Summary:Steph's car breaks down. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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It was an hour later than she wanted it to be. Stephanie had gotten a full eight blocks from campus before her check engine light flickered and then the car she'd been keeping running died completely. She managed to coast half into the mouth of an alley so she was out of the way of traffic. Annoyed, she pulled her hair up into a sloppy pony tail as she pulled open the hood and leaned over to see if she could figure out what raptured THIS time. Oil pan seemed fine, fuel line was okay…. The cooling system? That's explain the steam but…
New York was still clinging to the last of the summertime heat and Stephanie rolls up straight to shrug out of her jacket. It gets tossed over the lip of the hood as she scowls at the machinery in front of her, as if glaring would magically make it tell her what's wrong.
It's later than she'd wanted it to be, and later than Tim had been expecting her. So he comes looking, and while she's elbow-deep in the car, his sleek red car pulls up alongside, parking in the alleyway. How did he even know where to find her? Would he even tell her if she asked?
"Hey, good-lookin'," he calls as he leaves the car. "Need a r—" He doesn't get all the way through the tacky line, before he sees what she's in the middle of. He rolls up his sleeves and comes up close beside her. "Jeez. Okay, let's have a look at the ignition." He guesses she's already checked the oil pan and fuel line, and she's not actively working on those, so it couldn't be them.
Of course he wouldn't tell her! He'd probably just smile that nerdy smile of hers and she'd roll her eyes and grumble about him being a stalker…. and then she'd check ALL her things for a tracker he might have left. 'Helps to keep your skills sharp.' Steph hears the car, that low key purr of a powerful engine, and she pulls in a breath to tell the would be hero that she doesnt' need help, thanks. Tim even starts of with That Line and Steph's teeth grits before she can place his voice. Blue-green eyes lift up as he cuts himself off and starts rolling up his sleeves.
Her cheeks flush brightly as it he's looking in at HER engine. It's scraps and duct tape, too far past its prime but somehow was still running. Right up until it wasn't. A hand comes up onto the hood with the intention of pulling it closed so he won't see, but the kick stand and him inserting himself at her side make that impossible.
"Um… Sure. Though, it should be fine. I refurbed it last week when I recased half of the spark plugs," she says, voice low and soft and if she had been wearing her cowl would have sounded too much like her work voice.
Tim is trained in kinesics, vocal analysis, and various other brands of social perception. He knows how to notice these things… when he's paying attention to them. Right now, he has a mechanical puzzle in front of him, and his mind latches onto it like a puppy latches onto a chew toy. He frowns on seeing the assemblage of duct tape, and with the hood not closing, he gets his hands in to dig through. "With the battery taped in like that, it's hard to check it for corrosion—"
But then he notices the tone in her voice, and his gaze comes up to look into her face. He chews his lower lip. "Steph… I'm sorry for barging in like that. But… are you okay? Really, honestly?" And now he is turning those honed eyes purely on her.
When he turns his gaze on her, she's just a second too slow in masking the tension of having him see just how vulnerable she is. And yet, having him there, under her armor like that is in its own way calming.
"Yeah. Just.. I'm frazzled, is all. Fourth time this month I've had to monkey with this thing. Normally, it's not a problem, because I can leave early enough and it's not …it's fixable, it's small and simple. But… I can't even see what's wrong this time and-" there's the first crack in her voice, which she turns into a cough. Her hand comes from the hood to wave in front of her face. It's normally a good ploy, distracting enough to suggest the plume from the engine caused the crack and the cough.
While she speaks, he leaves the engine and walks up to her, his steps slow but steady. Even before the crack widens into a cough, he's there. And then his arms slip tight around her, so that he couldn't even see her waving the 'smoke' away. She gets a hug, and she gets to hide her face.
"You shouldn't have to do that," he says. "You shouldn't have to… to kitbash it like that. To hold it together with duct tape and dreams. You're one of us, and we help our own. You know that, right?"
It's like he can read her mind and know what she needs before she does. The wave of smoke turns into her hand clutching at the back of his shoulder and her other hand clings to his shirt near his ribs. She hides her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in and trying to steady herself.
"I .. I don't want to be a burden or a bother to you guys. You all didn't even ASK for me. I just… barged my way in"
It's a simple method for both offering her support, and allowing her to keep her pride by not letting him see her cry, see her face lose composure. And his hand runs steadily along her back, sometimes brushing through her hair, sometimes just scratching over her spine. "You want to know something, Steph? That's exactly what I did. I saw how Bruce was acting after he lost Jason, I saw how he needed someone, and I just… went right in and demanded to be a part of it. To take his place, if not his name." Batman needs a Robin, always. "And you're not a burden. We're all stronger together. Jeez, do you realise how many headaches this whole Family would avoid if everyone forgot the 'brooding loner' playbook?"
That he'd give her a haven is just one of the many reasons Steph fell for Tim in the first place. So, she leans into the comfort he offers, the sniffles small and delicate against his collar.
"Really?" she asks, the half giggle a little wet sounding. She can't help it. That Tim shoved his way in and then comments on the PLAYBOOK is just amusing.
"I just… How do you even? I mean…. " How do you ask for help seems to be what she's hinting at.
Tim hmms. His hand stops its stroking, laying curled against her back. "Depends on the situation. Like sometimes I might go on the comms and say, 'hey, I've uncovered a plot to assassinate all these people and I can't be everywhere at once, how do you want to divvy it up?' But…" He kisses the top of her head. "Coming out and saying 'I could use some help' is a good start. I know, I know, you worry that they might decide that means you 'don't belong', but… I think they'd respect you knowing your limits. We can't all do everything. I mean, every R has had a different specialty." Dick is acrobatics. Jason is violence. Tim is investigation. Damian is… different violence. More stabbing than beating or shooting.
Tim starts with explaining how to call in back up and Stephanie huffs. She KNOWS how to do THAT. It's the admitting that she's just not… How to put this delicately? They're loaded. She's not. It's intimidating some times. She didn't even have the family funds to join the cheer squad like she had wanted to.
"Yeah. But I'm not like you boys, at all, I… Nevermind. Thanks. Give me a lift, maybe? And I'll… get this junker from.. impound… later…"
Tim brings a hand up to her chin. This time, he nudges her to look him in the eye, not giving her the same escape as before. "And…" Gosh, now he is feeling awkward about how to approach it, even with the time he's had to think it over. "…financial limitations are limitations, too. Skills aren't the only thing important to the Family. There's resources, and you're just as welcome to those resources as anyone else." Ever since he'd seen that she's living in the dorms, he had been… looking into things. Why yes, he absolutely is a stalker.
What little eyeliner she wears for the daytime is smudged slightly. Her lips, lacking their usual gloss, press as her brows pull together.
"I don't want to seem like I'm just taking and taking. I want to earn my keep, not be a drain. I already can't afford to replace all the things I know I consume each shift," she counters. Yes. He's a stalker, having learned that while her mother's father had set up a trust fund for her before he passed away, her criminal father had managed to get into it and drain it for his own uses. What little was left in the family's name when she started her campaign to put her father away got depleted by her mother's drug binging, the only way the woman had to cope with what her husband was doing and just how distant her otherwise cheerful daughter had been growing. The house they had, that was paid for by her grandfather, was sold off before Stephanie graduated high school, once again her mother trying to cover things. It was lucky that Stephanie had managed to get into that private school with it's dorms then too. A hand made vigilante's outfit and a craft store mask, out of a private school dorm room.
Tim presses a kiss to those pursed lips, and another on the furrow between her tightened brows. "You don't have to replace it. They're there for you, for all of us to use. You pay enough back with the work you do, with joining us in our crusades. Every one of us needs every other. I know it's hard, I know it's the very last thing you're used to with your… family history, but that's how this Family works. Everyone needs to take a little, and we all give back in the same ways. With the work we do. The work you do, the same as us." He lets go of her chin, his hand returning to her hair. "Do you want me there, helping talk to them?"
Her eyes flutter at the kisses, and her cheeks color delicately.
"Yes. I … I really think I do. I mean. If you're okay with that? God, I feel like a baby right now. I'm sorry."
Tim wraps his arms crushing-tight around her again. "I'd be just as much of a baby trying to figure my way around a sewing machine. I'm still sure there's got to be a way to make the Red Robin costume look less goofy, but damned if I could ever figure it out." Another kiss, on top of her head. "We'll arrange things whenever you can make some time."
As Tim calms her, Stephanie leans into the tight embrace, enjoying the slight crush aginst her ribs. A giggle escapes her as she wiggles enough to tilt her chin up to peer at him again. While her eyes a slightly red, they are clearer than before.
"Do you want me to help you redesign it?" she offers. Because while she's not the detective he is, she is sort of studying this sort of thing.
Hearing that giggle, seeing that clarity in her eyes… it makes him smile, makes him relax. he gives her a squeeze. "I would love that. I just don't have the eye for it. For any kind of design. All through my degree, I kept on getting marked down for ugly, barebones interface, even while I got top marks for function."
"You? Not having an eyes for aesthetics? I don't know," she comments, head tilting lightly. She smiles more brightly at the squeeze, leaning into Tim's chest a bit more before stepping back and brushing her cheeks dry. It leaves a bit of engine yuck under one eye.
"We'll talk about some things on the way in tonight and I'll draw something after work?" she offers, ready to just not think about the junker and her small break down.
Tim pouts at the comment, giving her an 'I know you're teasing me' kind of squint. "One sec," he grabs a tissue from his pocket to brush across her eye, cleaning off the engine gunk. "And yes. About the only pretty thing I do have a clear eye and appreciation for is you." Yes, he went there. And now, arm still around her, he leads her towards his red car. "Sounds good. I'll drive." Because dang it, it's his car.
Of course Steph's teasing him! She giggles until he wipes at her face AND complements her. She blushes as he leads her from her car. There isn't anything personal in there, so she leaves it without a second thought.
"Of course you're going to drive," she giggles, letting him settle her into the passenger seat.