#cornflakepizza

Tim stared at the window across the room. Watched the trees shake in the wind. The silhouettes of the leaves as they whipped away on the breeze. Listened to it howl against the windowpane.

It was cold out, he could tell from here, under the sheets, under Damian’s warm arm. Could see the bit of frost on the edges of the glass. Feel the slight draft.

It was cold out, and their office was closed today. More from Dick and Jason forcing them to take a break, than an actual day off. But a day off they had, and for how many weeks had Tim made offhand comments to Damian, about spending the day in bed together?

He had no business being outside.

But.

He sighed, squeezed at the hand splayed across his torso and turned his head. Damian was still asleep, on his stomach, face buried in the pillow. His hair was a mess – both from sleep and Tim’s fingers – and his black lashes fanned across rosy, dark cheeks. He was a lovely sight, and Tim’s favorite thing to wake up to.

This won’t take long, he kept telling himself, even as he leaned over, kissed Damian’s nose, and gently slipped out from underneath his grasp. I’ll be back within ten minutes.

He lamented, though, as he shivered in that draft, searched for his pants and a shirt, that he wasn’t able to quit like Damian had. It’d only taken Damian a few weeks to kick the habit, and here, Tim was going on three months.

He shrugged the shirt up his shoulders, only realized it was Damian’s as he darted quietly out of the room. It didn’t matter, just a couple of minutes. He grabbed his trench coat, immediately digging in his pocket for the pack of cigarettes as he descended the stairs.

The air was chilly, and the atmosphere was damp. It was still early, the sun was still rising, but the city was still gray. Still foggy and eerie, especially with the few jack-o-lanterns still burning from the night before being some of the only sources of light. Like a perpetual purgatory, a forever-Halloween, as the wind whipped the edges of his coat.

“I hate you.” He hummed, popping a cigarette from the pack, and holding it between his fingers. “I hate you more than anything in the world.”

He shoved the stick between his lips, shoving his hand back in that pocket for his lighter.

“It’s my day off, you know.” He snapped as he dug. Nothing in that pocket, so he tried the other. “I could have laid in that nice warm bed with that beautiful hunk of a man all day, but nooo. You just had to-”

He cut off though, froze completely, when he noticed a shadow in the alleyway across the street. Shoulders hunched, body tense, stock-still. He could have been a statue, if he were standing anywhere but the awkward place of an alleyway entrance. Could have fooled a whole bunch of people.

But then the shadow saw him staring, and darted away.

And day off or not, Timothy Drake was a detective. A suspicious detective.

He kept the unlit cigarette in his mouth as he jumped up, and followed after. And as soon as he hit the alley, he saw the shadow at the other end. A man, for sure. Tall but skinny. But still a shadow, still no features for Tim to remember.

“Hey!” Tim called, jumping through the puddles. “Stop!”

And, surprisingly, the man did. He stopped and turned back, light from the street cutting across his bright brown eyes.

And then, even more surprising, he pulled out a gun.

“Oh, for cryin’ out-”

He shot immediately, and Tim threw himself to the ground, felt the disgusting water slop all over his clothes. He laid there, ducking behind the dumpster, listening as the bullets rang out overhead.

“Crime runs this city, and the more of us you put away, the more enemies you’re making!” The man called, and he sounded younger, almost Damian’s age. “You and your partner better watch yourselves, Drake! Or the next time there won’t be no warning shots!”

As the bullets ran out, Tim heard the useless click of the gun’s trigger a few more times, and then more splashing as the man ran away. Tim stumbled to his feet, chasing after him.

This was the third assassination attempt in a month.

But when he burst out onto the next street, it was like he was on another planet. The fog was much heavier here, the wind almost nonexistent. He heard the car before he saw it, and even then, barely had time to jump out of its path.

The man with the gun was gone.

Tim stood there, catching his breath, looking around. All he could see was the floating orbs of the streetlamps disappearing into the distance, the half-grins of rotting Jack-o-lanterns. A woman appeared out of the haze and he jerked towards her.

“Ma’am, did you see anyone down that way?”

“I don’t care who’s asking.” She scoffed, turned away from him, held her purse tighter. “Ain’t seen nobody.”

She was gone instantly. Back into the smoke like she was a ghost.

And Tim tried, for a few more minutes. Jogged down the street one way, then turned and copied the trail the other way. But he’d been in the business long enough to know when something was futile. Not to mention the water had settled on his clothes, and was starting to make him shiver.

The guy probably wasn’t going to say who he was working for anyway. They never did.

He sighed, and turned dejectedly back towards the alley, feeling along the grimy walls until he could see more than three feet in front of him.

It still felt like the alleyway was some kind of void, and the street where his and Damian’s apartment was, was on another Earth. It didn’t matter, though, as he stomped across the lane, flopped back onto the stoop of his building.

He frowned deeper, when he realized he’d lost his cigarette in the chase.

He dug back into the pocket, pulled out another, and resumed his search for the lighter. The lighter that suddenly decided to be elusive. But it had to be here, there’s nowhere else it could be. He just had to try the other pocket. Maybe, just maybe-

“Need a light?”

He jumped at the voice behind him, spun around to see Damian standing over him, a cigarette between his own pursed lips, and lighter between his fingers.

And Tim smiled as he sat next to him, took in the still tussled hair, the tired eyes, and the exposed chest behind the barely buttoned shirt. “You quit.”

“I didn’t.” Damian replied, burning the end of the stick, offering the flame to Tim, even as he shuddered in the sudden breeze. “I’m just better at hiding it than you are.”

“Of course.” Tim hummed, lighting the cigarette and taking a drag. “When did you wake up?”

“When you left. You’re not as quiet as you believe yourself to be.” Damian chuckled. He frowned almost immediately, though. Reached out and brushed Tim’s hair back. “Why are you sweating?” Fingers down Tim’s neck, gripping his shoulder. “Why are you all wet?”

Tim almost pouted, quirking his lips to the side. “There was a guy watching the apartment. He ran when I saw him.”

“So…your best plan was to run after him?”

“It’s our job.”

“It’s our day off.”

“Apparently it’s not for the assassins.” Tim countered as Damian released him. He leaned over almost immediately, squeezed Damian’s arm himself. “And don’t you dare claim you’ve forgotten that night at the office.”

Damian didn’t rise to the bait, just sucked on his cigarette, watching Tim out of the corner of this eye. “Of course I haven’t.”

Tim watched him for a moment, before slumping and pulling away. Inhaling sharply and exhaling the smoke slowly. “…We should be worried, if they’ve found where we live.”

“Probably.” Damian answered. “At the very least, we should call Grayson and Todd. Have them be on the lookout at the office today.”

Tim nodded, held his cigarette up and stared at the end of it. “We should probably go looking for the assassins. Search for evidence. Find who they’re working for.”

“Sure.” Damian bubbled, taking one last puff before slamming the butt of the cigarette against the bottom step. He then pushed his hands against his knees, and moved to stand. “Tomorrow.”

Tim watched him, stared up as Damian brushed off his pants. “Tomorrow?”

“I believe someone mentioned – on more than one occasion – wanting to spend the day with me in bed.” Damian smirked, kicking at the untied belt of Tim’s coat, spinning slowly away and stepping back inside. “And I had planned to indulge him. Unless he no longer wishes to do so?”

Damian smirked widely as he slipped through the shabby window and touched down on the worn floor of the safe house he had disarmed. He tossed the majority of the bundle in his arms across the room carelessly with a heavy thud, shut the window behind him, and lifted the newly scruffed kitten up to eye level.

“I am not sure what ridiculousness you managed to get yourself into Todd, but this has got to be the most hilarious thing that has happened in the past few years. It even tops the time Brown managed to get trapped in an alien pod, had to be rescued by the clone, and was entirely purple for a week before Pennyworth managed to find a medical solution. Grayson kept referencing some old film involving a girl in a factory that turned blue…” He trailed off as the black ball of fur took a swipe at him despite being held at more than a foot’s distance. “As far as Gordon is concerned, you were nowhere to be found, and whomever you were having an altercation with had fled the scene as well- not entirely untrue. Though honestly I’d have liked to have seen this person, thank them for the entertainment.”

“Mrweeeeeeeeeee!” He protested shrilly, and Damian could only snicker in response.

“Contrary to popular believe, I do not in fact speak feline, Todd.” He huffed, setting him on the floor. “And as for Grayson- well, he’s under the impression that I’ve continued patrolling without him.”

Jason, stuck in the small kitten body, only looked distraught.

Damian sighed and crossed the room to rummage in the fridge, hoping for something to put in his own stomach, as well as something hilariously stereotypical to feed Jason for his amusement. Only, the shelves were mostly barren, and other than a couple cans of beer, some eggs, and left over pizza he had no idea of the age of it was a lost cause.

He turned back toward him, only to bust out in laughter at the pitiful sight before him.

Jason was trying to walk.

It wasn’t going well.

The small back kitten was stumbling over his feet, each moving out of sync and his tail was dragging on the floor.

Damian leaned back against the counter and felt no guilt as he laughed his ass off for the following fifteen minutes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The teen was greeted with a venomous look of disgust when he re-entered the apartment twenty minutes after leaving it abruptly, bags in hand, disturbingly cheerful with an unnervingly large cat in hand.

Much to Damian’s pleasure, Jason had clearly taken the time during his absence to attempt to work out the bugs in his body movements and had failed miserably judging by the turned over chair, broken plate on the floor, and how worn out and flustered he looked.

He smirked as he set the large tabby cat on the floor with him, and seemingly against his will, Jason’s raven fur stood on end and his ears flattened.

“This is Moxy, Todd.” He snipped, turning his attention back towards the bags. “She is here to teach you how to cat- since clearly you cannot. Catwoman has lent her services to me. She does not know all the details, I simply told her I found a pathetic little thing in an alley, who quite obviously was not taught proper function by his mother… she was more than happy to help. Moxy once had a litter and has fostered several other orphans for her since.”

Damian was forced to bite his cheek to fight back the oncoming laughter as low growl began to sound from Jason’s throat and the little kitten’s back arched. He crossed his arms, cocked a hip, and he rose a brow in amusement.

“Honestly Todd, you should be grateful… I could have given you to Father.”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

“Don’t look at me like that. Honestly, you must have known that this was coming…” The teen’s lips curled into a positively delighted smirk. “You are barely four inches tall and feline. It’s not as though you could reach- let alone use the toilet. Just be happy that you are old enough to have that function on your own. A few weeks younger in body and Moxy would have had to stimulate you for you to relieve yourself. Imagine how awkward that would have been?”

Jason only glared and turned his nose up at the pan of litter in disgust.

The tabby cat seemed to sense the tension in the air, choosing that moment to approach, and much to the kitten’s dismay began to clean the back of his neck in what Damian assumed was meant to be a soothing gesture- which only had the opposite effect as Jason flailed and yowled before scuttling off behind the couch.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

He sighed, flipping through a book as he sat on the couch lazily, glancing over at the two cats every so often, and occasionally let out a snort at something comical.

Much as Selina had said, the tabby was a natural, and was making progress even with a kitten as hopeless as Jason had seemed. The small black kitten could now walk very slowly without falling over. Running on the other hand was a completely different story, and if he at all tried to walk with his tail in the air he only appeared to look as though someone had quite literally showed a stick up his ass and left it there, resulting in a complete and utter lack of balance.

He couldn’t wait to show his father the photos he had been discretely taking with his cell phone next he was home from his travels.

He had a sneaking suspicion at least one of them would end up on the man’s dresser- even if he was likely to scold and reprimand him for taking advantage of the situation first

Todd need never know.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Damian was wheezing, clutching his stomach as he tried to calm his fit of hysterics, watching in awe as Jason clung to the toilet seat for dear life and howled in displeasure, water dripping off his fur as his back feet kicked at the inside of the toilet bowl in desperate effort to climb out.

“I cannot believe that you seriously attempted to use the toilet! After I explicitly said that you would not be able to!” He snorted, stepping towards him. “Of all the idiotic things to do- what if I had been out? Would you have drowned? The feared Red Hood- Death by toilet? How hilarious.”

“MOWWWWWWWWWW!” The yowling grew louder and Damian sighed.

“I hope you know that I am not bathing you Todd. As is I am begrudgingly going to help you out of your porcelain prison- with much disgust mind you. When was the last time you even cleaned that toilet?” He huffed, wrinkling his nose as he scruffed the angry ball of wet.

He flailed the moment he was in the air and dug all eighteen claws into the teen’s arm, slicing and stabbing as he wrapped his body around the limb.

Damian would deny ever have made the shocked yelps that followed.

Jason then bit him for good measure.