Chapter Text
A second ago, Dick had been lying in bed wallowing — then, there was a flash of light, and a twist in his stomach as he was yanked through space and time. The soft latex mattress underneath him was replaced with hard, unforgiving concrete; the cream-colored walls of his bedroom were replaced with metallic blue panels that framed three large windows that looked out into space?
He stared up at the three people towering over him, resting back on his elbows with his fists clenched. A tall redheaded woman looked at him appraisingly. She wore a silver suit with a ringed planet on the breastplate, and a navy cape draped over her front. The Asian man to her right wore a purple suit with a blue and black vest, and the silver-haired man to her left wore a red suit with a white and green vest.
The two men looked at Dick as if he were a speck of dirt on the floor. They remained back, leaning against the stone table as the redheaded woman stepped forward, smiling at Dick like a predator who'd just caught their prey. Her cape dragged behind her as she reached her hand down towards Dick, her movements elegant and sharp.
"My name is Saturn Queen, and we've been waiting for you, Richard."
Dick used his foot to push himself back, rushing to his feet, fists raised in a fighting stance. He was still in his matching striped pajamas, his hair slightly wet from the post patrol shower, and neither Bruce nor Batman were anywhere in sight.
"This is Cosmic King," she continued, gesturing towards the tall, black-haired Asian man, then towards the silver-haired man, "And this is Lightning Lord."
"That's great and all, but what am I doing here?" Dick asked, keeping his voice steady while his heart hammered against his chest.
Saturn Queen's eye twitched, smoothing down the front of her uniform as she took a deep breath, Lightning Lord and Cosmic King coming to stand behind her, unabashedly looking Dick up and down.
"We've brought you home, Richard," she smiled.
"Home isn't on some alien planet with three weirdly named — villains?" Dick snarked back, pretending to think before responding, "I mean, you're villains, right? This whole room screams villains." Dick gestured around to the high ceilings and futuristic brutalist architecture.
Lightning Lord stalked towards Dick, grabbing him roughly by the chin and bellowing, "You will not speak to her this way!"
Dick tried to pull away, but the grip on his jaw only tightened, fingernails pressing into the soft flesh. He swore he could feel tiny electric shocks at every point of contact.
"Enough," Saturn Queen hissed.
Dick's face was released, a dull ache remaining that he rubbed soothingly.
"Our Bruce will find him… entertaining," Cosmic King chuckled before gesturing towards someone behind Dick. "You're dismissed. Go prepare him."
"What are you —" Dick started to say, interrupted by the presence of a hand on his shoulder.
He whipped around to see three people in matching gray robes, drawn hoods obscuring their faces. He tried desperately to tug his shoulder away.
"GET THE HELL OFF OF ME!" Dick shouted.
This was really bad.
He felt helpless as hands grabbed at the corners of his mouth, wrenching his jaw open until a tablet was pressed down onto his tongue. It rapidly dissolved before he could spit it out, filling his mouth with a chalky taste. And a few seconds later, it all went black.
Hours or maybe days later, Dick awoke, lying on a luxurious-looking four-poster bed covered by a grand canopy and sheer golden curtains on all sides. He could feel the embroidered lace of the duvet rubbing against his legs — his bare legs.
Dick looked down, eyes widening at the rather revealing Greek tunic that was tied around his waist with a golden rope. Underneath the nearly see-through fabric, he wore a white pair of — panties?
Dick's heart skipped a beat, remembering Cosmic King's words, "Our Bruce will find him entertaining."
Dick ran a hand through his abnormally soft hair, sitting up as he assessed the situation. He was in someone's bed, wearing very little after being brought to some other universe to be a sex slave for some guy named Bruce?
Well, maybe not a slave — Dick looked down at his very exposed body — okay, probably that kind of slave.
Dick took a deep breath, observing his surroundings. In front of him, there was an antique set of drawers and an open door leading into a bathroom. On his left, there was a bedside table and the wall only a couple of feet away; on his right, there were floor-length curtains, possibly covering a window? An escape route?
The sound of the doorknob turning made his entire body tense.
He swallowed nervously, remaining still as the door opened and a man came into view. His body was slightly obscured from the sheer curtains, and from this angle, Dick couldn't see his face or his head when he turned away to shuck off his suit jacket.
The stranger remained with his back to Dick as he unbuttoned his dress shirt, throwing it aside to reveal his broad and muscular back. Dick let his eyes roam over the sculpted muscles, letting himself get caught up in the moment as the man continued to strip, leaving only his black briefs.
As far as possible forced husbands go — this guy was not bad looking.
In fact, he reminded Dick of Bruce — his Bruce — the man who'd rejected him romantically just days ago. That memory of his mentor's horrified expression still haunted him when he closed his eyes.
Bruce had immediately blamed himself, gazing at Dick like a pitiful child, and it didn't matter how many times Alfred told him that their relationship would return to normal; Dick didn't believe it.
Well, at least someone wanted him, Dick thought bitterly before shaking his head at the ridiculous sentiment.
This was not the time to lament his failed confession.
He grabbed at the rope around his waist, swiftly untying it, shoving it underneath one of the feathered pillows before the stranger approached the other side of the bed.
Dick clamped his legs together, stuffing the tail end of the tunic between his legs to cover himself as best as he could, waiting for what felt like an eternity before the stranger turned around, approaching the curtain.
The fabric was shoved to the side, revealing a wall of scarred muscle that tapered down to the man's waist, his adonis belt leading Dick's eyes down towards his low-hanging briefs —
The man ducked down to get into bed, but froze, locking eyes with Dick, whose mouth was embarrassingly hanging open —
That was Bruce — no, that was some guy with Bruce's face.
His body was strikingly similar, but the scars didn't match, and Bruce had never looked at Dick like this before — a playful curiosity swirling in his steely blue eyes, looking positively smitten as if Dick was somehow a tasty treat.
"Well, you aren't Selina," Bruce commented, tilting his head.
Dick couldn't help but scoff — of course this universe had Selina, and of course they were sleeping together.
Bruce's lips quirked up the slightest bit, just like Dick's Bruce did when he was amused, and it caused his heart to flutter, which he promptly stomped down, eyes narrowing at the stranger wearing Bruce's face.
"Where am I?" Dick asked brusquely, crossing his arms over his chest.
"In my bed," Bruce said flatly.
"Yeah, that's really helpful," Dick criticized.
Bruce looked taken aback at the very mild sarcasm, like he couldn't believe someone would speak to him that way.
"… How did you get in here?" Bruce asked, looking at Dick suspiciously now.
"I literally just woke up here in this," Dick responded, gesturing angrily at the skimpy outfit.
Bruce lowered his gaze, trailing down Dick's body, eyes darkening briefly as Dick nervously squeezed his thighs together. He stepped away from the bed, reaching for something on the nightstand that sat outside of the sheer curtains.
Dick played with the lace of the duvet, feeling warm as he assessed the situation, ready to grab the rope underneath the pillow at any moment.
Bruce sat down on the edge of the bed with a card in his hand, and Dick moved his legs away, drawing them up to his chest while being mindful of the small garment barely covering his body.
"You are a gift," Bruce said after he finished reading the card.
Dick had the urge to reply with something snarky, but Bruce didn't seem to be saying his mere presence was a gift — No, the present was Dick.
And he really didn't know what to think about that. It felt like his dreams had been twisted into a nightmare with a man that wasn't his Bruce, in a home that looked nothing like the Manor, on another planet — probably another universe.
And if he were here…
Where was his Bruce? Was he okay? Did they take him, too?
Dick's chest tightened at the thought of Bruce being —
No.
No. He couldn't think of that.
He'd already wasted precious time throwing a pity party over his failed love confession, then proceeded to bawk at fake Bruce's muscles — he needed to get out of here — away from the imposter. If they brought him here, there must be a way back — whether that was via machine or a meta-human.
The brush of Bruce's calloused fingers against the underside of his thigh snapped him back to reality, a trail of goosebumps appearing as his body temperature skyrocketed.
"I don't know where you came from, but this is your home now, Richard," Bruce said matter-of-factly.
Dick did his best not to wince at the use of his full name. They looked and sounded so alike, but this Bruce really didn't know him.
"You'll be happier here."
Dick reflexively rolled his eyes, and for the second time, his chin was roughly gripped.
"You should be grateful you're here," Bruce spat, eyes flickering with the darkness that only Batman displayed.
Dick's panic rapidly transformed into rage as he shouted in disgust, "YOU STOLE ME FROM MY HOME!"
The painful grip on Dick's chin was released, but the dull ache was quickly replaced with the sharp sting of an unexpected slap.
This was not his Bruce.
Dick took a deep breath, regaining his composure as he stared down at his knees, which were tucked against his chest. After a moment, he met Bruce's eyes, meekly looking up with a faint apologetic smile on his face.
The look of atonement seemed to soften Bruce's expression as he leaned in, cupping Dick's face, "You really are beautiful, aren't you?"
Dick pushed down the flurry of emotions that threatened to burst from his chest, bowing his head, feigning embarrassment as he looked up through his lashes, feeling triumphant as Bruce's breath hitched.
He bit his lips innocently, letting his eyes go wide with desire, capturing the imposter's attention as he snuck his hand underneath the pillow. Then, Dick whipped out the rope and rolled to the side, hooking it around Bruce's neck, taking the man by surprise as he pulled, pressing his small body against Bruce's back.
There were gasps and grunts as Bruce struggled for air, trying to push his thick fingers between the golden rope and his reddening neck before deciding to get up from the bed, forcing Dick to wrap his legs around Bruce's thick waist.
It's not him. It's not him. It's not him.
Dick repeated the phrase in his head over and over, continuing to deprive Bruce of air.
The room spun as Bruce whipped around, throwing his back against the wall, knocking the wind out of Dick, causing his grip to loosen enough that Bruce was able to slip his fingers underneath the rope.
Dick promptly glanced around the room, eyeing a rather expensive-looking vase just barely out of reach on Bruce's wardrobe.
He gave a final valiant tug on the rope, then released it entirely, throwing his body towards the vase, legs still around Bruce's waist, keeping him anchored as he snatched it, smashing it on Bruce's head as hard as he could.
His captor started to stumble, and Dick rapidly unwound his legs, pushing off to land on his feet as Bruce slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Dick dashed towards the door, ready to make his escape. He gripped the doorknob, struggling to turn it, glancing down to see blood pouring out of a wound that must've come from the shards of the vase.
He slipped his hand underneath the bottom of the tunic, using it to wipe off his hands and the doorknob, trying again, this time successfully opening it.
He flew out into a long corridor with oak walls that reminded him of Wayne Manor. He didn't have a plan, but intended to get as far away as possible.
At the end of the hallway, he turned left, running right into what looked like old palace guards. He stumbled back, staring up at three men with electrified spears all pointed at him.
Dick swiped the legs out from under one of them, kicking the other in the face, causing him to join his peer on the floor. He moved from side to side, trying to fake out the remaining man, but an unspotted guard got the jump on him — coming up behind Dick, wrapping him up in a bearhug that threatened to squeeze all of the air out of his lungs.
"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM!" Bruce roared from down the hall, stalking towards them.
Dick's body dropped onto the floor as he gasped for breath. He looked up to see the guard staring down at him in horror, his eyes focused on a little drop of blood on Dick's upper arm where his nail had nicked him.
The guard turned back to Bruce, speaking in a shaky voice, "Sir, I'm sorry. I —"
Bruce dropped to his knees at Dick's side, roughly turning him by the shoulders, searching for injuries, eyes flashing with rage at the little drop of blood.
"Leave us," Bruce rasped, his whole body tensed like it did before a fight.
"Sir, I didn't mean to —"
"LEAVE!" Bruce shouted, vibrating with rage, calling after the guards as they scurried away. "And tell Saturn Queen what you've done!"
Dick let out a shaky breath, clenching his fists, ready for another fight.
Bruce squeezed Dick's shoulder affectionately, speaking softly, "They will be dealt with."
Dick swallowed at the ominous promise that was meant to reassure him, but all it did was lower the temperature in the corridor and remind him this was not his Bruce.
Distant voices echoed off the stone walls, stirring Dick awake. His body ached after having to sleep on the cold, hard floor of what looked like an ancient cell in a dungeon. The length of the cell was about twice his height, but Dick had opted to sleep tucked into the corner, underneath the tiny window.
"— don't know. Prolly an unruly consort — look at the kid's clothing!"
A couple of men laughed, and Dick's lip curled up in disgust.
All of the ruckus last night had attracted attention — specifically Lightning Lord's after Bruce had "rescued" Dick from the guards.
The Electric Jerk had decided that Dick might be more amenable after spending some time away from Bruce.
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder."
Dick had scoffed at the phrase, fighting the stiff grip on his upper arm as Lightning Lord dragged him away. Dick had gone to throw a final glare at the imposter, but when he looked back, his chest tightened at the apprehensive look in Bruce's eyes.
The man had quickly wiped all traces of the expression from his face, but there had been something there… something that made Dick want to reach out for his captor, who wore the same face as the man he loved.
Dick closed his eyes, letting sleep take him again, allowing him a reprieve from his empty stomach and dry mouth.
The sun rose for the second time, lighting up the cell through the small window at the top. The hunger pains had set in, his lips were chapped, and he was desperate for a change of clothes.
Since he'd been down here, the guards had only brought him water — with great disdain — and there was no indication of when he'd be released.
He had used every second of sunlight searching the cell for a way out, but so far he'd only come up empty, and any attempts at speaking to the guards had failed. They seem content to watch him starve.
At this point, his only hope seemed to rest on the flicker of apprehension that had graced Bruce's face two nights ago when Dick was being dragged away by Lightning Lord.
Later that day, a couple of hours after sunset, Dick heard a crashing sound from down the hall that jolted him out of his half-sleep. He pulled his weakening body up and backed himself against the wall, edging towards the bars, smearing more dirt onto the blood-stained tunic.
Shouts and cries of anguish echoed off the stone walls, triggering a rush of adrenaline as Dick clenched his fists, peering out into the empty hall. He'd not seen any other prisoners since he arrived, but the possibility of a prison break wasn't improbable. From this angle, he couldn't see anything — he could only hear the soft pleas for mercy.
An eerie silence filled the air.
Dick weighed his options, about to bang on the bars, hoping to attract the attention of the possible escapees —
Then Bruce appeared, standing on the other side of the bars, jamming an ancient-looking key into the lock. He looked up at Dick with a familiar expression that made his body flood with relief — the same feeling he got every time Batman had come to rescue him.
The door slid open with a loud creak, and Bruce stood tall, remaining on the other side of the threshold, eyes trained on Dick as he reached a hand out. His expression was blank, but Dick swore he could see that same look of apprehension in his eyes.
Dick swallowed nervously as they both stared at each other.
Then, Dick crept forward, placing his small hand into Bruce's larger one, looking up meekly, telling himself it all was part of an act as Bruce swept him up into a bridal carry.
"I've got you, Robin," Bruce whispered against his head, pressing a kiss to his dirty hair.
Even in Dick's weakened state, he knew this wasn't his Bruce, but it didn't stop him from nuzzling into the man's warm neck, inhaling his familiar musk, lapping up all the comfort he could before drifting off to sleep, wondering how this Bruce knew about Robin.
Did he have his own?
The next time Dick awoke, he was surrounded by warm water in a large bath, facing an opaque cathedral-style window. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, jerking away from whatever was making his scalp tingle, wincing at the sting of pain, realizing there was a comb firmly in his hair, pulling him back.
"Stay still, Richard," Saturn Queen hummed, continuing to tease out the remaining knots.
The last thing Dick remembered was tucking his head into the crook of Bruce's neck. All the relief he felt was now zapped away as Saturn Queen continued to groom him.
He glanced down at the hazy water that barely obscured his naked body in the large claw-foot bathtub, noticing the lack of hair that had been present on his groin and stomach, his cheeks coloring in response.
"Why am I here?" Dick asked tersely.
"To be cleaned for —"
"No!" Dick interrupted, keeping his head still, but gesturing wildly, splashing water onto the floor. "Why am I HERE?"
Saturn Queen sighed, removing the comb from his hair, allowing Dick to turn around and lock eyes with her for the first time since he'd arrived.
"Your presence here serves a greater purpose —" she held up a hand, silencing Dick before he could interrupt, "Each candidate we've selected for Bruce so far has not caught and held his attention… Selina was the last… So it's imperative you succeed. You may not understand this now, but in time you will… if not, there are ways to ease your transition."
Dick didn't miss the thinly veiled threat. So, he ignored the urge to splash water in her face and instead nodded solemnly.
Sometimes the best plan was to wait for enough information to create one.
Saturn Queen cocked an eyebrow, looking unimpressed —
Dick's hands flew up as a sharp pain stabbed through his skull, nearly blinding him as a voice boomed from deep inside his mind.
Serve your purpose, or I will pluck every precious memory from your brain.
Her voice.
Dick's vision blacked out despite his eyes being still open, a small orb appearing before him, swirling like a whirlpool, first only grey, then red, green, yellow, more colors that started to disperse until a scene was painted.
His mother and father stood before him, looking proud in a way that immediately identified the memory — the first time he successfully completed the quadruple somersault, becoming one of the very few people in the world who could do it.
He could feel himself beaming up at them, waiting to hear the praise —
His mother ruffled his hair as his father opened his mouth —
Promptly closing it, filling Dick with dread as his heart dropped and his brain short-circuited.
He pinched his eyes shut, still seeing the memory plastered across his eyelids. It started to replay, ending the same way as he struggled to fill in the precious words that his father had spoken that day.
Frustration and grief tore through him as it replayed again —
And again —
Then, the view of the cathedral-style window was before him, and the splitting pain was dissipating —
But no matter how hard he tried, Dick couldn't remember the words.
Tears welled up in his eyes as they sat in silence for several minutes until Saturn Queen resumed combing his hair, acting as if she hadn't just violated his mind and stolen something so precious.
Dick slumped against the edge of the tub, feeling deflated and bereft of all the fight that had been inside of him just moments ago. An uneasy feeling of calm radiated out from his vacant mind as Saturn Queen hummed pleasantly to herself.