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Damian was freezing. But at the same time he was overheating.
He cursed his weak body. He rarely got sick, and when he did he could usually power through it. This time was different.
While fighting a rogue, he and Drake had taken a tumble into the moat that separated Arkham Asylum, which would have been terrible on a normal day, but in the middle of December it was deadly. They had both been blue when they came out.
He glared at Drake, who was on a medical cot to his right, in a similar state of patheticness. He glared right back at him, but neither of them could do much more than that.
His memory of the event was spotty, he had hit his head on the way down, and had a minor concussion, but there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that it was his fault.
Drake stuck his tongue out at him, and he retaliated by weakly throwing a cue tip at him that had been by his bedside.
Before they could escalate to full out war, Richard, Todd, and Father came up, all suited up for patrol.
“You guys look pathetic,” Todd snorted.
Richard elbowed him hard in the ribs. “Don’t say that! They are poor sick babies, they need love .”
Todd snorted again. “Right, just what the baby demon needs, because he is just a bundle of softness and warm feelings.”
If he had full control of extremities he would have thrown his dagger at Todd’s infuriating head.
“Stop , you’ll hurt his feelings!” Richard exclaimed.
“That’s the point, he doesn’t have feelings,” Todd said.
Richard squawked and was about to tackle him in defense of him—which he would deny warmed his heart—but Father stopped him by grabbing his shoulder in his iron grip, and Richard glared at Todd.
“Boys, behave. And Jason, please keep from insulting your brothers, or purposefully baiting them,” he said, his low voice echoing through the room.
Jason muttered something about ‘old man’ and ‘ruining all my fun.’
Father turned his piercing gaze to Damian and Drake. “Boys, Alfred is out on a quick trip to the grocery store. He’ll be back in thirty minutes. Behave yourselves.” the or else , went unspoken.
“Please, B, we are the picture of innocence and well behaved-ness. You want what we have,” Drake said, still incredibly loopy from his fever.
Damian found himself nodding. He was right. Out of all of Father’s terrible children, they were the least problematic.
His thoughts froze for a second…he was agreeing with Drake…and complimenting him…that didn’t sit well in his mind, but he couldn’t remember why that didn’t make sense.
“Yes. We are perfect specimens of…” he trailed off. He couldn’t think of the proper word.
“Goodness?” Drake prompted.
“Yes, that was what I meant.”
Was it usual for him to finish his sentences? It seemed perfectly normal, but at the same time wrong.
Todd actually came up and put a hand on his forehead. “He feels the same he did thirty minutes ago. Maybe he was replaced with an alien.”
Richard slapped him. “ Or , they are bonding over shared trauma—wait, that didn’t sound right.”
Todd snorted. “Say whatever you want. That was weird.”
He glanced over at Drake and found him studying him. What they were saying didn’t make sense. Why would he be an alien? And why was the feeling of his forehead important?
Drake shrugged, and made a face that seemed to say, they are crazy, I have no idea what they are talking about.
“Look—did you see that?” Todd shouted. “They did the weird talking with no talking thing! Something is up .”
“It’s called a fever, Jason, and we need to get going. The boys will be fine,” Father said.
Damian stared at him for a second, and he had a major revelation.
“Why are you dressed as a Bat, Father? You look stupid,” he said.
Todd snickered, and Richard covered his mouth with a hand, muffling something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
Drake hummed in agreement. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. Also Jason—what are you? A gangster from a bad movie? Red is just tacky.”
There was a stunned silence.
“You are correct. The red is an eyesore,” he said.
Todd squawked. “I am going to end— ”
Father, as unbothered as ever, slapped a hand over Todd’s mouth. “We need to start patrolling. Goodbye boys.”
Father dragged a screeching Todd away.
Richard was grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for someone to say that to his face—thank you for the best Christmas gift ever!”
He kissed his forehead and gave Drake similar treatment, before waving goodbye and leaving.
Soon the cave was empty save him and Drake.
“Drake—” he started, but he was interrupted.
“Tim, that’s my name,” he said absently.
How could he have forgotten something as simple as that? The sickness really must have been getting to him.
“My apologies, Tim. Do you have any idea what they were talking about?”
Tim shook his head. “Naw. No idea whatsoever.”
“If both of us are in agreement with the fact of them spouting nonsense—we must be in the right, correct?”
Tim took a second to think before nodding. “Yeah, that logic checks out.”
Then why were they acting so oddly…something was up.
“I am hungry,” Tim declared after a moment.
“I am in a similar state,” he said. His stomach felt like it was eating itself.
“Then we should go get some food.”
Something itched in his brain, even as he wiggled out of his cot. He didn’t think they were supposed to move, but he couldn’t think of a reason why not to. He was hungry, and he needed food.
Both of them wobbled when they stood up, and he stumbled over to Tim. “On our own we won’t be able to make it to the kitchen.”
Tim nodded and put an arm over his shoulder, and they evened eachother out enough that they could walk, even if it was at a snail's pace.
“You know, I don’t think we’ve ever done something like this,” Tim said, heaving breaths.
He searched his memory, and only came up with strange images of Tim glaring. “I don’t think so either.”
“New experience, yay,” he said with all the enthusiasm of a dead horse, which startled a snort out of him.
Tim paused, before saying, “I don’t think I’ve made you laugh before either.”
Once again, his memories came up blank. So he shrugged. “You have now.”
*
*
*
After ten minutes of slow transportation, they made it to the kitchen. Damian sat on top of the counter and had the sense that if Pennyworth could see him now he would not be happy, but he also didn’t want to sit on a chair. Don’t ask him why.
Tim was rifling through the cabinets and the fridge, trying to find edible food.
“How about…leftover spaghetti of questionable age?” he proposed, holding up a large tupperware.
“I will pass on that…amazing offer.”
Tim chuckled and went back to rifling through everything.
“Well, cereal it is then.”
Tim grabbed two bowls and spoons and five boxes of cereal and put them all on the table. He waved him over. “Come sit down.”
Reluctantly he jumped off the counter, landing with more grace than he would have been able twenty minutes ago.
He sat in the chair beside Tim, who was making their bowls.
“Now, I’ll be making you the Tim Special, which is a secret recipe I have never shared before,” Tim said, grabbing all the cereal boxes. “It is four parts sugar, one part plain cheerios—that way it’s healthy.”
He dumped the four sugariest cereals into the bowls until they were overflowing and then put a handful of cheerios on top.
“Now, this part is top secret. You can’t tell anyone. Ever. Especially not Dad,” he said, looking around like someone was about to come in and catch them. “You have to promise to keep it secret.”
He didn’t think cereal could ever be so important, but Tim seemed to think so, and he was smart, so he nodded. “I promise.”
Tim gave a sigh of relief. “Good.”
He produced another bowl and filled it with milk. “Now time for the secret ingredient.”
He grabbed a small container and sprinkled a good amount of brown substance into the milk before whisking it.
“What was that?” he asked.
“That, my dear brother, was instant coffee, which will give us a good caffeine high,” Tim said, pouring the finished mixture into their bowls.
Instant coffee…he had never tried that before, and certainly hadn’t thought of putting it in cereal. But Tim seemed to like it, so he held his disbelief back.
The first bite was overwhelming—the coffee and sugar overtaking his taste buds, and almost giving him a stroke. The next was easier, and then the next…until he couldn’t stop himself. It tasted absolutely terrible, but he kept eating it. He imagined this was how people got addicted to crack.
Before long both of them had finished, and his head was buzzing, and his foot wouldn’t stop taping.
“Tim, you are a genius. I never would have thought to combine such horrid foods to create something so good,” he said, his voice going at a faster pace than it ever had before.
Tim smiled at the praise. “I don’t make it often, I save it for the worst days, and it works every time.”
“And you kept it a secret?” he said, sounding betrayed.
Tim hurried to explain. “If Alfred or Dad found out about this, they would burn every box of cereal and all my hidden containers of Instant Coffee. I haven’t told anyone about it. Not even Steph.”
That made sense. “Then you are forgiven.”
Tim gave him a crooked grin. “Thank, little br—”
All the lights in the kitchen went out, and the buzzing of the heater went silent.
“What just happened?” he whispered, shifting closer to Tim.
Tim put an arm on his shoulders protectively. “The power has been sabotaged. That means all our defenses have been disabled. But who would do it…”
It only took a second for it to click in his head. “My mother. This must be her doing. She often sends tests for birthday, she must be increasing them.”
He cursed silently along with Tim. He loved his mother, but she could be—for lack of a better word—crazy. She would do her best to kill both Tim and Damian, unless they could stop her.
“We can take her. We’re Red Robin and Robin, the most legendary team,” Tim said.
“Right,” he said, even as something niggled in his brain saying that wasn’t quite true. “My mother doesn’t stand a chance.
*
*
*
Meanwhile, on Gotham main street.
Alfred was at a standstill. The snow storm had come out of nowhere, and had caused a pile up just ahead of him. Power had gone out here, all the street lights had flickered out, and the lights in the stores beside them.
It had been like this for the past twenty minutes, and he was starting to lose his patience. He had two young masters who were very ill to attend to, and was supposed to be back fifteen minutes ago.
He had assured Master Bruce that he would be back soon after he left for patrol to oversee the boys. He had been very anxious to leave the two of them alone, had even proposed to leave Master Dick behind, but he needed all the backup he could get with another Arkham breakout going on.
But he was starting to wish he had let him, as he stared out of his windshield at the downpour of snow that showed no sign of letting up.
And he had forgotten his phone, making him unable to inform Master Bruce of his shameful slipup.
The boys would have to take care of themselves until Master Bruce returned.
Strangely, he felt that Master Bruce better be swift to return—or else the boys would cause much trouble.
*
*
*
“Have you ever watched Home Alone before?” he asked, as they tried to pry open the Batcave doors.
Damian shook his head. “I have no interest in asinine movies.”
He dropped his crowbar on the ground with a grunt. “This isn’t working.”
Damian dropped his as well. “That is correct. Father made the Batcave impenetrable.”
“Stupid Dad, did he not have any contingencies for surprise Assassin attacks?” Tim would be making his own shortly.
Damian scratched his cheek. “I believe there used to be a backup generator, but Todd sabotaged it two days ago to get back at Father for kidnapping him after he got shot.”
“And you didn’t say anything?” he said, bewildered.
“It wasn’t exactly subtle, he grafitied his name on it. I assumed Father knew and had yet to deal with it.”
“Never assume anything with Dad. He can be very stupid. Once, he tried to drink printer toner after not sleeping for seventy five hours.” Tim could proudly say that he had never made that mistake when he was sleep deprived—which was pretty much every day.
“You are right, of course. But I suppose I hold him up in mind,” he shook his head like it was shameful.
He patted his shoulder. “It’s okay little dude, it happens to the best of us. Now, do you have any hidden supplies?”
Damian raised an eyebrow—and ohmygosh he was so cute and tiny and huggable—and crossed his arms. “You don’t?”
He snorted. “Of course I do, but I asked Dickie once and he stared at me like I was insane. So what do you have?”
Damian gave him a mischievous smile—something he didn’t think he had seen before—and leaned in conspiratorially. “Everything.”
He gave him a matching grin. This was the best day ever, he had never met someone who was so like him and didn’t care when he acted a little insane, and liked his food choices!
“Amazing. Now let’s get boobytrapping.”
*
*
*
Damian showed him his stash, which was a hidden room he had found his first days exploring the manor, and it was stuffed to the brim with supplies.
“Weekly for the past three years I have taken supplies from the Batcave, in small enough groups that it wouldn’t be noticeable,” Damian explained proudly.
“ Wow , this is awesome! I never noticed the missing items either, good job!” he raised his fist in offering, and Damian slowly tapped his to it.
“This will do nicely. My supplies are more like things I don’t want Dad to know about, we can raid it if we need to though.”
They were both still a little wobbly—the Tim Special could only do so much—but they managed.
The first places they secured were the main entrances, with slime bombs that Damian had engineered himself—another point in his favor, they could totally be mad scientist buddies now, he was so excited—they released a slime that would harden and trap the intruder. At least that was what they did in theory, Damian had admitted that they had never been field tested.
Then a couple of trip wires in all the hallways that would release the blinding bombs—which released bright bursts of light continually for five minutes—and Damian memorized where they were that way he could guide them through them without setting them off.
Then there were the stink bombs, the paint bombs, and he even had fear gas bombs. Just a lot of bombs overall. Damian really liked them.
Tim had the genius idea to steal Dicks marble collection and dumped them out in the main hallways—he would apologize to Dick for that later. It was a matter of life and death, and also collecting marbles was stupid. So he would have to live with it.
Damian had finagled more, with the point of psychological warfare, and a few others.
“Now, where do we want our base to be…” he said.
“An easily defendable place,” Damian added.
“With an escape route if need be,” he said.
“The secret room!” they both said, and wow did that make him ecstatic. They were practically twins, finishing each other's sentences.
“No one knows about it, and we can escape out that window if we have to,” he said. It would be a long drop, but they had survived worse.
Damian nodded. “Yes. It is the optimal place.”
Finally losing all self control, he tackled Damian into a hug. He was so warm and cuddly. “We are going to kick your moms butt!”
Damian was stiff in the hug, but he slackened and hugged him back, and that felt like a really big thing for some reason. “Yes, though I would prefer you said something more classy when referencing my mother.”
Oops.
He had forgotten that even though his mom sucked almost as bad as the Joker, he still loved her. He still accepted her abuse, and thought it was love.
He would have to deal with that. She wouldn’t be messing with his brother ever again.
“Sorry. We will totally beat her ugly face out of this world!”
“That wasn’t any better, but I guess you tried.”
He snorted. He really hadn’t tried, but he didn’t need to tell Damian that. “Now, let's get this party started.”
*
*
*
Patrol absolutely sucked . With Robin and Red Robin out of commision, and with all the others out on Christmas vacay’s they had been severely outnumbered.
So when he returned to Wayne Manor—which he only did because Alfred was cooking Christmas dinner tomorrow and he would be dead again before he missed that—all he wanted to do was rest, but the Batcave was shut and wouldn’t open because the power was out and some idiot had messed with emergency generator.
That idiot was him, but still.
They ended up parking their vehicles under the cover of the woods, and walked to the manor—in a foot of snow, so it was basically torture. All the lights were off, and he kinda felt bad for the two weirdos that they had left there. They were probably trapped in the Batcave freezing.
He could tell that was what was on Bruce’s and Dickiebird’s minds based on the identical wrinkle between both their brows that signaled that they were insanely worried but wouldn’t breathe a word about to ‘keep morale up’ or some other nonsense that they both favored.
The front door was frozen shut. “We should split up, find some entrance that isn’t sealed shut and tell eachother over comms.”
Bruce and Dick looked reluctant, so he didn’t leave them time to comment and took off in the direction of the back door.
He trudged through the snow, and held back curses as it got into his boots. He really hated winter. He hated it so much. The only upside was Alfred cooking from Heaven. That was the only thing that kept him going and not running back to his bike.
He reached the door, and it wiggled open.
“Yes! Let’s go! ” he shouted.
His happiness didn’t last long, unfortunately, because when he stepped inside the door slammed shut behind him of its own accord, before he was splattered with an unknown substance and slammed into the wall by its force.
“What in the hel—”
He was cut off by a laugh echoing around the room.
He knew that laugh.
His breath caught in his lungs.
The Joker.
*
*
*
Damian’s psychological warfare was impressive. He had clearly prepared for this very situation, having dozens of recordings of the Joker at the ready, and several other infamous villains recordings.
His baby brother was a psychotic little genius, and it was amazing. He wished he was that ingenious.
*
*
*
“What in the hel—”
Jason’s voice came over the comms, and abruptly cut off.
That set Dick haunches on edge.
“Jason? Come in, what’s your status?” he asked, as he shimmied open a window.
Nothing. Maybe he should go back and look for him…but Jason could take care of himself, usually, and he always hated it when he got involved. And he really needed to get to Tim and Damian.
He slid through the window, and lost his balance as his feet hit something wobbly. His face slammed into the ground, but the ground wasn’t normal ground. It was covered in small balls, and upon closer examination, they were marbles.
His marbles.
What the heck.
He pushed himself up and his foot hit something, a beeping filled the room before a bright light filled the room blinding him, and just when his vision started to come back it flashed again .
“Help! I need help!” he screamed into comms, as he tried and failed to get his balance over the marbles with the complete loss of sight.
“Help!”
*
*
*
The second he opened the door, he knew something was up. Call it instinct or experience, he was careful when he walked in.
The first step in, and the door slammed behind him, and he dodged a projectile.
The boys .
That was his first thought.
Were they okay?
And then the laugh echoed through and his blood froze in his veins.
No. not again.
He wouldn’t lose any more sons to that monster. Never again.
Adrenaline flooded his veins, and his brain went into hyperfocus mode, dodging every booby trap with the desperation of a father trying to save his sons.
*
*
*
After having a small panic attack—and yes it was small, because that was all he would ever admit—his mind cleared enough to realize that the laugh and the occasional taunts were a recording.
Honestly, he should have realized it sooner. He had heard all of those weird catchphrases before, and the Joker hated repeating himself.
And then Bruce found him, completely unscathed, and looking like he was on the verge of a panic attack himself.
Bruce had his hands on his shoulders instantly. “Are you okay—no of course you aren’t. I’ll get you out, and then I’ll come back—”
“Bruce, I’m fine,” he said slowly, in the hope that he would calm down. “I wasn’t so hot for a second, but I’m good now.”
“But the Joker—”
“Isn’t here. It’s some messed up recording. I think it’s from the time he captured Damian, if I recognize it,” he said.
Bruce took a second to listen, and Jason knew his freaky perfect memory was kicking in, because he relaxed by a hair.
“Now we just have to figure out who the hell did this. Alfred is going to kill them,” he said.
Bruce still had that far away look on his face, he apparently was putting this freakshow together faster than Jason, who didn’t have a ‘freakin clue.
“The boys…oh no.”
“What about the boys?” he asked, his own stupid worry being brought back from the dead by his words.
“I know who did this.”
*
*
*
He and Tim had gotten tired of hiding, and decided to take care of the threat directly. They weren’t better by any means—Tim had paled and was starting to sweat a lot, and he himself was feeling shaky—but their impulse control was gone. Besides, they were some of the most skilled fighters in the world, they could take anyone from the LoA any day.
They were suited up—both had hidden extra suits in the often case that Father benched them—and were creeping down the halls.
He could hear voices, and he gripped a Birdarang tightly in his hand, signaling to Tim to be at the ready.
Time to take out Mothers goons once and for all.
“—I told you guys they were acting weird, but no , you guys got all mushy and soft,” A voice said.
He knew that voice.
Todd.
He almost cursed aloud.
That must be why they were acting so strange. Mother must have done something to their weak and feeble minds.
He glanced back at Tim, and he seemed to have come to a similar conclusion, having dropped his deadly weapon for his tranquilizer.
Right. Even if they were being mind controlled, they were still his father and his brothers. Maiming probably wouldn’t be looked fondly upon.
This changed things, though. It wouldn’t be a fair fight if he and Tim had to hold their punches.
But before they could re-strategize their attack, Richard turned the corner and they made eye contact, everyone froze.
“They’re over here! And armed !” he screeched, before running,
Tim grabbed his arm and dragged him around the corner, hiding him behind his back and waiting for possessed Richard to turn the corner.
They were crouched low, and Richard missed them. That was, until Tim stabbed him in the leg with the tranquilizer.
“I’m sorry Dick, we’ll free you soon when Dad and Jason are taken care of,” Tim whispered as Richard's eyes fluttered shut full of betrayal.
Tim looked at him mournfully, before starting to move again, dragging him with him.
“It was the only option,” he said, doing his best imitation of Richards' comforting voice.
Tim sniffled. “I know. But I don’t like it.”
Shouting filled the halls as they discovered Richard.
“Did they kill him?” Todd screamed.
“No. he’s breathing. Just unconscious.”
“I almost had a heart attack. They are going to be the end of me. We are so never leaving them again, ever,” Todd said.
“Hn.”
Tim dragged him down into a hidden corner under a table. “We won’t be able to take them both at once, someone needs to distract Dad, it’ll take both of us to take him down. We can take Jason the same way we did Dick.”
He didn’t like the idea of splitting up, but there weren’t any other options. “I will distract Father, I am the superior one at evasion.”
Tim cracked a smile at that. “You sure are, little dude. Give him your worst, and I’ll join you when I get rid of Jason.”
They waited for Todd and Father to arrive, and then Tim screamed, “Come and catch me!” running past Todd.
He made eye contact with Father, and the games began.
He didn’t wait another second before he slipped around the corner, dropping flash bombs behind him.
He paused at the stair railing, and mounted it, jumping to the landing below using his cape to soften the landing, and taking off to the east wing.
He could hear Father approaching, but Damian had been preparing for this attack for the last three hours. He had the upper hand.
*
*
*
He expertly dodged his father, even as his head pounded from the blood rushing to his head, and as his thoughts began to be fogged once more by his sickness.
He could have kept going, but then he heard Todd shout.
“I got him!”
No.
He wouldn’t let his mother have Tim.
He changed his course, and his legs shaked beneath him. The stupid sickness was catching up to him.
He turned the corner too fast and almost landed on his face when he found Todd, who held Tim in his arms, who looked deathly sick.
“No!” he screamed.
Todd looked like a deer in headlights at the sight of him. “Damian, this isn’t what it—”
He pounced, his arm raised with the tranquilizer in his hand, but he was caught by his back by strong arms.
He struggled against his fathers hold. “I will destroy both of you! Release me and Tim or face my wrath!”
His father held him effortlessly, and he felt something pressed into his neck.
Dang it. They were using their own strategies against them.
His eyes shuttered closed against his will, and he cursed his father and brother with the promise that he would get his revenge.
*
*
*
His brothers were officially insane. He’d always had the suspicion, but it was nice to be right. Bruce didn’t find it amusing as he stitched his arm where Tim had ‘freaking bit him like a feral animal before promptly passing out.
“Jason, your brothers are very ill—”
“Yeah, mentally!” he exclaimed.
He gave him an unimpressed look as he glanced back to the medical cots they were strapped to with IV’s hooked up to them.
“Okay, maybe , them being sick had something to do with it, but I swear I’ve been waiting for the day they had their villain team up since the second Damian showed up here.”
It was true. They were both little monsters who would be unstoppable.
Dick mumbled something incoherent into Jason's shoulder, still out of it. Whatever they had given him had really done a number on him.
“Speak up, Dickiebird.”
Dick turned his face up slightly. “Best friends now. Best Christmas present ever.”
He patted his delirious brothers back. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”
He didn’t have high hopes that their alliance would last once they didn’t have fevers so bad their brains were melting. They probably wouldn’t even remember it.
Which would be for the best. Jason didn’t think he could handle the chaos they would cause if that night was anything to go by.
*
*
*
The last thing he remembered was attacking Jason for some reason…and that he really needed to get back to Damian because he was in danger.
The panic that crushed his chest as he thought about his little demon of a brother was unexplainable and unstoppable.
He forced his eyes open, and scanned the room desperately.
“Damian?” he called, his voice wobbly.
He was in his room, propped up on some pillows, and he felt like he had been sleeping for a hundred years.
The door opened, and Dick came in with a bright smile on his face. “You're awake! You were really worrying us. You’ve been asleep, for like, three days.”
That was alarming, but it barely registered in his brain. “Where’s Damian?”
Somehow Dick’s face brightened even more. “I’ll go get him for you, he’s only been awake for a little longer than you, and he was getting really antsy to see you.”
Dick left, and Tim was just confused.
He could remember the night vaguely, flashes of it…him and Damian laughing, and eating the Tim Special, he think he even hugged him.
And then the power had gone out, and they had thought his mother was attacking.
Which wow, way to jump to conclusions.
Even as he realized how irrational they had been, and that the danger hadn’t been real at all, the tightness in his chest refused to leave. He needed to see him.
The door opened, and Dick was carrying a scowling Damian bridal style, and Tim’s chest loosened.
“I can walk, you incessant annoyance,” Damian growled.
“Nope. After you guys drugged me, I will get as much physical contact as I want, for at least a month.”
Oh yeah. He had forgotten about that. He winced. “I think that was me, actually.”
Dick rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. Damian assisted so he is an accessory to the crime.”
Dick dropped Damian on his bed beside him and put some pillows behind his back.
“You guys talk things out. Call if you need anything!”
Dick left and slammed the door behind him, leaving Damian and Tim in an awkward silence.
“So…how are you?” he said after he couldn’t bear the awkwardness anymore.
Damian snorted. “That was the best you could come up with?”
Weird. He didn't sound angry, or condescending. He sounded like he was teasing him.
He cracked a smile. “Sorry, I think I ran out of good ideas after I decided I could take Jason by myself.”
“Your intellect knows no bounds,” Damian drawled.
It was quiet for a second before they both broke out laughing, and Tim clutched his ribs.
“That—wasn’t—even—funny,” he gasped.
Damian shook his head. “It really wasn’t.”
And they just laughed more.
He slung an arm over his shoulder. “You aren’t so bad you little demon.
“I suppose you are tolerable, Tim,” Damian said.
His heart warmed, because he didn’t even call Dick by his nickname. So that meant something, right?
“So, you said you never watched Home Alone before…” he said, grabbing his tablet from his bedside.
Damian frowned. “No. I have not.”
“Okay, you are going to love this,” he said.
*
*
*
Outside Tim’s room, Jason and Dick had their ears pressed against the door, and Jason muttered multiple curse words that Alfred would wash his mouth out with soap for.
“This is going to end so bad for the rest of us,” Jason said.
Dick smiled. “This is the best day ever.”