Archive of Our Own

»The rules are simple. We draw straws. Whoever gets the short one is the seeker. Everybody has 240 seconds to hide. No leaving the manor grounds, no batcave. Sabotages are permitted. Last one standing wins«, Dick explains. »Any questions?«

There were no questions.

»Don't forget to silence your phones«, Steph reminded them.

Tim switched his off fully.

Alfred was on standby with the straws and now passed by each of them. Damian got the short straw and glared over at Tim: »I will find you first.«

»Good luck«, Tim grinned at him.

»Everyone. Ready...«, Alfred began. Damian turned around and covered his eyes.

»Set. Go.«

All of them sprinted out of the room. They had started in Bruce's office and already split into two different directions.

Tim knew exactly where he wanted to go. The attic was a place not many of them went. Tim liked it there, because with the hatched stairs closed it was pretty quiet up there. With 10 family members coming and going, plus the extended batfamily or friends, and the animals on top of that, there was so much noise in the manor, Tim was barely able to catch a quiet moment. Some of the others had discovered his hiding place over time, but they all mostly respected his »alone-time«. He knew it would be an obvious play, but he had plans.

First, he was glad to see that nobody else saw him going up. He pulled the hatch down, squirreled up, then rigged the lock so it would look like he had locked it from the outside.

Second, he left everything in the room exactly like it had been, creating no decoys because it would have been too little time to create them (and leave the space)

Third, in the back, there was an old wing-back chair, covered by a sheet and half hidden by an old timey chest. He leapt over the chest, opened it from behind – he had started using the chest as a snack stash, much to the chagrin of Alfred, and sometimes forgot to close it, or got it raided by his siblings who left it open deliberately.

Fourth, Tim had recently discovered that the armchair was actually hollow in the base. Hiding under the sheet would have been a valid strategy, but he would probably have been found easily. Instead, he slipped under the chair, made sure the sheet didn’t fold inward and curled into himself. There was barely enough space for him, but Tim made it work regardless.

Tim double checked that his phone was off, and then he waited.

The house was as silent as it hadn’t been in a while. The space was dark and warm and enclosed, and it didn’t take long until Tim noticed his eyelids getting heavier. He probably shouldn’t fall asleep during the game, but he hadn’t slept properly in a few days, so he didn’t win the fight for too long.

Tim woke, when the stairs got pulled down.

»You are done now, Drake!«, Damian yelled.

He did take his time with looking through the attic, checking the nook, slamming the chest and pulling the sheet, but he didn’t check under the armchair. He either didn’t know there was a viable space under there, or he assumed that nobody could squeeze under it.

A few more minutes passed, then he left. Despite leaving the stairs open, Tim managed to fall back asleep after some minutes.

»Tim?«, Bruce called, waking him. »Tim, sweetheart, you’re here?«

Tim didn’t really want to get up. He was comfortable where he was, and he was still pretty sleepy.

»Game is over, you can come out.«

»Sweet«, Tim mumbled, sleepy.

Bruce apparently heard him, because after a few moments, the chest got pulled to the side and then the armchair got lifted.

»Hey, buddy«, Bruce began, before chuckling, »How do you even fit under there?«

»I fit just fine«, Tim gave back and yawned heartily.

»You wanna come out of there?«

»Mmmmhhh, no, I’m pretty comfortable«, Tim put his head down again.

»Buddy-«

»Can you close the stairs behind you? I’ll sleep better that way.«

»Did you sleep the whole game?«

»Was awake, when Dames came through.«

Bruce chuckled. »After the game ended, everybody was looking for you. I am sure, they all came through here, and basically took everything apart. Apparently nobody thought you would fit in here.«

Tim smiled lightly. »Must have happened while I was in NREM«, he mumbled.

»Alright, buddy, do I’ll let you sleep. But Alfred will get you for dinner.«

»Thanks, dad«, Tim’s voice continued to fade more and more as he fell asleep. He half registered how Bruce lowered the chair around him again, and breathed the last conscious breath when the stairs closed.

It was dark, when Tim emerged from his hiding spot. He was stiff from being curled up so tightly the whole time, and getting out turned out to be a bit harder than getting in. He wiggled out like a worm, then stretched like a cat, before flowing into a cobra. His spine popped satisfyingly.

Tim yawned, then went down to the kitchen, to find himself something to drink.

Jason, Alfred and Bruce were in the kitchen. The former were preparing dinner, and Bruce was at the booth, working a case. They didn’t notice him until he opened the fridge door and took out a bottle of water.

»Shit, the ghost is back!«, Jason called out.

»Hello«, Tim said.

»Did you sleep well, chum?«, Bruce asked, opening an arm. Tim slipped onto the bench next to him and let Bruce pull him against his side.

»Yeah, best in a long time.«

Bruce ruffled his hair: »Glad to hear that.«

»Where were you hiding?! We took half the house apart!«, Jason asked, coming over now too.

»I’m not telling. Can use the spot next time again«, Tim grinned. »And get another nap out of it.«

»Nap?!«, Jason called out. »You remember when we started?!«

Tim chuckled. They had started around 11 AM, now it was shortly before 7 PM. Tim had slept for a good 8 hours.