Cookie Theft Thursday

by dragonprincess1988

Dick and Tim endure another magical mishap. Although, Dick thinks being turned into an animal might have been more preferable to their current situation.

Dick awakes groggy and sore all over. He doesn't remember much from the previous night, beyond some vague recollection of meeting up with Red Robin for a short amount of time while patrolling and taking on some weird new sorceress of some kind. Here's hoping no one has turned into some kind of animal this time. Dick groans as he gets out of bed. He has no idea why he's this disoriented and dizzy. It's not as though their patrol was any harder than normal, even with the unexpected sorceress encounter. Still, he's sure that it's nothing a bowl of sugary cereal and a large cup of coffee won't fix.

Dick yawns and stretches as he gets out of bed and then almost losses his balance when there's a sudden intense twinge in his left ankle, and his right wrist feels abnormally stiff. He rights himself before he can hit the floor, and that's when Dick notices that his ribs hurt, too…not enough for them to be broken, but enough that it's bothersome. He doesn't remember injuring himself the previous night, but something must have happened, because there's no reason he should be feeling this awful right now.

He takes a moment to assess any other possible injuries, but there doesn't seem to be anything else wrong with him. Dick reaches for his first-aid kit, so he can wrap his ankle, only to discover it's not where it's supposed to be. It's then that Dick actually takes a good long look at the room he's in, only to discover that he's not actually in his own bedroom…or even his own apartment. He really doesn't remember going to Tim's the night before, nor does he remember stealing Tim's bed, but he's here, so he figures it might just be time to track down his little brother and figure out what exactly happened the previous night.

Dick makes his way out into the main room, expecting to find Tim sleeping on the couch, but there's no sign of his little brother anywhere in the apartment. Dick shakes his head, leave it to Tim to not bother with a trivial thing such as sleep. He yawns again before making his way to the bathroom. Dick figures he might as well get dressed, find Tim's first-aid kit, and then figure out where Tim is and what exactly he's doing. Dick starts the shower and reminds himself to duck under Tim's low hanging shower curtain rod, but as he reaches up to pull back the curtain, Dick realizes it's not as low as it usually is.

He stares at the shower curtain for a long moment, before shrugging and getting in. Perhaps all of his jokes about Tim staying a runt forever are going to have to be shelved. It seems Tim has grown enough that he's had to move the shower curtain rod up a bit, which works just fine for Dick. He's definitely starting to get tired of hitting his head on that thing every time he stays here and is too tired to remember to duck beneath it. When Dick gets out of the shower, he wraps a towel around himself and then starts rooting through Tim's bathroom, searching for his little brother's hairbrush, only to glance up at the mirror hanging on Tim's wall and nearly drop his towel.

Dick stares at the mirror in bewilderment, and then sighs in exasperation. Now he's starting to wonder if maybe being turned into an animal would have been more preferable to this. Heaving a large breath, Dick decides to just get dressed, wrap his ankle, and then call Tim. Hopefully, his little brother isn't panicking too badly about their current circumstances. After all, it's not as if Dick chose to get stuck in Tim's body.

It takes Dick no time at all to find Tim's phone, since it's sitting on the guy's nightstand, but before he can call Tim, he cringes at the thought of Tim having to search his disaster of a room for his phone, which is most likely buried under a pile of clothes, hidden inside a pocket in a pair of pants somewhere around his apartment. He steels himself for the impending lecture as he presses the call button. It takes three tries, but Dick finally gets a hold of Tim, who sounds extremely grumpy as he grunts into the phone. "Where are you and why am I in your apartment? And don't you have anything to eat, 'cause your poptarts and cereal really aren't going to cut it."

Dick can't help but laugh. Obviously, Tim hasn't finished his first cup of coffee yet and he's still really out of it. Otherwise, he's sure Tim would have noticed something odd about the fact that Tim just got a call on Dick's phone from himself and that he's hearing his own voice right now. "Hey, little brother, you, uh, you haven't looked in a mirror recently, have you?"

Tim sighs heavily and Dick can hear the scraping sound of ceramic against a smooth surface, which he guesses means Tim just put his coffee cup down on his counter. "Dick, I really don't have time for your games and jokes today, so if you could just…"

"No, Tim, I'm serious. Go look in a mirror."

"Okay, fine, I really don't see the point in this, but fine."

Tim is in the middle of grumbling about annoying older brothers and Dick's ridiculous behavior when all of a sudden he falls silent. Dick wonders idly if Tim dropped the phone upon his discovery. However, the moment that Dick is about to scream into the phone for Tim's attention, he hears an exasperated sigh. "I assume you have an explanation for why I'm you, or, better yet, a way to reverse this."

Dick chuckles nervously as he rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, only to grunt when there's a spike of pain through his right wrist from the movement. "Well, not exactly. I mean, I figure that sorceress we ran into last night has something to do with this, but I still need to contact our usual people about this, so I guess I'll meet you at the manor?"

Tim heaves another long sigh and Dick can hear him shuffling around on the other end of the phone. "Yeah, I guess we don't have any other options. Do me a favor; don't bother answering any calls from anyone who isn't family. I'll deal with all that stuff once we're back in our proper bodies."

Dick narrows his eyes at the request. It's not as though he can't deal with WE stuff or whatever else is on Tim's plate, but Dick doesn't bother being offended. After all, it's not as if they don't have bigger problems to deal with right now. "Sure, no problem, so there's just one more thing before you go."

"Yeah, what's that?" Tim sounds distracted, which means he's probably in the process of trying to find Dick's keys and pull on his clothes, while simultaneously trying to gulp down as much coffee as he possibly can.

"What the hell did you do to your ankle, wrist, and ribs? The ankle is swollen and hurts pretty badly, your ribs feel bruised, though there are no obvious signs of injury, and I awoke with your wrist feeling stiff, but now it hurts, too."

Tim hums for a second as though he's honestly trying to remember. "Don't know. Just wrap the ankle, ice the wrist for a bit, and ignore the ribs. I always do."

"Wait, what do you mean you always do? How often do your ribs hurt like this?"

Tim makes a noise, like he honestly doesn't know, and Dick can just tell that he's shrugging. "Doesn't matter. We kind of have bigger problems than your whining."

Dick's eyes widen and then he growls. "My whining? Excuse me, I'm not whining. Some of us don't actually wake up in pain every day."

"As I said, whining." From the tone of his voice, Dick can tell that Tim is smirking, and he doesn't like it…not one bit.

"Tim…" Dick doesn't get to finish, or even really start, his amazing big brother lecture before Tim interrupts.

"Well, I'm ready to go. Meet you at the manor. Bye, Dick." Before Dick can even respond Tim hangs up.

Dick growls as he clutches the phone and promises that this is far from over. He tucks Tim's phone into his pocket and then grabs the keys to Tim's motorcycle on his way out of the door. The trek to the manor is a fairly uneventful one, which Dick guesses he should be thankful for, given his throbbing ankle and mildly aching wrist.

When Dick arrives at the manor, he's not really paying attention to what he's doing or where he's going, which is why he nearly knocks into Damian on his way through the foyer. Dick doesn't get a chance to say anything before Damian roughly pushes past him. "What are you doing here?"

Dick's eyes widen at Damian's tone, which is a lot more scathing than normal, and he's about to ask what's eating him, when Dick realizes that Damian thinks he's Tim. Dick smiles evilly as he moves swiftly and grabs Damian in a tight embrace. "Just came to see my favorite little brother, that's all."

Damian squirms in his arms, desperately trying to get away, but no one knows how to perform a bear hug quite as effectively as Dick does, even when he's not in his own body. "Father! Pennyworth! Come quick! There's something wrong with Drake!"

Dick can't help but laugh maniacally as he tightens his hold on Damian. Damian growls in frustration, before muttering. "Fine, we'll do this my way." The next thing Dick knows, Damian kicks him in the knee and then twists out of his grip. The kid grabs his bad wrist and moves for a throw - one which Dick ends up being unable to get out of. He's not used to Tim's lower center of gravity or his shorter reach. He tries to twist his body in midair to land on his feet, but Tim's ribs protest loudly and his spine isn't particularly fond of the stretch Dick has forced it into. There's the sound of Damian moving in fast, and Dick barely manages to block a kick to the face before he's lying on his back on the floor, staring up at Damian. "You're not Drake. Even he's not this pathetic."

Dick chuckles softly as he gets to his feet. "Well, it's good to know that you're aware Tim's capable of kicking your butt, little brother."

Damian's eyes widen in sudden realization. "Grayson? Why do you look like Drake?"

"Because he likes to annoy magic users on a regular basis, and I just have bad luck." Dick turns suddenly to see himself standing in the doorway with a rather irritated Tim expression on his face. It's all rather disturbing.

"Hey Timmy, how's it going?" Dick smiles brightly as he brushes himself off.

Tim rolls his eyes and Dick decides this is definitely going on his list of top ten weirdest things he's ever had to deal with. "You're too tall. I keep hitting my head on things."

Dick laughs as he shakes his head. "Well, then, I guess we better find a way to reverse this soon, before you give me a concussion or something."

The two of them head down to the cave, leaving Damian to his own devices for now. Dick glances over at his own body and then sizes up Tim's for second before smirking. "So, there's something I've been meaning to ask you." Tim merely hums in response and Dick's smirk only grows. "You've driven the Batmobile before, right?" At Tim's nod, Dick continues. "How exactly do your tiny legs reach the pedals?"

Whatever response Dick is expecting he doesn't get it. Instead, Tim just sighs heavily. "Will this day ever end?"

Dick pouts as he continues down the steps, until he remembers something. "So, when are we going to talk about your injuries?"

Tim raises an eyebrow at him, and Dick doesn't think he will ever get used to seeing Tim's expressions on his own face. "What are you talking about? We did discuss them, wrap, ice, and stop whining. What more needs to be said?"

Dick grumbles as Tim heads straight for Bruce's chair. "Hey, currently-not-so-short-stuff, who said you get the chair?"

Tim shrugs. "I got here first."

Dick glares as he folds his arms over his chest. "Only because you're taking advantage of my long legs."

Tim shakes his head, and Dick can tell that he's rolling his eyes again. "Look, I'm aware we both woke up in the wrong beds and bodies today, but is that really any excuse for your constant complaining?"

Dick plops down on the desk beside Tim. "I'm not complaining. These are genuine facts, Timmy. You're using my body to your advantage and I still don't know how you drive anything that isn't custom made to fit you."

Tim growls before getting to his feet. "You know what? I need more coffee and you need to contact someone about fixing this." Tim gestures widely at both of them before walking away.

"There you go using my long legs to your advantage again…getting to your coffee quicker. You could at least show some gratitude." Dick laughs maniacally as Tim quickens his pace and all but runs up the stairs.

Dick waits until Tim has gone before contacting Zatanna, who apparently isn't used to being greeted so warmly by Tim, if her surprise and apprehension is anything to go by. However, it only takes him a few moments to explain their current magical mishap. Unfortunately, they aren't the only ones who are currently suffering the effects of irritating a magic user and Zatanna won't be able to help them for at least a couple of days. Dick isn't looking forward to breaking that news to Tim, so he decides to do what all big brothers do. He puts it off by working out instead. After all, if he's going to be stuck in Tim's body for a while, Dick might as well discover what his little brother's limits are.

Dick knows that Tim is far more flexible than most people his age, but there have always been things that just come naturally to Dick that Tim will never be able to do. Not to mention, Tim's apparent injuries means that he'll have to take it easy on Tim's body. He really wishes that his little brother would just talk to him about this, but getting Tim to open up isn't easy at the best of times. Dick starts moving through some simple routines as he forces himself to deal with Tim's lower center of gravity. He notices a few more twinges here and there when he does various stretches, but Dick just assumes Tim's body isn't used to such exaggerated movements. It isn't until he moves into a handstand and feels the strain through both of Tim's shoulders that Dick starts to think there might be more to Tim's general aches and pains than he originally thought.

He stretches more, trying to work out the stiffness in Tim's joints, and then decides to head over to the pommel horse. He starts off slowly, given that Tim's right wrist is still giving him some issues and he doesn't want to overbalance due to Tim's shorter legs. He thinks he's finally gotten the hang of the difference in height, weight, and range of motion when he hears a distinct clearing of the throat behind him. "I wouldn't finish that move if I were you; some of us aren't as top heavy as others. You're going to overbalance."

Dick didn't even know that his voice could produce such a tone, but he already knows that he doesn't ever want to hear it again. "I'm an acrobat, Tim. I think I've got this." Dick twists in midair, and then there's a sudden flash of pain through his back muscles as he lands hard on the mat.

Tim stands over him with his arms crossed over his chest and a raised eyebrow, and Dick thinks he might actually hate that expression on his face more than Tim's previous tone. "More like acrobrat, if you ask me. I told you, you were going to overbalance."

Dick gets to his feet and starts rubbing his lower back. "I didn't overbalance. There's something wrong with your body."

Tim rolls his eyes, and Dick is really getting tired of seeing that particular expression on his own face. "Well, excuse me, not all of us were born in a circus."

Dick shakes his head as he envisions shaking Tim out of frustration. "Are you forgetting that I helped train you? I know what your workouts consist of, Tim, and I'm telling you. There's something wrong, so what exactly did you do to yourself?"

Tim stiffens as Dick's tone, and then his face goes completely blank. Dick didn't even know his own face was capable of that. "It doesn't matter. Besides, weren't you supposed to be contacting Zatanna?"

Dick's eyes widen at Tim's response, because now he knows that Tim definitely did something to injure himself. "First, it matters and you're going to tell me what's going on, little brother. Second, I already did. She said take a number for magical mishap inconveniences and she'll get to us in a couple of days. So, I repeat, what exactly did you do to yourself?"

Tim seems to realize there really is no way out of this one, because all of the sudden his expression becomes rueful and sheepish. Dick is fairly certain that he's not going to like whatever Tim is about to say. "Um…erm…remember a couple of days ago when I called you and you said you were busy and I told you that I had it handled?"

Dick's eyes narrow as he tries to remember what exactly Tim is talking about. "You mean when I heard some garbled noises over the comms and I asked if you were down on the docks. Is that what you're talking about?"

Tim nods once and looks as though he's searching for an exit. "Yeah, about that..."

"You were on the docks, weren't you?" Dick is about to go into a long lecture about lying about these kinds of things when Tim shakes his head.

"I wasn't on the docks, per se…I was under them."

Dick's eyes widen once again and this time he has to practically physically stop himself from shaking Tim. "What is wrong with you? Why didn't you tell me? I wasn't that busy."

Tim just shakes his head again. "It's okay. Jason was closer and…"

"Jason? You called Jason?" Dick feels like his head is about to explode. He doesn't think he'll ever understand his little brother. "Jason is the one who blew up the docks, Tim!"

Tim flippantly waves his hand, as if that fact hardly matters. "And as such he was conveniently located a mere rooftop away."

"Tim…Timmy…Timmers…you called the person who blew you up in the first place to get you out? Who does that?" Dick doesn't know why he's even having this conversation, but it feels pertinent.

Tim shrugs impassively, and, while Dick thinks a more laidback expression suits his face more, this is hardly the situation for it. "In Jason's defense, he didn't actually know I was near the docks at the time."

"Okay, new rule, the first person we call in a crisis isn't the guy who blew us up." Dick doesn't know why he has to make rules like this, especially because of the supposed genius in the family, but such is his life.

"In all fairness, I did call you first."

"You didn't tell me you under the docks at the time, Tim!" Dick remembers a time when he thought it would be nice to have younger brothers…if only he had known then that he would be having this conversation now.

"There was no reason to. I had it under control. Besides, I overheard Damian on your comm and Jason is definitely the lesser of those two evils."

"I feel like you're still ignoring the fact that Jason is the reason you were under the docks in the first place."

Tim waves his hand in the air, as if to dismiss Dick's ire. "Eh, it worked out in the end."

Dick clenches his fists in an attempt to keep from pulling all of Tim's hair out of his head. "We have very different definitions of 'worked out in the end,' Timmers."

"Not really. I'm in one piece. Anyway, since it's going to be a few days before we're back to normal I suggest you take it easy with my body while I go finish working on some WE stuff."

Before Dick can say anything in protest, Tim is up the stairs and out of the cave. Dick sighs heavily as he slumps down into Bruce's chair suddenly feeling exhausted. The next thing Dick knows there's an annoying tapping feeling against his temple. He opens his eyes, unsure of when exactly he fell asleep, to see Jason sitting on the desk in front of him and tapping him with the hilt of one of his knives. "Damn, baby bird, you must be out of it. Usually I only get one or two taps in before you bolt upright."

Dick's eyes narrow at Jason's comment. He wonders exactly how often Jason just pops in to annoy Tim. "Need something?" Dick asks through a yawn. He also wonders if Tim has been sleeping at all lately, because he just took a nap and he still feels fatigued.

Jason shrugs as he starts twirling the knife he was just tapping against Dick's temple. "Not really, just came to see how you were doing after that whole dock explosion thing."

Dick doesn't know why Jason would stop in at the manor for that instead of Tim's apartment. "Wait, how did you know that Tim…er…I was here?" Dick's not really sure what he's going to gain by not telling Jason about their current predicament, but so far he's gotten more out of Jason in the last five minutes than he has in the last year.

Jason stares at him for a long moment at that slip up, but seemingly lets it go. "It's Thursday." He says it as though it's the most obvious answer in the world. Dick's facial expression must be exhibiting exactly how lost he feels because Jason rolls his eyes, but elaborates anyway. "You have your late afternoon chess game with Alfred and I have cookie theft to commit. I have committed my cookie crime." Jason pulls out a handful of cookies from his pocket. "But Alfred wasn't upstairs, which almost always automatically means you're down here working. Although, imagine my surprise to find you sleeping on the job. My, my, baby bird, what would dear old Bats say?"

Dick doesn't know how to feel about the fact that Jason apparently has Tim's schedule memorized better than he does. However, in his defense, Dick woke up in the wrong apartment, wrong body, and didn't even know what day it was until Jason just told him, so he thinks he can cut himself some slack today. "It's been a stressful day."

Jason raises an eyebrow at him as he passes him a stolen cookie. Dick isn't sure if he's actually supposed to take it. After a long moment, Jason practically shoves the thing into Dick's mouth. "Yeah, it certainly must be if you're admitting to it. Demon brat attacking again?"

Dick swallows down the cookie and does his best not to choke as he thinks over how to respond. He doesn't know what Tim would normally say in this moment. Hell, he wasn't even aware that Tim apparently has regular chats with Jason until thirty seconds ago. "Nah, it's just…" Dick trails off not sure what to say. He's not exactly sure that Tim would complain about him to Jason, and, even if he did, complaining about himself to another person isn't something Dick's entirely sure he could pull off.

"Dickie bird being his obnoxiously perfect self again? Let me guess, he got on your case about the dock incident, didn't he? Don't sweat it, kid. I'll make sure Golden Boy knows it was all my fault. I guess I should have realized that something that big you'd have your nose in it, huh?"

Dick can't help but raise an eyebrow at that. They all know that Tim tends to be involved in a lot of different cases at once, but Dick never imagined that Tim's cases tend to overlap with Jason's so much. "Well, you know me." It seems to be the most fitting thing that Dick can think of to say.

If the way Jason throws his head back and laughs is anything to go by, then it seems to be the right thing to say. "Yeah, kid, I guess I do. Listen, next time something that big is going on, I'll call ya, okay? Last thing we need is another dead former Robin, right?"

Dick nods, only to wince in pain. Apparently Tim's neck is stiffer than he originally thought. Jason doesn't even say anything as he immediately gets up and starts kneading the muscles in his neck. "You know, in my defense. I checked the dock before I set the explosives. Didn't really anticipate you'd be in the water. I mean, who the hell willingly takes a dive in polluted Gotham water?"

Dick groans as Jason works on a knot in his muscle. "Guess, I'm just a special breed of Gothamite, then."

Jason scoffs as he digs into the muscle a bit more forcefully. "More like a special breed of idiot." The two of them are silent for a long moment and once Jason is done massaging Dick's neck he steps away. "I know you're a bat and we're all bad at taking care of ourselves and all, but you could have at least iced your back and neck. Have you at least been wrapping the ankle and wrist when you go out?"

Dick really isn't used to seeing this side of Jason, especially directed towards Tim. He must feel really guilty over the dock incident. However, if there's one thing Dick does know, it's how Tim usually responds to such care. "I can take care of myself, Jason."

Jason rolls his eyes as he slaps Dick upside the head. "Sure, you can, thus why I had to pull you out from underneath a burning dock."

Dick smirks in the infuriating way Tim always does when he thinks he's got the upper hand. "Technically that was your fault."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, baby bird. Try not to get caught underneath anymore burning docks."

Dick scoffs as he folds his arms over his chest. "Try not to blow up anymore docks I'm under."

Jason flips him off as he shoves his last cookie in his mouth and makes his way towards the exit. Dick waits until he's sure that Jason is gone before he makes his way upstairs to have a little chat with Tim. He finds Tim in the kitchen, impatiently tapping his foot against the floor, while he waits for the coffee to drip from the machine directly into his cup. "You know, I'd prefer if you didn't destroy my stomach lining with the black cup of death you like to call coffee."

Tim turns abruptly to glare at him. "Trust me; your pancreas will thank me for the break in sugar consumption."

Dick rolls his eyes as he takes a seat on the counter next to Tim. "So, I just had a fun chat with Jason."

Dick isn't entirely sure what reaction he's expecting, but Tim's sudden smile isn't it. "You know, I forgot it was Cookie Theft Thursday."

Dick raises an eye brow at that. "I wasn't aware it had a name."

Tim merely shrugs as he grabs his cup of coffee. He doesn't even wait for it to cool before taking a sip of the scalding liquid. The heat doesn't seem to bother him one bit as he sighs in contentment. "Well, Cookie Theft Thursday has a much better ring to it than Chess Game Thursday, or, at least, so says Jason."

Dick kicks his legs against the cabinet a few times before he remembers how much Alfred hates that. "So, just out of curiosity, since when did you two become the best of friends?"

Tim takes another long sip from his coffee, and then he narrows his eyes in confusion. Dick's not exactly sure if he's supposed to find Tim's facial expressions on his own face comical or not. "If Jason is my best friend, then I definitely need to get out more. Also, someone might want to inform both Kon and Bart that they've been replaced. I leave that in your capable hands."

Dick folds his arms over his chest and does his best to stare Tim down. He's aware that it's not very effective, given he has to look up into his own face. "Tim, I'm serious. The last time I checked Jason was still in his 'if it dresses like a bat, then I need to keep at least a six block radius' phase."

Tim shakes his head as he takes another swig from his coffee. "Sometimes our cases overlap. It's no big deal."

Dick hums in thought and does his best not to show how much that irritates him. "How often?"

Tim shrugs again nonchalantly. "Dunno, it's not like I keep track of it. Why does it matter?"

"No reason. It's just…" Dick trails off not really sure what to say. However, it doesn't seem as though Tim has the same problem.

"Wait, are you jealous?"

Dick's eyes widen at Tim's accusation, unsure of why it bothers him so much. "No, why would I be jealous?"

Tim stares at him for a long moment as though Dick's a very interesting science experiment. "You are! You're jealous of Jason. Why are you jealous of Jason? And do you understand how insane that is?"

Dick hops off of the counter and glares at Tim. "I'm not jealous of Jason. There's nothing to be jealous of."

"And yet, here we are. Why is my working with Jason such a big deal to you?"

Dick throws his hands up in the air out of frustration. "Well, I don't know, Tim. Why in the world would I be jealous? You seemingly spend an exorbitant amount of time with the guy. He knows your schedule better than I do, and you'll tell him when you're buried under a burning dock before me, even though he's the one who put you there. Really, what's to be jealous of?"

Tim stares at him impassively for a long moment and, before Dick even registers what's happening, Tim drags him into a hug. It's weird being on the receiving end of one of his own hugs, but Dick is hardly going to refuse any physical contact…no matter whose body he's in. "I don't spend an exorbitant amount of time with the guy, Dick. We just tend to work on overlapping cases, since I mostly work alone now. He doesn't know my schedule better than you. It just so happens that Cookie Theft Thursday is the same day as Chess Game Thursday. I would say it's a complete coincidence, if it wasn't for the fact that Alfred is involved, so talk to him. Also, I'm sorry I worried you, but Jason really was closer. It just made sense to call him, given that you were busy. And, I repeat, it's not entirely his fault that I was caught underneath the dock."

Dick can feel Tim starting to release the hug and he absolutely refuses to let him. It isn't often that Tim initiates physical contact, and Dick vows that he will soak up every last second of it that he can get. He holds on tight and then smirks when he feels Tim squirm in his grip. "Since when do you initiate hugs?"

Tim huffs out a breath, but he stops struggling to get away, so Dick considers it a win. "I blame your body. It must have been muscle memory."

Dick's smile only grows at Tim's extremely lame excuse. "Sure, it is."

Tim lets Dick continue to cling to him for another minute or so before he starts trying to disentangle himself from the embrace. "Okay, well, you're between me and another cup of coffee, so I would consider your life choices carefully."

Dick sighs heavily. "Fine, fine, but I hope you know I'm only agreeing to this because I have every intention of finding out exactly what happens when your body is on a sugar high."

Tim stares at him with a very displeased expression, which only makes Dick cackle in defiance, despite how weird that expression may be on his own face. "Dick, don't you dare."

Dick grins evilly. "Just try to stop me, currently not-so-little brother." He ducks underneath Tim's swipe and heads straight for the cupboard with all of his favorite sugary cereals. The fact that he has to climb onto the counter in order to reach said cupboard, only makes Dick smile more. After all, he hasn't actually been short enough to do that since he was a teenager. "You know, Timmy, I might enjoy finding out exactly how small of a crawl space you fit into…you know, for research purposes."

"Don't make me decide to do some early spring cleaning in your apartment, Dick. You never know what might get misplaced in the process."

Dick narrows his eyes as he grabs the first box that he sees and starts stuffing handfuls of the cereal into his mouth. "You're not the only one who could currently make that threat, Timmy."

Tim laughs as he shakes his head. "Yeah, right, you'd have to actually clean for that threat to work."

Dick smirks as he chews another large handful of cereal. "Do you really wanna find out how much I can destroy someone's apartment in a matter of a few days, Tim? Do you really?"

Tim folds his arms over his chest and glowers at Dick. Dick wonders if he ever looked like that while wearing the cowl, because it's not a good expression to see on his face without one. "Someone is living up to their namesake a little too well right now."

Dick grins mischievously as he shoves one last handful of cereal into his mouth. "Why thank you! I do make a great Tiny Tim, don't I?"

He hears Tim growl behind him and immediately takes off running. He's not entirely sure that he can outrun his little brother with his shorter legs right now, but mocking Tim about it later will definitely be worth the loss. Dick laughs manically as he jumps over furniture and dashes around the manor. He's fairly certain that the two of them will be just fine, magical mishap aside. That is, of course, assuming Alfred doesn't catch them first.

The End