Neocolai does not own DC, is not an expert in the fandom or making money off this fic, yada yada, disclaimer stuff...
Snow under his feet and cold at his back. Tim hunched into the small alcove, shivering as icy water dripped down his neck. His breath stuttered, too loud. He clamped a gloved hand over his mouth, forcing stillness into his limbs. Heavy boots crunched near his hiding place and he stopped breathing entirely.
"I know you're there, Replacement."
Tim looked past the wall, saw the indents of his footprints leading through chopped snow, and squeezed his eyes shut in dismay. Even a drunk could follow his trail.
"You can't hide forever. I will find you."
Curling in tighter, as if he could become one with the snow if he laid still long enough, Tim bit down on his hand to stifle a whimper. What had he done this time? Botched Jason's grand plan? Tripped up his bootlace?
Nothing, Tim acknowledged with a shuddering exhale. He didn't do anything. The Red Hood was out for blood, and Tim was unlucky enough to cross his path.
He heard distant yells and the thud of impact down the way. Dick and Damian were preoccupied with their own scuffle. Even if Tim did call for backup, the wrong party would overhear. By the time help arrived, they would find only scattered footprints and gouges in the snow.
A terse sigh was followed by the dull thump of a weapon switching hands. "You're really going to drag this out, aren't you?"
Suddenly a slamming boot shot through Tim's flimsy wall, pelting him with hastily packed snow and ice shards. He cursed, diving for fresh cover. So much for using the environment to shield himself!
"Is that really what you want, Replacement?" Jason exclaimed, clearing the wall in a single jump and sliding to grab for Tim's boot. "Cause this can go down one of two ways!"
"Get off me!" Kicking desperately, Tim grabbed handfuls of slush and flung them at blazing green eyes. Iron fingers loosened marginally and he scrambled to his feet, blindsiding his own wall, crashing onto his hands and knees. Curses rounded behind him and the snow trembled under smashing boots. Tim slithered frantically over patches of slush that had hardened into ice, scrabbling for purchase under his feet, nearly crying for relief when Jason cursed and slid past him, arms flailing.
"Bruce!" The name was torn from Tim's throat. A fraying hope. A desperate appeal for someone — anyone — to pull him from the monster's path.
The sounds of fighting stilled for one moment, and in that instant Jason caught his balance. He sneered at Tim, pounding his fist into his palm, choosing his next careful steps as he stalked closer.
"End of the line, Replacement. Nobody's left to bail you out this time."
"Bruce — Dad, please!" Tim shrieked.
Jason's face twisted. "You little fink — why would you even —?" He looked beyond Tim with horror, seconds before he went down with a mouthful of powder. Rocketing up with a furious splutter, he shook snow out of his hair and yelled, "That's not fair, Bruce! We're on the same team!"
Laughing in giddy relief as black boots stepped over his wall, Tim grabbed Bruce's hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. "Knew you'd save me," he said softly.
Fond blue eyes glinted with mirth as Bruce ruffled his hair. Ugh, more snow on his ears! "Game getting too rough?"
"Nah," Tim admitted, giving Jason an evil smirk. "Jason was the only one who didn't get hit yet."
"You're getting snow down your hoodie, Replacement," Jason snarled, vengefully packing together a hefty snowball. "Bruce, hold him for me."
"Mmm, that's not the way it works..." Bruce said contemplatively.
Tim felt the shift behind him too late. "Wait, no — wait, Bruce, please — Bruce, Dad, don't — yipe!"
He ducked with a squeal, thrashing as a handful of snow was clapped to his neck. "No, that's not fair — truce! Truce!"
"There is no parlay," Bruce said cooly. "Only surrender."
"No, that's not — I trusted you — Dick, help!"
"Sorry, Tim!" Dick hollered, yelping as a wet splat confirmed that Damian had scored another hit. "Little preoccupied here!"
"End of the road, Timmy," Jason smirked, tossing a snowball from hand to hand. "This is cold, hard revenge. Next time you play with my laptop, just think about snow slithering down your neck. B, pull his hoodie back for me."
"Wait, that wasn't —" Since when was two against one okay? Jason didn't need Bruce's help! "It wasn't even your laptop! You told me you borrowed it from Bruce's office. How am I the only culprit here?"
Green eyes widened marginally, flickering past Tim. Jason swore. Holding out his hands, he carefully backed away. "Now, Bruce, it was just for a week. I was going to return it, I swear, I just had to finish a little project..."
"Twenty minutes before a very important meeting and you had to borrow it," Bruce said in a low drawl, relinquishing his grip. Tim grabbed his opportunity and scrambled. "Should I ask what happened to the one you procured the last time you needed to 'finish a project?'"
"B, it's all just a big misunderstanding," Jason cajoled. "There was a little accident with that one, just a misstep involving a third story window, and I suddenly needed a hard drive. Tim was the one who rigged with with the Nyan cat song, I never would have — Bruce, I know you're better than this — we can talk — we're on the same team, B! Don't let the little runt ruin this! He's the enemy, Dad, not me!"
With a shrill yelp Jason bolted, the shadow of imminent doom looming close behind. He tripped up within seconds, tumbling head first into Tim's ruined snow fort, and shrieked manfully as a handful of snow slid down his collar.
"Truce! Bruce, we're on the same team! Damian, you ungrateful brat! Get over here and help me!"
Cackling, Tim took off at an easy lope, gathering fresh ammunition along the way. With Bruce and Jason distracted, it was two against one to take down the last of Team B. Time to help Dick trounce his little brother.