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“I’ve been poisoned!” Damian flung open the door to Bruce’s study. Alarm flooded through Bruce’s body, a million different questions fighting to the forefront of his mind.
“Wh-”
“He’s being dramatic!” Tim complained as he stepped into the office behind Damian.
“It’s all Drake’s fault,” Damian jabbed an accusing finger at Tim, “He poisoned me.”
Bruce sighed. It was going to be a long day.
“Okay, what happened?”
Tim and Damian shouted over each other, squabbling for Bruce’s attention. He could feel a headache forming. Bruce silenced them with a stern look.
“Drake is jealous,” Damian explained, “He knows I’m the superior Robin, so he put something in my mug. Drake unsuccessfully tried to assassinate me.”
Tim rolled his eyes. Bruce gestured to Tim, indicating it was his turn to speak.
“First of all, it wasn’t your drink; it was mine. Secondly, I didn’t poison you,” Tim turned to Bruce, “He took a sip of my coffee by accident.”
“Who would willingly drink such a vile thing? That was not coffee.”
“Okay, I might have mixed in some energy drinks for an extra boost,” Tim admitted, “But it’s not that gross. You only think that because you smother your hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows.”
Bruce wasn’t sure which issue to address first: Damian’s dramatics or Tim’s poor sleep schedule. Behind Bruce’s annoyance, he was glad Damian felt comfortable enough to seek him out…or perhaps Damian was just excited by the opportunity to get Tim in trouble.
“See?” Damian said, “Father, do something about Drake’s behavior. I thought he was at least clever enough to conjure up a better plan than that. The League of Assassins trained me; Drake’s attempt was insulting and impetuous.”
“I should’ve actually tried to poison you,” Tim sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Jealous much?”
“I’m not—” Tim threw his hands up in exasperation and looked at Bruce with an expression that said see what I have to deal with?
Although Tim and Damian argued, it was better than complete radio silence, and they tolerated each other enough to stay in the same room. At least, that’s what Bruce told himself. He schooled his face to resemble the look he used when interrogating criminals. Ultimately, curiosity got the better of him: “Alright, show me”
Bruce carefully lifted the mug, tilting it like chemicals in a lab. He poured it down the sink.
“Hey!” Tim made a halfhearted attempt to snatch the mug back, already knowing it was too late. Damian snickered and Bruce could feel the smugness radiating off him. Damian’s mug sat conveniently near the sink. The side of the mug was decorated with pictures of various animals,—a gift from Dick—and held a slowly melting mountain of whipped cream and marshmallows. Chocolate syrup, rainbow sprinkles, and a small pinch of sea salt rested on top. The mere thought of consuming that much sugar made Bruce want to gag. He poured the contents of Damian’s mug down the sink. Tim laughed.