Chapter Text
Being kidnapped kind of actually didn’t suck. Steph got the impression it had been worse for Tim, at the beginning (who was she kidding? She’d seen the video), but now it was basically her and Tim hanging out in a room half the time, and the other half the time Jason bringing them really good home-cooked food and awkwardly hovering under the thin excuse of “guarding” them.
It was kinda like vacation, except they weren’t allowed to leave. Or go upstairs. Or outside.
She felt kinda bad about enjoying this, especially because she knew that everyone had to be freaking out, since they hadn’t found them yet, but…it was kinda nice. Hanging out with Tim with no pressure, no responsibilities. Eating Jason’s food. Mocking Jason. Mocking Tim. The antibiotics were working; her shoulders and leg were slowly healing. Things were almost…good?
She was maybe getting slightly worried that she might also be Stockholming herself. Because honestly, she was less upset about being kidnapped and more upset that she couldn’t let at least Cass know that she was fine. Her heart hurt whenever she thought about how she’d practically abandoned her best friend. Again.
But it wasn’t like they had any other valid means to escape, so Operation Reverse(?) Stockholm was still a go.
Tim was very upset over the whole ‘can’t go upstairs or outside’ thing, but Jason had just snorted at his distress. “No fucking way am I stupid enough to take one of you upstairs and leave the other one unsupervised. Let alone both of you.”
Steph figured if they gave it a few days, he’d probably cave. Especially since he seemed to like her way more than Tim. She was definitely gonna get great performance reviews for how well she was doing as Chief Outreach Officer on Project Lima.
On day two of being kidnapped (Steph being kidnapped, that was, not Tim, obviously), Jason brought down oatmeal for breakfast at a semi-normal brunch time, with like a million trappings. And tea in a legitimate teapot. It was all artfully laid out on a big silver tray, so Alfred-esque it hurt.
She said as much while Jason was taking his helmet off to eat, and got the distinct pleasure of seeing him turn absolutely beetroot red. He mumbled something incomprehensible.
“Bet Alfie would be happy to see his lessons getting put to use,” said Tim.
“Yeah,” Steph backed him up. “We could, like, make him breakfast in bed or something. I bet he’d cry. Or, you know, do the stiff-upper-lip British equivalent. Sniff a little.”
Jason glared at them and spoke through a mouthful of oatmeal. “You’re not subtle. Either of you.”
“Yeah, well, subtle was taking too long,” said Tim.
Jason flipped him off. “Not going back.”
“Kinda have to, if you wanna enforce the ‘no more dead Robins’ thing,” Stephanie mused.
When Jason turned his glare to her, she raised her hands in surrender. “Just saying. It’d be a lot easier to pull off if you were doing it from the inside.”
Jason focused on playing with his oatmeal instead of coming up with a witty retort or at least telling them to fuck off. Stephanie frowned. That was unusual.
Tim must have noticed something too, because he said, “Hey Jason, you look like shit.”
“Fuck you, Replacement.” There was almost no heat in the statement.
Steph squinted at him. “It’s kinda true. I thought only Tim’s eyebags could get so dark and bruiselike. And are you supposed to be that pale and sweaty?”
“Fuck you too, Blondie. Now shut up, we’re almost done with the story.”