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   Alfred Pennyworth was not expecting it. The sudden noise of the front door slamming, nor the stomping of feet on the floor. It could only be one person, since the master of the house tends to work himself to death in silence. No matter how angry.

   "Master Timothy," Alfred called out to the upset teen. "Do settle down," the older man sighed at the pout he was given. "What caused such outrageous behavior?"

   "I wanted to play twister also," Tim pouted harder. "Damian even got in on the action. Why wasn't I asked to come play?"

   "It seem Young Master Damian doesn't want anything to do with Master Bruce."

   Tim only looked at his camera(s) and sighed. He was falling back into terrible habits. He was stalking his siblings. But he couldn't help it. He just didn't know how to get close to the younger male.

"Do you think if I," Timothy froze. "If... if I went and asked if he would play a game with me he would?" The teen played with the camera's functions.

"I think he would love it," the older man's British accent helped sooth Tim's nerves. "Now I'm almost done with dinner. Off with you."

"Okay."

(Next day)

Tim hesitated to knock on the door. What if Alfred was wrong? What if Damian hated him so much that he wouldn't? Then it opened. A very tired and disgruntled Jason Todd stood there.

"Are you coming in or what," the man growled. "You have been standing there for an hour." Then he walked away, leaving the door open. Tentatively Tim did.

"Drake," Damian's tired voice rang threw the apartment. The dark haired child was curled up in front of a tv trying to understand the "like" of cartoons. "Did you want something?"

"I.... I want to play also," The teen flinched at his less then stellar word play. The sleep deprived child only blinked at him airily. "Yesterday you all played twister. I want to play a game also."

"Tim," Dick, the only one chipper and wide awake, sat the scared teen next to Damian. "Just stay right there." He was confused until a warm, light weight fell into his side. "Finally!" The man sighed. "I hate inherited insomnia."

"He didn't sleep last night," a younger voice Tim wasn't aware of spoke. "He probably knew you were watching."

"He couldn't have been waiting for me," The teen glanced down at the sleeping child. "Thank you." He didn't know if the other heard it but the quiet sigh and relaxed form told him that Damian had.

~ttfn

UnwantedOnde as histórias ganham vida. Descobre agora