Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

"Dick, are you okay?" Tim looked at his brother, concerned.

Ever since the Cave had been destroyed in that fiery blast and they went on that dangerous rescue mission, Dick had been more withdrawn. He didn't joke or laugh like he used to and Tim was worried out of his mind. He understood why his big brother would be distraught—his second home had been blown to bits—but it was time for Dick to get traught. He had a team to lead and a little brother that looked up to him.

"Yeah, Timbo, I'm great," he replied, brushing his black bangs out of his eyes.

He was sitting at the big computer in the Batcave, typing up a report. He had been there since he had gotten back early from patrol, around eleven o'clock. His face was ashen and his eyes were drooping with exhaustion from staring at a computer screen for two hours. Tim was about to head home from his patrol—he was dead tired as well—but he felt like he had to say something.

"Aren't you done with those reports?" he asked.

"I just have a few more to do. I gotta keep everything in tip-top shape for Bats when he returns. You know how he gets when things aren't done to his standards," Dick answered, fingers flying over the keyboard.

Tim shuffled his feet, racking his brain for something else to say. The clickety-clack of the computer keys resounded off the stalactites and walls of the Batcave, amplifying the silence. He thought about how they used to hang out all the time when Tim first started out as Robin. It was as effortless; they always looked forward to those specials nights with just the two of them.

It used to be easy to pop in a movie and laugh away their worries for a few hours, but then Artemis died and the Cave blew up and his teammates had been captured. Dick had always felt like the world was resting on his shoulders and with Batman out of the picture for the time being, the burden was that much greater.

But that didn't mean that Time couldn't lessen it.

"Wanna watch a movie with me?" He asked suddenly. Bemused, Dick pushed away from the computer and gave Tim his full attention; his bangs fell back into his face.

"Depends on what kind of movie," he said.

"Well there was, um, that one… with the cops that went back high school…" Tim said, struggling to remember the plot. His cheeks flushed red—he couldn't recall anything plot related that would catch Dick's attention.

"Oh! You mean, 21 Jump Street?" Dick said excitedly, the first time a bit of life had shone through his tired exterior; his blues eyes shedding the exhaustion that plagued them.

"Yeah, that's the one! I know it's probably old, but some of the guys at school said it was funny and I thought since we haven't hung out recently and you've been stressed with the Team and everything—"

"Timmy, I'd love to. Go get some popcorn popping and I'll start the movie," Dick said, smiling.

Tim smiled and dashed up the stone steps, into the manor. Alfred, who was probably still awake, would be appalled at their choice of snacks and would whip up something scrumptious and healthy to make sure they were adequately fed before they would be able to watch the film.

Dick chuckled to himself and saved his half-finished report before shutting down the computer. He rubbed at his eyes and yawned before following his little brother up the stairs.


"Wait, wait! Go back," Tim gasped, tears pouring down his cheeks. His stomach ached from laughing so hard. He hid his face in a pillow to stop his giggles, to no avail.

Dick was bent over in half, wheezing, trying to suck in air between bouts of laughter. After a few minutes, he gained enough control to wipe his eyes and press the rewind button on the remote until they were back at the desired spot.

"We're not finga poppin' eachother's assholes," Schmidt said, mimicking the girl in a ghetto voice.

The boys were reduced to hysterics and their laughter drowned out the rest of the scene.


Alfred shut off the television screen as the credits rolled and looked upon his young charges fondly. They were lying on top of eachother, dark hair ruffled and faces wiped of all signs of hardship, completely innocent.

He had made them a platter of cheese and crackers after Tim had the audacity to ask him where the popcorn was. He also made them healthy smoothies to go with it and set it all out on the table in front of the couches in the movie room.

Dick had been kneeling in front of the TV, looking through DVDs and fist pumped when he had found the one he was looking for and popped it into the DVD player. Tim came in and flopped on the couch while Dick back flipped over the table and landed next to Tim, who laughed and pushed his brother off of him.

With the movie playing, Alfred had left the room to tidy up around the house—ignoring the ghastly hour of the morning. He was happy to see his boys, especially Dick, relaxing after the last few trying weeks. Their laughter echoed throughout the manor, and sometimes they sounded like they were in hysterics, rewinding the movie back to the part that had set off their laughter.

When Alfred had heard nothing more emanating from that room, he had returned to find both boys fast asleep, Tim's head resting in Dick's lap and Dick's mouth open in a quiet snore. The platter of food was half eaten, only a few crackers and crumbs were left, and the smoothie glasses were sucked dry.

Alfred gently tossed a warm, white blanket over the both of them before he flicked off the lights and went to bed. He was going to wake up early and make his boys a big breakfast.