AN: Well, I wasn't really expecting to write more so soon, but thanks to my lovely reviewers, d4202, Chaseha-Wing, and two anonymous peoples (whose names - surprise, surpise - I do not know), I decided to spend my bank-holiday writing.

Extra-special thanks to Chaseha-Wing for commenting that Tim's bad mood was probably down to Damian stealing his left shoe on patrol: that idea spawned the entirety of this chapter. Sorry if it's a little random. And slashy. Face it, anything I write about Dick and Jason is inevitably going to be slashy.

Disclaimer: I still don't own the bat-boys; I am not even the sole owner of the idea behind this chapter, and Damian is probably already plotting my demise for the events it contains, so please don't kill me for borrowing the characters.

Reviews are much appreciated - they can be used to fend off angry Damians. Anyhow, enjoy!

Of Left Shoes and Demon-Spawn

"Hey, Timmy, fancy getting back at the Demon for that stunt he pulled with your shoe?" Tim's face lights up with mischief at the mention of the purloined left boot – he spent nearly an hour of patrol last night running round with one bare foot, thanks to Damian.

"Alright…" Timmy, why must you always sound so fucking detached? No matter. I flash him a slightly demented smirk.

"Now, it'll be easier if we can get Dick to agree to it, 'cause I don't fancy trying to carry him into position, but here's the plan…"

"Sure, I'm game for that. Just…let me go and tell Alfred what we're up to, first. I dread to think what might happen if we leave him out of the loop…" Fuck, yeah! This is gonna be awesome. Dickie-bird may have a point about Alfred, though – I don't think I could ever look him in the eye again if he inadvertently ended up on the receiving end of our little prank. That would be too fucking weird… I shudder slightly as I flit off to grab the necessary supplies.

"Psst! Timmy! Are we clear to go?" Dick shifts impatiently next to me as I speak – hiding in an airing-cupboard is damnably cramped, but it's the most convenient spot that I can almost guarantee Damian won't check.

"Yeah, clear. Hurry it up, though: I dunno how long I can keep him distracted for."

"Nice one, Babybird. We'll let you know when we're ready for him." I flick off my communicator, grinning. "Come on, sexy, let's go." Dick and I carefully extricate ourselves from our cubby-hole and make our way swiftly and silently towards the Demon's lair.

I rub my hands together gleefully with a passable impression of Joker's laugh as Dick closes Damian's bedroom door behind us. Phase one complete! Now then, I promised Timmy a camera… A few moments of fiddling, and Tim's tiny piece of surveillance equipment is installed on a photo-frame directly above the bed, trained on the doorway. I tap the button on the remote to route the camera's signal to Tim's laptop; then turn around to give Dick an exaggerated leer.

"Time to strip, Dickie-bird." He shakes his head at my suggestive eyebrow-waggling, and begins to undo his shirt.

"Jason, please tell me you remembered the spare boxers…" I'm quick to throw said underwear in his face.

"Yep! Two pairs, both yours. What the fuck happened to bringing some of my clothes over from my apartment, anyway?" He chuckles lightly and tosses the boxers to the floor with his shirt.

"Haven't gotten round to it yet. You look nice in my clothes, anyway." I shoot him a mock bat-glare as I finish escaping from my socks, leaving me standing there in boxers and bandages.

"Fuck, Dickie, I look ridiculous in your clothes – you're nearly four inches shorter than me, for heaven's sake!"

"So? You look sexy in tight clothes." Dick winks at me as he tosses the last of his outer clothes across the room. Is it bad that I really wish I'd forgotten the spare underwear? Then again, I don't think I actually fancy being caught totally starkers in the Demon's bed with Dickie. Despite what people might think, I'm not that much of a fucking exhibitionist. Dick can keep his boxers. For now.

"Shut it, dickhead. And come here so I can sort your hair out." Smirking, Dick stalks over to me, nibbling my neck in an unnecessarily provocative manner as I run my hands through his hair to give him that just-fucked look. Oh, God, he's practically purring. Quick, Jason, think of something else, or this won't just be a set-up…

"Your turn, Jase." Argh! Dick is attacking my head!

"Let go of me, you bastard!" I get a slightly patronising kiss on the nose as he releases me.

"Nice sex-hair, Jaybird. We getting in bed now, or what?"

"In a minute, Dickie. Just let me find…Aha!" I prise the small aerosol from the pocket of my jacket and spray it liberally over us. Dick pulls a face that's somewhere between a smirk and a grimace.

"Hell, Jay, what's in that?"

"My first foray into the art of perfumery. D'you like it?" I bury the spray in my pocket and toss the jacket over the footboard of the bed.

"Well, you've succeeded in making us smell like sex… I haven't quite decided whether that's a good thing."

"Hey, it's what I was going for when I made the stuff." As I flop onto the bed, I catch sight of myself in the mirror. "Aw, fuck. Did you really have to give me hickeys?" Dick settles on the bed beside me, smiling serenely.

"Realism, beautiful, realism." I'll give him bloody realism! Grabbing him, I bite down on the join between his neck and shoulder hard enough to draw blood; then gently lick the wound, causing his startled yelp to morph into a sort of mewling moan. I rather like the noises he can make…

Oh, fuck! I almost forgot about Timmy! I send him a beep over the communicator, and wriggle my way under the sheets.

"Make like we just fucked, Dickie-bird." He grins at that, carefully draping himself over me in such a way that he's not putting any pressure on my chest, but looks feasibly as though he's fallen asleep on me. I curl into him slightly and close my eyes, knowing that the love-bites on both our necks are highly visible, and our boxers are well-hidden by the sheets that are now quite artfully tangled around us. And now, we wait…

Slam! A moment of stunned silence; then Damian's voice, utterly outraged.

"Grayson! What is the meaning of this?" Dick jolts upright, as if startled, and I open my eyes slowly, acting like I just woke up.

"Er, hi, little D…" God damn, but he's cute when he blushes…

"Grayson, firstly, what the hell is Todd doing in this house; secondly, what gave you the right to defile my bedroom in this manner?" Ooh, there's practically steam coming out of the little Demon's ears! And look – there's Tim! Cue Babybird's speech!

"Firstly, Damian, Jason got shot. Secondly, you stole my boot, you little bastard." Fuck, yeah! For a replacement, the kid's got style – he said that with a straight face.

"Drake, are you saying that my unexpected acquisition of your footwear caused you to invite those two imbeciles" (he gestures at Dick and I) "to fornicate in my bed?"

"Pretty much, yeah." Tim grabs his boot from the nightstand just as Damian lunges at him; then makes good his escape via a combination of flips and sprinting. The Demon sets off in hot pursuit, leaving Dick and I to laugh breathlessly at the whole charade.

"That was fucking awesome!" I exclaim, kissing Dick full on the lips in a fit of exuberance.

"True, true. But we should probably leave now, while we have the chance, don't you think?" He may have a point with that one… We slip out of bed and retrieve our clothes from the floor, stifling giggles as we retreat to Dick's room. I can hear Damian crashing about after Tim downstairs. He won't catch him – I've clued Babybird in on some very good hiding-places.

"So," Dick purrs, pushing me towards the bed with a hand on my shoulder, "where were we?" Oh, God. Thank you, Damian – your decision to steal Tim's boot is about to make me very happy…