Even though Bruce was an only child, he understood that siblings fought. In his years of being a parent, he'd seen his boys go from silence to all-out war in seconds and then be best friends moments later.

But even without siblings of his own to compare to, Bruce understood that a certain amount of infighting was not natural. Tim and Damian seemed to be at each other's throats even more than usual lately.

Every word they exchanged was some sort of insult or retort. He'd had to pull them apart more times than he could count. Yes, they were different, but that did not warrant death threats. Bruce let it slide when they fount at home, but he drew the line when they took it on patrol.

III

Batman didn't even know what this latest fight was about. All he knew was that he had found Red Robin and Robin fighting each other next to two incapacitated thugs. The two vigilantes hadn't stopped even for breath once, and after having to hear them argue the entire ride home, Batman had had it.

"Enough!" The Dark Knight bellowed. Both boys looked at him as if they only now realized he was there. "Go shower and get changed and report back to me immediately." He ordered. The boys scurried off to do as they were told, but Batman could still hear them muttering at each other.

He didn't understand it. Dick and Jason hadn't fought like this on their worst days. What was it going to take to get his youngest to just get along? Tim and Damian had scaled down to merely elbowing each other as they stood in front of their father.

"The behavior the two of you displayed tonight was disgraceful, and you should be ashamed of yourselves." He told them sternly. "Like it or not, the two of you are stuck with each other until one of you moves out, and I will not put up with the constant bickering waiting for that to happen.

You will learn to get along, starting this weekend. Consider yourselves grounded on a new level. For the next forty-eight hours, I don't want you to leave each other's sight for anything other than bathroom breaks.

If for any reason I, Alfred, or your brothers catch one of you without the other, I will add another twenty-four hours, and so help me, I will handcuff you together. Do I make myself clear?"

The boys nodded. "Good. Now get to bed." Bruce instructed. Tim and Damian marched through the manor in silence until they were in the hallway where all their bedrooms were. Their rooms were side by side, and they stood between them.

Bruce said they had to stay together, and they assumed that also meant sleeping in the same bed. "My room or yours?" Tim huffed. "Mine, obviously." Damian replied, rolling his eyes.

"Aww, you thought I was actually giving you a choice. How cute." Tim laughed sarcastically. "Let's go Demond Brat." Tim grabbed his brother's arm and tried to drag him, but Damian yanked away. "Make me Drake." He growled. "I'm not sleeping among your mess of papers."

"Better than the petting zoo you're running." Tim retorted. "We're sleeping in my room."

"Over my dead body." Damian snapped, getting in his brother's face. "That can be arranged." Tim spat back. The two of them stood toe to toe, giving each other their best Bat-glares. They were in the same position when Dick and Jason came up from patrol.

A half-hour later, they both began to get tired and slumped against the wall, which is how Bruce found them when he came up to bed himself. He sighed as he got a blanket and laid it over their sleeping forms. They were going to learn how to get along, even if it meant sleeping on the floor.


Damian and Tim carried their staring contest into breakfast the next morning, neither of them breaking eye contact. This was a battle of wills. Whoever gave in would have no choice but to be subservient for the rest of their forced time together. Neither of them was interested in following orders from the other.

By lunch, neither of them was any closer to surrender. "Should we do something?" Dick asked as he and Jason watched from the living room door. "I got Timmy. Get Little D." Jason grinned.

The two boys ran into the room screaming, hoisted their little brothers onto their shoulders, and spun them around before dumping them on the couch and taking off in different directions, knowing their victims could only chase one of them. Tim and Damian realized this as well and didn't even bother.

"Why can't we do that?" Tim mumbled as he got back to his feet. "Aside from the fact that they are still significantly bigger than us-" Damian started.

"You know that's not what I meant." Tim sighed. "We're brothers just as much as they are. We should be able to get along for forty-eight hours. There's got to be something we can agree to do together."

III

After a bit of back and forth with each other and getting permission from Bruce, Damian and Tim agreed to burn some time at the park. Alfred dropped them off and told the boys to call him when they were ready to go home.

The playground was packed with little kids, which didn't leave much for Tim and Damian to do, but people watch. After a while with no openings on the play structure, the boys began to consider cutting their losses and heading back to the manor when a basketball crashed into Damian's head.

As he was shaking off the blow, a boy around his age ran over to them. "Sorry dude." He apologized. "If it makes ya feel better, I wasn't aiming for you."

Damian shoved the ball back to the kid with a bit more force than was necessary. "Considering your shooting abilities, or lack thereof based on what I've observed, I suppose I can forgive this assault." He huffed. "What's that supposed to mean?" The kid snapped.

"Yo, Hunter, you bringing the ball back or what?" An older kid yelled as he came over to them. Tim tensed up a bit as he recognized the older boy.

Berke Gipson was the self-appointed tormentor of the Advance Placement kids. Tim was normally able to fend him off, but most of his classmates weren't so lucky to be trained fighters. "These Waynes giving you trouble bro?" Berke smirked.

"That one said I can't shoot." Hunter pouted, pointing at Damian. "You hit my brother in the head. You clearly can't shoot." Tim said, rolling his eyes. "You wanna say that again shrimp?" Hunter growled.

"Now now Hunt, we can settle this civilly." Berke said menacingly and tossed the ball to Tim. "Two on two. First to ten." Damian grinned. "You pathetic simpletons don't stand a chance."

"Damian, don't provoke." Tim warned before returning his grin. "We wouldn't want to be bad winners."

III

Damian's observations had been correct. Hunter couldn't aim to save his life which gave the Wayne boys an advantage. Berke, however, was tall and fast, which made up some for his brother's lack of skill.

Soon they were tied up, nine to nine. "You wanna make this interesting?" Tim asked, feeling more than a bit confident in his and Damian's chances. Berke shrugged for him to go on. "If we win, you have to leave the other AP kids alone from now on."

"And if we win?" Berke asked with intrigue. "Name your price." Tim told him. Berke thought for a minute before Hunter whispered something to him that made both brothers beam wickedly. "If we win, you boys strip and go home butt naked." Berke told them proudly. "You're on." Tim accepted.

Now that there were real stakes, all four boys were playing harder. Damian stole the ball from Hunter and tore down the court. He had a clear shot. Just as he lined it up, Berke rammed into his side at full force knocking Damian to the pavement.

Berke got up quickly, but Damian stayed down, and Tim ran to his aid. "You ok Dami?" He asked as he pulled his brother up. Damian tried to say he was fine but winced as he put pressure on his ankle.

Tim helped him sit back down so he could check the damage. It wasn't broken, but it had been twisted pretty bad. "I'll be fine." Damian tried to insist, but Tim forced him back down. "Bruce would kill me if I let you play on that." Tim told him firmly.

"If he can't play, then you two forfeit, and we win." Hunter reminded them gleefully. Tim grimaced as he pulled off his shirt and flung it at the Gipson boys. Minutes later, the Wayne boys were down to their underwear.

"You can keep your skivvies." Berke laughed. "Yeah, no one wants to see your scrawny asses anyway." Hunter snickered.

"As embarrassing as this is, I suppose I should thank you for trying to keep me from further harm." Damian said softly. "Don't mention it." Tim smiled down at him and quickly called Alfred to come get them.

III

Dick and Jason found their brothers' walk of shame hilarious. Bruce and Alfred did not see the humor. As soon as they got home, Alfred called the Gipson boys' parents while Bruce looked into potential financial revenge on their family.

Tim and Damian were still reveling in their half win as they headed up to bed. As Tim reached for his bedroom door, he saw Damian standing firmly in front of his own room.

"Not this again Damian." Tim sighed. "I refuse to sleep in your room Drake." Damian told him, not mean, but firm in his resolve. "You know I'm allergic to Titus and your cats." Tim reminded him. "Plus, I suffered public humiliation for you today. Give me one good reason you can't sleep in my room."

Damian stared at the floor and fiddled with the sleeve of his pajama shirt. "It's too dark in there." He whispered.

It took Tim a second to connect to the dots. Despite his brother's constant teasing about how he wasn't as brave or bold as they were, Tim was the only one of them who had never needed a nightlight.

"Come on Dami." Tim said softly as he led them over to Damian's door. "Really?" Damian asked, relieved. "I'll take an allergy pill." Tim told him. "Just don't let your mut jump on the bed."


Damian and Tim spent their last day of forced togetherness playing video games, sparing in the Cave, getting revenge on Jason and Dick for their ambush the day before, and building a house of cards which their older brothers promptly destroyed.

Bruce looked up as his youngest boys peeked into his office that evening. "What are you two up to?" He asked. "It's been a while since you read to us, and…" Tim started timidly.

Bruce smiled as he scooped both boys into his arms and carried them to the library. They sat in front of the fire, the boys curled up in their father's lap as he sat in his big chair reading them 'The Art of War.' (Damian's choice.)

They sat there late into the night, long past the end of Tim and Damian's required time together. By the time Bruce closed the book, both boys were clutching his shirt with one hand and each other with the other.