses, natural born intelligence, a god-like super-powered boyfriend and is friends with Dick. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say he's known since even before he helped with the Mother situation."
Damian's expression is flat-out mutinous, but Timothy ignores it, instead crossing the room to hold his hand out to Andrew and say, "Hi. Tim Drake. Thanks for helping me find and rescue my brother. Sorry I was evidently breaking your house rules."
Andrew wasn't actually aware they had house rules before this morning, so he shrugs. "Andrew Pulaski. Nice to meet you."
Tim tilts his head toward the now-unmasked Robin. "The ball of hormones and white-hot rage is Damian. He grows on you. At least, so Dick keeps telling me."
Damian growls. Andrew says, "French toast?"
*
Dick wakes up about five hours later. Damian has refused to remove from his perch. Tim's taking a nap in the bedroom. Midnighter and Andrew are playing Egyptian rat screw at their kitchen table. Midnighter's head snaps up as Dick's heartbeat quickens. He walks over and kneels in front of the couch to say, "Hey there, Grayson."
Grayson opens one eye blearily. "M?"
Andrew comes over with a glass of water and a straw, pointedly not looking at where Damian actually looks the eleven or twelve or so years he's got to be. He's sitting too still, his eyes too worried. Andrew gets the straw into Dick's mouth and Dick takes a few weak sips before backing off, panting. He says, "Um."
"Tim called me," Midnighter tells him. "I think you got sold out."
Dick tries to nod and clearly immediately regrets it. Midnighter pushes him gently back down. "Go back to sleep. We've got you covered."
Dick looks up at Damian and says, "Hey Dami. Call B?"
"He said I could stay with you. Should I—"
"You're good, Dami. Sleep though, okay?"
Dick's eye falls shut before Damian can answer. Damian looks down at him for a long moment, then vaults off the couch, over Andrew and Midnighter, and curls up in the corner diagonal to the couch where he has good sightlines of the couch and nobody can sneak up on him.
Midnighter says, "Can't fault his tactical approaches and situational awareness."
*
Grayson wakes up again as it's getting dark out and manages to sit up with Midnighter's help. Considering it's only been about twenty-four hours since they found him and he's 100% pure, unadulterated human, Andrew's mildly impressed. Not surprised, because the guy has kept up with Midnighter, he's got skills. Still, Andrew wouldn't have judged him if he'd taken another twelve hours to consider getting partially vertical.
Instead, he corrals Damian and Tim into sitting on either side of him and apologizes for not helping make dinner.
Andrew, who's pouring himself a glass of wine as he browns some onions asks, "Are you sure you found this guy with Spyral?"
"I kidnapped him from Spyral," Midnighter corrects.
"For the record," Grayson says, in the slow almost-slur of the still-more-than-slightly-drugged, "I was a double agent."
"Agent 3773. It's a palindrome," Tim deadpans.
Grayson seems to consider this for a long time and then forget what he was considering. He tilts his head slightly, winces at the movement and asks, "Are you making soup? I love soup."
"Ow," Midnighter says, while laughing so hard wine comes out of his nose.
*
Andrew wakes to the quickening of Midnighter's pulse, and says, "Babe, hey."
The soft words are enough to jolt Midnighter awake, since the nightmare hasn't really taken hold yet. Midnighter sucks in a breath, and Andrew rubs a hand over his stomach. "You wanna go take a peek at him?"
Midnighter goes still, and Andrew knows he's focusing in on Grayson's breathing. Grayson had convinced Tim and Damian to leave after dinner with a belabored focus and the directions, "Go check on B, catch him up, make sure Jay hasn't done anything overly stupid, eat something in front of Alf, and see that Duke has some back up."
Tim had argued, "Steph and Babs promised they'd keep an eye on everything. And Kate said she and Renee would help."
And Damian had thrown in, "And Cain came in town when Drake faffed off."
Tim had opened his mouth, no doubt to retaliate, but Grayson had cut in with, "Then go let Cass get back to her actual life, Kate and Renee deal with their own problems, and make it so that Steph and Babs don't have to be the only adults in the room. C'mon, guys." After a beat, "Also, Damian, it's not actually Alfred's job to take care of your menagerie. Go. Home."
Damian had muttered something about Goliath being able to fend for himself, but had stalked to the door. Tim had rubbed a hand over his face and said, "Okay, just—call. If you need anything."
"Promise, Timmy. Now go."
And amazingly, they had. So it's just Grayson out there on their oversized couch, his breathing and resting heart rate entirely normal for someone still on a bit of morphine, although they'd dialed it back this evening. Every once in a while he'll shift in his sleep and whimper, but nothing more extreme. Andrew doesn't doubt that when the physical healing has mostly run its course there will be the trauma to deal with. The guy's a cape, though, with all the attendant bullshit, and has been since he was a kid, so he's probably got coping methods, healthy or otherwise.
At the very least, he's clearly got a group of people who care about him. Andrew snuggles back into Midnighter's side and thinks that's a pretty big part of surviving for most of them. Midnighter rumbles, "Hey. You all right?"
"Mm," Andrew hums, pressing his forehead into Midnighter's shoulder. He can feel Midnighter beginning to inquire further, so he elaborates, "Just…just glad I've got you. That's all."
Midnighter squirms a bit to get one arm around Andrew. "Yeah, well, you've sure as hell got me."
*
Andrew wakes in waves to the sound of Grayson and Midnighter talking softly out in the living room. Grayson is saying, "I appreciate the save," and Andrew can practically hear the eyeroll in M's responding, "You're too pretty to be allowed to die."
Grayson huffs at that, and then breathes out, just barely avoiding a wail. M says, "Easy. They did a number on you."
"Yeah, I was stupid. I knew it was a trap, but B and I'd had a fight, as per normal, and I let anger cloud my thinking. You shouldn't have had to waste the resources to come pull my ass out of a sling."
"I'd pull that ass out of anything, sweet'ums," Midnighter coos. Andrew has to laugh into his pillow, and he knows even muffling it, M will hear.
Grayson makes a rude noise. "I see exactly what you're tapping. I don't think you're actually considering anyone's ass but the one you've good and settled for."
Andrew rolls over at the pause that follows, at Grayson's uncertain, "Midnighter?"
Midnighter calls, "Come join the party, Sleeping Hot Ass."
Andrew kicks off the covers and goes to sit behind Midnighter, hooking his chin on M's shoulder. "I prefer your ass, but that's probably a good sign for our relationship, huh?"
Grayson's smile is soft looking at the two of them. He says, "I, uh, I haven't had a chance to say thanks. We hadn't even met before all this, so I appreciate the probably-life-saving assist of a total stranger."
Andrew shrugs. "Isn't that kind of what we do?"
"Yeah," Grayson says. "I suppose it is. Doesn't mean it's meaningless."
Andrew smiles. "A guy I know put in a good word for you."
Grayson looks at Midnighter. "Glad I made a decent impression."
Midnighter laces his fingers into the hand Andrew's got splayed over his stomach. "A lasting one, at the very least."
Grayson's gaze strays to their hands. It stays there as he asks. "Could I—would it be too much if I crashed here another day?"
Midnighter turns his head to press his mouth against the curve of Andrew's cheekbone. It's a question, one Andrew understands as perfectly as he understands Grayson's. Andrew reaches out with his free hand and takes one of Grayson's in it. He waits for M to cover their hands with his, and then says, "I think we might have to insist on two, really."