Chapter six, please read and review, love you people! (warning ADORABLE TIM AND FLUFFLES) I dont own DC, if I did there would be more cuddles and Jason would live at the manor

Bruce Wayne was driving home in his porshe, when he saw a tiny boy with a big red scarf walking along the street. This would not have been that strange if the boy hadn't sneezed. Twice. Bruce knew that sneeze and that red nose poking out over the red scarf. Bruce was considering offering the kid a ride home, when three other boys, around Jason's age came running up behind Timmy. Tim heard the feet, glanced back for an instant, before he bolted off running. Bruce frowned and followed in the car from a distance. Did Tim know those boys? Was it a game? His question was answered when the boys pulled rocks out of their pockets and started pelting Tim, who was running as fast as he could with a giant backpack on. Bruce sped up, and was about to intervene when a well aimed rock hit the back of Tim's head and sent the tiny child sprawling.

It was a nasty fall, Tim scraping across the asphalt on elbows, knees, and hands. His backpack flew off his shoulders, yanking them painfully. Bruce slammed on the brakes and was out of the car in a flash, all his fatherly and Batman instincts rising to the surface. The Boys in the meantime were approaching Tim, laughing and bouncing their rocks in their cold hands. Bruce approached, and said in his best Batman voice.

"What are you doing?!" The boys all froze and turned, "You boys are real punks you know that? Picking on a kid, throwing rocks at him? You could have killed him! Who are your parents?" The kids took one look at an angry Bruce Wayne and ran. One kid though, made a point of stepping on Tim's back, who was just trying to get back up again. Tim slammed back into the ground. Bruce approached Tim quickly.

"Oh Timmy…" Tim's elbows and knees were skinned, and his hands were bloody. He had a scratch on his face, and from the wet on the back of his head, the rock had hit its mark. Tim looked up and saw Bruce and blushed.

"H-hey Mr. W-wayne." Tim said. Bruce gently lifted him up into his arms. Tim protested, "Y-you you don't have t-to-" He swallowed a sob.

"Shhhh…" Bruce said, "Its okay. You took quite a spill there chum." Tim tried to protest that he didn't need to be picked up, and that he was fine to stand, but then everything started throbbing and he had to swallow his sobs instead.

"Hey I got you." Bruce said, and leaned down to grab Tim's book bag, and then carried both objects, both weighing about the same, to the Porsche. He opened the passenger door, and the book bag was thrown in. Bruce placed himself behind the steering wheel with Tim in his lap. It was something he had done multiple times with Dick and Jason when they were both younger and smaller. Dick would kick his tiny feet and place his hands on the wheel, Jason would turn the radio on so it was blasting, and fake his indifference and Bruce had always made sure not to mention the huge grin on the street rat's face. But then the boys had gotten too big to sit on his lap in the compact Porsche.

Tim however, had room to spare, and he sat sideways awkwardly in Bruce's lap, his sobbing reduced to whimpering. Bruce drove the two blocks, and up the long driveway to Wayne Manor. Tim tensed when he saw the manor.

"M-mr. Wayne y-you d-don't have to…I should go h-home…"

"Are your parents at home?" Bruce asked. Tim tensed even more.

"N-no…they went straight from Meg-a-gor-i-a to Ree-o dee-gee-niro." Bruce frowned and rubbed Timmy's back.

"Then you're coming back to the manor where Alfred can fix you up." Tim blushed and then shivered, unconsciously moving closer to Bruce, who rubbed his back again. They pulled up to the manor, and Bruce got out, carrying Tim with him only stopping momentarily for the boy's backpack. The wind blew harshly, and Tim leaned into Bruce more, shivering, his nose running. Bruce was surprised when he pulled out the cotton handkerchief Alfred had given him to wipe it with. Bruce had been trying to see what he could do about removing Tim from his parent's custody, but the corrupt system in Gotham made it difficult to get anything done.

Alfred met them in the front hallway.

"Good heavens Master Bruce! What on earth happened?" Bruce adjusted Tim's position on his hip, who sneezed, and tried to keep his blood off Mr. Wayne's expensive jacket.

"Some boys were chasing and throwing rocks at Tim. He took quite a nasty fall." Tim sneezed again, and Alfred took in the red nose, scratched joints, and ripped clothes. Alfred frowned.

"I shall run a bath for you Master Timothy, and then we'll see about cleaning those cuts." Bruce nodded gratefully to Alfred, who walked away to find the things he was going to need. Bruce took off his coat and then, still holding Tim, walked up the grand staircase to follow Alfred.

The bathroom was steaming, and the tub was filled with bubbles. Bruce set Tim down on the tiles.

"Do you need any help Tim." Tim shook his head and started to take off his shirt. "Alfred and I will be nearby so call if you need anything." Bruce said, and then walked out. Tim examined the large bathtub, and climbed in. His knees, hands, and elbows were hurt from the water, but the pain soon subsided. Tim carefully washed himself, and soon Alfred came in with some clothes and a towel.

"These are Master Jason's they might be a little big on you." Tim nodded. "Come out when you are done and we'll see what we can do about those cuts, mm?" Tim nodded again, then quickly dried himself and got dressed. The clothes were more than a little big, and Tim had to tie the sweatpant ties as tight as they would go, and Jason's Led Zeplin dark side of the moon T-shirt came down almost to his knees. Alfred's mustache twitched in amusement when he saw the small boy, but he said nothing and led him to the kitchen. Tim followed, limping and sniffling. Once in the kitchen Alfred lifted him onto a stool and rolled up his sweatpants. Tim's knees were skinned badly and Alfred frowned deeply, before carefully wrapping his knees, and elbows in gauze. Tim sat still through all of this, only wincing when Alfred dabbed the anitceptic on the skinned hands. Bruce, out of his suit now, stood with his hands on Tim's shoulders whispering comfort to him, and thinking of ways Batman could make hell on earth for the kids who did this.

"Hey Bruce! We're home!" Dick's voice came from the side door where he and Jason came tumbling inside. Their shoes clunked in that awkward teen way, their noses were red, and their gait awkward. Jason just grumbled and started for the cookie jar, but he stopped when he saw Tim.

"Timmy!" He said, "What on earth happened? Who did this to you?" Jason looked furious. Tim blushed and then winced as Alfred wrapped the last bandage around Tim's hands.

"Some boys were chasing him with rocks." Bruce said in a growly voice. Dick sighed and approached Tim. Poor kid had bandages on his hands knees elbows and a bandaid on his face. In addition his nose was red, and his eyes puffy from crying. But Tim smiled shyly and said:

"It wasn't too bad." Jason snorted.

"Wasn't too bad? Look at yourself!" Tim flinched, and Bruce squeezed his shoulders comfortingly.

"Master Jason yelling will not help anyone." Alfred said as he neatly put away the first aid kit and rolled Tim's borrowed sweatpants down. "I do believe however, that some cookies are an order." Tim's eyes brighten, at the mention of cookies, and Dick giggles at him. That kid was so cute! Jason is still scowling, in brooding bat-fashion. Bruce sighed, that kid was as obsessive as he was.

"Jason, Tim's shivering, why don't you go get him a sweatshirt?" Jason nods, coming out of his deadly contemplation. Tim, momentarily forgetting his shyness asks:

"Oh! Can it be the red one?!" Tim begs, but then he shrinks back into himself with a sniffle, his cheeks even redder than before. Jason smirked.

"Sure Timmy, and if you like it that much you can keep it." Tim's eyes grew to the size of saucers.

"Y-you don't ha-" But Jason was already gone. Tim blushed and looked at the floor, but then he started coughing into his handkerchief. Bruce frowned, concerned as the tiny boy coughed. It eventually stopped, but Alfred was there with a glass of water when it was.

"T-thanks." Tim stuttered. Alfred nodded and then handed Tim a cookie. Bruce smiled down at the kiddo who ate his cookie slowly, but with all the delight of a tiny toddler. He was the size of a toddler too.

Jason returned with the sweatshirt, and Bruce carefully helped Timmy into it. Again, Timmy's favorite sweatshirt seemed to swallow the tiny boy whole. Bruce's lips quirked in a smile, and casually lifted up Tim into his arms, sweatshirt and cookie in tow. Tim, not expecting this, let out a surprised squeak as Bruce moved toward the family room.

"It would have been painful to walk on those injurys." Tim blushed and sniffed quietly. Jason followed behind with his own cookie.

"Why don't you and Tim do your homework together?" Bruce suggested. Jason groaned at the mention of homework, but then rushed to get his and Timmy's backpacks. Bruce gently set Timmy on the leather couch, and then wrapped a blanket around it. "It can get pretty drafty in here." He whispered. Tim smiled softly at his cookie. Bruce smiled back and ruffled his hair. Jason soon returned with the backpacks, and Tim grinned.

They worked for about an hour or so, before Dick walked in. Dick had skipped a few grades and was a senior this year. He didn't have that much homework because he did most in his various study halls and during class. Jason on the other hand wanted to put it off for as long as possible.

"Study buddies!" Dick said as he collapsed on the couch. Jason groaned and Tim giggled, then coughed. Dick grinned at both of them. Tim wrapped in blankets on the couch next to him, neatly doing his algebra homework, and Jason sprawled on the floor with books and papers surrounding him. Who knows what he was working on. Dick turned on his side and tucked his legs around Timmy, making a sort of nest for the tiny boy and looked at Jason, who was lazily filling in vocab answers. At least, he guessed they were vocab answers; they could have been swear words for all he knew. You could never tell with Jason's hand writing. Dick laughed as his little brother hummed Led Zeplin, and Disturbed under his breath. Dick glanced at Timmy, who was coughing again. Dick frowned at how pale he looked. His cheeks were flushed in contrast. Dick carefully got up, and walked away. Timmy, punching numbers into his calculator, didn't notice. Dick took a moment to appreciate how cute Timmy looked with his brows furrowed up, then went to go find Alfred. Alfred was starting Dinner, looked to be spaghetti, with some sort of delicious sauce.

"Hey Alfie." Dick said as he sauntered in.

"Ah Master Dick!" Alfred said with a slight smile, "What can I do for you?" Dick smiled.

"Well first off you could let me help you, and then I have a question." Alfred promptly gave Dick the sauce spoon with strict instructions to "not let it scorch" Dick obeyed, stirring gently and scraping the sides of the steel sauce pan.

"Well Master Dick what was it you wished to ask me?" Dick sighed.

"Alfred…is Timmy really sick?" Alfred raised an eyebrow at Dick

"What makes you think I should know the state of the young master's health?" Dick smiled.

"You're Alfred. You know everything." Alfred let out a small chuckle at that.

"Well sir, if I were to guess I would say that he has a rather nasty cold coming on, probably with a fever as well. I would suggest he rest up a few days and have a doctor assure that its nothing serious. But that is quite impossible for the poor lad all alone as he is in that big house." Dick sighed.

"That's what I thought. I think he already has the fever, he's super pale but his cheeks are flushed. I…I was wondering… Maybe we could have him stay here? At least till his parents get back."

"I think that's a great idea Dick." Dick turned to see Bruce leaning against the doorframe. "The only problem we'll run into is how to convince his parents." Dick nodded.

"They won't like us discovering how neglectful they are. They might even take it out on Timmers." Bruce nodded.

"I'll call them." He said. "I'm sure I can convince them." Dick smiled.

"I hope so, the kid deserves it." Bruce nodded, then resolutely marched off toward his office. Alfred smiled proudly after him.