Disclaimers: So very not mine.

Spoilers: As ever, that vague reference to JLA #108.

Summary: "What do you want from me?"

Ratings Note/Warnings: Sexual content, most of which
may very well be disturbing to some readers.

Author's Note: Another in the CSA: Gotham series.
Won't make sense without the others.

Acknowledgments: To Mary and Jack for audiencing,
encouragement, and helpful suggestions.
 
 

Robin's pretty much exactly as smooth as he thinks he is.

There's a voice in her head sometimes -- a lot of
sometimes -- which says "don't trust him" or just "watch
your back with him" but it's her Dad's voice, and she hadn't
even had tits yet before she figured out that the biggest
reason why Dad hated smart people was because he wasn't.

She figured out a lot of things before she had tits, really.

But... yeah. He's smooth. And she *doesn't* trust him --
not entirely -- but that's just because of the stuff in her
head that won't let her.

Robin calls it programming, like maybe her Dad and his
fucking *buddies* had made plans and charts or
something. It should be stupid -- the only reason Owl-Man
had even *noticed* the stupid punk her Dad was was
because he'd been enough of a dumbass to try to rob a
place under his protection -- but it's not.

Robin makes it sound right.

Well... *that* makes it sound like she gets it, which she
does, but she also really doesn't.

Robin's been to school and stuff, and doesn't need pictures
to understand something in a book. He's careful, but she
only gets about half of what he says, sometimes.

It's better when he doesn't talk much at all.

But -- yeah. He makes it sound right. He makes it all make
*sense*. Because there *is* stuff (in) about her that was
just *put* there by her Dad and his even-fucking-stupider
minions.

She still hasn't killed "Uncle" Davey, yet. Not because she
can't -- she probably could've gotten to him just by
smiling enough to make him lose his damned focus -- but
because "Uncle" Davey is a flat-out retard.

Just a really big one.

And if she told Robin his name, and the stuff he'd done, the
guy would be trussed-up somewhere before she could
blink. Beat up and waiting.

Robin doesn't understand everything, though. So she
doesn't.

She isn't sure if he knows why.

Tonight she's in her room -- it's actually the whole
basement, but since it's really just one really big room, it's
a room.

The sun's already down, but she knows Robin likes her to
wait for him. She knows she's supposed to be a secret --
*his* secret -- and that kind of makes her itch a little, kind
of pisses her off, but...

Well, *she's* not stupid.

The only people who operate in Gotham without getting
dead belong to Owl-Man, and she's never so much as
seen the guy up close. Robin says that'll happen soon
enough, and the way he says it makes her think of "Uncle"
Davey for other reasons.

It's...

She gets it.

In a lot of ways, it's just another something that's so unfair
she wants to wake her Dad up and kick him to death all
over again. Because *Robin's* not all fucked-up about Dad-
stuff the way she is.

Sometimes Robin wants her so bad -- wants to *touch* her
so bad -- that she can almost *smell* it. She can totally see
it on him, feel it like all those times in the beginning before
she got wise to the fact that it was her smiles and her clean
hair and her *pretty* clothes which made Uncle "Davey"
get all hot for her underaged ass.

She can feel it. It makes her want to hurt Robin, even
though she's pretty sure the only way to do that would
involve words she doesn't know, yet, and she hates that
part of herself, because she totally gets it, too.

Robin likes her, like a boyfriend. Robin wants to touch her
because she makes him feel all good inside or something,
not because he wants another way to hurt her.

It's a lot like "Uncle" Davey, really.

She hears her Mom moving way before she makes it to the
stairs. It's something she's always been able to do -- when
you live in a house where people sometimes got
themselves shot, you figure *out* how to feel things -- but
Robin's given her words for it, and, like ways to use it so
much on the street that it's almost fucking *deadly* that
her Mom's just her Mom, and so just staggering downstairs
to see where Steph stashed her pills.

Her Mom doesn't notice *her* until she's halfway down the
stairs, and then she's all guilty looks and cringing body,
and Steph fucking hates that she looks so much like her
Dad.

So she doesn't say anything -- fucking *let* her come down
here and look around for her stash. It's not like she won't
clean up everything all neat again after. She's too fucking
scared to do anything but.

But she doesn't.

Just gives Steph this stupid little wave and says something
useless about dinner and Steph doesn't punch her or
anything else.

When she leaves, Steph pulls the costume -- uniform -- Tim
had made for her out from under the bed and strokes it, a
little.

It's still only ten, and Tim'll be doing all the things he has
to do where he leaves people alive, so it's too early to put
it on.

She puts it on anyway.

The tights make her feel really exposed. The top makes her
feel invulnerable. The cowl makes her...

She doesn't know. Sometimes she loves it so much she just
has to stand in front of mirror and touch her face until her
fingers are a little raw from all the leather and armor.

Sometimes she can't breathe in it.

The boots are the best, because they have about six
different weapons and they make her two inches taller and
eight point five pounds heavier.

Approximately, says the Robin in her head, and Steph
smiles against the padding on her face.

Sometimes when she masturbates she doesn't even bother
to take anything off, just rubs herself hard enough through
the material that she can feel it.

Sometimes, when Robin comes over and Steph's not
impatient to *roll*, she opens the box where she keeps
her used suit -- who cleans them for him? Does he do it
himself? -- and just kind of waits for Robin to have his
little moment with the thing.

She can't really watch him do it, and he always blushes so
hard afterward that he just looks like some freaky little kid,
and that always makes it better enough to kiss him.

Especially since his face usually smells like her, right about
then. She likes that.

She gets about another hour before Robin shows up,
pushing her little window open with his boots and then
sliding in all sleek and snake-y.

She likes it when he does that, because it's just not the
way normal people move, at all.

He's told her that everyone who works with Owl-Man is a
human, technically, and being around him lets her see
how that works.

"Spoiler," he says, and takes one step closer. Just one.

Upstairs, Mom's prowling around like some fucked-up cat
in, like, a chemical heat.

He raises an eyebrow, and she shrugs.

"What are we doing tonight, Robin?"

"Busting up a chop shop."

He doesn't say 'unauthorized by Owl-Man' because he
doesn't have to. But... "I get to play?"

Just like that, he's smiling. With Robin, it's something that
always happens suddenly, out of nowhere. Like a light
switch clicking on or something. He says, "I'm going to
make sure no one gets out. You're going to play. We're
going to blow it sky-high."

Since she's been with Robin, she's personally killed eight
people. She doesn't know if she's supposed to count or
not. She hasn't asked how many Robin's done, but it has to
be much more. Sometimes she thinks Robin *looks* for
people they can kill on the nights he goes out with her. Like
maybe she wouldn't go out with him if she couldn't.

"What are you thinking?" He's still smiling.

Steph shrugs. "You."

And now his head's cocked to the side. *Click*. "How so?"

If she hadn't seen him do that with, well, everyone, she'd
think he was treating her like an idiot. Like she wouldn't
be able to see what he's thinking and feeling without, like,
help.

But it's just because he's fucked-up, a little, is all.

"Just wondering... you know. What you've done. As Robin."

"A lot of killing. Several dozen beatings." He pauses, and
Steph thinks he's thinking. "Bookkeeping, sometimes."

Steph nods. It always seemed like a really *good* operator
would have to have a brain or two somewhere, even if
they were already smart themselves. "Did the others do it,
too? The other Robins."

Another smile. *Click*. "It's my understanding that the first
did more... liaison work than I did. He was quite popular
with the rest of the CSA."

It kind of makes him sound like a really good whore or
something. She thinks about asking for more details, but
she isn't sure she wants to know. "And the second?"

"Enforcer."

"Like you?"

"No," he says, still smiling. "I've been assured he wasn't
very much like me at all."

Steph nods.

"Why --"

"How'd they die?"

Robin shrugs. Click. And then he smiles again. "Owl-Man's
enemies took the first's popularity -- and public image --
as proof that he was... a weakness. The second had a habit
of not waiting for Owl-Man for backup."

Steph pulls a face behind her cowl, and wonders if Robin
knows it's there.

"Why do you want to know about them, Spoiler?"

She's not sure, actually. It's just... kind of...

Sometimes she feels like being with Robin is maybe
dangerous or something, but that's really obvious and
also not really *it*. She's...

"I'm not sure," she says, and after a moment Robin nods
at her. Once.

"I was... aware of their existence, but I never met them.
Are you trying to decide how I'll die?"

Well... *no*, actually. But... She shrugs.

Smile. "I'm almost certain it will be Owl-Man who does it.
Or tries."

And he wonders why she keeps comparing the guy to her
Dad. Steph shakes her head, smiling behind the mask. She
knows he can feel it, because he takes two whole steps
closer.

"Spoiler. Your scent is very strong here. I can..." He
straightens, click, and brushes his hands over his tunic like
he needs to clean them, click, and cocks his head toward
the window.

"What do you want from me? Like, other than the sex and
stuff."

He doesn't say anything or move, even a little. He's still for
so long that Steph wants to take it back, wants to rub at
her face to make sure the cowl is there, even though it's
just something else he's given her.

She hates being scared, though, so she focuses on getting
angry before --

"I don't know," he says, and his voice is kind of weird.
Kind of dreamy or something. "I'm not... I don't...
Spoiler."

And she can't really be angry. Not with Robin. "C'mon,
chill out. If you stroke out I won't get to play tonight."

"That would be terrible," he says, and he's not smiling at
all. Just... looking at her.

Sometimes Robin makes her feel like she's not really
human at all, like she's even less of a regular person than
he is, or more maybe.

Like she's *important*, so important that she *needs* to
have people to play with and things that blow sky-high
and also pretty clothes. Uniforms. Like maybe when he
goes back to base or whatever and she's rubbing herself
off through the uniform back here in her basement, he's
going to be thinking of her for hours and hours, instead
of whatever mission or bookkeeping he has to do.

Or maybe right alongside it. Owl-Man's books and her
tits, larger than life and more important than death.

It feels good, but in that funny way, like maybe the tights
on her suit are giving her camel-toe or making her look
like a slut. Like the cowl is gonna choke her or something,
even if all it's doing is protecting her from Gotham and
bullets and stuff. It feels good in a way that she isn't sure
is *supposed* to feel good at all.

She doesn't know.

And Robin's hands are curled into fists inside his gloves --
gauntlets -- and she wants to get out of here where she'll
just be another black spot in the night.

But Robin needs something, so...

She points under the bed, where the uniform she wore the
other night still is.

"Are. You sure?"

Steph licks her lips under the cowl. "Show me your dick
first."

He does, covering everything but the slick-shiny head with
his hand until she nods, and then she gets to see the rest.
Slowly. The way he does this -- not stroking so much as
*showing*, even though he's as hard as she's ever seen
him -- hurts her inside so badly that she can't breathe at
all, but it's the good kind of hurt.

It's the hurt that's supposed to be there, for this.

She squeezes her eyes shut behind the cowl and brings
her hands to her breasts, pushing them up as far as they'll
go with the armored bra. Offering.

"Spoiler," he says, and his voice is low and hungry and
he's gonna touch her, she knows he's gonna touch her,
and he knows too much for her to fight him, he's too
good, and her mother is still upstairs and probably
already high and he's so big, he's so strong, he's so
big --

The rustling sound snaps her out of it, just like Robin
probably knew it would. He didn't *have* to make a
sound just to get her suit out.

He did it to let her know it was over, and that it was safe
for her to open her eyes.

And all he's looking at, right now, is the Spoiler suit
spilling over his lap like a big black stain.

Steph catches her breath, doing it slow and controlled
like Robin taught her, doing it quiet even though it takes
longer.

And then she goes to hang out by the washer and dryer,
and waits. It never takes very long.

Sometime tonight, she's going to kiss Tim just like he likes
it, pushing her tongue in and letting it stay there for long
enough for him to suck it. She'll hold both his hands while
he does it, and maybe also squeeze them.

She will.

And then she'll kiss him through the cowl.

Maybe twice.

Maybe.

end.