streetduck (streetduck) wrote in earth12_logs, @ 2009-03-10 22:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | chip!chipped, dick!theoriginalward, robin!brat_wonder, tim!streetduck |
From Here On Out
Who: Tim n' Dick, NPC'd Alfred, Chip
What: It was Tim's birthday on Sunday.
Where: Wayne Manor, after they all got back from the weirdest family dinner out ever.
When: Sunday night.
Why: Because for Tim's sixteenth birthday, what he really needed was deeper issues. =|
[Batclan: Well, they all went out to dinner
Batclan: . . . and Selina was probably there
Tim: It was probably equal parts yay-birthday and gawd-weird and hero-guilt and also wtf
Dick: Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
Dick: And Dick wants to know if he has to sit next to the cat burglar that tried to get into his pants not too long ago and is now in a freakishly healthy relationship with the old man just 'cause it's your birthday :T
Tim: Tim says can you sit next to him instead ._.
Dick: Well someone's gotta sit next to her. :|
Tim: And what're the odds she wants to congratulate the birthday boy up close? =||
Dick: Probably pretty likely. :|
Tim: =| *bears this with a pokerface*
Dick: *Right there behind ya, Squirt, don't worry* :|b
Tim: *... it's actually not so bad*
Tim: *never met Selina Kyle before, me*
Dick: *Oh huh*
Tim: *and Bruce clearly likes her because she's snarky and fun and, well, smart*
Dick: *Well, yeah*
Tim: *weird weird weird*
Dick: *Not to mention- . . . nevermind :x*
Tim: *yes, nevermind*
Tim: *ice cream and Alfred-cake in the kitchen afterwards?*
Dick: *Definitely*
Tim: *just the two or three of us?*
Tim: *going Weird weird weird?* @_@
Dick: *Three. But Alfred'll probably leave us to it eventually*]
Tim: Now this is how you spend a birthday. *om nom* =T
Dick: *Smirk* What, the fancy restaurant with a known criminal making moves on the guy picking up the check? Or eating cake and ice cream in the kitchen?
Tim: Second part. =|b Bonus points for real cake.
Dick: *Eyebrow* What's fake cake? *omnom*
Tim: *shrug* Donuts?
Dick: Nah, that's just a mini-cake. *Wink* With a hole in the middle.
Tim: Doesn't count. *om nom* Not even if you put a candle in it. =|
Dick: Isn't it the thought that counts?
Tim: See, but how d'you ever know what people're thinkin' 'cept from what they do? *forkwave*
Dick: *Shrug* Some people you just know well enough.
Dick: If Alfred showed up on your next birthday with a dozen donuts with candles stuck in them would you think he was trying to stiff you?
Tim: *shrug, glance away* =/ no.
Tim: . . . think he was tryin' to be funny, I guess. =/
Dick: Either that or someone messed with his cake batter.
Tim: *start! slightly guilty half-smile*
Dick: *Smirk, hairruffle*
Tim: What? It was good. =T
Dick: If I say anything Alfred'll just tell you about all the times I used to sneak bites. *omnom*
Tim: =D
Tim: So worth it.
Dick: *Grin* You bet.
[amicable pause, om nom nom]
Tim: ... hey, Dick? =[
Dick: Yeah?
Tim: What if it's still like this by the time it's your birthday?
Dick: *Shrug* What if it is?
Tim: I dunno, it- it all just seems so... like we're just filling in the gaps, y'know? ._.
Dick: *Pausing, thinking about that* . . . *quietly* Maybe they're gaps that should've been filled in a long time ago.
Tim: *shoulders slumping, he wasn't here a long time ago and he's not ready now*
Tim: *quiet* I dunno anything 'bout 'should'.
Dick: . . . but?
Tim: *slow headshake* should I even be here? s'hard to think that...
Dick: What are you talking about?
Tim: That he'd do the same thing now. *looking at the wall.* Maybe you're right. Maybe he shoulda been better the whole time.
Tim: But he wasn't. An' he pulled me in here, and now I'm here, and I'm not ready for him to bow out. *standing, plate to sink. Quiet* I know it's selfish.
Dick: . . . *Yeah okay this will hardly be the first time he thinks about what might have happened to him if it hadn't been for Bruce and his issues. Coming up behind you and have a hand on your shoulder* Hey . . .
Tim: *tense, staying very still.*
Dick: I . . . *sigh* I get it. Trust me, I'm one of the few people in the world that would. And I guess I did kind of force this on you . . .
Dick: On everyone. :\
Tim: I can see it though. *tightly* You're right.
Tim: He's happier from this'n anything I coulda done.
Dick: Not just you . . .
Dick: . . . maybe we should talk to him. :\
Tim: 'bout what. =|
Tim: "Hey, you're not really gonna stay happy, s'just temporary 'till it gets fixed?"
Dick: I was thinking more along the lines of what he wants. :\
Tim: What if what he wants now is different. =|
Dick: We'll figure it out.
Dick: But Tim . . . *Crouching down to look you in the eye, both hands on your shoulders* You know you're not going anywhere, right?
Tim: *this slightly shocked and completely open look says: no. he's not sure about that.*
Tim: *blinking a bit, clenching his jaw, but not looking away.*
Dick: *Oh geez, Tim* Whether he's different now or not, he's still Bruce and he wouldn't do that.
Dick: And even if he did -- which he won't -- you know you've got a room at my place whenever you need it.
Tim: *OHkay looking away now, said quickly* Yeah. I know. He's not like that. *pulling away*
Dick: :\
Tim: ... thanksanyway. *going to go now!*
Dick: . . . *sigh. I should be better at this* Hey Tim?
Tim: *stopping* Yeah?
Dick: Happy birthday.
Tim: *pausing for a long moment to pull himself together.*
Tim: Thanks.
Dick: Night. :T
Tim: Night! *speedy exit!*
Dick: *Someday he's gonna ask Alfred how he does it :\*
Alfred: *Alfred will likely say something about long practice, and also baking*
Dick: *That's so not fair :|*
Alfred: *life rarely is, Master Dick*
Dick: *Tell me about it :\*
Dick: . . . hey Alfred? :T
Alfred: Yes, Master Dick?
Dick: *He feels so ashamed to even be asking you, of all people, this, but* . . . Bruce wouldn't really kick out Tim just because he's not . . . Right?
Alfred: . . . *slightest twitch of the eyebrow.* Master Bruce has been many things in his lifetime, young sir. Including, as difficult as it may be to believe, truly happy.
Alfred: He has never been, and will never be, senselessly cruel to those for whom he cares.
Alfred: If anything, the past weeks have been clear evidence to the opposite: that behind his shields stands a man who cherishes the family he has.
Dick: *Sigh, hand through his hair* Yeah, I know . . .
Dick: I should know better. *Snort* After everything I've pulled and he never kicked me out? There's no way he'd kick out Tim.
Alfred: *slight smile* I dare say Master Tim is giving you a run for your money in that department.
Dick: *Eyebrow smirk* I dare say I don't believe a word of it.
Alfred: You really should come around more often, Master Dick. This house has been sorely missing its weekly dosage of self-deprecating skepticism.
Dick: *Snort!* Thanks, Alfred. Nice to know where I stand around here.
Alfred: Always a pleasure, sir.
Dick: . . . hey, Alfred? One more question before I turn in?
Alfred: Yes, Master Dick?
Dick: . . . if you could turn Bruce back. To the way he was before, I mean, back into Batman.
Dick: . . . would you?
Alfred: *In his mind a lively eight-year-old boy runs the hallways of the Manor, and laughs.*
Alfred: I have found, over the years, that one can never completely turn back the clock.
Alfred: Should it last or should it fade, this will shape him, as it is shaping you.
Dick: Am I really that different? :\
Alfred: Perhaps not to those who do not know you.
Alfred: But the Dick Grayson I have known would not have voiced such a doubt as to Master Tim's fate. His blind faith would not have allowed it- be it ever so justified.
Dick: *Sigh, hand in his hair again, he's not really sure how he likes that answer, it's just making things even more complicated than they were already when he'd thought he'd had them pretty well figured out*
Dick: *Getting up and heading out, and have a little smile on his way* Thanks, Alfred.
Alfred: Happy to be of service, sir. -.-
Dick: *Off to bed. Only he'll probably be up late thinking. Which will probably lead to a little outing as Nightwing even later*
Alfred: *sigh, his boys. In the meantime there are dishes to be done, and cake to be put away. And possibly packaged into utiliy-belt sized tupperware.*
Dick: *What would we do without you?*
Alfred: *As ever, I shudder to think.*
--------------------------
Three nights earlier
Robin: *speaking of conversations in private, HOW'S CHIP?*
Chip: *WONDERING WHERE HIS BUDDY IS AT 1AM*
Robin: *his buddy comes in at like 4 and just flops on the bed there* D|
Chip: *Poking his head out of his drawer and hopping out onto the bed* Tim? Are you okay? :T
Robin: *muffled into the pillow* m'fine, go back to sleep. D|
Chip: *Thinking about it, but nope* Where were you? :T
Robin: out.
Chip: It's really late, though . . .
Robin: mmph. time to sleep.
Robin: ... *waking up a little* s'no big deal, 'kay. seriously.
Chip: But if you're sleepy . . . then why do you keep going out so late? :T
Robin: . . . how long've you noticed I been doing it?
Chip: *He'd be shuffling his feet if he had any* I dunno . . .
Robin: =/ I got stuff to do, so I go an' do it. S'all.
Chip: But why don'tcha do it during the day?
Robin: . . . =T Can't. S'important. 'Sides, got other stuff then.
Robin: *flopping back down* an' if I went out ev'ry day, who'd be comp'ny f'r you?
Chip: Alfred's comp'ny when you got school.
Robin: s'true! see. day's for other stuff.
Robin: *yawwwwwwwwn*
Chip: I guesso. :T
Robin: g'night, Chip.
Chip: *Thinkthinkthink. And then hoppityhop back to his drawer* Night, Tim.
Robin: *totally already sacked out*
Chip: *Sneaking a look at you before he goes back to sleep. There be plotting a . . . cup.*
[TO BE CONTINUED. . . ... ... ...?]