Archive of Our Own

Dick thinks something is going on with his littlest brothers.

It’s a strange thought, considering they’re silent allies at best and more antagonistic than himself and Deathstroke on their worst days. But now, whenever Dick glances their way, he often catches them amid a hushed conversation—which always stops after they notice Dick.

“So,” Dick tries one afternoon in the garden, wrapping an arm around his sweet Timmy’s shoulder. “Whatcha guys doing over here?”

Tim stiffens beneath his touch, and Damian shifts away from him, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“Nothing,” Damian declares, while Tim quickly says, “Taking over the world.”

Dick blinks. “Uh…”

Damian and Tim share a look. 

“Nothing,” Tim says, while Damian stiffly proclaims, “Taking over the world.”

“So, is it nothing, or are you taking over the world?” Dick asks, amused. “Should I be worried? Do I need to stand out here to keep an eye on you two?”

Damian and Tim glare at him, which hurts more than it should.

“Don’t you have better things to do, Richard?” Damian says, crossing his arms and turning up his nose.

“Nothing’s better than spending time with my brothers!” Dick says brightly.

Tim rolls his eyes. “I mean, you can stay if you want,” he says grudgingly. “But I don’t think you’ll understand our game since you’re so old, and explaining it might take forever.”

“Old!?” Dick clutches his chest, feeling his heart shatter because of his cruel little brother. And to think, Tim was actually his favorite of the bunch. “Timmy, how could you say that to me? I’m not old!” He glances at Damian, his last hope, and asks, “Baby Bat, am I old?”

“You have gray in your hair,” Damian says bluntly and scowls. It reminds Dick of the days when Damian was more feral than the raccoons that dig into the manor’s trash cans. “Cease your creeping and go away, Richard. We’re busy.”

“Fine, fine,” Dick says, slightly hurt. “I see I’m unwanted.” He briefly digs his knuckles into Tim’s hair and tweaks Damian’s nose before he leaves, just to hear their indignant complaints. It fills him with satisfaction to know that he can still bug them, as any big brother does, but it doesn’t stop the suspicion from trickling in because what game could his brothers possibly be playing in Alfred’s garden?

And there’s only one person who can help me solve this, Dick thinks as he reenters the manor. He mulls it over for a bit longer before walking toward the grandfather clock.

★★

“Bruce,” Dick complains as he drapes himself over Bruce’s shoulders. The other man barely reacts, continuing to type his report even when Dick tugs on some of his hair. “Your children are becoming evil.”

Bruce stills. “Which ones?” he asks, and Dick watches, astounded, as Bruce pulls up a bunch of contingency files on the whole family. “Is it Tim? Please don’t tell me it’s Tim.”

“It’s Tim,” Dick confirms, frowning when Bruce groans in despair. “Hey, it can’t be that bad!”

“Tim once suggested we set the Rogues on fire just so we could end patrol early,” Bruce says flatly, expanding Tim’s file. It has more notes compared to the others. “All because he wanted to catch the premiere of some movie. I had to explain why we couldn’t just do that, and I’m certain he only pretended to understand me.”

“Huh.” Okay, somehow, that explains a lot about some of Tim’s past behavior. “Well, will it help if I told you Damian’s the other potentially evil child?”

Bruce drops his head onto the desk with another groan.

★★

After successfully pulling Bruce away from the computer and locking him out of accessing the files on how to stop Tim’s descent into villainy (there’s a hundred-and-eight-step plan, with some added recently), Dick takes him up to the manor. He also forces him to peek through the door into the library with him so they can watch Damian and Tim.

“This is stupid,” Bruce mutters.

“Shh!” Dick elbows Bruce where he knows there’s a bruise and feels satisfied when he hears the man grunt. “Pay attention! They’re talking!”

“I think we need more stones,” Damian is saying as he scribbles something into his sketchbook. “Perhaps we can invest in heated ones? Place them beneath the tank?”

“But what if those catch on fire?” Tim says from where he’s lying on the floor. He’s tapping a pen against the notebook resting against his thighs. One foot is dangerously close to Damian’s knee, and Dick’s surprised Damian hasn’t said anything about it. “As much as I like fire, I don’t want that to happen because our rocks got too hot. We need a heat mat. Those don't catch fire, right?”

“That will never happen,” Damian says flatly and pauses. “Have you gotten any sleep?”

“No,” Tim says, and Dick nearly squeaks in shock over how Tim easily admits it. Usually, it takes either a hug or a tickling session from Dick to get him to tell the truth! “I was too busy drafting out all my plans. And staring into the eyes of our new overlord. I’m pretty sure he whispered the secrets of the universe in my ear, too.”

Damian sighs, sounding just like Bruce after Dick broke one of his chandeliers (again) last week. “We can pause our planning and take a nap,” he says and stands. Somehow, he manages to wrangle Tim off the floor and starts pushing him toward the door, which makes Dick scramble to drag Bruce into one of the other rooms.

It’s Dick’s old playroom—the one he’d sneak into whenever he was mad at Bruce to mess around with a bunch of old furniture and musical instruments. As a teenager, he stopped using it as much in favor of burning some of Bruce’s old clothes instead.

Standing here makes Dick feel slightly nostalgic.

“I see what you mean,” Bruce says after a while, fist resting against his chin. “Unfortunately, I don’t have the time or sanity to properly investigate whatever’s going on between them, so I leave this case to you.”

Dick squints at him. “That just means you’re too lazy to look into your children’s evil activities,” he deduces, feeling smug when Bruce turns away. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“It’s bad enough I had to deal with you and Jason,” Bruce says, crossing his arms. “I never want to deal with my youngest children going evil. Damian, I expected better from him, but Tim?” He shakes his head. “I’d give up being Batman if it meant avoiding his evil schemes.”

“Hey!” Dick complains. “I was an angel! What are you talking about?”

“Lucifer was an angel,” Bruce mutters, and Dick kicks his shin just to hear him grunt in pain. “See what I mean?”

“Not at all,” Dick says cheerfully. “I’m just redirecting your bad behavior—like Tim used to do!”

“Tim used to tranquilize me to make me sleep,” Bruce says. “He only ever kicked me when I was saying the wrong things to officers, but he didn’t want to correct me out loud.”

“And now?”

“Now, Tim is more willing to denounce all my theories regardless of who might be listening. I’m pretty sure he still doses my drinks, too, because there are times when I wake up feeling well-rested in my own bed.”

“That should be a good thing,” Dick tells him. “No need to sound like it’s the end of the world.”

Bruce says nothing, which means he doesn’t agree. Then again, Dick can’t really say anything else because he tends to run on at least four hours of sleep, or six at best. It’s the life of a night-time vigilante (although Jason certainly gets the most sleep of them all since he doesn’t have a day job, as far as Dick knows).

“So,” Dick says, nudging his father. “What are your contingencies if I turn evil?”

“Throw another little brother at you,” Bruce says and stalks out of the room. “Tell me when more evidence pops up. I need to update my files.”

★★

And so, Dick investigates.

He calls out of work (and they gladly send him off, saying he works too hard and to never come back until the bags under his eyes are gone) and temporarily moves into the manor, trying to spend more time with his littlest brothers.

So far, the only knowledge Dick has gained is the fact that they now sunbathe beside the manor’s pool (with an umbrella nearby to protect Tim’s pale skin the moment he starts turning pink), and both seem to have developed a habit of stealing Jason, Dick, and Bruce’s clothes.

(“The baggier, the better,” Tim had said when Dick caught him wearing Bruce’s old Gotham University hoodie.)

And sure, they bond through movie nights and video games, but they always disappear whenever Dick takes a break or looks away for a split second. If they do come back, they always have an excuse ready—or worse.

“What do you mean, Dick?” Tim says, eyes wide and expression earnest. “I haven’t left the room! I’ve been here this entire time!” Then, he hesitates before leaning forward to press the back of his hand against Dick’s forehead. “Are you alright?” he asks, looking concerned. “Are you getting sick? Do you need a hug?”

Dick frowns. “Yes,” he says, wrapping his arms around his little brother because it’s the only thing that makes sense these days.

It’d be less annoying (and confusing) if Dick had Jason at his side to complain.

So, when Alfred makes a passing comment about baking Jason’s favorite cookies one night, Dick sprints toward the Cave, ready to have another person help with his (evil) brothers.

“Why are you here?” Dick hears Jason complain as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. “Aren’t you supposed to be patrolling with my sis—with Cass?”

“Yes,” Steph replies, and when Dick finally gets a good look at the pair, he sees that Steph’s standing real close to where Jason sits as he works on something in his helmet. “But I decided to bestow my presence upon you before I go. You’re welcome!”

“Thanks,” Jason says flatly.

“Wow! Keep up with that attitude, and I’ll think you hate me!”

“I do.”

“Nuh-uh!” Steph says and actually leans forward to boop Jason’s nose—well, she tries because Jason leans out of the way at the last second, glaring at her. “You looooooove me!”

“There’s only one L word I feel for you,” Jason says. “And it certainly isn’t love.”

“Oh.” A pause. “Lesbians?”

“How many times have you hit your head this week?”

Dick decides it’s time to step in—mostly because he sees the way Jason grips his screwdriver tightly like he might jam it into Steph’s eye. As funny as Steph can be, Jason’s tolerance levels for people who aren’t his immediate family tend to fluctuate, and it can sometimes end in bloodshed (usually, from the knife Jason throws at them).

“Hi, Jason!” he chirps as he bounds over, smiling widely at his little brother.

Jason rolls his eyes, and Dick doesn’t miss the slight curve of his lip when he says, “Hi, Dickface.”

He stops in front of Jason, peering at his work. It looks like Jason’s trying to adjust one of the inner panels, or maybe he’s fixing the modulator inside. Dick heard it was on the fritz after some random goon got a lucky shot in with a bat.

“Jay,” Dick says after a while, nudging his foot.

“What?” Jason says, still sounding annoyed. Except it’s softer now, which is subtle to anyone but Dick.

“I love you,” Dick says, nearly cooing when Jason blushes faintly. It makes the freckles scattered across his face stand out.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason grumbles, rubbing a fist against one of his cheeks. “I love you, too.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Steph complains, hands on her hips. “You’ve only got love for your family in your heart, huh?”

“And my friends,” Jason replies, back to sounding irritated. “But you’re neither, so…”

“Hey! Not fair!”

“It’s more than fair,” Jason says. “I say it to Dick because he’s my brother. I say it to Roy because he’s my—” Here, Jason stops, and Dick watches, fascinated, as his blush deepens. Hm… “And I say it to people like Bizarro and Artemis because they’re my friends. The only thing I know about you is that you’re my little brother’s ex. That’s all.”

“Okay, stop arguing about this,” Dick says, holding up a hand when Steph opens her mouth. “I came down here because I needed Jason’s help.”

“Oh? With what?” Jason puts his helmet on the bench. “You never ask for help…”

“Yes, I do!” Dick cries, pointing a finger at him. “I ask for help all the time.”

“Dick, you literally got stuck in a window last night for an hour,” Jason deadpans. “The only reason you got out was because I passed by and saw you. No mention of it on comms.”

“That’s in the past,” Dick dismisses, face hot. It was a pretty embarrassing moment… “Anyways! I think Damian and Tim are hiding something.”

“Little brothers do that,” Jason says. “I hide stuff from you all the time.”

Dick gasps. “Little Wing?” he says, fully and deeply betrayed. He clutches his chest, forcing his eyes to fill with tears. “You??”

“Yep.” Jason smacks his knee. “Stop fake crying.”

“Whatever,” Dick says with a huff, wiping his eyes. “That doesn’t matter! Timmy usually tells me everything, but now, when I try to get him to talk, his lips stay sealed!”

“Oof,” Steph says, wincing. “Good luck, then.” She tosses up a peace sign as she walks backward toward her bike. “I’m out of here!”

“Bye!” Dick says cheerfully, waving at her.

“Never come back,” Jason says, causing Dick to snort before he smacks Jason’s shoulder.

“Be nice,” he scolds.

“Whatever.”

“Also, maybe you should consider that they’re hiding a pet,” Steph calls out over the rev of her engine. “It’s what I would do, at least!” And then she’s gone, leaving behind a skid mark on the ground, a sense of dread within Dick.

“No,” he bemoans, sitting beside Jason on the bench and dropping his forehead onto his shoulder. “Not again!”

Jason hums. “Listen,” he says. “The pet thing is a possibility, but if they’re truly working together, then Tim has the pet because Damian would tell no one, and Tim knows Damian’s the animal expert around here, so it makes sense for him to go to the little demon for help.”

“Ugh.” Dick peeks at his brother. “Wanna help me find out what it is?”

“The last time I helped you with something Tim-related, he gaslit me into thinking I worked for him, and he even showed me my fucking payroll stubs for a job I’m not doing. So now, I’m his paid bodyguard, and lemme tell you, the rest of my hair is gonna turn white at this rate!”

“Wait,” Dick says, frowning. “Does this mean you hang out with him at work?”

“If I don’t, he’ll die.”

“And you never invite me?” Dick says, hurt.

“Are you even listening to me, Dickhead?” Jason demands. “Tim is basically paying me to look after him! How did that even happen? When the fuck did he get the fake credentials for my fake identity to put me on the Wayne Enterprise payroll? Tim scares me! I don’t want to deal with him!” And here, Jason stands, shaking his head. “You’re on your own.”

“Fine,” Dick says petulantly. “What’s going on with you and Roy?”

“Goodbye,” Jason says and runs over to his bike before Dick can tackle and pin him down for answers.

“All of my little brothers are evil,” Dick decides as he stomps back up to the manor. “First, they call me old. Then, they imply I have gray in my hair, which I don’t! And lastly, they don’t even want to gossip with me!” He huffs. “Me! The number one gossiper in this family! I’m so unappreciated in this household.”

“Talking to yourself is never a good sign, Richard,” Damian says as he suddenly sweeps past Dick, carrying a Tupperware container full of… eggs? “Please refrain from doing so in my presence. I still hold you in high regard.”

“Where are you going with those eggs, Damian?” Dick asks, but Damian quickly hurries down the hall and disappears. Too distraught over what his baby brother just said, Dick decides to go into his room, slam the door, and take a nap with a cold compress on his head.

Bruce should have stopped at one. Maybe Dick would be less stressed if he were an only child.

★★

Upon entering the library, Dick stops and stares.

“Tim,” he says after a beat, and he doesn’t even try to hide the tremor in his voice. “Why are you reading a book on baby names?” And then, with dread and desperation, he asks, “Is there something you need to tell me?”

“I haven’t gone through with my plans to make a tube baby,” Tim says without lifting his head. A pause, and then Tim adds, like an afterthought, “I’m not pregnant, either. No one in my life is pregnant, and I haven’t stolen or kidnapped any kids. I’m not Bruce.”

“Oh, okay.” Dick relaxes, walking over and squeezing into the armchair with Tim. His little brother grunts and shifts around to give him space, only to end up in Dick’s lap after Dick decides he wants to cuddle. It also allows him to read over Tim’s shoulder, and he sees that Tim is in the ‘S’ section of the book. “You didn’t answer my first question.”

“I’m looking just to look, Dick,” Tim finally answers. “What if I encounter a clone who doesn’t want to use my name? I need to have options.”

“You’re weird,” Dick tells him and blows a raspberry into Tim’s neck just to hear his squeal. Sure, Tim nerve strikes him afterward, but it’s totally worth it.

Their moment of brotherly peace (which occurs while Dick is rubbing his knuckles into Tim’s forehead) gets broken when Damian suddenly appears in the doorway, wearing one of Dick’s Nightwing hoodies. Dick’s Baby Bat glances between them, an exasperated look on his face before he straightens and clears his throat.

“Timothy,” he says. “It is time for our daily nap.”

“Oh, right.” And somehow, Tim manages to wiggle his way out of Dick’s hold, dropping the book of names onto the table nearby. “See you later, Dick.”

Dick blinks once, twice, and scrambles to stand. “Wait!” he exclaims, following them out the doors. “You don’t want your favorite big brother to join you?”

He watches as Damian and Tim exchange a glance.

“Nap time is a little brothers only thing,” Tim says, sounding apologetic. “We like to talk about how annoying our big brothers are before we fall asleep.”

“Correct,” Damian says with all the confidence of someone lying. Dick only knows it’s untrue because of the slight lilt of his voice and the way his eyes dart away. “Sometimes, we even play each other’s music. Timothy is currently teaching me about the wonders of My Chemical Romance.”

“I might take him to their concert,” Tim explains like he’s not simultaneously making Dick’s heart swell with affection over his bonding little brothers and crushing it because Tim didn’t even consider inviting him to go. “But I need to make sure he knows the lyrics to ‘Welcome to the Black Parade’ before I consider stealing Bruce’s jet to take us to California.”

Dick considers this and then asks, “Why California?”

“Because they’ve always had the best concerts,” Tim says. “And if I go to one in the middle of nowhere only to hear they sang ‘Fake Your Death’ live for the first time in California, I may actually cut my grapple line the next time I go out.”

“Timothy Jackson Grayson!” Dick exclaims. “We don’t joke about that!”

“Don’t give me your last name!” Tim cries. “I’m still emancipated! And I refuse to let anyone else get their claws in me!”

Dick goes to respond, but he’s distracted by the way Damian’s hoodie wiggles near his shoulders. “Dami,” he says slowly. “What do you have there?”

“Nothing,” Damian says quickly.

“Run!” Tim shouts, grabbing Damian’s hand. He also throws a smoke bomb on the floor, obscuring Dick’s vision. He hacks and wheezes, waving it away, but by the time it clears, Dick is the only one left in the hallway.

“Figures,” he grumbles and decides to go rearrange all the books in Bruce’s study to punish him for having children.

★★

Despite Dick’s investigation, he still can’t figure out what’s going on with his littlest brothers.

He considers the pet thing Steph mentioned, but Dick doesn’t spy any unrecognizable pet hair, and there are no suspicious purchases for pet food on Bruce’s credit card. Dick would dismiss the theory altogether if it weren’t for Damian’s wiggly hoodie, so he tries to make a list of possible pets, fails, and looks through pictures of adoptable dogs in Gotham on Bruce’s computer.

Dick does dare to peek into Tim’s room during little brother naptime, hoping to see something amiss. Unfortunately, Tim’s days of sleeping through an apocalypse are over, and he ends up chased through Wayne Manor by Tim, who wields Damian’s katana. They get into trouble with Alfred, but that doesn’t stop Dick from feeling a little emotional over Damian’s willingness to share his weapons with his least favorite brother (his words).

He complains to Jason, who listens very intently, nodding every so often while they stand on a roof together during patrol. Then, Jason walks closer, arms extended like he wants to hug Dick, and he happily tosses his arms around his Little Wing… right before Jason shoves him into a dumpster, tells him to get over himself, and grapples away, cackling the whole time.

“Stop raising evil children!” Dick screams when Bruce rescues him only five minutes later. “Did you activate the serial killer gene in all my little brothers or something?”

Bruce pauses. “What’s a serial killer gene?” he asks instead of apologizing to Dick for his little brothers’ bad behavior.

Dick stares at him. “From now on, we’re going to watch trashy TV shows to get you up to date on pop culture references,” he declares, wiping the hand covered in expired tuna onto Bruce’s cape. “And we’re going to start with the one that brought the term ‘serial killer gene’ into the world.”

“Great,” Bruce says flatly.

“Yeah.” Dick pauses. “How do you feel about hot men hunting monsters?”

★★

All things come to an end, and Dick finally discovers the truth one night before patrol.

He’s already suited up and ready to go but waits for the others to get dressed and gather their weapons. Tim keeps walking the perimeter of the Cave, and when he draws closer, Dick’s eyes are drawn to his waist. 

“Tim,” Dick says carefully. “What do you have in your pouch?”

“What pouch?” Tim asks with a blank face, as if said pouch on his belt isn’t currently wiggling around. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dick.”

“Stop it,” he scolds, walking toward him. “Show me what it is!”

“It’s nothing!” Tim says and runs away. Not one to back down, Dick gives chase, expertly jumping over old weapons dumped on the floor and even shoving past Jason, who protests loudly and nearly falls over. “Leave me alone, Dick! There’s nothing here! You’re being silly!”

“You’re silly!” Dick cries, grabbing his cape and yanking him backward. “Come here!”

“What’s going on here?”

Dick lifts his head when a shadow looms over him, and he spies Bruce standing there, arms crossed and looking unamused. He glances at his brother, who is wide-eyed and silently begging him not to say a word, but Dick doesn’t care and childishly whines, “Tim has something in his pouch, and he won’t let me see!”

“Dick, you rat!” Tim escapes his hold by releasing the cape from the rest of his suit, and now he’s glaring at Dick. “He’s lying, B!” And here, he turns toward Bruce, eyes wide and watery. “You believe me, don’t you?”

Bruce visibly hesitates.

“Bruce!” Dick exclaims. “Don’t fall for it!”

“Tim,” Bruce says very gently, which is leagues better than how he used to talk to Dick whenever Dick tried to lure raccoons or squirrels into the manor with pieces of bread and bags of chips. “Why don’t you show me what you have?”

“Promise you won’t get mad?” Tim asks, and his damn bottom lip wobbles, too.

Ugh, curse Dick for giving Tim lessons on how to look cute and innocent to get away with anything. Somehow, Tim managed to perfect his teachings because he’s totally doing it much better than Dick ever did.

“I promise,” Bruce says, face softening. Great. Their dad bought it hook, line, and sinker.

Dick doesn’t know what he’s expecting when he reaches for his wiggly pouch, but it’s certainly not Tim gently coaxing out a snake. From afar, as it slithers onto Tim’s hands, Dick can see that it’s a hognose, but he can’t exactly tell which type, not unless he wants to get close.

And he doesn’t. Not right now, at least. He’s usually fine with snakes, but sometimes, they freak him out.

“Tim,” Dick says. “What the fu—”

“When did you get a snake?” Bruce asks in a strained voice.

Dick watches as Tim shoots Bruce a perfectly constructed confused look. “I’ve always had a snake, B,” he says in a gentle tone, the same kind he used when he convinced Dick that birds weren’t real. “I found him in the garden, remember? And I asked you to help me befriend him…”

“I…” Bruce’s shoulders slump, the uncertainty lingering on his face. After a minute of saying nothing and staring at the snake, Bruce finally speaks, sounding exhausted, “Please don’t do this to me again.”

And all of Tim’s softness vanishes when he rolls his eyes. “It was worth a shot,” he grumbles, holding up his cupped hands. The snake sits in a tiny pile on his palms. “His name is Shadow,” Tim introduces, and his voice dips dangerously close to a baby voice when he says, “And he’s the cutest little reptile in the whole wide world.”

The snake, Shadow, swivels toward Tim, tongue flicking against his nose.

“Like the Hedgehog?” Jason says, sounding amused.

“No,” Tim replies, arching a brow. “Like The Shadow of Yharnam.”

Jason frowns. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s from Bloodborne.” And Dick catches the way Tim looks Jason up and down, lips pursed. “Which is probably something you can’t handle.”

“Hey!” 

“He’s very cute,” Dick says and squeaks when Tim turns toward him. He dives behind Jason and buries his face in his brother’s shoulder. “But please don’t let him come near me.”

“Shadow is harmless, Richard,” Damian says as he passes. He pauses beside the snake, rubbing a finger over the reptile’s head, and continues walking toward the locker room. “He is more likely to harm himself by attempting to consume his tail than bite you.”

“You’ll be fine because he looks like he doesn’t have a brain,” Tim coos, leaning down to kiss the snake’s head. Shadow tips backward for a moment before plopping down on his body, black scales glowing slightly from the light of the Cave. “Don’t worry, Shadow. No Hunter will ever slay you to progress to the next area!”

“Uh, right…” Dick dares to move closer, frowning. “So, you and Damian have been sneaking around because of this snake?”

“Yes,” Tim answers. “We took turns watching Shadow until I could install the tank. Damian also had the bright idea of taking Shadow outside to give him some enrichment and sunlight!”

Dick thinks Damian probably suggested it to make Tim get some sunlight, too, but he doesn’t say it out loud.

“Damian, though?” Jason says, crossing his arms. “You could have come to any of us for help, Timmy Tim Tim.” Dick nods along, watching as the snake slowly moves up Tim’s arm, tail curled around his wrist. “I would have pitched in for some things.”

“I know,” Tim says and shrugs. “But Damian has more expertise when it comes to animals, and I knew he wouldn’t tell Bruce until we were good and ready.”

“Of course,” Damian says as he returns, fully dressed in his Robin suit. His face is tinged pink, and the way he ducks his head tells Dick he’s slightly embarrassed. Probably over Tim’s praise. “I wouldn’t put my dear nephew at risk for rehoming.”

“Nephew?” Dick echoes, confused.

“I birthed him myself,” Tim says, holding up his arm. Shadow is now up to his shoulder, and Tim’s lips twitch when Shadow’s tongue brushes against his ear. “So, since he’s my son, and Damian’s my brother, which makes him the Uncle to my baby.” He pulls something out of a different pouch with his other hand and holds it toward Bruce. “There’s a birth certificate to prove it.”

“Right,” Bruce says as he accepts the paper. He suddenly looks his age, and Dick thinks he spies a few more gray hairs spontaneously sprouting. “Well, I guess I can’t say anything since you have a legal document with your name on it.” He pauses and squints. “Why is Conner Kent’s name here, too?”

“Oh, would you look at that?” Tim says, glancing at his watchless wrist. “It’s time for another feeding! You want to help me, Damian?”

“Of course,” Damian says. “And I’ll find out why that clone of yours is the other father.”

Tim scowls. “You’re both the same!” he accuses, pointing at Bruce first, then at Damian.

Before, the comment might have made Damian preen. Now, Dick can clearly see the disgust on his face. “Don’t compare me to him,” Damian says, sticking his nose up into the air. “Fine. I will refrain from asking questions. Come along, Timothy. I prepared more eggs for Shadow.”

“Did you put the crack on it?” Tim asks, sounding way too serious.

“Excuse me,” Jason cuts in. “The what?”

“It’s not actually crack, you broomhead,” Tim says, rolling his eyes. Dick snorts, catching the way Jason mouths ‘broomhead’ with a look of disbelief. “Calcium powder! We sprinkle it on whatever Shadow is going to eat. Personally, I think he’s pretty healthy, but you can never be too sure.”

“Indeed,” Alfred says, suddenly appearing out of nowhere and making Dick shriek loud enough to awaken most of the bats. “Master Dick, there is no need for your dramatics.”

“I can be as dramatic as I want when Timmy here has been hiding a whole snake from us,” Dick says, pouting. “Did you know about this, Alfie? Please tell me you didn’t know.”

Alfred arches a brow.

“Of course you knew,” Dick mutters, dragging his heel across the floor. “You know everything.”

“Quite right, Master Dick,” Alfred says. “You’re welcome to stop by for dinner anytime with your speedster friend.” He turns toward Jason. “As well as the archer, Master Jason. I would be more than happy to add two more plates to the table.”

“I…” Dick feels like he might burst into flames. Judging by the dark blush on Jason’s face, he’s probably feeling the same way. “Right. Sure. I’ll… let him know.”

“Hm?” Bruce cocks his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Dick and Jason say quickly, and Dick shares a small moment of embarrassment and panic with his brother.

“Perhaps we should install a fridge in your bedroom, Master Tim,” Alfred says as he steers Tim and Damian toward the stairs (while they’re still in costume! Wow!). “The meal you purchased for your reptilian friend nearly contaminated tonight’s dinner. It’s Master Jason’s favorite, remember?”

“Jason might like the frog juices,” Tim replies, and Jason makes a disgusted sound beside Dick. “But sure. That sounds like a great idea, Alfie.”

“Someone in this family must use their brain, Master Tim, and we all know it will never be Master Bruce.”

“Hey,” Bruce says mildly.

Dick laughs and chases after his brothers, standing on Damian’s side to avoid the snake. “So,” he starts curiously. “How did this even happen?”

Damian and Tim share a look.

(Dick might hate it from now on, but at least it means they like each other.)

“Oh, you know,” Tim says breezily. “I just walked in and asked.”

When Dick glances at Damian to confirm, Damian nods but says nothing. It makes Dick a little suspicious, and he squints at Tim, hoping his scrutinizing look will make him talk. Of course, it does nothing, and Dick bemoans the loss of his big brother powers.

“Wanna hold him?” Tim asks right before they exit the grandfather clock, holding the snake toward him.

Dick shrieks and almost falls down the stairs.

★★

(This is how it starts:

“Damian!” Drake exclaims upon entering Damian’s sanctuary, looking as crazed as Two-Face when Richard kept making fun of him and his abysmal suit the other night. “I need your help!”

“Oh?” Damian says mildly.

“I found something in Alfie’s garden,” Drake says and brandishes a small snake. It sits on his palms in a small pile, seemingly content. How very odd. “And I thought you might be able to help me take care of it.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “You plan on keeping it?” he demands, frowning when Drake nods. “Taking care of a snake requires a lot of work, Drake.”

“I know,” Drake says, and he sounds determined. “But he needs my help, and I thought—” Here, Drake flushes and ducks his head, dragging his heel across Damian’s rug. “I thought it might be a nice way for us to bond,” he continues. “It’s okay if you don’t, though. I guess I can do some research on my own…”

Damian stares at Drake—at his brother—and recalls his private desire to bridge the gap between them. He’s been trying by bringing tea and cookies to the man whenever he gets stuck in the Cave late at night, but any and all conversation they have tends to be awkward.

Maybe… Maybe this is his chance.

“Timothy,” Damian says, noting how the other man’s eyes widen. “I would be glad to help.”

Timothy stares for a moment longer, causing Damian to fidget, before he smiles widely, looking too much like Richard. “Okay!” he says and dares to walk further into Damian’s room, sitting on the edge of Damian’s bed. He keeps his eyes on the snake so he doesn’t demand Timothy’s exit, and it looks content. “Where should we start?”

“What we need first is a large tank,” Damian declares and turns toward his computer. He saves the progress on his essay (one sentence as he got distracted by an update for his favorite comic) and opens up the website of the pet store Damian frequents. “And we will proceed from there.”

“Alright, sounds good.”

And then, miraculously, Timothy holds the snake out toward him.

“Would you like to—”

“Yes,” Damian answers quickly, cupping his palms together. “Please.”

And as Timothy places the snake in Damian’s hands, Damian can’t help but think that things might change for the better.)