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Tim lands. Flaps his wings once, twice to help stabilize, then settles in place.
He tucks the feathered appendages against his back and creeps along the edge of the rooftop.
Below him, Batman and Nightwing are fighting with a bunch of Two Face’s henchmen. The duo are moving in sync, flowing around each other like water. Nightwing ducks beneath Batman’s kick to tackle someone with a gun. Batman uses his broad wing to temporarily blind someone who was going for Nightwing’s exposed back.
His camera finds its way into his hands.
It’s been so long since these two worked so seamlessly. Dick’s transition from Robin to Nightwing did the both of them quite a bit of good.
Tim spends around twenty minutes documenting the cleanup process before he senses someone behind him.
Fear coursing through him, he snatches up a loose brick and whirls around, barely registering the figure looming over him before chucking the brick at their center mass as hard as he can.
The person nimbly dodges.
“Hello there, songbird.”
Oh, he's perfectly safe. “Ms. Kyle,” he greets, straightening up and smiling.
The thief gives a smile in return. A hand gently ruffles his hair.
Tim lifts a wing instinctually, and Ms. Kyle stretches her own down to let their primaries brush together. The intimate greeting makes Tim’s heart swell.
"How about we ditch the Bat and do something fun," she suggests, knocking her knuckles against Tim's shoulder softly.
Tim gives her a wide grin.
They engage in a complex game, somewhere between tag and keep away. It carries them over the rooftops for ages, chasing each other until Tim begins to tire. Ms. Kyle slows when he does, despite the fact that she must have more endurance than him. It's nice of her.
Tim stutters when he catches a glimpse of the alleyway below him just before a jump. He nearly misses the next rooftop, he's so shocked.
When he lands he rolls to distribute the momentum, before whirling around and scurrying to peer down into the alley. His eyes are wide as he takes in the black car-tank-vehicle parked there.
The front tires are missing, and there's a small figure crouched by the back of the car, obviously fiddling with one of the remaining tires.
Ms. Kyle catches up to him.
Watching the person, it’s not hard to figure out that they’re Tim’s age, maybe a bit older. Why are they stealing the Batmobile’s tires? Are they mad at Batman? Do they know it’s the Batmobile?
“Oh my,” Ms. Kyle breathes. She turns to Tim, placing a gentle hand on his back. “Stay here, songbird.” She moves silently down the side of the building, digging into the cracks in the brick to climb down.
She approaches the small figure, scraping her feet deliberately across the concrete loudly enough to alert even the most unobservant Gothamite.
The kid - and Tim is pretty sure they’re a boy - stands, brandishing the tire iron like a weapon, wings spread to make himself look bigger.
His wings are wide and dark, with a splotchy pale stripe that starts near the elbow and spreads up to the wrist. The primaries are long like they’re made for gliding.
Ms. Kyle holds her hands up non-threateningly, taking a single step back.
“Who are you,” the kid demands, pitching his voice as low and threatening as a prepubescent boy can.
“Oh? You’ve never heard of Catwoman?”
“The crazy cat thief? Didn’t you rob the Gotham Museum of Art?”
“I did, yes.”
The boy points the tire iron accusingly. “Screw you, they upped the security after that. Me and the other homeless folks can't sneak in anymore.”
This takes Ms Kyle aback. “I didn’t know that, I’m sorry.” Tim can tell that she’s genuine. Ms. Kyle is nice like that.
The boy seems confused, like he wasn't expecting an apology. “You should be,” he says, but there’s no real anger to it. Tim gets it, getting an apology from a grown-up is weird.
“What are you doing here, kitten? ”
The kid sneers, gesturing widely at the car. “You’re the super-thief, what’s it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks like you’re stealing the tires off of Batman’s car.”
“Yeah, and the money I'm gonna get from fencing them is gonna feed me for a month, so I’m not giving them up without a fight!”
“I’m not here to fight you, kitten.” Her voice is quiet, Tim can barely hear her.
“Oh yeah?”
“I wanted to warn you. The Bat’s going to be back soon.” Tim checks his watch, and sure enough it’s approaching three am. Batman and Nightwing’s patrol will be over soon.
“Thanks for the warning.” It’s a clear dismissal, the boy goes back to removing the tire.
Ms. Kyle hesitates for a moment, then, “Do you want help?”
The boy stops. “Help.” It’s flat, not quite a question.
“Yes, kitten. So you can get all the tires before Batman gets here.”
He squints at her, wings puffing up defensively. “You want a cut?”
“No,” she laughs. “I’ve got enough money. I’m just impressed by your courage, kid.”
The boy stares at her suspiciously for a long moment.
His wings fold, and he offers her the tire iron.
Together they relieve the Batmobile of its remaining wheels. Before the kid can roll his away, Ms. Kyle stops him.
“Songbird,” Ms. Kyle calls up to Tim. “Come on down, now.”
“Who is that?” The other boy picks the tire iron back up and points it at Tim, where he stands at the top of the fire escape. “Your sidekick?”
Ms. Kyle laughs again. “No, kitten. Not yet, at least. I just watch over him.”
“Sure,” he drawls. “And I suppose you’re offering to ‘watch over’ me, too?”
“If you like.” Her small wings are in a low, relaxed position, signaling her honesty.
He squints at her.
Tim clambers the rest of the way down the fire escape.
“She’s really nice,” he informs the other boy once he's on the ground. “Ms. K- Catwoman has saved me from creeps before. And she never asks me questions except if I have a place to sleep and if I’m hungry.”
“That so?”
“We need to hurry if we’re going to hide these tires before Batman gets back,” Ms. Kyle interrupts them.
The boy shifts on his feet for a moment, before speaking. “There's a safe spot across the street from here. It’s where I stashed the other two.”
“Excellent,” she praises. “Lead the way.”
From an empty apartment across the street, they watch as Batman and Nightwing approach the alley, stop on the edge of the rooftop, and stare at the Batmobile.
Tim can't help the giggle that escapes him as they stand there, dumbfounded.
The silence of the three AM street is broken when Nightwing folds down, shaking from the force of his laughter. It echoes off the buildings, making it sound like a whole chorus. Batman looks severely unimpressed with his son.
Tim snaps a picture.