Strays

by SilverLightning26

A business trip takes the Dursleys across the Atlantic to a grimy city in New Jersey. They couldn't find a sitter, so they had to bring "the freak" with them. And then they conveniently forgot him there, on the meanest streets of Gotham. Fending for himself at the tender age of 7 (and ten months!), Harry will find friends, and eventually, hopefully, a new home and a new family.

7. Holiday at Home

Merry Christmas in July! This chapter is all fluff but I love it. I hope you do, too!

Chapter 7: Holiday at Home

Jason was not a fan of the idea of following some random kid home for the holidays.

"Please, Jay? He might be alone for Christmas. That's horrible. He's like my brother, Jay," Harry pleaded. "And families should be together at Christmas. Please?"

"How well do you even know this kid?" Jason demanded. "He's a rich kid. He's probably from Bristol, and all those kids are brats. And how do you know it's not a trap?"

"He sneaks out almost every night to take pictures of Batman! Why would he want to trick two street kids into coming home with him?"

Jason threw his hands up. "Hell if I know! I don't trust anyone but you!"

"And I trust Tim! You have no problem letting me hang out with him on rooftops at night. What's the difference?"

"First of all, I very much do have a problem with you hanging out on rooftops at night! I just know I'd never be able to stop you. I don't have the right to, anyway. It's not like I'm your parent or something. Second of all, the rooftops in and around Crime Alley are our turf. We know them. You know them. You know where the safe places are, you know where you can hide. Wherever this kid lives? That's his territory. And we know nothing about it!"

"So I can get his address. We can scope it out beforehand. We can do research on his family! You could come with me the next time I see him. I don't understand your problem with this!"

"Because I thought I was your brother!" Jason shouted.

Harry froze. The silence was deafening.

Jason's face slowly turned red as he realized what he'd said.

"Never mind. Forget it. Go spend Christmas with this kid. See if I care." Jason jammed his hands into his pockets and turned to go.

Harry felt tears well up in his eyes. "But you are my brother, Jay," he whispered. "At least, I thought you were." He blinked hard, trying not to let the tears spill over. "I guess I was wrong." Harry hunched his shoulders and turned around. "I...I'll get my stuff and go, then. I'm sorry. I won't—I won't be a burden on you anymore."

"Shit. Harry, wait!" Jason grabbed his arm, pulling Harry around to face him. Jason's expression turned looked stricken when Harry finally raised his head. It took a moment too long for Harry to realize that was because he'd lost against the tears.

Jason opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again, and…

"Damn it all." He grabbed Harry and pulled him into a tight, tight hug. "You are my brother, Harry. My fierce little hawk. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. You're not a burden. You've never been a burden. I—I like doing things for you. Reading to you, teaching you stuff. I don't mind sharing my stuff, either. You are my brother, Harry. I-I'm sorry. I…I guess…I guess I just got scared, and jealous."

Harry hesitantly returned the hug. "Jealous of what? I only see Tim a few times a week, and only for like an hour or two. I spend the rest of my time with you."

"I know. I'm sorry. I overreacted. I do worry about you when you go wandering around at night. I guess…I feel like I can keep you safer than he can."

"You definitely can," Harry replied, finally hugging Jason back fully. "He carries a baton and a can of mace, but he doesn't know how to use any of it. Half the time, I'm the one telling him to go home."

Jason chuckled wetly. "And he's supposed to be the older one. I guess I'll have to teach him a few things if he wants to keep hanging out with my little brother."

"'M not little," Harry grumbled, even though he was more than happy at Jason's casual reference to Harry as his brother.

Then he registered what Jason had said.

"Wait, does that mean you'll come?"

Jason sighed and released Harry in favor of ruffling his hair instead. "Yeah, little hawk. I'll come meet your friend."

"My twin," Harry corrected, smiling. "He looks like me, just less dirty. And he's only two weeks older than me."

"My mistake. Your twin. Guess that makes him my little brother, too."

Harry pumped his fist. "Yes!" He threw his arms around Jason's waist, squeezing tightly. "Thank you, Jay! You're the best big brother ever!"

Two days before Christmas, Tim brought the sad but sort-of good news that his parents had extended their trip into the new year, and therefore would not be home for Christmas, though they promised to call.

"I doubt they will, though," Tim said glumly. They sat on the edge of the roof this time, and Tim kicked his feet moodily.

"They don't know what they're missing," Harry said, nudging Tim's shoulder reassuringly. "So when do you want us to come?" he asked.

Tim brightened a little. "As soon as you can. Actually…" he hesitated, smiling shyly. "I was so excited I already bought you bus tickets for tomorrow night." He pulled a folded sheet of paper and held it out. "I'll meet you at the stop in Bristol and we can walk back to my house."

Harry's gut squirmed uncomfortably at the thought of directly accepting the offering. No one had ever bought him anything before, except grudgingly and with a hundred reminders of just how much of a burden he was on "respectable people" like his relatives and how much he didn't deserve even the little they gave him.

"Harry?"

Oh. He'd been silent too long. "Sorry. It's just…awkward, accepting things from other people. It just doesn't happen for me…not even…before."

"Not even your relatives…?" Tim asked, his eyes wide.

Harry shook his head. "I only ever got my cousin's hand-me-downs. And he's always been way bigger than me. I never even got new socks or shoes." Harry bounced his heels off the wall moodily. "They loved to tell me what a burden I was." He stilled his feet, staring at his scuffed but sturdy boots, which he was still so proud of himself for. "I still don't get anything new, but…at least I get to pick it for myself. And no one's telling me I don't deserve it."

"It's sad when living on the streets is better than living with your family," Tim said quietly. "It's lonely in my house. Too big and empty and quiet. Maybe that's why I like coming out here so much. It's never quiet in Gotham, and even though it's big, it never feels empty. Even up here, at night, when nobody's really out, you still know you're not completely alone."

Harry nudged Tim's shoulder. "Yeah."

Tim nudged him back, then held up the printed tickets right in front of his face. "I know it's awkward, but…it's already done. Take it."

Chuckling, Harry took the paper. He unfolded it to look at the departure time, and was surprised it was so early.

"Six-thirty?"

"The buses don't run as long on Christmas Eve," Tim said sheepishly. "And they don't run at all on Christmas. So...this was the best option."

"So…we'll be staying for two nights?" Harry asked, half excited and half terrified. He did trust Tim, and he was looking forward to spending time with him. But he didn't know how he would feel about being in a house, or sleeping in a bed, would be. Harry had actually never slept on a proper bed. (And wasn't that another depressing thought.)

"Yep! Oh! Do you want to cook anything specific? The shops will be open until early evening tomorrow. I can buy groceries."

"Are you sure? I don't want—"

Tim grabbed Harry's face with freezing fingers. "You are not a burden," he said firmly. "You or Jason. I want you there. And I want you to enjoy it. If I can do something to help you have fun, I want to do it. Because…because you're my brother. My twin," Tim said quietly. "And if Jason is your brother, that makes him mine, too."

"Okay, okay. Get your icicle hands off me." Harry playfully (and carefully) pushed Tim away.

"So?"

"Um…chocolate chip cookies? And…maybe…fresh green beans? I can cook them with butter and salt and they're really, really good."

Tim blinked. "You can cook?"

Harry hesitated. "My relatives made me cook as soon as I could reach the stove," he admitted.

"Can you make anything?"

"If I have the recipe and the ingredients, probably. I'm not as good at baking, though. My aunt usually did that. Though I think she was afraid I'd steal the dough."

"Can you…can you make a ham? With pineapple? In the oven?" Tim asked breathlessly.

Harry blinked. "Uh…probably? You'll have to give me the recipe. And that's weird."

"I saw it on a mommy blog and it looked so, so good. I've always wanted to try it, but…Mrs. Mac tells me it's not an 'acceptable combination of ingredients.'" Tim affected a Scottish accent at the end, and Harry giggled.

"If you get the stuff, I'll try it out."

"So we'll have ham, and green beans. Mashed potatoes?"

Harry shrugged and nodded. "And…canned peaches?" he asked hopefully.

"With cottage cheese," Tim said sagely.

"Uh…sure?"

Tim laughed. "My mom eats it for breakfast sometimes. She let me try it once and it was unexpectedly good."

"And…" Harry hesitated, trying to remember if Jason had mentioned any foods he'd eaten at Christmas. He couldn't think of anything, but… "Oh! Jason likes pecan pie. If you can find a pre-made one. And vanilla ice cream."

"Hold on. Let me make a list." Tim dug around in his pockets and pulled out a sleek rectangle. The screen lit up when he pressed the button on the bottom, and Harry's eyes widened.

"That's a smartphone," he breathed.

"WayneTech smartphone, actually," Tim said idly as he pulled up a note taking program. He typed in their list and the required ingredients. Then he seemed to register Harry's comment. "Have you never seen one before?"

Harry shook his head. "Not up close. They were brand-new last summer and my cousin begged and begged for one. That was the first time I can remember my aunt and uncle saying no to him. It's so thin and shiny."

Tim laughed. "You can play with it tomorrow, if you want. I'd better head home, though, if I want to wake up early enough to get to the shop and clean the house up a little."

Harry nodded. "Yes, please!"

Tim laughed again, then stood up. Harry stood beside him, then Tim pulled him into a tight hug.

"I'm so excited for Christmas now. Thanks to you."

"You invited us," Harry pointed out, his cheeks flushing as he returned the hug.

"It was your suggestion, though." Tim hugged him just a little tighter. "Thanks, Harry."

Harry squeezed back. "You're welcome, then. I…guess I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Yes!" Tim bounced on his toes. "I'd better go. See you!"

He rushed over to the fire escape and started scrambling down.

"Be careful!" Harry called. "It's still gonna be icy!"

Tim waved a hand in acknowledgement, but he did slow down. Harry watched him, hovering as though he could reach out and catch him if he did slip. When Tim made it down without incident, Harry breathed a sigh of relief, then followed him down, taking care on the icy rungs. Tim waved again as he ran off in the other direction, and Harry waved back.

The bus ride to Bristol on Christmas Eve was surreal. Harry and Jason had cleaned up as best they could and were wearing their best clothes. Their "new" coats had been wiped down, too. But even despite all that, and despite their tickets being scanned without question, Harry couldn't help but tense, convinced that at any moment someone would see through their disguise, realize that they didn't belong, and then throw them off the bus. Probably with a lot of cursing and insults.

Jason didn't let go of Harry's hand once from the time they left their base to the moment they reached their destination. And Jason was squeezing hard. But Harry squeezed back just as hard, his heart hammering in his chest the entire ride. Jason's knee bounced anxiously and rhythmically almost in time with Harry's heartbeat.

Even when they got off the bus and met Tim, whose pink nose and cheeks indicated that he'd been waiting for a while, Harry's heart still didn't slow down. Everything in him screamed that he didn't belong here. He never had and he never would. And Jason was still squeezing Harry's hand.

Tim chattered eagerly the entire two-mile walk back to his house. Harry barely heard a word; his heart was pounding too loudly in his ears. Jason made the occasional sound of acknowledgment, but it was clear he wasn't really listening either.

Despite his nerves, though, Harry still paid attention to his surroundings. It was a lesson he'd learned the hard way one too many times, with the Dursleys and on the streets. They passed three huge estate houses with fancy wrought gates, each one at least a quarter of a mile down from the next. Their grounds were very pretty, in a sort of clinical way—fancy landscaping turned into amorphous blobs under the snow, which also stretched pristine across the extensive grounds. Two of the estate houses had three floors. Finally, Tim stopped in front of a gate with a stylized D wrought into the center. He skipped up to a real-life key pad, put in a code, then stepped back as the gate open, splitting the D down the middle.

"Oh. My. God." Jason's voice trembled with awe, disbelief, and some fear. "You live in a goddamn mansion."

Tim hunched his shoulders, scuffing his toe in the slush on the driveway. "Manor, actually. And it's not all that great," he said. "Too many empty rooms. Not enough people."

The gate finished opening, and Tim eagerly took the opportunity to lead them through the gate and down the long drive.

"Since it's kinda late, I figured we could eat pizza and watch a movie or something, then go to bed early," Tim said shyly. "Tomorrow I can give you a proper tour, if you want. And we can do whatever you want. I haven't bought return tickets yet, in case…in case you wanted to stay longer."

"Yeah, I don't know about that, Timmy," Jason muttered.

Tim flushed at the nickname, but he smiled.

Soon enough, they reached the door. Tim's house—if you could even call it that—was a little more modest than the others, though that wasn't saying much. It had the same extensive grounds and circle drive. It was only two floors, but Harry counted at least fifteen windows across the front of the first floor. Tim fished a key out of his pocket, inserted it into the lock, and turned. There was a soft click, then Tim pushed the door open.

"Um. So. Here we are."

Tim led the way into a shadowed entrance hall, with clean white marble tile and sterile white walls with cream-colored trim. To the left and right of the unnecessarily large space were two fancy end tables carved in dark wood, each with some kind of statue or bust on top. As Tim led the way further into the house, Harry caught glimpses into other rooms. The tile gave way to pale wood paneling—real wood, not the cheap vinyl like in their base—and the walls were lined with old statues and artefacts. Even the rugs looked too fancy to be walked on. The carpeted living room with the TV looked more like a show room than anywhere someone lived.

"This is a museum," Harry breathed. "This…this sucks. I mean, it looks really fancy and expensive, but…it doesn't look like anyone lives here."

Tim shrugged. "Mom and Dad don't let me in most of the rooms," he admitted. "They don't want me to damage the artefacts, so I'm really only allowed in the living room, the downstairs drawing room, the kitchen, my room, and the second upstairs study."

"The second study?" Jason muttered in disbelief.

Harry grabbed Tim in a hug from behind. "I'm so sorry," he said fervently. He wasn't entirely sure what he was apologizing for, but he just felt so bad for Tim.

Tim squeaked in surprise. "It's fine, really. There's nothing interesting in any of the other rooms anyway. I don't really want to go in there anyway."

"This…this is so stupidly insane," Jason said, shaking his head. "And it's such a waste! If I had a house this big, half the rooms would be libraries, then a couple a' game rooms, a couple a' movie rooms, and a sun room where I could read undisturbed."

"Of course you would," Harry muttered, elbowing Jason.

"What about you, Harry?" Jason asked.

Harry shrugged. "I'd be happy with just a cabin in the woods, as long as it was my space," he admitted.

"Maybe that hoodie and the hiking boots infected you," Jason teased.

Harry shook his head. "I don't really mind being alone. I just don't like being forced to be alone. And living in the woods…I'd be so free," he whispered.

"Aw." Jason pulled Harry into a side hug. "No wonder you love those Boxcar Children books."

Harry smiled sheepishly.

"Um. Do…do you want to eat now?" Tim asked awkwardly. "I just bought frozen pizzas, so I can put them in the oven. Um. I think I know how to work it."

"Want some help?" Harry asked, hiding a smile.

Tim smiled in relief. "Yeah."

"Since when do you know how to work an oven?" Jason asked.

"Ah…my relatives made me cook for them once I turned five," Harry admitted. "Though I wasn't allowed to use the oven until last year."

Jason gave Harry a quick, indecipherable look that vanished as quickly as he noticed it. Maybe he'd imagined it.

"Well, I'm hungry, so let's start the pizzas," Jason stated. "Lead the way, Timbit."

"Huh?"

"I said lead the way, Timbo."

Tim blinked once, then twice, then shook his head and turned around. "Um. The kitchen is this way. Uh. I don't know if Harry told you, but…I bought a bunch of ingredients. He's gonna help me make a proper Christmas dinner. Um. You can help too, I guess. If you want."

"Huh. He failed to mention that. What are we eating, Harry?" Jason asked teasingly.

"Um. Ham and green beans and mashed potatoes. Canned peaches with…cottage cheese? That was Tim's idea. And for dessert…" Harry smiled a little. "Pecan pie and vanilla ice cream."

Jason's steps faltered. Then he smiled really big. "Aw, you did that for me, little hero? You shouldn't have."

Harry flushed at the nickname, glancing at Tim. He blinked, then smiled in delight, mouthing "little hero" to himself.

Harry elbowed Jason. "Don't call me that," he hissed.

Jason's eyes widened. Then he glanced at Tim, and his fake smile turned into a smirk. "Aw, is the little hero embarrassed?"

"Jason!" Harry complained.

Jason just laughed.

Between more banter and teasing, Harry helped Tim figure out the oven and put the pizzas in. There was one cheese, one pepperoni, and one ham and pineapple, which Tim admitted was his favorite.

"That explains tomorrow's ham," Harry muttered to him, half-smiling as he closed the oven door and set the timer.

Tim flushed, but smiled. He directed Jason to get the plates, since Jason was tall enough not to have to climb onto the counter to reach. Then they all washed their hands in preparation for the meal.

"Do…do we get to shower, while we're here?" Harry asked hesitantly, looking sadly at the dirt still encrusted beneath his fingernails despite washing his hands twice.

"Or a bath. If you want. I like baths when it's cold outside. But yeah. We have tons of spare soaps and shampoos and stuff. And you can use the guest rooms near mine. They're clean, and our bathroom's right across the hall. Unless you want the en-suite at the end. Or just use that bathroom, if you don't want to take turns. I can get extra towels, or sheets, or—sorry. I'm rambling."

"No sweat, Timbit." Jason ruffled Tim's hair. Harry felt a flash of jealousy, until he saw the look of awe, shock, and pleasure on his friend's face. Harry reminded himself that affection toward Tim did not mean Jason no longer liked him. Tim deserved a big brother figure just as much as Harry did. He could share. He could.

But it might be hard.

They got the pizza ready with minimal trouble, and ate around the protruding kitchen counter that doubled as a table or bar. They weren't able to finish all the pizzas, but Tim just stuck them back in the fridge for breakfast or a snack tomorrow. Then Tim made popcorn and brought out a surprise: a big bottle of Sprite.

"I'm not really supposed to drink soda," Tim confessed, "but…no one's here to tell me no. As long as we finish it and get rid of the bottle, no one will ever know."

"You little rebel," Jason said in feigned shock, even going so far as to put a hand dramatically over his mouth and tip backward onto Harry. (Harry shoved him back upright, giggling.)

Tim flushed, grinning. He carried the bottle and the bowl of popcorn, and Harry and Jason carried the cups. They were glass, which was terrifying, and Harry and Jason both definitely took unnecessary care in transporting them to the living room.

It took a while to settle in, because everything looked so sterile. Harry was afraid to sit on the couch, acutely aware of how dirty he was, and that his clothes hadn't been properly washed in who knew how long (though Harry tried to wash them on rotation in gas station bathrooms every couple of weeks).

Jason was hesitating, too. Not understanding their discomfort, Tim just urged them to sit. After a near-argument, they compromised and sat on a blanket on the floor, their big coats and extra layers left in the kitchen slung over a couple of chairs.

After some debate, they finally settled on a Christmas movie called "Home Alone," which Tim had watched every year since discovering it, and several times besides. Apparently it was his favorite Christmas movie. It was about a boy left behind for several days while his family went on vacation, and how he booby-trapped the house to protect it from burglars. It was surprisingly relatable, and funny besides.

After it ended, Harry insisted on helping clean up, which meant Jason helped, too. There was still half a bottle of soda left that they'd finish off the next day.

"Come upstairs. I'll show you your rooms. Or room, if, y'know, you want to share. Either way is fine."

"Lead the way, Timbit."

Tim flushed at Jason's nickname, a smile creeping across his face as he obliged. He pointed out the two doors next to his, and the bathroom.

"Um. You can shower now, if you want. And you can borrow some of my clothes for tonight and tomorrow," Tim said. "I…I can wash what you're wearing now."

"That—" Jason cleared his throat. "That would be nice."

"Okay." Tim nodded, then he nodded again, smiling this time. "Okay. Here—here's my room." He pushed open the second door off the hallway at the top of the stairs.

The room looked trashed. Clothes were everywhere, scattered on the floor, hanging off chairs and out of drawers. Various books and puzzle toys littered the desk and the space near the foot of the bed. School papers and textbooks were stacked haphazardly on and beside the desk, and three different-sized camera lenses were laid out on the night stand. The only place they could actually see the carpet was in the three-foot square in front of the window, but the chair next to it was piled with what Harry recognized as Tim's roof stalking outfit and gear, with the boots tossed on the floor next to it.

He snuck out his window? Harry wondered, a little in shock.

"Oh, thank god," Jason exclaimed dramatically upon seeing the mess. "I was starting to think you'd be as much of a neat freak as your parents."

Tim's cheeks turned red. "I did mean to clean it up. But I woke up late, and then I had to hurry to the shops, and…"

"Hey, don't sweat it." Jason ruffled Tim's hair again. (Harry pretended he wasn't jealous.) "I'm glad someone's human around here."

Harry just looked around in awe. "Wow. Not even Dudley is allowed to leave his room this messy."

Tim sniffed primly. "I should be offended that you just compared me to your bullying cousin."

Harry frantically shook his head. "No, no. I didn't mean—You're nothing like—"

Tim cut him off, laughing. "Just kidding." He grinned, but quickly turned shy. "Brothers are supposed to tease each other, right?"

Jason laughed out loud and ruffled his hair again. "You got that right, Timberly! Now we can gang up on Harry together!"

Harry crossed his arms, scowling. "Then I'll tell Tim all the things you don't want anyone to know. Like how you sometimes sleep with—"

Jason clapped his hand over Harry's mouth. "Mercy, little hawk! I'm sorry, okay? I won't tease you anymore."

Harry licked Jason's palm, laughing as he pulled away in shock and disgust and started sputtering.

"You eat out of dumpsters, Jay. You've touched way worse than my saliva," Harry stated deadpan.

Jason winced. "Yikes. I knew you had a mean streak, kid, but that was just vicious."

Tim stared at Harry, his eyes wide. "You have a mean streak? But you're always so nice to me."

"Oh, yeah. When you get him riled, he can eviscerate you with just a few words!"

"Ev-evis-eviscerate?" Tim stumbled over the unfamiliar word.

Jason smirked. "Eviscerate. Disembowel. Gut. Tear apart. You get the picture. In fact, let me tell you about the time Harry—"

"I'm gonna go shower now," Harry announced loudly.

"Oh!" Tim rifled around in a half-open drawer (and ignored the fact that he knocked several more items of clothing to the floor in the process). He came out with a pair of grey sweatpants with a bow and arrow on the right leg and a matching green t-shirt (and, with a slightly red face, tucked a pair of black boxer shorts between them). "Here. You can leave your other clothes outside the door, and when Jason's done, I'll throw all of it in the wash together."

Harry took the clothes, marveling at how soft they were. "Thanks."

"And you can use any of the shampoo or soap you want, as much as you want. There's tons of extras under the sink if you want to try different ones, too. And there's no hurry. Take as long as you want. I showered this morning, so I'm good. And if Jason gets impatient, he can use the other bathroom in the en-suite."

"I'll wait," Jason said with a shrug. "Go clean up, little hawk. I'll be here."

Harry swallowed, wondering how Jason read his hesitation when he didn't even recognize it in himself. Jason smiled and waved him out. Harry managed to smile back, then padded out of the room.

As Harry crossed the hall, he heard Tim ask eagerly, "Can you tell me the story from before, where Harry evis—eviscerated someone with words?"

Jason laughed. "Oh, yeah. We were at the park, see, and…"

Harry sighed and resigned himself to embarrassment.

In the bathroom, Harry reverently set the borrowed pajamas—Green Arrow themed, he was pretty sure—on the edge of the sink. He checked that there was a towel, and toilet paper, and everything else he would need. He double-checked that the bathroom door was locked. He fiddled with the shower knobs, pulled the curtain, and started the shower running. Then, hesitantly, Harry peeled off his layers.

The green hoodie, then the flannel, then a t-shirt he'd found in a donation box, then the thin knit tank top—he liked to have a layer between his skin and the rest of his clothes. Then he stripped off his holey socks, his ratty jeans, and his boxers. He folded them neatly and set them outside the door, then checked and double-checked that the door re-locked.

Shivering, Harry glanced in the mirror, and was shocked at the different skin tones. His skin covered by the t-shirt was pale, pasty white. His arms and legs were a few shades darker, but now Harry wondered how much of that was dirt. And he was skinny, skinny enough to count his ribs. He'd always been scrawny, but…he hadn't realized he was that thin.

Turning away and pushing back a faint sense of unease, Harry stepped under the steaming spray from the shower. He flinched at the heat, then let it wash over him. Harry got wet all over, then set to scrubbing. He scrubbed his entire body twice, and washed his hair three times. He was sort of horrified by the amount of dirt coming off his body, and he scrubbed and washed until the water ran clear.

Hesitantly, Harry then tried the conditioner. He used a lot, and felt bad about it, but it felt so nice as he worked it through his hair, softening the knots so he could comb them out with his fingers. And it smelled good, too, like a minty forest with a hint of vanilla. And when he rinsed it out, his hair still smelled like that.

And even though it had been forever, the water was still hot. So Harry just stood under it, letting it run over his face and neck as his hair dripped down his back. It felt so nice Harry could have stayed there forever.

But eventually, the heat started making him a little drowsy and light-headed, and his fingers and toes were turning into prunes. So, with great reluctance, Harry shut off the water and stepped out. He dried himself thoroughly, squeezing the excess water out of his hair—and when had it gotten so long? Then Harry neatly folded the towel back over the rack and pulled on the borrowed pajamas. They were so soft, and warm, and they smelled like hot cocoa and detergent.

Turning to the mirror again, Harry gasped as he saw a completely different boy. His skin had a healthy flush from the heat of the shower, his jaw-length hair already starting to curl slightly at the ends. His eyes were bright and happy, more vibrant than usual (Harry thought that was because of the green shirt. Aunt Petunia had often said to Dudley that soft baby blue shirts brought out his eyes. Apparently green did the same for Harry's). And though his cheekbones were a little too sharp and hollow, his eyes just a little too wary, the boy looking back at Harry from the mirror looked like he belonged, in that fancy bathroom with the sand-colored walls dotted with little Greek seaside prints and blue and white tile.

Harry burrowed his nose into the collar of the shirt, curling his toes in the soft blue rug, and wished he could stay here forever.

Finally, Harry tidied up after himself, then carefully pushed the door open and padded back across the hall to Tim's room. The door was still half open, and Harry could hear Tim and Jason chatting. From how often his name was repeated, Harry figured they were still talking about him.

Harry pushed the door open a little more and stepped inside. They both turned. Tim lit up, greeting Harry with a bright smile. Jason's eyes widened in surprise, then he smiled softly.

"There's my little hawk," he said, ruffling Harry's hair. "I always wondered what you really looked like under all that dirt. I'd hug you, but now you're clean and I'm dirty, and I don't want to put that dirt back on you."

"Well, the bathroom's free now," Harry said, ducking his head shyly under Jason's ministrations. "Now I wanna know if your hair is actually red, or if that ugly brown is here to stay."

"Hey!" Jason dug his knuckles into the top of Harry's head.

Harry giggled and pulled away, then pushed Jason toward the bathroom. "Go on. And since you told Tim all my dirty secrets, now I get to tell him all of yours."

"Don't you dare!" Jason called, grabbing a bundle of cloth and running for the bathroom.

Once they heard the door close, Tim turned bright eyes on Harry. "Does Jason have a lot of dirty secrets?"

"Only that he acts all tough, but he's really just a big softie," Harry said with a smile. Then he blinked, recognizing what Tim was wearing. The sweatpants were almost the same as Harry's, except with the black and yellow bat symbol on it, and the paired shirt was yellow.

Catching Harry's eye, Tim smiled shyly. "I got a whole set of Justice League pajamas because I couldn't choose my favorite. Jason's got Wonder Woman. I…I thought it would be nice if we all matched."

"I saw matching Christmas family pajama sets in the stores. I kinda wished I could get some for me and Jason," Harry admitted. It had always been easier to talk about sensitive stuff with Tim, so the words came easily. "So…I like this. You…you two really are my brothers, and I know you and Jason don't know each other very well yet, but…I hope you guys can be brothers, too."

Tim smiled, then it turned into a little smirk. "Looks like Jason's not the only softie." He poked Harry in the chest, then flicked his nose.

"I never said I wasn't." Harry flicked Tim's forehead in retaliation, and then it dissolved into play wrestling. After a few minutes, they lay side by side on the floor, catching their breath.

"I'm really glad you guys came," Tim said quietly, his hand finding Harry's. "It's not even Christmas day yet, but…this is already the best Christmas since I was really little."

Harry laced his fingers through Tim's and squeezed lightly. "This is my best Christmas ever."

Tim giggled and leaned his head against Harry's shoulder. "Thanks for being my twin," he said quietly.

A while later, Jason returned from his shower, wearing the borrowed clothes. It was a little sad but mostly funny that pajamas meant for an eight-year-old (and a small one at that) fit Jason's eleven-year-old body. Granted, Jason was short for eleven (and Tim was short for eight). But other than the sweatpants just reaching Jason's ankles rather than bunching around them like they did on Tim and Harry, it was almost a perfect fit.

And Jason's hair was red. Sort of. Harry giggled as Jason sheepishly ran his hand through shaggy, chestnut brown hair. The light caught it, reflecting back a reddish tint.

"Well, that's better than dirt," Harry teased.

"Now hang on." Jason grabbed Harry in a headlock, driving his knuckles into the top of head. "At least my hair's properly curly, even wet. What's with that half-hearted wave, huh?" Jason tugged playfully on a strand of Harry's hair.

Harry giggled, then reached up and tousled Jason's hair in retaliation. "At least mine's not sticking up everywhere."

"Hey!" Jason drove his knuckles in harder and tickled Harry in the side at the same time. Laughing helplessly, Harry tried and failed to escape and, after a minute or two of wrestling, Jason had him in a hug from behind, one arm around Harry's shoulders and the other still holding the headlock, pinning him in place.

A clear peal of laughter drew their attention. Looking up, Tim was doubled over, laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes. They watched incredulously until Tim finished laughing.

"S-sorry," he began breathlessly. "I—you—you act just like I always imagined brothers would act. I never realized it was so—so funny to watch," he finished, still giggling.

Harry smiled, and Jason briefly pressed his nose into Harry's hair. "Yep. And by the way? He's my little brother," Jason said, and Harry could hear the grin in his voice as Jason's arms tightened possessively around him. "And I won't always be nice enough to share."

"Me, either," Harry said firmly, grabbing Jason's arm even as he smiled.

Tim just laughed. "As long as I get a few hours every couple of days."

"Nope. I get full custody. He's all mine."

"But he's my twin!" Tim protested, still with a playful note in his voice. "Two hours a day? And at least one weekend a month?"

"One hour. And only every other Sunday."

"But—"

"Just because you're both older than me doesn't mean you get to split custody," Harry complained. "I'll sneak out. I will."

Jason hugged Harry tighter. "I know I can't stop you from spending time with Tim. But you gotta remember, you were mine first."

A thrill and a rush of warmth washed through Harry.

But he couldn't let Jason have the last word.

"Nope. I found you first, so really, you are mine," Harry countered, tilting his head back to look up at Jason.

And he was glad he did, because after the shock of Harry's retort, Jason's eyes turned suspiciously bright.

"Yeah. I guess you're right." Jason leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Harry's head. "You saved me, little hero," he murmured, too soft for Tim to hear.

Harry saw the longing in his face, though, so he opened his arms in invitation. Tim lit up and threw himself into Harry's chest, knocking him backward into Jason as he hugged him tightly around the waist.

"And I found you first," Tim murmured. "So that makes you mine, too."

"You still don't get to split custody," Harry muttered, even as his eyes stung at two people openly claiming him, when he'd gone so long being wished out of existence. He let his eyes flutter closed to bask in the warmth of two hugs, Jason solid and strong behind him, and Tim soft and sweet in front of him.

"I love you," Harry whispered. "Both of you."

Tim's breath caught and he buried his face in Harry's neck, trembling.

Jason kissed Harry's temple, then pressed his nose deeper into Harry's hair, his breathing suspiciously shaky.

It took several minutes before they broke apart. It was prompted by Tim slumping against Harry's chest with a soft, drowsy noise of contentment. Chuckling, Harry gently pushed him away, and Jason released Harry but left an arm around his shoulders.

Blearily, Tim took a step backward. "G'night," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

Chuckling, Jason ruffled Tim's hair. "Good night, baby bird."

Tim smiled sleepily at the nickname, then waved.

Harry returned the wave and the smile. "G'night, twin."

With that, Harry headed for the door with Jason beside him. By silent understanding, they both entered the guest room next to Tim's. Harry sat on the bed, bouncing a little and trying it out.

Jason shook his head. "Forget it. Feels like you're sinking into the ground."

Harry laid back, testing Jason's statement. He really did sink into the mattress, until he started to feel trapped. Shuddering, he pried himself out of the impression his body had made and slid onto the floor.

Jason grinned. "Told you." He pulled the pillows and blanket off the bed, arranging them in a nest like the one they had back home. He then pulled the fleece throw blanket off the chair and dragged it over the whole thing before climbing in. Harry turned on the bedside lamp and but turned off the overhead light, then eagerly curled up beside Jason.

"You're leaving the light on for me, ain't ya," Jason said quietly.

Harry nodded. "So you don't get scared in a new place." Ever since the sun started setting early in the evening, Harry had noticed Jason seemed uneasy in the dark, even at their base.

Jason pulled him in close and kissed his hair. "My little hero."

Harry made a soft noise of contentment and burrowed deeper into Jason's side. "G'night, Jay. Love you."

"Love you, too, little hawk."

Christmas Day was as chaotic and exciting as expected. After sleeping in until the sun was high in the winter sky, the trio of boys ate cold pizza for breakfast, watched Christmas movies in their pajamas, then dressed in more borrowed clothes before starting to cook their Christmas dinner around three in the afternoon.

After deftly preparing the ham—with pineapple and brown sugar and a few green spices for flavor and color—Harry was universally acknowledged as Head Chef, and he greatly enjoyed bossing the others around. It was thrilling being in charge and giving directions, and actually having them followed, but mostly he was looking forward to actually getting to eat the food he was cooking.

Of course, being acknowledged Head Chef didn't stop Jason from hovering. He insisted on peeling and chopping the potatoes, because he didn't want "little kids cuttin' themselves with knives." (Never mind that he was teaching Harry how to use one for self-defense.) And while things were cooking, Jason stood looming at Harry's shoulder as he stood on a step-stool Tim had pulled from the pantry and tended to the beans and potatoes boiling on the stove. To stop Jason's hovering, Harry elbowed him in the ribs and ordered him to set the table.

Tim was happy to help wash the vegetables and then prepare the beans by snapping off the ends and removing the strings, and when that was done, he fetched ingredients, his eyes bright and excited at being included at all. When he wasn't running back and forth between cupboards, the refrigerator, and the stove, he was watching Harry with wide eyes, bouncing eagerly on his toes and taking frequent deep, appreciative sniffs.

After watching Tim's bouncing for several minutes straight, Jason glanced at Harry—whose brow was creased in concentration as he mashed the butter into the potatoes—then sighed dramatically.

"What?"

"This." Jason pointed at Tim, who turned wide, puzzled eyes on the older boy. "This is what a kid is supposed to look like. You're too serious sometimes."

"I was never allowed to be a kid," Harry retorted sharply, surprising himself as well as the others with the unexpected heat and bitterness in his comment.

"…That was s'posed to be a joke," Jason muttered. "You were s'posed to laugh. Or whine."

"I don't whine," Harry protested. "I was beaten or yelled at if I did," he muttered bitterly.

"…Sorry." Jason scuffed his shoe, averting his gaze.

Harry made himself take a deep breath. "'S not your fault," he mumbled. "I—I like cooking, but…I keep comparing this to what it was like with my relatives, and…it's not a nice comparison. Given it's Christmas, I guess…'m a little sensitive."

"Can I finish mashing the potatoes?" Tim asked, hesitant but excited.

Harry smiled faintly. "Yeah. Just let me add the milk and spices." He did so quickly, then immediately burrowed in Jason's offered hug.

"I'm sorry," Jason said quietly. "I like you just the way you are—serious frown over the potatoes and everything."

"'M sorry, too. Didn't mean to snap at you." Harry pressed his nose into the soft fabric of Jason's borrowed shirt, breathing deeply and deliberately. Jason's arms tightened around him and Harry felt him press a kiss to the top of his head.

"You're forgiven," Jason murmured.

"You, too."

"Since you're hugging me, I figured."

"Shush. I'm pouting right now."

Jason chuckled. "Okay."

A few minutes later, Harry pulled away at the same time Tim exclaimed triumphantly.

"Got it!"

"Huh?"

Tim smiled sheepishly. "There was one little potato cube that kept escaping. I finally smashed it."

Jason ruffled Tim's hair (though he left an arm around Harry's shoulders). "Good job, baby bird."

Tim lit up at the praise and the pet name.

"Looks like everything's almost done." Harry bumped Jason's shoulder with his own, then pulled away to inspect the potatoes and the beans. The timer on the ham had five minutes left.

"I'll get the peaches, then!" Tim handed over the potato masher, then darted back to the pantry.

Ten minutes later, the food was spread out on the long counter-slash-bar. Jason insisted on carrying the roasting pan with the ham, declaring it too heavy for "little birds" to carry without dropping.

After a moment of surprise, Tim and Harry exchanged a happy grin at Jason's pet name that included both of them. Harry put the pecan pie in the still-warm oven, even though it was turned off, so it could gradually warm up and then stay warm until they were ready to eat it.

Tim eagerly dished out the peaches and cottage cheese. Jason guided Harry's hands as he carved the ham (though Harry didn't need the help, he thrilled at the closeness). Then they helped themselves to everything else.

Harry watched the others take their first bite before digging in himself. At the wide-eyed, impressed look from Jason and the awe bordering on hero worship from Tim, Harry smiled shyly.

"Can I hire you as my personal chef?" Tim asked. "Please?"

"Pretty sure that's illegal," Jason commented.

"Jay, our entire existence is illegal," Harry deadpanned.

Jason cringed dramatically. "And there's that sharp tongue again."

Harry smirked and took his first bite.

It was delicious. Even the pineapple ham. Even though the recipe hadn't called for any spices, the hint of rosemary kept it from being overly sweet. The potatoes were deliciously creamy, with just the right amount of pepper and garlic. And the green beans were perfect, crisp without being crunchy, warm, and savory in the salt and butter.

"So can I?" Tim asked again, bouncing in his seat.

"Unofficially?" Harry shrugged. "Maybe." He smiled and asked, a little hesitantly but still with a hint of teasing: "Would room and board be included in my contract?"

"Of course! You can stay in the room next to mine, and you can wear one of my suits to make you look all official, and we can tell everyone you're just a midget. I can forge the paperwork and everything! And—"

Jason choked on a spoonful of potatoes, then burst out laughing. "Midget!" he gasped.

Harry turned red. "I'm not short! I'm perfectly average for my age! I even grew two inches since summer!"

"So did I, so it cancels out," Jason countered, grinning.

"We're just ignoring Tim saying he can forge paperwork?" Harry cut in, changing the subject away from himself.

Tim squeaked. "Um. I. I was…bored? And…I forge my parents' signatures for school all the time. So I thought, how hard can it be?"

"You're a diabolical little villain, aren't you?" Jason said, grinning. "And here I thought you would be a stuck-up goody-two-shoes rich brat taking pity on a street kid."

Tim shook his head. "Never! My parents make me act like that—without the bratty part, though; they don't like it—whenever we go out. So I do the exact opposite the rest of the time."

"No wonder you're a rebel." Jason poked Tim in the side. "Harry, I have some very important news for you."

Harry cocked his head. "Yeah?"

"I'm adopting him. Say hello to your new brother."

Tim squeaked, his cheeks turning red.

Harry smirked back. "Too late. I adopted him first. You'll have to share."

Jason narrowed his eyes slightly. "You're gonna bring up the whole custody thing every chance you get now, aren't you?"

Harry grinned. "Yep!" Then he went back to eating, ignoring Tim's sputtering and Jason's laughter.

A while later, once they had all eaten their fill—and maybe a little too much, if the uncomfortable weight in Harry's stomach was anything to go by—the three of them teamed up to wash dishes and put away the leftovers. The peaches and green beans were gone (and the peaches with the cottage cheese hadn't actually been that bad), and so were most of the potatoes. Tim ate three more bites and declared the pot empty. And unless they wanted to scrape the pot (which part of Harry did, because he would never waste food), the potatoes were, in fact, gone. They boxed up the ham, then put the lid back on the pie, and put it and the ham in the fridge and the ice cream in the freezer.

Tim wiped down the counters and stove while Harry washed the dishes, with Jason drying. For three kids being the cooks, there was surprisingly little mess. The whole scene felt so domestic, so natural, that Harry wished it could last forever. As he looked out the kitchen window at the fading sunset over the snow, a faint sense of loss and longing lodged in his chest. He didn't want to leave. He liked the freedom of the streets. He loved Jason, and the base that was their space. But it would all feel a little empty now without Tim.

Jason nudged his shoulder. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Can we stay?" The quiet words were out before Harry could really consider them.

Jason hesitated, looking uncomfortable. "We can't stay forever, kid. His parents'll come back eventually, and so will the housekeeper. We don't belong here."

"I want to, though." Harry passed over the last dish and wiped his hands, then wrapped his arms around himself.

Jason dried the dish and set it aside, then pulled Harry into a side hug. "Me, too," he admitted quietly. "Not the big house, just…a house. One that's ours, with heat and food and hot water and soft blankets. With you, and Timmy, just us against the world."

Suddenly Tim pushed his way between them. "I wanna hug, too," he said, plastering himself into Harry's side.

Harry laughed a little. "Are you ruining the moments on purpose?"

Tim shook his head. "Just trying to make you smile."

Harry's eyes widened. He glanced up at Jason, who had a similarly shocked look on his face. Jason raised an eyebrow in question, and Harry nodded.

"Okay, then, baby bird." Jason pulled Tim into a tight hug, and Harry hugged Tim tightly from behind, trapping him between them.

Tim shivered, then melted into the hug. "I wish I could make my parents adopt you," he murmured.

"Timmy…" Jason's eyes widened.

Tim just leaned more into the hug. "I know we just met officially yesterday, but Harry's told me a lot, and he's been a lot happier since you started staying together. I can tell. And…you're so nice to me, even though you've already got Harry. I…I want you to be my big brother, too."

Harry hugged Tim even tighter. "I could never have too many brothers."

"Just what I need. Another little bird who's too smart for his own good and gets into too much trouble. You're both going to make me go grey before my time." But Jason's arms tightened around Tim, too. "I already told you, I'm adopting you, you little rebel you. I'd take you with us, but I'd never bring a kid onto the streets if they have someplace safe to stay already."

"You can come visit. Whenever. I'll tell Harry when my parents are around, so you know when to stay away. But any other time…I want you to come over." Tim somehow burrowed deeper into both Jason's and Harry's arms. "I don't like being lonely."

"Then we'll visit as often as we can," Harry promised. "Right, Jay?"

"That's right, little hawk. Hear that? As often as we can, baby bird. And maybe I'll visit the rooftops with Harry from time to time, too."

Tim nodded eagerly into Jason's chest. "…I love you. Both."

"You're too sweet, Timmy. Like the pecan pie. My teeth are rotting."

"Uh-oh. Too many emotions for big, tough, Jason. He's deflecting with humor," Harry murmured into Tim's neck, grinning.

"Shut it, you." Jason ruffled Harry's hair, and he retaliated, getting Tim caught in the middle. He joined in, lightly shoving and teasing until Jason lost his balance and toppled to the floor, bringing both the younger boys down on top of him in a heap of laughter.

"How about a few more movies before bed?" Tim asked as the laughter finally died down.

"Something that's not Christmas, please. Those were rotting my teeth, too."

Tim and Harry both laughed. "Deal," Tim agreed.