Robin the Cradle

A/N: This fic takes place in modern New Earth continuity, in which Tim Drake is over 18.

Reed looked like he was getting an eye exam—the apparatus mounted on his head, double-barreled, either reel of eyepieces spinning independently while headphones... originating from

below

, their earpieces jutting up from a chest-mounted 'backpack'... played discordant notes that Sue could still hear outside their radius, like when Valerie played her music too loud. It was still nothing compared to the noise of the 'eye exam' whirring and buzzing, so Sue forgave Reed for not immediately responding to her. And forgave him again, and forgave him again...

"Reed! REED!" A little love tap with a force field bubble pushed his chest inward. As it rubber-banded back into place, he pulled out the headphones.

"Something the matter, dear?"

"The field trip is almost here."

"Ah, yes." Reed looked around curiously, taking the opportunity to pop one of the little mints that passed for an hour of sleep. "They're not expecting to talk to me? I recall you agreed to do the meet-and-greet—kids like you better anyway..."

"Especially the boys," Sue needled, though Reed, typically, was immune to it.

"No, no, I'm told you're a great inspiration to women as well, both as a scientist and as a superhero. Even as a fashion figure, I'm told. Isn't that something?"

"Yes, Reed."

Almost automatically, Reed moved to replace the headphones before stopping himself. "So, what is it you need?"

"Well, since there will be young children around, you aren't planning anything particularly dangerous? Aren't anticipating any surprise attacks?"

"By their very nature, Sue, a surprise attack could not be anticipated. But all our usual 'rogue's gallery' are in various levels of sociable rehabilitation. Of course, this being New York and considering our chosen lifestyle, there are a great deal of troubled individuals of great power who could have various reasons to resort to violence against us. But even among the pejoratively-titled 'supervillains,' I doubt there are many who would lower themselves to endangering children! It really would be quite rakish, don't you think?"

"Yes, Reed. So all clear?"

"All clear. Just scanning for errant Pym Particles. Quite boring, by our standards, but relaxing in a bit of a Buddhist way. I must write Dr. Strange to see if he'd consider joining me, if I ever again feel the need to catalogue such a perturbance."

Sue nodded. "You know... they're not here yet."

"Not here yet?"

"We could fool around a little..."

"But Sue, surely they will be here at any moment—"

"So we'd rush. Run the risk of getting caught in the act. Kinda exciting, wouldn't you say?"

"I must disagree with you there, dear—it sounds quite foolhardy. And ill-conceived, as the drift of quantum realms in the intervening time of even a 'quickie' would render the afternoon's work useless. No, I should definitely finish up here first. And then the Venus IV probe will be returning, and I really must go over its findings if I'm at all to keep up with the rarified conversation of Doctors Stark and Banner.

But then

we can certainly—wait, wait, I do believe one of those crafty young mutants at the Xavier Institute has asked very graciously that I look over his science project, and the X-Jet will be delivering it this evening. I certainly wouldn't want to—"

"Forget it," Sue growled. "It can wait."

"I'm so glad you understand. And don't worry—I should have your massager fixed shortly!"

***

Tim walked through the lobby of the Baxter Building, amazed at the almost fully robotic staff, and the holographic tour guide who interacted smartly with their teacher. After winning a nationwide lottery, his class had been chosen to participate in the first interdimensional field trip with Earth-616, in hopes of bettering relations and stopping the heroes of their two Earths from getting into fisticuffs whenever they met.

It really was quite interesting. Most of the alternate Earths Tim had heard of had at least

some

version of Batman, of Superman, of Wonder Woman, but this Earth and apparently many others like it had an entirely different set of heroes. They didn't even have a Gotham City or Metropolis. It was as weird as an Earth that didn't have superheroes at all...

"This place is crazy," Ives said next to him. "All this craziness for just four people. You think the Watchtower is anything like this?"

"Apparently they have to be mostly robots," Tim said, flipping through a pamphlet. "The place keeps getting attacked. They have business guys to handle a lot of the grunt work, but they're in an office building in midtown. This place is pure science."

"Not entirely science," a blonde woman said, coming out of the elevator they'd been waiting at as the VICKI hologram gave her history of the Fantastic Four. "The Future Foundation is also on the cutting-edge of 'metahuman'—as you would put it—education and training."

Pretty much the entire class gaped at her, Tim included. She was gorgeous, special in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on. She wasn't as stacked as Power Girl or Starfire, or some of the other girls Ives could quite loudly fantasize about, but she had the same sort of... modesty as Wonder Woman, the sunny innocence of Starfire, a graceful maturity to her that made Tim feel like a fumbling adolescent again, despite how often he'd dated.

The contrast of her open smile with her finely chiseled face, the puckish little bit of mischief girlishly lingering in her eyes and flighty gestures, the intriguing imperfection of her pug nose and cherubic cheeks. Her jumpsuit was tight, in the tradition of both their worlds' superheroes, but temptingly

not tight enough.

Her hair was fashionably cut, with a sassy flip to its medium length, and through the obscuring blue material of her clothing her body was wide-hipped and high-breasted, the folds of the costume stretching with her dancer's stride to give new insight into her body with each motion. Nothing was shown, but the way it was

not

shown had the torturous censorship of a feather dance.

"And of course," Sue Storm said with a wry grin, "we do run a superhero team out of this joint. The Fantastic Four have been in operation for—oof." She gave the date of their inception and it wasn't

that

long ago. "In that time we've saved the city, saved the world, the universe, the multiverse, but most importantly, we've pioneered a number of scientific breakthroughs. Now, that's more my husband's field than mine, so instead I'll be giving you a simple introduction to us. A walk-through of our last little adventures before I hand you back to your tour; and a very good argument for getting good grades in science. You know, story time. Although we're frequently a proactive group, on this occasion we were simply enjoying some downtime when we were attacked by—"

The wall exploded. Klaxons wailed, after a sluggish moment like they'd been stunned by the suddenness of the attack. Tim could register all sorts of defenses coming online, forcefields coming up, turrets firing stun-rays—for an absurd moment he thought

This is one hell of a story time.

Even over the raining debris of the explosion and the stammering, discordant sound of the attacker coming through—all the Baxter Building's defenses sounded

in tune

, made from the same mind, but Tim could hear how the attacker's tech was just wrong for this place, his analytical mind already processing it as separate even from this strange environment—Tim heard Sue shouting. The teacher was trying to get them out the revolving doors in front, but Sue was saying no, they'd be even more vulnerable out there, and instead directing them to some kind of safe room. Then, even more suddenly, all that sound was strangely muted, a slight gloss to the world—but not to Tim himself, or his classmates.

There was a force field around them, Sue's, corralling them toward safety. It wasn't closed in front, of course, it only walled them into their escape route, keeping them from wandering off. Tim ran, outpacing the others easily, out of the lobby and into a hallway, lights built into the filaments of the walls and the threads of the carpet arrowing him toward one room in a number of offices. Security through obscurity. Once the directions went off and they were sealed in, it'd be a chore to find them.

Tim didn't go into the safe room, though. Even as the office door yawed open, revealing that the wooden material was just an overlay to an extra-thick vault door, Tim ran past it, around a corner, another corner, down a hallway, into a bathroom. He thought he'd slipped everyone, and there was no way Sue would be after him while she had the entire class to get to safety.

Pulling into the handicapped stall, Tim opened up his backpack, dislodging the secret compartment and pulling out his efficiently compressed Robin costume. He made his quick-change as fast as possible, the rudiments of his costume already on underneath his street clothes. He just had to throw on the armor over it...

"I swear to God, kid," Sue said, her voice sounding lovingly, good-naturedly

pissed

in that way only mothers could manage. "If you treat Black Canary this way..."

A force field popped open the door to the stall, catching Tim just as he was affixing his cape to his collar. He stared at her. She stared at him. Belatedly, Tim slapped his domino mask on.

"You'd better not be thinking of helping out," Sue said, her stunned silence broken by Tim's motion.

"Well, yeah. Don't they do that over here?"

"Not when someone's a

child

," Sue said with completely paternal distress. "I mean, at least not usually. Not anymore. You'll get your arm blown off!"

"I'll be fine. I work with Batman."

Sue blinked. "Who?"

"Batman. Batman and Robin. I'm Robin."

"What's your power?"

"Well, I... I have a lot of training and quite a few Birdarangs..."

Sue kneaded her temples. "Oh God, there's one in every class... okay, I'll take you to another safe room so no one has to see you dressed like that—"

"No, seriously, I'm a superhero!"

"You're wearing tights."

"You're wearing a catsuit!"

Sue put her hands on her hips. "You are this close to getting dragged around in an invisible box like the world's worst mime, kid."

Before one more word could be spoken, an explosion parted the room, Tim automatically rolling with it, overcompensating when a force field flew up to separate them from the blast. Tim made a silent, grudging thanks to Sue Storm. Without her, an explosion that close would've shot his hearing, had him in bruises for weeks.

"Sue Storm!" a voice roared—deep and sinister, the kind of guy who didn't just rob a bank or leave a body in an alley. "The time has come for you to be... the Bride of the Mandrill!" Tim looked on in some confusion as—swear to God—what appeared to be a humanoid, costumed

monkey

strode through the hole in the wall. "You will marry me!"

"Marry you..." Sue repeated gently, a dazed look in her eyes like she'd taken a chunk of debris to the head. Her lips softly parted, her tongue running over her teeth... Then she shook her head desperately. "Oh, you little pervert!"

The force field shielding them tightened like a fist—Tim only got a hint of its motion as it swatted aside the dust particles filling the air—and slammed into the Mandrill like a freight train. He went flying back.

"C'mon!" Sue said, grabbing Tim by the cape... the

cape!...

and pulling him out the door. Tim yanked his cape back, but ran beside Sue as she took off down the corridor.

"You know, our monkeys are much nicer..." Tim said.

"He's not a monkey, he's a mutant! He just looks like a monkey!"

"Oh, you know that guy? He's actually a

thing

around here?"

"He's not top-tier or anything. Certainly not as respectable as a man named after a bat..."

Tim skidded to a stop. "Wait, why are we running? It kinda seemed like we were winning?"

"The Mandrill's power is controlling women. If I stay around him too long, he could affect me. Best to steer clear and let my family take him, especially if I can lead him away from the kids."

"Or I could get him."

"Puberty first, crimefighting later."

"I've been through puberty!"

The Mandrill's voice rang up the corridor. "You will be mine, Sue Storm! Your husband has made your computers too advanced—they are subject to my power now!"

Defenses sprang up suddenly, turrets rising from the walls and floor. Sue put her force field up again, but Tim was quick on the draw. He put a Birdarang through a turret before it could fire or be blocked off by Sue's shield.

"VICKI, you bitch!" Sue cursed. Then, at Tim. "Sorry."

"God,

I've heard people curse before

—"

The turrets had recalibrated. They all fired at once, laser beams as thick as tree trunks pumping into Sue's force field. She winced, grunted, shakes ricocheting through her arms. "Husband... husband..." She took a deep breath, her breasts pressing strongly against her suit, nipples showing through the fabric. Then Sue pushed hard, her force field rippling outward like a tidal wave, an earthquake going through the entire corridor.

"We have to shut down the—"

"Wha?" Sue asked, coming to her senses sluggishly, crossing her arms over her erect nipples. "I'm here—"

"We have to shut down the security system," Tim said. "It's just helping Mandrill. Then we take him out ourselves."

"There's an emergency override," Sue said. "If I can get to a computer terminal—this way."

A horde of those weird, EPCOT-y robots were flying down the hallway. Tim guessed those things glowing at the ends of their arms were weapons. Sue ran, Tim ran, throwing mini-grenades behind them.

Another swarm ahead of them. Sue sent an arrowhead force field into their midst, scattering them. Tim's bo staff leapt into his hand, telescoping into both directions. He scythed its length in all directions, ripping apart the recovering HERBIEs as they ran by.

A blast door slammed shut ahead of them. Sue blocked it with a force field bubble, so tangible Tim could see it flicker.

"Go! Get to the terminal!" Sue cried. "Code Alpha-Alpha-Gamma-Beta-four-one-two-two!"

"Got it!" Tim said, diving through the gap.

"Of course you do," Sue muttered, letting the door shut. She could hear more HERBIEs coming, the scamper of the Mandrill on all fours behind them. She summoned up a force field, as thick and as spiky as she could make it, aiming it right at him...

Tim landed in a crouch on the other wide of the wall. More turrets, lasers flying. He was no Dick Grayson, but he ducked and dodged, not quite instinct, not quite knowledge of the mathematical probability of where a computer would direct offensive weaponry.

Heat flared on all sides of him—no pain, but the anticipation of pain almost as bitter, adrenaline and anxiety making him expect that any second he would be tagged. Tim whipped his bo staff around, lancing it out of his swirling cape and contorting limbs to shatter the turrets at their weak barrels.

An arriving HERBIE—its sudden blast. Tim blocked automatically with his staff. It saved his life, but cost him his weapon. He quick-drew a Birdarang, threw. Explosive round. It blew the HERBIE to pieces. Behind it, through the black smoke and spray of sparks, Tim could see a terminal.

He ran for it, throwing out prox-mines to the far ends of the corridor, tapping in the code as extra HERBIES came screaming in. The mines went off as Tim keyed in the last command. The last robot parted the smoke, lasers blaring. Tim darted away from the terminal as it went up, glass shattering, plastic melting. The HERBIE turned its weaponry on him. Tim went for his belt, the robot's weapon glowed. Then it simply clumped to the floor.

The code had been accepted.

Tim ran back the way he came, surprised at the mess of debris he'd made, just how many robots and how many turrets he'd destroyed. The blast door was still shut. Tim threw a melter ahead of him, heating the lead bulkhead to the point of molten slag, until a wide swath of it bent like melting rubber, opening up before him. He leapt through.

Sue was trembling, surrounded by a mountain of dismantled robots, holding up her force field. Not to keep anything out, but so that the effort could distract her from the Mandrill. He was standing outside her shield, focusing all his control into her. Still, Sue resisted.

"You will be mine," the Mandrill insisted, with such force Tim could almost feel it. "My wife, mine, mine, mine—"

He turned as Tim came, catching only a glimpse of ripped cape as Robin slammed into his midsection, twisting his body even at the point of impact to swing his heel over his head and scorpion-kick the Mandrill in the face as well. The one-two punch first weakened, then finished. In a second, the Mandrill was unconscious, in two he was handcuffed and filled up with sedatives from a pump-syringe in Tim's belt.

"Mrs. Storm?" he asked Sue, who was still shaking with tremors so deep-seated he could only imagine they came from the depths of her subconscious. A ribbon of blood fell from one nostril and over her full lips, like the pressure she'd been under was so intense that she'd simply sprung a leak.

He addressed her again, his voice softer, coddling, and she relaxed into it, lowering her gesticulating hands, her force field wavering out of existence. It'd been so thick and dense that its absence made a slight pop, as of a balloon being punctured, and Tim felt the air rushing in to fill the space that was suddenly absent.

"Marry... marry..." Sue said, seemingly in a haze like the one she'd been in before, but this seemed much more intense. Not in volume, but in simple conviction. It was as if the last time, he'd caught her waking from a dream, but this was her talking in her sleep, completely convinced of... whatever it was she was even saying.

Moving leadenly, she took a few steps, wiped the blood from her mouth with a black-gloved hand. She was drenched with sweat: it darkened her golden hair, made her exposed skin gleam, and made her suit damnably uncomfortably. Unthinkingly, she put her hand to the 4 on her breast.

Tim thought she was calling for assistance—someone to cart the Mandrill off to some suitable detention facility. He had, after all, read that the 4 insignia on the FF's costume was a communicator.

It also proved to be a clasp, as Sue took hers by its rim, rotated it, and so disengaged a flap on her tunic. Underneath, she wore a plain white tanktop, soaked to cloudy translucence by her sweat, and a black bra tantalizingly obvious underneath. The bra clung to her abundant curves and the tanktop clung to her bra. The ever-so-slight bagginess of her jumpsuit had used to hide

some

specifics of her well-honed shape. Now there was nothing left to the imagination but the exact shade of skin color beneath the white cotton. And if her body felt just as scrumptious as it looked.

Then Sue pushed her chest out with a firm inhale, the tanktop stretching tightly around her bra, its unstable molecules far better equipped to handle her heaving breasts than the thin tank was. Tim could see each thread of cotton fray and struggle to contain her cleavage as it quite simply begged to be free.

"Tim, right?"

Tim cursed inwardly, being called by his other name while in Robin mode enough to distract him from possibly the very definition of the word MILF. Of course, having met the whole class and knowing that only one of them could be Robin, she would've put together that it was him, with his slight build and slender frame. He was wiry and compact, his musculature not immediately obvious underneath the layers of clothes he carefully wore to hid his physical fitness, but there was no hiding his height and hairstyle, the general shape of his face even with the mask practically screaming in Sue's face. And, having only just met him, his practiced persona had had no time to throw her off the scent of suspecting him. He'd possibly just given away his and Batman's identities to an entire universe.