Chapter Text
Of course, Tim got stuck with the brat. It was supposed to be a simple mission like most disastrous ones were. Tim and Damian were tracking Mr. Freeze covertly in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, trying to find out why he was buying certain tech and what he was planning.
Yet one misstep, one stupid accident, by Tim caused Freeze to discover them. Covert turned overt as they fought Freeze. Tim and Damian attacked and it seemed like they were winning as they pushed Freeze further into his base and forced him to be on the defense. It wasn’t until they were in a large empty room with Mr. Freeze smirking did Tim realize he fucked up.
“Have fun freezing to your deaths, little birdies,” he announced gleefully as he stepped out of the room. Damian rushed at the door but it slammed in his face. His fist pounded against it. A sharp exhale escaped the demon's mouth when it wouldn't budge, and his head slowly turned to Tim.
“Drake,” he hissed.
Here we go, Tim mused.
“This is your fault,” Damian said, a scowl on his lips as he stalked towards Tim and shoved a finger in Tim’s face.
Tim opened his mouth to defend himself when a loud hiss came from around them. They both looked up.
“Gas? Not Freeze’s style,” Damian muttered as he reached for his rebreather.
“It’s not gas. It’s cold air. It's blowing in here to drop the temperature of the room,” Tim observed, already feeling a chill in the air. “We gotta get out of here.”
He walked over to the door and started feeling around for something, anything to work with.
“Tt. That’s obvious, Drake.” Tim could practically see the demon spawn roll his eyes behind his back.
“We need to get out of here before the temperature drops and we both die from hypothermia,” Tim corrected with a bite. Tim would rather be trapped in this room with literally any other sibling. At least they would try to help or wouldn’t take this opportunity to leave Tim to die and frame it as an accident. Well, maybe Jason would.
“Oracle?” Tim tried the comms. Static met him. Perfect. They were on their own. Along the door was a control box. Tim opened it and looked at the wiring. Alright, Tim, think. If you remove the red wire, the replace it with the green wire, then-
Damian huffed loudly. Tim tried to ignore him and kept his attention on the control box. He grabbed the wires, running through all the steps in his head. It shouldn’t take him too long, although with the air getting colder and colder he could already feel himself shivering. He would have to be quick or his fingers would get too numb to continue moving the wires.
Damian cleared his throat behind him. “Do you require assistance, Drake?”
“No, Robin.”
Damian had been surprisingly quiet for him. No insults or death threats. There was no way Tim was going to take it for granted, so he focused on the box that was their key to escaping. He didn’t know how long he was working on it, but he noticed he frustratingly dropped wires as his fingers shook. The temperature kept dropping until Tim was shivering quite violently and had to resist the urge to wrap his arms around himself. The cold air wrapped around him like a vice and refused to let go.
Move faster, Tim, you are not dying by Freeze’s hand. Jason would never stop making fun of you. He would say your death was weak and embarrassingly compared to his brutal death, Tim motivated himself.
“Dr-Drake."
“Robin, I’m working on it,” he tried to answer it steadily.
“T-timothy.”
That made him turn around. The boy in question had wrapped his cape around himself and was tucked into a small ball, shivering worse than Tim and teeth chattering. He was going to freeze before Tim was done.
“Shit, come here, Damian,” Tim requested as he held out his hand for the younger one.
Damian stood up shakily, arms staying wrapped around himself. “What do you require of me?”
Tim grabbed Damian’s elbow and yanked him onto his lap.
“Drake-”
Tim pulled Damian as close to his chest as possible and breathed heavily through the cold leeching into his bones. “Hush. You are gonna get hypothermia. For once don’t argue with me.”
Damian said nothing, only hesitantly pulled his arms between his body and Tim’s. Tim unclipped the cape from his back, despite it being a layer protecting him from the biting cold, and wrapped it around Damian’s body. Tim spared him one last glance before turning his attention to the door. He was so close. So fucking close.
“Talk to me, Dami,” Tim ordered. Stay calm, Tim. You're okay. Damian’s okay. You're both gonna be fine. You’re gonna make it out of here.
“Bout what?” Damian asked quietly.
“Anything.”
Damian was silent for a moment. “We are working on landscapes in art class.”
Tim hummed absently in response. It was hard to stay focused when he had his hypothermic little brother in his lap, shivering so much that it made Tim's own arms unsteady as he reached around the boy for the panel. Plus he was trying to ignore his own hypothermia symptoms, but the ache from the cold left him trying, praying, to get his hands to move as he wanted them.
Damian’s voice became slower and less frequent. It stopped abruptly. Tim didn’t look down. He couldn’t. The door was almost open, just a couple more wires. He pushed through his fatigue and sore muscles.
“Damian?”
No response.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck.
No more dead Robins. He couldn't- he couldn't let a Robin die on his watch. He had heard Jason mumble it whenever Tim or Damian got hurt. No more dead Robins. No more little boys dying terrible deaths they didn't deserve. Jason looked haunted, and angry, and broken whenever he said it. Tim started saying it too, although never out loud. He had heard Dick say it before to when Damian had gotten so banged up he was in a medically-induced coma for two days. No more dead Robins. Tim was not going to be the one to break that promise, that pact. He would get Damian out of here alive, whatever it takes.
“Robin, report.”
Damian groaned and pushed himself further into Tim’s chest. “Cold... tired.”
Tim held onto the relief fluttering in his chest. Damian’s okay.
“I know, Dami, I know. Hold on.”
The last wire, and done! Tim looked up wildly right as the door opened in front of him.
Yes!
“Okay, demon, let’s get outta here. Hold onto me.” Tim’s words slurred but it didn’t really matter. Damian wasn’t listening anyway. He attempted to stand, despite the numbness haunting his muscles and the small body he was carrying.
He got to his feet and staggered out the door, holding Damian tightly to his chest. The kid was a dead weight, barely clinging to Tim and breath shallow, but thankfully he was still shivering. Tim tried his comm again. “Oracle?”
“Red Robin, is that you?”
He almost cried in relief. Stay on task, Red, Damian’s not in the clear yet.
“Yea, I need immediate evac. Robin and I are suffering mild to moderate hypothermia. We got trapped while fighting Freeze.”
“Tracking your location now. Evac on the way. About 2 hours out.”
Tim whined as the panic swirled inside him. “You can’t get here any faster? Robin is in danger of permanent damage if we don’t get him warm, immediately.”
All of Tim's words clumped together as he fought to stay present in his conversation. It was so hard though. He just wanted to curl up and rest.
Oracle sighed, sounding like she was in pain. “Red, we are going as fast as we can. Believe me, if we could get to you faster we would.”
Tim let a frustrated growl slip out of him. “Okay, we’ll be waiting. Red out.”
2 hours. Alright, Tim could do this. The rest of the base was abandoned. Tim ditched any plan he may have had for leaving. It was going to be night soon, and with the state they were in, they wouldn’t make it 10 feet out the door. Better to stay in the base for shelter. Unfortunately, the rest of the base was only a few degrees warmer than the room they were previously trapped in, no doubt thanks to Mr. Freeze wanting to ensure their deaths if they somehow escaped. Tim walked into the warmest room he could find in his half coherent state.
He gently set Damian on the floor and reached into his utility belt. Damian whimpered as a gust of wind blew through the room. “T-ti-timothy.”
“I’m just starting a fire, Dami, don’t worry. I’ll be back in a sec,” Tim soothed as he ran a hand through Damian’s hair. Tim pulled a small tinder and pulled a match out of his belt. Thank god for Bruce’s super anxiety. He tried to light it but his hands were shaking so intensely that he kept dropping the stupid match through his fingers. Damian was dying and he couldn’t even light the fire. Damian was so young, younger than Jason. No more dead Robins. He let the thought push him and, after his fourth attempt, he finally got the fire going.
It was getting harder to focus, to remember what he was doing, but he had to try. No more dead Robins. Damian was going to make it out alive. Damian was going to be okay.
He quickly stripped out of the top of his uniform and got on his knees next to Damian. He made sure the capes were still tightly wrapped around Damian before he cut his uniform into stripes, pulled Damian’s gloves off, causing the boy to protest as much as he could, and started wrapping Damian’s fingers with the fabric. His teeth chattered violently as he fumbled with his utility belt before pulling out a roll of medical tape. He wrapped Damian’s cloth-covered fingers with medical tape then took off his own gloves and shoved Damian’s hands into them. Damian's hands wouldn’t fit into his own gloves with the amount of wrapping on his fingers. Hopefully, his wrappings on Damian would insulate some heat.
He repeated the process for Damain’s toes and feet, the boy didn’t say a word, not protesting, just watching Tim through half-lid eyes. It was the only indication Tim got that Damian was still coherent. Tim huffed as he pulled off his own boots and stuck them on Damian's feet, leaving his dead toes against the cold floor. Tim panted heavily when he was done, taking a second to wrap his arms around his bare chest and groan lowly to express his pain. He could barely think through the haze or ignore the excruciating agony his body was enduring.
“This’s gonna be ‘lil cold, Dami,'' Tim whispered. He pulled the capes off of Damian’s shoulder, laying them on the floor instead, and used whatever little strength he had to gently pull the boy to a sitting position and tore off the top of his uniform, leaving them both shirtless. Not for the first time, Tim thought adrenaline and fear was one hell of a drug.
“Timothy,” Damian whined, honest to God, whined. Tim had seen him break a bone with less noise.
“I know, hold on.”
Tim collapsed onto the floor next to Damian, not having the strength to gently lower himself, and pulled his brother into his arms. Tim heaved out a breath before rolling over to make sure Damian’s back was against the heat of the fire.
“You’re gonna be okay, I’ll keep you safe,” Tim whispered hazily into Damian’s hair, rubbing his hands down Damian’s back, forcing some heat into his small body. He tried to keep the pain and fear out of his voice. He was in so much pain. All he had on were the thin pants of his uniform, his bare back exposed to the chill of the room, his feet and hands also exposed without anything to keep them warm. He couldn’t really feel them though so it didn’t bother him as much. Damian didn’t say anything, but he hid his face in Tim’s shoulder.
Damian tried to wrap his arms around Tim, but the older made a disapproving sound.
“Warmer between,” he slurred and pulled Damian tighter against him so the boy’s arms were trapped between their bodies.
Thankfully, the fire and cuddling seemed to be helping Damian, if only a little bit, but Tim’s condition was unfortunately stagnant or worsening. He couldn’t keep track. Not that he was complaining, he would much rather be the colder one than Damian, despite the demon spawn claiming to hate him.
After hour one, when the fire started to die and the night was fully set, it was getting harder to keep his eyes open. The temperature had dropped at least 5 or 10 degrees in the last hour. Damian was still shaking in his arms, but Tim’s shivering had weirdly lessened.
“Drake?”
Tim hummed absently in response, he hoped his fingers were still moving across Damian’s back. He couldn’t feel them. Or his toes for that matter, or his legs. The thought made him giggle, but it sounds more like a hitched breath.
“Thank you.”
Tim smiled against Damian’s forehead.
“ ‘m your,” Tim thought for a minute. Why was Damian thanking him again? What did he do? Oh, he was keeping him warm. “-big brother,” Tim slurred. He was tired, and now that Damian was safe, or safer, maybe he could rest. He closed his eyes.
“Drake?”
The pull of sleep was too great to resist.
“Timothy?”
That was the last thing Tim remembered.