Work Text:
It all started with a mysterious package.
Damian was the one to find it. It had been delivered with the morning post, an unremarkable, inconspicuous little thing: a small brown box, unmarked but for the postage label taped atop it, mixed in with several envelopes addressed to Bruce and a catalogue Alfred had repeatedly attempted (and failed) to unsubscribe from.
The address had been handwritten in blue ink:
WAYNE MANOR
GOTHAM, NEW JERSEY
There was no name.
Damian frowned.
“Pennyworth,” he called, lifting the package carefully from the pile. “Who is this intended for?”
Alfred looked up from where he was arranging breakfast on the table. “I’m afraid the sender neglected to specify, Master Damian.”
“Then why was it accepted?”
“Because it was addressed to the house.”
“That is an unacceptable security practice.”
“I shall be certain to reprimand the postman.”
Damian ignored the dry note in his voice and turned the package over. There was no return address either, just a sticker bearing the words: KEEP OUT OF DIRECT SUNLIGHT, accompanied by a crudely drawn frowning sun.
The door creaked open, and Dick appeared in the doorway, face turned over his shoulder as he talked with Jason, who was a step behind. They both looked tired, dressed in sweats with their hair mussed from sleep.
Damian looked up. “Is this yours?”
Dick paused, one hand still resting on the door. He looked away from Jason to the package in Damian’s hands. “Nope. Not mine.”
He broke off into a yawn, lifting one hand to cover his mouth.
Jason peered over his shoulder. “What is it?”
“If I knew, I would not be asking,” Damian retorted.
“Could be a bomb,” Jason suggested.
Dick grimaced and shoved his shoulder. “Why would you say that?”
“Because the kid’s holding it like it’s a bomb.”
Damian looked down at the package. He was holding it perfectly ordinarily, with both hands positioned carefully beneath it and his arms extended far enough that, should it unexpectedly detonate, the blast would be directed away from his vital organs.
“...I am exercising an appropriate degree of caution.”
At which point, Duke wandered into the room, squeezing his way between Dick and Jason, who were still blocking the doorway. “Whoa—hey—mornin’, just coming through…”
He was still in his pyjamas, but he’d shrugged a Gotham Giants hoodie over them. He also looked far more awake than they did.
Jason grumbled as Duke shoved a hand in his face as he passed. “Hey, watch it, kid.”
“Oh, sorry,” Duke said, not sounding sorry at all. “Didn’t see you there behind all the doorway you were blocking.”
Jason narrowed his eyes at him.
Duke smirked. Then he glanced at Dick. “Morning, Dick. Sleep well?”
“Well enough,” Dick muttered with another half-muffled yawn. “Patrol ran late.”
“Rough,” Duke said sympathetically.
“Oh, so he gets that, but I get a hand to my face as a greeting?” Jason demanded immediately.
Duke raised an eyebrow at him. “Would you like me to ask how you slept?”
Jason folded his arms. “It’d be polite.”
“Alright.” Duke gave him a quick once-over. “Badly, apparently.”
Jason let out an offended noise.
Dick snorted loudly, moving further into the room. He clapped a hand on Duke’s shoulder as he passed. “Oh, you got him good.”
Duke’s grin widened, and he followed Dick into the room. He slid into a seat at the table, reaching for a glass and the jug of water Alfred had set out.
Dick slid into the seat next to Duke.
“Can everyone cease bickering and focus?” Damian cut in, irritated, still holding the package at arm’s length. “We have yet to determine who this belongs to.”
Duke glanced over while pouring his water. “What’s that?”
“A bomb,” Jason said again.
Duke blinked, still pouring water. “...At eight am?”
“Bombs don’t have time limits, Glowstick.”
“They quite literally do. I thought you’d be intimately familiar with that, actually.”
Dick choked on his own spit, dropping the apple he’d grabbed from the fruit bowl.
Jason opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds, as if unable to formulate a response.
“Holy shit, Duke, let him get up,” Steph spoke from the doorway, awe in her voice.
She was dressed in pyjamas, her wavy hair big and fluffy from how she’d slept. She had a little leftover makeup on her face from the night before, glittery eyeshadow smudged beneath her eyes, along with leftover grey-black mascara. She looked a little like a sparkly panda.
“Oh, hey Steph.” Duke grinned at her.
“Hey.” She wandered further into the room, beelining toward the cupboard where Cass stored all her snacks. “You still coming out with me later?”
Duke’s grin faltered a little. “Later?”
“To the arcade,” Steph responded, head now inside the cupboard.
“I thought that was tomorrow.”
“No, tomorrow’s movie night.”
Duke winced. “Movie night?”
Steph leaned backwards and levelled him with an unimpressed stare, a box of crackers in one hand. “You forgot about movie night too?”
“Okay, let’s focus, people,” Dick interrupted, having recovered from his shock.
Duke breathed out a sigh of relief at the change of subject.
Dick picked up his apple and began throwing it up in the air repeatedly. “The package isn’t a bomb.” Then he paused, eyeing it. “...Probably. Alfred, is it a bomb?”
“Of course not, Master Richard.” Alfred sniffed primly. “Perish the thought. All parcels are screened for explosives before being brought inside.”
Duke finally seemed to notice the water creeping over the rim of his glass. He hurriedly righted the jug, spilling several drops across the table in the process.
Alfred silently placed a cloth beside him.
“Thanks,” Duke murmured.
Alfred inclined his head slightly, then stepped away.
“Who’s it addressed to?” Dick asked, leaning across the table for a better look, the apple he’d been throwing now safely in his hand.
“No one,” Damian said, holding it out toward him. “It bears only the Manor’s address.”
“Maybe it’s for Bruce,” Jason suggested. He dropped heavily into the seat opposite Duke, who paused halfway through a bite of toast to glance at him.
“Father’s name would be included.”
“Maybe it’s for all of us,” Duke suggested, voice muffled through his food.
“Then it would presumably say so,” Damian replied.
“Maybe it’s a surprise,” Steph offered, hopping up onto the kitchen counter by the sink and crossing her legs. She opened the box of crackers. “Mystery box. Fun!”
Alfred levelled her with an unimpressed stare that she pretended not to see.
Damian considered her for a moment, then shook his head. “If it were intended to be a surprise, labelling it with the contents would rather defeat the purpose.”
“It isn’t labelled with the contents,” Dick pointed out. He put down his apple and reached for the box. Damian reluctantly relinquished it. Dick gently turned it over. “It just says to keep it out of direct sunlight.”
Jason paused halfway through stealing a piece of toast from the rack. “Huh?”
Dick rotated the box so the warning sticker faced him.
Jason leaned forward, squinting at it. “Why’s the sun angry?”
“It is not angry,” Damian said. “It is frowning.”
“Yeah. Angrily.”
Duke swallowed his toast and leaned across the table to look. “Are those fangs?”
Dick tilted the box slightly. “Huh.”
Jason’s eyebrows rose. “Maybe it is for all of us. Somebody mailed us a vampire.”
“The box is way too small for that, Jay,” Dick snorted. He shook it a little. “What, someone sent us a miniature vampire?”
Duke pulled a considering face. “That’d be sick.”
“The box lacks air holes,” Damian said.
“Vampires don’t need air,” Steph cut in, fist deep in the box of crackers now.
Jason raised a brow. “Do you actually know that?”
Steph shrugged, popping a cracker into her mouth. “Yeah, actually. I feel pretty confident about it.”
The kitchen door opened again.
Tim wandered in with his attention fixed on his phone. His hair was sticking up at the back, and he was wearing a wrinkled shirt beneath a huge Superboy hoodie that fell to mid-thigh, unzipped. He made it several steps into the room before glancing up at the unusual concentration of people around the breakfast table.
He raised a brow, eyes briefly flicking to Steph on the counter before settling back on the table. “What are you all doing?”
“Attempting to identify the recipient of this package,” Damian said.
Dick held it up. “Any ideas?”
Tim squinted at it. “Oh, yeah. That’s probably mine.”
“Oh.” Dick deflated.
Duke slumped back in his chair. “Ugh. Boring.”
Jason wrinkled his nose, clearly agreeing. “That was disappointingly easy to solve.”
Tim walked over to the fridge and opened it, reaching into it. He emerged a second later with a carton of coconut water.
His eyes snapped back to the box as Dick gave it another experimental shake. “Don’t do that.”
Dick immediately froze. “Why?”
“The bottles might break.”
There was a brief silence.
Jason slowly lowered the piece of toast in his hand. “What bottles?”
Tim crossed the room and held out his hand. “Give it.”
Dick drew the package protectively against his chest, like it was his child. “You said it was only probably yours.”
“Yeah, but it has Bart’s handwriting on it,” Tim said. He shook his outstretched hand expectantly. “Now gimme.”
The four boys at the table looked at the handwritten address, drawing closer together again so they could see it. Tim watched them with a slightly raised eyebrow.
Damian’s eyes narrowed, and he looked up at Tim, who was standing at the end of the table. “You can identify Allen’s handwriting from six feet away?”
Tim shrugged, unscrewing the carton lid. “He writes his As backwards. Pass a glass, will you?”
Duke nudged a glass in his direction.
“Thanks.”
Dick examined the label. The second A in ‘WAYNE MANOR’ was, indeed, backwards.
“And Kon drew the warning sticker,” Tim added, now pouring coconut water into the glass.
Duke leaned toward Dick, tilting his head as he examined the box again. “How can you tell?”
“The sun has an S-curl.”
Dick turned the box around.
The frowning sun did, inexplicably, have a tiny curl hanging over its forehead.
Jason squinted at it. “That’s supposed to be Superman hair?”
“Superboy hair,” Tim corrected.
“Looks like a worm,” Steph mumbled through a mouthful of food, squinting at it from across the room. Then she winced, one hand holding her head. “Ow. Anyone got any painkillers?”
Her question went unanswered as Tim shrugged, sipping from his glass. “Kon can’t draw.”
Dick finally surrendered the package. Tim tucked it beneath one arm and resumed looking at his phone.
Alfred approached Steph and placed two pills and a fresh glass of water beside her.
She looked up at him with gratitude. “You’re my favourite.”
“So you frequently assure me when hungover, Miss Stephanie.”
“I mean it every time.”
“I’m certain.” Alfred set another plate of toast in the centre of the table, then slipped through the adjoining door, disappearing into the hallway.
For a moment, everything was quiet—a truly rare phenomenon in the Wayne household, most likely induced by the early hour of the day and the unusual number of sleepy Waynes already awake.
Duke pulled a bowl toward himself and poured in a heap of cereal. Dick picked up his apple again and began cutting it into neat slices on his plate.
Jason and Damian got into a staring contest over the same slice of toast, despite there being multiple other slices to choose from. Jason won, grinning smugly as he put it on his plate.
Steph continued to crunch her crackers, watching from her spot on the counter.
“What did they send you?” Duke asked Tim eventually, pushing his spoon around his bowl.
Tim shrugged one shoulder. “No idea.”
Damian squinted at him. “But you said there were bottles inside.”
“Mhm. I can hear them,” Tim muttered absentmindedly, frowning at whatever was on his phone. “Glass ones.”
Jason glanced at Dick. Dick glanced back at him.
“...Right,” he said after a second of silence.
Jason asked, “Why were they sending you anything at all?”
Tim put the package down on the edge of the table and slid into the chair there, leaning his chin on one hand. He was still looking at something on his phone, barely paying attention to them. “Birthday present, probably.”
The room went dead silent, besides Steph crunching.
Tim finally looked away from the device in his hands. “...What?”
“Tim, it’s your birthday?” Dick asked, face horrified.
“No.”
The room breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“It was my birthday yesterday.”
Bruce walked into the room, dressed in a suit and looking like he was still mostly asleep. He immediately walked over to the coffee machine and started on his morning coffee, as if he was unaware of anyone else in the room.
Then he paused, head slowly turning toward them as he took in the collective horror on everyone else’s faces. “...What happened?”
“It’s Tim’s birthday!” Dick announced accusingly.
“Yesterday,” Tim corrected. “It was my birthday yesterday.”
Bruce’s eyes widened a little, and he glanced at the calendar mounted to the fridge. “July 20th… it was… your birthday yesterday.”
Tim sighed, like they were hugely inconveniencing him. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Of course it’s a big deal!” Dick exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Did I… need to?” Tim looked genuinely confused. “You know when my birthday is. Look, it’s on the calendar.”
They all looked at it, like Bruce had a moment before. Indeed, there in big letters were the words ‘TIM’S BIRTHDAY’ in Alfred’s neat handwriting.
“I knew it was his birthday,” Steph said, raising a hand. “We went out last night to celebrate.”
“We?” Dick questioned weakly.
“Me, Steph, and Cass,” Tim supplied after a moment. “Kon too.”
“Killer hangover, by the way,” Steph muttered. “Thanks for that, Tim. You’re never hungover. It’s so annoying.”
Tim grinned at her, sickly sweet. “You’re welcome, oh Stephanie darling.”
She stuck her tongue out at him, and he looked around the room. “No Cass?”
“Still sleeping,” Steph said. “Hungover. Don’t poke the bear.”
Tim shuddered dramatically, then went a little tense when he realised the rest of the room was still quietly watching him. “What?”
There was a long moment of silence.
Then Jason leaned back in his chair. “Well, happy birthday, I guess.”
“Thanks,” Tim said dryly, picking at the tape on the package.
Dick pushed out of his chair, crossed the room, and wrapped both arms around Tim before he could retreat.
“Yep,” Tim muttered into his chest as Dick squished him. “This is… great.” He let it continue for another moment, then awkwardly tapped at Dick’s arm. “...Release me?”
“How old are you now?” Dick asked into his hair, instead of letting him go. “There’s so many of you now I can never keep track.”
“Seventeen.”
Dick snorted, pulling back a bit.
Tim didn’t laugh, just frowned.
Dick’s laughter slowly died, and he pulled back more, letting go of him. “No, seriously, Tim. How old are you?”
“Seventeen,” Tim said again, completely serious.
Duke stared at him. “Weren’t you seventeen last year?”
“Mhm,” Tim nodded.
Jason frowned. “You were also seventeen the year before that.”
Tim glanced at him. “Was I?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Tim considered that. “Then, yeah.”
Damian muttered suspiciously, with a deep furrow in his brow, “You were also seventeen when you met me, Drake.”
Jason’s frown deepened, and he sat up a little straighter. “Hold on.”
“Tim,” Dick asked apprehensively, “how long have you been seventeen?”
An amused flicker passed over Tim’s face. “A while.”
Duke immediately slammed a hand down on the table and pointed at him with his other hand. “Twilight! That was a Twilight reference!”
Tim’s face split into a grin. “Yes.”
Duke slapped the table again, delighted. “I knew it!”
Dick glanced between them, face confused. “What was a Twilight reference?”
“‘How long have you been seventeen?’” Duke repeated, gesturing emphatically at Tim. “‘A while.’ Edward says it when Bella finds out he’s a vampire.”
Bruce’s eyes narrowed more, glancing between Tim and his coffee repeatedly. Despite looking mostly asleep still, he looked like his brain was going at a hundred miles an hour.
“Ugh,” Steph groaned. “Seriously, Tim? You can do better than a Twilight reference.”
“Nah, I think Twilight is great.” Tim waved her off, still grinning. “Although, I don’t sparkle.”
“You don’t sparkle?” Dick muttered to himself. “What?”
Duke’s eyes had gone wide, staring at Tim. “No way.”
“What?” Jason asked, turning to him.
“No way,” Duke said again.
“What?!” Jason snapped, irritated now.
“I do not understand.” Damian was studying Tim with an intense frown. “How can you be seventeen this year, be seventeen last year, and seventeen the year before that?”
“Oh,” Tim said, with a casual shrug. “I’m a vampire.”
The room went completely silent, besides the noise of Duke slapping a hand over his mouth.
Steph crunched another cracker, deafening in the quiet room.
Bruce’s eyes flicked towards her.
She stopped chewing as soon as she noticed. “What?”
“You don’t appear surprised,” Bruce said.
“Oh.” Steph swallowed. “Yeah, I knew.”
Dick turned towards her, mouth dropping open. “You knew?”
“Duh. We dated.”
Jason stared at her. “And that never came up?”
“Between us?” Steph asked. Her lips curved into a smirk. “Oh. Frequently.”
Duke gagged loudly into his hand. “Stop. Stop! We don’t want to know!”
“With us, Steph!” Dick exclaimed. “Why did it never come up with us?”
Steph blinked. “I thought you knew.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because he’s very obviously a vampire.” Steph looked around at them, unimpressed. “Greatest detectives alive, by the way.”
Before Dick could respond, the kitchen door creaked open again, and Cass shuffled into the room.
She was still wearing the clothes from the night before, and her hair was flattened against one side of her head. Her eyes were narrowed to slits against the morning light.
Everyone fell silent as she crossed the room.
Cass ignored them. She trudged straight towards Tim, dropped heavily onto the floor beside his chair, and rested her head on his thigh with a quiet sigh, closing her eyes.
Tim looked down at her. “Morning.”
Cass let out a low, miserable groan and wrapped both arms around his leg. “Sssh.”
“Head hurt?”
She nodded against his leg.
Tim patted her hair sympathetically. “Steph said not to bother you.”
“Too loud,” Cass mumbled. “Never going out with you again.”
Tim let out a small snort.
Cass slowly lifted her head and squinted around the room. Everyone was staring at Tim. “Why weird?”
Dick pointed at Tim. “Because Tim just casually revealed that he’s a vampire!”
Cass stared at him. Then she lowered her head back onto Tim’s leg with a tired sigh, closing her eyes again. “Yes.”
Dick’s pointing hand slowly dropped, his face going slack as he realised that this wasn’t news to her.
Jason looked between them. “You knew too?”
Cass cracked one eye open. “Obviously.”
Dick gaped at her. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“And you never thought to mention that he was a vampire?” Jason demanded.
Cass winced at the volume and pressed her face harder against Tim’s thigh. Tim put a hand on her head again, petting her hair gently.
“Thought you knew,” she mumbled. “Obvious.”
“It is not obvious!” Jason snapped, throwing his hands up.
Tim raised a brow. “Uh, yeah, it is. I’m pale, I’m nocturnal, I don’t sleep—”
“You never slept before!” Dick cut in. “And we’re all nocturnal!”
“I’m not,” Duke cut in, now spooning cereal into his mouth. “I have a normal sleep schedule.”
Tim continued, “I’ve been seventeen for years, I can hear through walls, I avoid direct sunlight—”
“You’re a vigilante,” Jason said. “We all avoid direct sunlight.”
“I drink blood.”
Jason threw his hands wider and waved them around, face exasperated. “You drink everything out of opaque travel mugs! We thought it was coffee!”
Tim gestured towards his own face. “Also, fangs.”
“You don’t walk around with your fangs out!” Dick protested.
Tim tilted his head. “Huh. Good point.” Then he frowned, looking at them all each in turn. “Did you guys really not know I’m a vampire? I don’t exactly hide it.”
“No!” Dick squeaked, putting his head in his hands. “God, I thought you were just weird.”
Tim stared at him, face mildly offended. “Why would you think that?”
“Because ‘Tim’s being weird’ is a much more likely explanation than ‘Tim is secretly a vampire’!”
“I wasn’t secretly a vampire,” Tim corrected him. “I’m a vampire, and you guys thought it was a secret.”
“You never told us.” Dick deflated.
Tim shrugged. “You never asked.”
Jason’s eye twitched. “People don’t generally ask their brothers if they’re vampires, Tim.”
“Maybe you should start.”
Duke immediately turned to Damian, eyeing him suspiciously.
“What?” Damian snapped, staring back at him.
“...Nothing,” Duke said, squinting at him. “Show me your teeth real quick?”
“I am not a vampire, Thomas!” Damian snapped.
“Whoa, chill,” Duke said, clearly amused. “Just checking the second most likely candidate out. If anyone else in this family was gonna be a vampire, it was gonna be you or Bruce.”
He turned toward Bruce, who just sipped at his coffee and stared back at him, deadpan.
After a long moment, Duke pulled a face. “...To be decided.”
He briefly considered Dick, then dismissed him with a shake of his head.
Dick frowned. “Why am I not a candidate?”
Duke wrinkled his nose, looking him up and down.
“You’d somehow end up running a group of vampires or something,” he said, shaking his head again. “I’m getting bad vibes.”
Dick stared at him, bemused.
Duke returned to his cereal.
Jason’s eyes suddenly focused on Tim’s glass as Tim raised it to take another sip. “Wait. You’re drinking coconut water.”
Tim paused with it halfway to his mouth. “Yeah?”
“But you’re a vampire. You drink blood.”
“Yeah, sometimes,” Tim said with a shrug. “Sometimes I drink coconut water. Alfred keeps it stocked for me.”
“Alfred knows too?” Dick asked quietly, still slouched with an air of despair. His hands were over his face.
“Of course,” Tim frowned at him. “He’s Alfred.”
“I thought vampires only drank blood,” Jason interrupted, still frowning at Tim.
“We need blood,” Tim corrected, sipping at his glass of coconut water. “That doesn’t mean it’s the only liquid we can consume.”
“But why coconut water?”
“It has a similar electrolyte balance to blood plasma. It's close enough that my body can actually get something useful from it, anyway.” Tim lowered his glass slightly. “It doesn’t replace feeding, but it keeps me hydrated and takes the edge off. Plus it tastes good.”
Jason stared at him. “So what… It's vampire Gatorade?”
Tim paused and looked down into his glass, considering. “Huh. Basically.”
Bruce lowered his coffee and approached the table. “What happens if you’re exposed to sunlight?”
Tim glanced at him. “Nothing too dramatic, just a bit of bad sunburn. It makes me tired, gives me a headache if I’m out too long.” Tim shrugged. “But it’s fine.”
Steph narrowed her eyes at him. “‘A bit of bad sunburn,’ he says, as if he didn’t almost disintegrate in my arms that—”
Tim rolled his eyes. “One time. That was one time, Steph!”
“One time too many,” Steph muttered, glaring at him.
Cass seemed to have fallen asleep leaning against Tim’s leg, mouth slightly open and her eyes closed. Tim’s hand was still gently moving through her hair.
Bruce frowned, looking at Tim. “You frequently go out during daylight hours.”
Tim waved him off dismissively. “Frequently? Nah. More like rarely. Besides, when was the last time you saw the sun in Gotham, Bruce?”
Duke paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth.
Jason glanced towards the window, where a thick layer of grey cloud pressed against the glass.
“Huh,” he said. “Kid’s got a point.”
“I’m fine,” Tim assured Bruce. “It’s basically the same reason Edward Cullen moved to Forks.”
Steph groaned loudly. “Again?”
“What?” Tim asked. “It’s relevant.”
“You cannot keep referencing Twilight. It’s getting old,” she complained. “You need new material.”
Tim smirked at her. “Maybe. But Twilight just speaks to me. It accurately describes my situation.”
“It really doesn’t.”
“Me and Edward are besties,” Tim continued.
Steph grimaced and stuck her tongue out at him. It was covered in bits of cracker.
Bruce ignored their little spat. “And if Gotham does have a sunny day?”
Tim considered that for a moment. “Then I wear sunscreen.”
Bruce stared at him.
“SPF one hundred,” Tim added helpfully.
Jason snorted.
“I can’t believe we never knew Tim is a vampire,” Dick sighed, rubbing one hand over his face. “How did we not know?”
Tim shrugged. “Skill issue.”
Dick looked like Tim had just slapped him.
Before he could respond, Duke suddenly asked, “Hey, if I lit up like a glowstick right now would you disintegrate?”
The room went silent.
Tim blinked at Duke.
Damian said, “Please do not attempt to vapourise Drake at the breakfast table, Thomas. I do not want Drake-dust on my food.”
Tim narrowed his eyes at him. “I would taste delicious.”
Dick let out a noise of disgust. “What is wrong with you all?”
Tim turned back to Duke. “We should try that out sometime. When are you free?”
Duke lit up (not literally, but close to it). “I have time—”
“No,” Bruce cut in. “Please do not try that particular science experiment.”
Duke deflated, disappointed.
Jason tapped the package sitting beside Tim’s elbow, attempting to divert the conversation. “So are you ever gonna open that, or are we just going to continue ignoring the mysterious bottles your friends mailed you?”
“Oh. Right.” Tim’s eyes dropped to it, having completely forgotten about it.
He moved his hand away from Cass’s hair just long enough to pull the box closer. Cass made a quiet, displeased noise, so he immediately resumed petting her with one hand while tearing through the tape with the other.
Inside were four dark glass bottles, packed tightly between layers of black tissue paper. Each had been sealed with a metal cap and decorated with a different brightly coloured bow.
A card lay on top.
Duke reached for it.
Tim slapped his hand away.
“Hey!”
“It’s my card.”
“That makes me want to read it more.”
Tim grabbed it before Duke could make another attempt and unfolded it beneath the table.
Jason leaned forward. “What’s it say?”
“Nothing,” Tim said immediately, card still beneath the table. “Just happy birthday.”
“Then why are you hiding it?” Duke asked.
“I’m not.”
“You’re literally holding it under the table.”
Dick reached over Tim’s shoulder and snatched it from his hand.
“Dick—”
Dick jumped out of reach and held the card above his head, clearing his throat dramatically. “‘Happy seventeenth birthday again, you ancient undead freak—’”
“Ancient?” Jason repeated.
Damian’s eyes narrowed. “Precisely how many seventeenth birthdays have you celebrated?”
Tim reached for the card. “Give that back.”
Dick held it higher, pushing him away with his other hand. “‘Love from Kon, Bart, and Cassie. P.S. The O-negative is from Bart, so maybe don’t drink it before patrol unless you want to hear colours.’”
Duke stared at the bottles with renewed fascination. “They sent you blood?”
“They know what I like.”
“They sent it through the mail?”
“It’s refrigerated packaging.”
Bruce closed his eyes briefly. “We will be discussing all of this later.”
“Do we have to?” Tim sighed, sounding tired. “This is new to you guys, but not to me.”
“Yes.”
Tim slumped back into his chair.
Dick finally returned the card, though his expression remained slightly suspicious. “You still haven’t answered Damian’s question.”
“I don’t remember what it was,” Tim sighed. “You guys are interrogating me so much.”
“How many times have you turned seventeen?” Dick prompted him.
Tim tucked the card back into the box. “A few.”
“That isn’t an answer,” Damian said.
“And you’re not getting one,” Tim told them firmly.
Dick said, “Fair enough. But we’re putting seventeen candles on your cake tonight.”
Tim scrunched up his face. “We aren’t having cake tonight.”
“We missed your birthday!”
“I already celebrated it.”
“Not with us,” Jason said, not really listening that much anymore as he helped himself to more breakfast. “Hey, Glowstick, pass the butter?”
Duke shoved the butter dish across the table.
Steph put down her box of crackers. “To be fair, he doesn’t eat cake.”
Dick hesitated, shoulders dropping slightly. “Oh.”
“We can put candles in a blood bag,” Duke suggested.
Tim looked down at the package, then around at everyone gathered at the table.
“Seventeen candles?” he asked reluctantly.
Dick brightened. “Seventeen candles.”
Tim sighed. “Fine. But no singing.”