"Shall I shy down? That's boring, snoring."
Shine Carbon Leaf
You Do Good, You Find Good
By: The BatThing
"You're slow at this. I can just do it myself." Tim stated as he pulled his foot back, causing Bruce to fumble the knot on the boy's shoe. The billionaire bachelor glanced up with a look of impatience, wishing that he could age Tim about ten years – that'd be good. Then there wouldn't be any more of these irksome moments.
"You asked me to help you with your shoe because you couldn't tie it." Pulling the shoe back, Bruce was determined to finish the task. Besides, whenever Tim tied them they always came untied. It was a proven fact. "Don't move."
Tim didn't move, well, not at first, but after about half a second it was inevitable. He was swinging his feet lightly, not really thinking about it as he ate his piece of toast. Simply daydreaming on other things, and forgetting that his guardian was frustrated.
Bruce jerked the strings to Tim's shoe a bit gruffly, causing the eight-year-old to jerk forward and widen his eyes. "Please sit still."
"I was!"
"No you weren't."
"Yes I was! I wasn't moving at all. I was eating my toast and not moving … I got jelly on my shirt." His hand moved up, smearing the jelly all the more as he attempted to get rid of it. "Oops."
"There – your shoe is tied – and now you have to go change your shirt. Great." He looked at Tim who looked back at him as if confused. "Well – go change! Hurry! You're going to be late for school!"
Tim shook his head, finishing his breakfast and licking his fingers as his attention was drawn to where Jason sat watching television. "No … it's ok."
Taking in a deep breath, Bruce checked his watch – ten minutes before he had to leave. "Timothy – go! GO!"
"Bu-but why? This is my only clean school shirt, I have to wear it. Alfred is still cleaning my other ones, so I can't wear them." The boy started to make his way towards where Jason was sitting, ignoring Bruce once again.
Why did I ever agree to take Jason and Tim to school? "Timothy – I'm leaving in ten minutes, and if you're not ready, then you're going to wish you had been. I know, for a fact, that you have hundreds of those shirts in your room, there is no way Alfred is cleaning all of them. So – TIM!" The man grabbed the absent minded child by the arm, pulling him back with a short temper. "Are we listening?"
The boy rolled his eyes, a habit he was picking up from Jason – it was annoying. "I heard you, I'm going!" He moved towards the steps, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to check what was happening on the cartoon playing. His pace slowed down, till it came to a complete halt at the landing of the staircase. Tim was simply watching the television now, having forgotten his original destination.
Bruce was not amused. Tim was acting like an idiot, even if he was eight; it was more than just a little stressful. Forgetting his plan to go eat the breakfast that Alfred had laid out for him, he grudgingly made his way to where Tim stood. Taking the boy by the upper arm, he escorted him towards his bedroom, not enjoying the fact that he was going to have to do this for Tim.
"JASON!" Dick was walking down the hall, coming towards the two, and not caring about them. "JASON! DID YOU TAKE MY JEANS?!"
"YOU HAVE A THOUSAND PAIR OF JEANS!" Jason yelled back, unwilling to move from his comfortable position on the couch. "WHY WOULD I TAKE THEM?"
Dick grumbled under his breath, unhappy with his younger brother. It was evident in his voice that he wasn't in an understanding mood. "BECAUSE YOU TOOK MY OTHER PAIR?"
Jason was more than ready with a reply, quick to escape any blame aimed in his direction. "I DIDN'T TAKE THOSE, ASSHOLE. ALFRED PUT THEM IN MY ROOM!"
"YOU -."
Bruce winced from the loud voices going back and forth. A headache was already coming on from Tim, and now Dick and Jason were participating in a yelling competition. "Dick! Stop yelling – all you have to do is go downstairs to have a normal conversation."
"But Jason took my jeans."
"Don't you have any other jeans? You can't possibly fool me into believing that you don't have other jeans to wear."
Dick scoffed a bit. "Well, he's alwaystaking my stuff. I'm missing a pair of jeans – who else would have them? Jason is the only one who would take them."
Rubbing his temples, Bruce exhaled. "Jason is bigger than you, Dick – why would he take them? What would he do with them? If it's such a big deal, then just tell Alfred, and he'll buy you another pair."
"You probably lost them or something." Tim added in a nonchalant manner, sucking on his pinky finger as he listened to the conversation.
"What's wrong with the jeans you're wearing?"
"Nothing, I just want my other jeans."
"Maybe Alfred threw them away. He threw away my jeans yesterday when they had a hole in them." Once more, Tim gave his thoughts on the subject, looking very serious. "They just had a little hole, and Alfred threw them away."
Bruce started once more towards Tim's room, dragging the talking boy with him, remembering that time wasn't on his side this morning. He had to get going – there was a meeting this morning he couldn't be late fore. "Don't make unnecessary problems, Richard."
Dick looked shocked at the reply to his troubles. Why was it that nobody else saw the trouble here? Jason got away with taking his stuff! Jason had tattled on him yesterday, making Bruce take away his car for a week, and yet he was the one who was getting the grief? Unfair. Dick knew better than to say more to Bruce, so he decided it was best to go nag Jason over the matter. After all, he wasn't about ready to let something like this slide past so easily. On a normal day, maybe – but not when Jason was the reason his car was gone for a whole week.
The teenager hurried down the steps, lugging his backpack in an unhappy manner. He found his younger brother watching some stupid cartoon. How typical.
"Jakers! It's the tales of our pal Piggley! Ireland is the world he loves so well. He wriggles out of spots that are downright stickley. How he does that, only he can tell." The show theme played in a bothersome way, but Jason didn't seem to notice. It was obviously a child's show, but it worked to take one's mind of just about anything.
"Jason, where are my jeans?" Dick demanded, openly declaring that he was up and ready for a fight with his brother. If he hadn't wanted to fight, he would have let the matter go when Bruce had told him too, but no – he wanted Jason to get in a foul mood. Maybe then Bruce would yell at the middle child.
"Piggley, Ferny, Molly and Dannan never miss a chance to have too much fun. In Tara or Raloo lots of excitement for everyone. Curiosity's in a hurry leaving no time to stop and think..."
Jason ignored his older brother for all of ten seconds, forcing himself to turn away from the mindless entertainment. "I told you, I don't got your fuckin' jeans. You heard Dad. I don't wear your fucking. Small. Size."
Oh. Fine. Great. "Is that supposed to mean something? You're three inches taller then me, Jason – stop being a baby and fight your own battles instead of running to dad."
"Six inches."
"What?"
"You heard me. I'm six inches taller than you – not three. And I don't run to dad." Jason wanted to stand up, but felt that now wasn't the time. He had to look calm and collect in front of his older brother. Dick had a way of making Jason so mad he'd talk without thinking and make a fool of himself.
"…The line between wild and crazy gets blurry, Jakers! The adventures of Piggley Winks. Something in the way his eyes start blazing tells us he's onto a brand new plan. His lips curl up, it's downright amazing. Looking for mischief, well, he's your man. Piggley, Ferny, Molly and Dannan never miss a chance to have too much fun."
"Really? It seems to me like that's all you do."
Jason glared, tossing his head in a careless manner – but not pulling off the impression that he was 'all that'. "Seems to me like you're in a fuckin' bad mood. What's up your ass?"
"It's the fact that Dad has to take us to school, the fact that my car is gone for a week because you whined that you were too cold, that's what's bothering me."
"In Tara or Raloo lots of excitement for everyone. They go to bed just to wake up early to get in trouble or on the brink. The line between wild and crazy gets blurry, Jakers! The adventures of Piggley Winks."
"Maybe you should try coming on time instead of taking your girlfriends for joyrides like some badass rich snob. Just because you got a new car doesn't mean you're better than me." He decided now was a good time to stand up, sitting no longer helped his confidence. He was taller then Dick, he might as well use it to his advantage. "You're just pissed because now you don't got any way to impress your prep friends."
Dick scoffed, finding his brother's words more amusing then anything. "You're jealous – just because you can't get friends doesn't give you the grounds to make me miserable because I have some."
This comment did more to anger Jason then any of the others. He instantly glared. "Do you hear yourself? 'You can't get friends' Oh boo-fucking-hoo, Dick."
"Dick and Jason are fighting!"
The two teenagers looked behind them to find Tim watching with a surprised expression. They both fell silent, finding a common enemy for a few minutes, depending on the outcome of their situation.
"Jason said the four letter word that starts with an F and is bad!" Tim added as he stepped back, seeing he might be in need of help if his brothers decided to silence him. Fortunately, Bruce was already heading down the stairs, carrying Tim's backpack. "Why do you have my backpack?"
"Because you forgot it."
Tim silently accepted the object, but didn't let it derive his attention for too long. He turned back to see what Bruce might do concerning Jason and Dick – it was always pleasant to watch someone besides himself get into trouble with the head-honcho. "Jason said the-."
"I know. I heard you the first time you said it, Tim. Thank you. It's getting late, let's get going."
"But what about Jason and Dick, they were fighting! They were saying bad words and stuff. Aren't you going to yell at them?!" The eight-year-old pouted as he followed his father, awkwardly positioning his backpack. "What are you going to do about it?"
Bruce turned, finally at the end of his line. "None of your business, Timothy – get in the car." His tone did more than his words, and Tim was heading outdoors without a second thought. Pleased with this, Bruce turned to deal with Jason and Dick. Dick was looking as innocent as he could manage while Jason was simply looking like he wished the man would drop dead. There was nothing out of the ordinary there. "I don't even want to deal with it right now, guys. Jason – we've been over it thousands of times – your language isn't acceptable. So, seeing as you keep forgetting this fact, we'll make a rule."
"That's not fair – Dick started it."
"You cuss again, and I hear about it, you're grounded for a week. How's that sound?"
"Bad."
"Great, let's get going." Bruce forced a smiled and headed out the doors, pleased the think that they would finally be in the car – and soon he would be at work, away from all this fighting. That way he could at least have a little time to regenerate his energy and patience. A strange thought, looking forward to work – but on morning's like this, he couldn't help it.
That afternoon Jason was working on his algebra homework, wishing that there was a way he could magic it done, but knowing better. He'd occasionally pause in the middle of his work to think of ways he could not do the problems, but still get them done. Sure, there was cheating – but not when it came to Algebra. His teacher was evil like that, he'd compare papers, Jason knew about that. After being caught once, he knew better than to try his luck again so soon.
He doodled a bit in the margin, taking his attention to simpler things when he heard a soft sobbing coming from down the hall. The teenager rolled off his bed in a curious manner, and headed towards Tim's room, realizing that it was his little brother.
This wasn't such a strange thing, Tim cried a lot – but it wasn't like there were a lot of reasons he'd be crying right now.
"Tim? What's wrong?" Jason found the door to the room open and entered unannounced, as he did so many times before. "What you crying about?"
"I'm – I'm not crying!" Two red eyes looked up from the bed, where Tim lay on his belly, head lifting away from his arms. "G-go away, Jason!"
Jason didn't budge, hardly intimidated by the boy. He moved towards the bed, finding it strange that his brother wasn't spilling his guts on why he was crying. When it came to Tim, well, usually there was a lot that the boy would say. In fact, it was a rare occasion when Tim didn't tell you what was on his mind. "You can tell me, it's not like I'll rat you out. What – did you stub your toe? Did you bite your tongue?"
Tim sniffed a bit, his expression softening at Jason's words. He shook his head, sitting up slowly and looking towards the door. "Puh-promise not to tell anyone?"
"Well, sure – why would I tell?"
"Because I tuh-told on you this morning when you said the four letter w-word." Tim reminded, rubbing a hand into his damp eye.
"Oh, yeah – well, I'll let the slide. What's wrong?"
There was a pause and then Tim shook his head. "Remember Gracie?"
Jason thought about this for a moment, not recalling anyone by the name of Gracie. Oh wait – that one girl. Tim's crush! "That girl you like at school?"
"I don't like her anymore." Tim admitted a bit bitterly. He lifted his shirt and showed Jason his belly. "I don't know what it says, but everyone laughed when Devin wrote it at recess." Etched across the eight-year-old's stomach, in blue sharpie, was the word: RETARD.
At this, Jason felt something inside him start to burn. He turned and walked towards Tim's connecting bathroom, starting the sink and getting a washcloth. "Why'd you let them write that on your stomach, Tim?"
"I didn't – Shane said they were giving free tattoos, and I said I didn't want one because Shane makes fun of me all the time. He's in third grade, and says I'm retarded and stupid. He said that if I didn't let him and Devin give me one then they'd tell Gracie that I liked her."
"You could beat them up, Tim – why didn't you lay a punch? Chances are they're all talk and nothing more. If you just hit one in the face, then I'll bet they'd both start crying." Jason handed Tim the washcloth and sat beside his brother. "They're only what – a year older than you?"
"They're bigger then me."
"So? They're just spoiled kids."
Tim patted his tummy with the wet towel and shrugged. "You should come to my school and beat them up for me."
At this the teenager couldn't help but smile. He put his arm around Tim's neck and ruffled his brother's hair. "Yeah, great – I could beat up some third graders, that'd look good."
"Promise you won't tell?"
"…Sure, Tim, I won't tell. Though, you gotta learn to make these assholes leave you alone, otherwise things'll just get worse."
Tim shrugged once more, rubbing a bit more at the words written on his skin. "Jays? What does it say? Is it bad?"
"Nah – it just says your name."
"Buh-but that's not how you spell my name."
Jason thought about it for a moment then smiled and gave a small chuckle. "It's says Christmas."
"…really?"
"Yeah, Christmas – see?"
"Why would they write Christmas on my tummy?"
Getting to his feet, Jason lifted his shoulders. "Because they're dumb."
Tim looked at his stomach once more, pausing in his mission to remove the words. He nodded his head. "I couldn't read it because it was upside down, I see it now though."
"I'm sure you can."
To be continued …