Chapter Text
Tim was fucking done with this fucking family.
He was on the edge. There was literally a foot between him and his family’s immediate demise. Yesterday, he was working on a case for what was probably far too long, only to show up to the place that had the answer to his case and find fucking Condiment King there. After his suit, his favourite suit (the nice soft one with good flexibility and proper storage) got destroyed, he went to cool down at his favourite restaurant. Turns out, that restaurant was shutting down. For good. Never to return. After that, Riddler left a clue for him. Finally, something predictable in his life. The clue was too predictable. He solved it in five minutes. Jesus, everyone was so stupid it was pissing him off. Then, naturally, there was another breakout at Arkham. Jason didn’t bother to show up, and Tim got his wrist dislocated. After that, it was three AM. He was planning on going asleep (for once in a reasonable time and place), only for a car to be thrown through his fucking window. And who threw that car? Jason fucking Todd. That bitch. Not only had he gotten Tim benched for injury, now there was a car in his room. It was his car. After that fiasco, he had a meeting for WE. With old people. Ugh. Boring, old people. After that, he had to catch the bus home because someone ruined his car. That bus was hijacked by Calendar Man. Fucking Calendar Man. After he escaped, he got kidnapped. And guess who showed up to save him? Red. Fucking. Hood. The man who ruined his existence. His brother. Tim would rather get shot ten times than deal with his shit-eating grin. Then, Jason had the balls to tease him about it. IT WAS HIS. FUCKING. FAULT.
So now it was five in the afternoon. Tim hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, and was going to kill Jason. The final straw? Dickface. He had the audacity to breathe too loudly, and he tried to cook. That man’s cooking was absolute shit despite living alone for years prior. That fucking asshole bitch-face bastard shit eating dickhead motherfucking motherfucker. Tim was going to skin him alive with a potato peeler and roll him in salt. Just earlier that day, before Tim went to work, Dick asked him ‘Oh, how are you?’ Tim was sitting in front of his computer, a cup of straight black coffee in his hand. Mind you, he’s very gay (bi) and he hates black coffee. Too bitter. He either has energy drinks, or coffee with so much milk and sugar it’s considered a dessert.
Anyway, Tim was moving in with Kon, Cassie and Bart next week. Wait, let him explain.
After Tim finished eating Dick’s disgusting cooking (Jason refused to fix it and Tim was busy, thank you very much), Damian walked in, and his footsteps basically echoed through the whole manor. (Maybe he was developing a migraine but that’s not important right now.)
Tim slammed his cup of water down on the table hard enough it shattered. Everyone jumped and looked at him in surprise.
“...What the fuck, Tim?” Jason demanded.
Tim glared. “I swear I am this fucking close. I will rip you apart-”
“OKAY, okay, that is enough, Tim,” Dick interrupted, “let’s all take a deep breath and-”
“No,” Tim said.
Dick stopped. “What’s the matter, Timmy?”
Tim snapped. “What’s the matter? You’re the fucking matter! You and that abomination of a human over there,” he flung a violent arm toward Jason, “who is eating cereal like he owns the fucking manor!”
Jason just stared at him, raised the spoon to his mouth, chewed slowly and frustratingly, and said, “Who pissed in your coffee this morning?”
“You did when you threw my fucking car through my fucking window!”
“Woah. That’s in the past, Timmers.” Jason raised his hands. “I can’t be blamed.”
Tim sputtered. This bitch! He stood up violently. “In the past! You’re supposed to be in the fucking past, you dead bitch! You should’ve stayed gone! Would’ve done us all a favour!”
Jason patted Tim’s shoulder. “We know, Timberlina. You’re mad.”
Tim just bitch slapped him right there and then. “Mad? I’ll show you mad when I break your kneecaps.”
Jason nodded sympathetically. “I know. That’s the only place you can reach.”
Tim shoved him, and Jason was thrown back far too dramatically. He hit the wall, and one of Alfred’s expensive china plates hit Jason on the head and shattered. That’s when Dick jumped in.
“I think that’s enough.” Dick pulled Tim off Jason.
That bastard. How dare he? Tim was fighting Jason for honour. Also because Jason was being a motherfucker. Fine. If Dick didn’t want Tim to fight with Jason, Tim would just fight with him. Tim launched at Dick. Dick shrieked like a little girl. At that point, Bruce sprinted in only to find Tim clinging to Dick while scratching and hissing at him like a cat. Bruce walked out the door. They could hear him sigh disappointedly before he walked back in the room with a spray bottle.
Tim was the one who started shrieking when Bruce started spraying him. He lasted three hits, one to the side, one to the neck and one to the eye before he let go of Dick and flopped to the ground. Dick and Jason both received their own sprays and joined Tim screaming on the floor, this time out of being overdramatic. Damian was on a FaceTime call with Jon while recording the incident. Kon and Clark were now also watching from the other end.
“Beat their asses, Timtam!” Kon yelled.
“Kon! No salty language!” Clark cried, glaring at him.
Tim leaped at Bruce, only for Bruce to catch him by the scruff and hold him at arms length while Tim writhed.
Tim kicked Bruce’s arm and fell to the floor. “That’s it! I won’t stand for this anymore! I’m moving out! Kon, want to move to another country with me?”
“Oh fuck yeah!” Kon ripped the phone out of Jon’s hand while Clark choked on air. He added Bart and Cassie to the call. “Hey, guys! Want to move to Canada with me and Tim?”
“I never said-” Tim started.
“YEAH!!!!”
“Of course!!!”
Bart and Cassie said in unison before all four friends bolted out of the room they were in to go pack.
Everyone else just stood in silence.
“Well,” Damian finally broke the silence, “this won’t end badly.”