Months ago I got a fanfiction request with the prompt, "No, Tim. As amusing as it would be, you can't defeat Vandal Savage by pouring hot coffee on his head." And for some random reason, I decided just now to post it here because why not. I blame it on my writer's block, so I'm posting this to make it seem like I'm accomplishing something despite doing nothing but staring at a blank word document for the last two days due to my lack of ideas. So yeah.

I own nothing!

Nine days. That was how long it's been since Tim Drake has slept. Nine. Days. And he was an absolute mess.

The team was trying to figure out Vandal Savage's next plan and he was just too busy to sleep. He kept chugging coffee like it was air and even snuck some Redbull in it. He insisted he was busy working, but he vaguely reminded Dick of a drunk person with the way his eyes drooped and his head lolled. He was so overtired, it was a miracle he could still make coherent sentences..

"Tim, stop. You're going to die if you keep refusing to sleep," said a very concerned Dick Grayson. They had been at the cave all day, and Tim had been staring at the wall with exhaustion for the last half hour. "Just take a nap already," Dick ordered.

"SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK," Tim yelled drunkenly, slamming one hand on the table and gulping down some more coffee with the other.

Dick made a swipe for the mug but was met with a pencil flung at him. "Please, Timmy. Just put the coffee down and sleep. Nobody can handle that much caffeine at once."

Tim got a faraway look on his face. "I could kill criminals with coffee?" he murmured.

"What? Wait, Tim no-"

"I'll set a trap for Savage and bring a vat of hot coffee and I'll force him to drink it until he dies. Yesssss..."

Dick grabbed him by the shoulders, steering him over to the couch and trying to force him to lie down. "You can't actually kill someone by making them drink coffee, Tim. If that were the case, you would have been dead years ago," Dick chuckled.

Tim swayed, falling back onto the couch and continuing to mutter. "Fine. Then I'll pour it on his face and melt him like that purple lady from that wizard movie. What was it..?" He looked up at the ceiling in thought, his hand petting Dick's hair without his brain giving it permission.

Dick smiled at his little brother. "You mean the Wizard of Oz?"

Tim snapped his fingers, slapping Dick on the shoulder. "That was it. I'll melt him with coffee like that lady."

"No, Tim. As amusing as it would be, you can't defeat Vandal Savage by pouring hot coffee on his head."

Tim made a face and tried hitting Dick, but his hand missed by several inches. "You never lemme do what I want," he slurred. "If I were Hannah Montana you'd get me whatever I want, you actual moldy piece of pasta."

Dick shook his head in amusement, getting up and throwing a blanket over Tim, who was practically asleep already.

The mug of coffee was still clutched in his hand like a life preserver. Dick tried prying it from his fingers, but Tim lazily kicked him in the stomach and growled, "My coffee," before dropping the half-full cup on the ground and passing out.