Dick is waiting for them when they return to the Cave, and neither Tim nor Damian gets out of the car for a long minute. Tim looks at Damian hopefully, but under the cowl, the older man is obviously not amused.
"I have done nothing wrong, and I will not submit myself to Grayson's overly-emotional fits—not even for your sake, Timothy. Give me the mask, and accept the consequences of your actions."
Tim scowls, but carefully removes his mask as instructed and exits the vehicle reluctantly. Dick is just standing there and for a second, Tim thinks that he's actually surpassed the limits of Dick's patience. He looks away, reaching up to tip the hood off.
Apparently that is Dick's cue, and Tim's arm gets stuck half-raised as Dick hugs him tightly. The material of Nightwing's survival suit doesn't give under the pressure of Tim's nose and forehead. His trapped arm is starting to hurt, and the cape is half-strangling him, but any movement on Tim's part will just make Dick hug harder.
Tim isn't expecting the sudden release or the dizzy sensation that comes with an adult grabbing his shoulders and shaking him—once. Twice. Tim refocuses on Dick's eyes, shrinking a little under that gaze, but not looking away a second time.
"Why would you do that?" Dick demands, his voice raw. "Why, Tim?"
Because Tim is fourteen years old and can do stupid things sometimes. Because there are fights he can't win, and people he won't fight. Because he'd rather be Robin than Tim.
"Dick," Jason cuts in quietly from the sidelines. "He's not going to answer you."
The wince from that one rolls through the acrobat's entire body, and Tim thinks that's why Dick shakes him that third and final time—trying in vain to disguise it. "Do you even understand how terrified . . ."
Tim lets out a surprised huff of air as Dick pulled him in close again. "If . . ." the man choked out. "If you're going to defy us again . . . would you at least take Jay with you? He doesn't like authority either."
Tim eyes the middle brother warily over Dick's shoulder, and Jason gives that tight, not-remotely-amused grin that promises dire things if Tim ever tries it.
"I can see the Bat-leash was considered," Damian interrupts from where he's studying the assortment of evidence on the far counter. "Did I not prove that a foolish measure the first time?"
Dick shifts so that he can keep Tim pressed against his side, even as he moves to join Damian across the cave. Tim doesn't protest, just tries to imagine a much smaller Damian on a leash to distract himself from the hand on his shoulder that won't move. "That's not for Tim."
Damian raises an eyebrow as barking comes from the shower room. "No. We have been over this before, Todd. No."
To Damian's frustration, the dog stays for a week—mostly in the kitchen where Batman has no say.
Tim will just keep those few forays upstairs to himself, because the dog keeps hunting Jason and Tim down during the day and howling his head off at night until someone takes pity on the dog and sneaks it upstairs.
They need the animal to observe the effects of the substance used to alter the animals into raging, flaming beasts of the night. Dick's prevailing theory is that being on fire would alter anyone's mood, but Damian suspects a hallucinogenic among the fumes given off by the burning-yet-unharmed creatures.
Alfred, the cat, despises the interloper. He proved this upon the much larger animal, and as a result Jason and Damian are not speaking—each firmly on the side of the breed they favor.
Dick just pets whichever animal is closest (and occasionally Tim if he can get away with it), and maintains his demand of adequate Family Time each night. He's gotten even clingier since Tim's solo adventure, but since Dick isn't interfering Tim's training, the teen suffers in silence. He even shows up in the evenings without prompting.
Jason and Damian occasionally have to be persuaded, and that is a task best left to Dick and the dog. Tim just holds the jealous Alfred, and watches the show from the safety of his end of the couch.
It was likely one such summoning that led Damian to declare the dog's usefulness at an end. Samples have been obtained, the dog's behavior (or "lack thereof") has been noted, and Damian is more than ready to have "the beast" removed from his home.
Tim and Jason are hiding in the kitchen when Dick brings home a coworker from the station to take custody of the stray. Apparently the blonde woman had been looking for a dog, and Dick was quick to recommend their soon-to-be-homeless canine.
Jason is distracting himself by tormenting Tim with interior-decorating via the internet. A couple cans of yellow paint are waiting upstairs, and Tim is trying to avoid making any other choices that will lead to a semi-permanent alteration of the manor.
However, Jason is a force to be reckoned with. The longer the giggling and barking go on in the other room, the more things pile up in Jason's online cart.
Tim just buries himself further in the reports and tries to ignore the rest of them until Damian comes home.
It was late, even by their standards when Tim finally makes it to bed. Past sunrise, he suspects. Something was going on in the Hellhound case, because Damian hadn't even stopped at the manor before heading out on patrol. Jason barely fed Tim before following Batman out on patrol.
It has been Batman and Red Hood on patrol all week, but everyone is carefully not-mentioning the burns that Dick is hiding. Tim is mute, not blind—he's seen the pills that Dick takes like clockwork. He's watched Jason and Damian submit to embraces they would normally shrug off or retaliate over . . . as well as take on duties that normally fall to their eldest.
The way that Dick has been moving this week is an unsettling reminder that Tim's childhood hero is almost forty—that's older than Bruce ever was. So maybe Tim has been going somewhat easy on Dick this week too.
It's not guilt.
Tim just lets Dick get the clinginess out of his system. He doesn't let Dick carry him upstairs though, because a) Dick shouldn't be doing that with burns across his back and b) Tim is not a baby. Tim may have been half-asleep when Damian wearily informs them that Batman and Red Hood are returning, but he's capable of walking up to his room on his own.
At least Dick had given in and gone down to the Cave in the first place. The acrobat wasn't willing to sacrifice Family Time completely, so they synced the computer to run a show called Firefly on one screen and the Bat-cameras on the rest. The story was kind of interesting if non-linear; Tim suspects that it would make more sense if not interspersed with flaming dogs and swearing superheroes on the rest of the screens.
It's Dick so Tim will probably get many more opportunities to watch it. Dick loves everything . . . especially on repeat.
Tim trudges up the stairs, passing a descending Alfred on the way and lets himself into his room. The bedside clock blinks 6:42 AM at him in mocking red light. Tim pulls the curtains to shroud the room in some semblance of darkness. Then he kicks off his shoes, ignoring the metallic ring as one of them collides with the paint cans in the corner, and blearily shuffles into the bathroom for a perfunctory teeth-brushing.
He's almost out of toothpaste already; Tim will add it to Jason's list in the kitchen (if there's room under Dick's demand for sugar). Maybe add a new toothbrush too just to mess with Jason a bit.
Tim spits out the foam and rinses his mouth twice out of habit.
His eyes flick upwards unintentionally, and Tim chokes on mint-tainted tap water as he scrambles backward. He collides with the wall behind and as soon as his airway is clear, Tim screams.