[Alright, folks; this is probably not consistent with any canonical timeline, but seeing as there are way too many timelines I doubt it matters. Besides it's my story. I just needed the characters to populate it. So I'm borrowing the characters and whatever snippets of their storylines I chose and ignoring the rest. If you don't like it, stop reading whenever you like. Now, on to the story…]
Timothy Drake-Wayne came sprinted onto the second floor landing and leapt onto the polished wood banister, sliding down to the ground floor of the enormous manor. As he reached the end of the banister and before his feet touched the floor, Tim used his body and the curve of the banister to pivot himself around the end of the banister and hit the ground running in the opposite direction.
"You're not getting away that easily, kid!" called the voice of Richard "Dick" Grayson as the young man darted onto the landing second after his impish "prey". "I'll teach you!" Dick, being a trained acrobat, didn't bother with the stairs or the banister, but simply launched himself over the rail of the landing to the hardwood floor below. Landing cat-like on feet with knees bent, Dick took a fraction of a second to straighten before taking off after the younger boy.
"You'll have to catch me first!" Tim taunted over his shoulder.
"Don't think I won't!" the older lad retorted.
"Wanna bet, Dicky-boy?"
"Oh! You're gonna get it, brat!"
Thundering footsteps echoed in the large house as the chase continued on the main floor. Alfred, the gracefully aging butler, briefly paused his dusting in the study to comment on the commotion. "It would appear that your brothers are up to their antics again," the older man remarked to the other occupant of the room.
The boy's only response was a disdainful snort. Of the three boys who currently called the manor home, Damian (the youngest) was by far the most serious. Although there was a slight physical likeness between Damian Wayne and his brothers (purely coincidental as the elder boys were adopted), in attitude and personality one would be hard pressed to find another so different from his siblings. Damian considered his brothers' current antics to be undignified, pointless and wasteful. If they wanted to release their pent up energy they ought to be doing something useful, like training. Damian had two reasons for purposefully ignoring the clatter made by Timothy, who had momentarily evaded Dick's grasp, as the older boy scrambled to get back up the main stairs. Firstly, Damian was expressing his disproval. Secondly and in direct conflict with the first (the human mind is after all a complex thing), he did not want anyone to think he cared in the slightest what his so called "brothers" were doing. For these reasons, Damian's nose stubbornly stayed in his book despite the commotion.
Tim dashed up the main stairs and froze. There, waiting for him, was Dick, grinning like the Cheshire cat and ready to pounce. Dick leaped. Tim swore. (Alfred made a mental note that Master Timothy owed a quarter to the swear jar.) Dick completed his tackle, grabbing the younger boy around the waist. He held tight as Tim struggled to free himself. Neither boy heard the doorbell ring. The scuffle was short with Dick quickly gaining the upper hand. Tim was dangling upside-down over the balcony held by his legs when a shrill voice interrupted his demands that Dick cut it out, "What on God's green Earth is going on here?!"
Dick's arms were still locked firmly around Tim's legs (he wouldn't let his little brother fall) to face the owner of the demanding voice. Both boys recognized the woman standing in the entrance way immediately.
Tim didn't know what to do. Dick, judging from his wide eyes was going with internal panic. Tim's own fight or flight instinct had kicked in, but, given his present situation, neither was a viable option. Instead he settled for a third option. "Hi, Aunt Beatrice," he called waving. He looked up at his big brother with a big smirk. "You're going to get it now," he stage whispered.