by Weirdness Magnet

1-9-2005

Disclaimers: None of the boys are mine. I'm a little upset by that.

Ratings Note/Warnings: NC-17. For those of you who don't think Toon!Tim is 16, you may have age consent issues with this one. Fair warning.

Summary: Toon-verse. Tim is getting used to life in the Manor. He's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Spoilers: None, really. Takes place after GA 44.

Title: Title from Philip Larkin who wrote, "Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,/Shaped to the comfort of the last to go/As if to win them back."

Acknowledgements: To thete1 for pointing out Important Things. To Eo for making other things better.


**

The Manor is more of a home than he's ever had. Tim isn't entirely sure how he feels about that.

He knows how much his father wanted to give him some semblance of a normal home. His father had no idea what that *was*, really, only vague Norman Rockwell-influenced ideals that never panned out. Might've had something to do with all the con jobs and time the man did for stealing, Tim muses.

He thinks he should be more concerned about how easy his life feels now. He'd always been proud of the fact that he could spend weeks alone without being lonely or going hungry, but now Tim finds himself oddly soothed by the sounds of Alfred puttering in the kitchen. He *knows* he's gotten entirely too used to being greeted by the smell of freshly-baked cookies and hot cocoa and a crisp, "Good afternoon, Master Timothy. How was school?"

Even his training doesn't feel like real work. Batman teaches him constantly – sparring, training, research, covert operations. He learns anything he wants to know, and knows that Bruce will teach him everything he *needs* to know. Training sessions last as long as he can stay awake, or until Batman decides Robin has had enough for now.

Tonight's training is extended since Dick decided to spend the night after materializing during patrol. He's done that a lot over the last few months, but Tim hasn't quite figured out why. At first Tim thought Dick was trying to make some kind of peace with Bruce after that thing with Two-Face, but Tim realized that when Dick comes over his attention is focused on *him*.

And Tim gets that Dick wants to be here, and that means Dick also has to deal with Bruce, but that doesn't seem to be something either man knows quite how to do yet. Bruce and Dick's interactions are mostly terse conversations about the mission. Tim wishes that they could talk like... well, just *talk*, but neither man seems ready to do that.

Yet.

It's not the relationship Tim would like for them to have. Still, Bruce is trying (sort of) and Dick doesn't intentionally provoke Bruce the way he used to (much). And Tim doesn't mind if *he's* the reason they're putting forth the effort.

Dick smirks at him and twirls his escrima sticks into the ready position. Tim gives him his best come-on grin. The look is enough to make Dick reach farther than he should when he strikes.

Batman types the night's reports at the console while they spar. Tim dodges, spins and knocks Dick's knee out from under him. Dick lands on his back with a thud but rolls quickly back onto his feet.

"You overextended," Batman tells Dick, without looking. "Stop showing off."

Tim watches Dick force a smirk and twirl his sticks in a way that reveals just how many Jackie Chan movies the guy has seen lately. "You weren't even looking," Dick says.

Batman silently points to one of the monitors. The Cave's internal cameras.

Dick rolls his eyes at Tim, right before lunging at him.

They spar another half an hour before Batman joins them. He uses Dick to show Tim a new combination. Tim watches them move together, familiar and effortless. Batman steps aside and lets Tim try the moves with Dick while Batman moves around them, making slight corrections to Tim's form.

When Batman calls it a night, Tim showers quickly and tosses on his pajamas before heading upstairs to finish his homework. It takes another hour to finish his history essay, and by the time he's finished and checks the clock he estimates Dick has been asleep for an hour.

Dick hasn't set any traps on the door, so Tim glides in silently and slides under the covers. Dick mumbles something and tosses a casual arm over him.

"Thought you weren't coming," Dick mumbles sleepily into Tim's hair.

"Homework."

"Mm."

Tim closes his eyes and feels Dick's warm breath in his hair. He rubs the soft skin of Dick's bare arm around him and lets himself feel... content.

He knows he's gotten used to *this* entirely too easily.

He wakes from his doze when he feels the presence in the room. He can't make out a human form in the moonlight, but he can *feel* Bruce watching them. He listens until he can hear Bruce's breathing somewhere in the shadows near the fireplace.

Tim nudges Dick until he rolls over a little and Tim slides over, leaving an open space behind him.

Bruce doesn't move at first. Tim gives a half-shrug in the darkness and curls around Dick's back. A few moments later he feels the dip in the mattress and a hand resting on his hip.

He shivers at the small nuzzle against his hair and neck. Bruce doesn't curl right up against him -- he doesn't like touching anyone while he sleeps, not the way Dick craves -- but the hand rests heavy on Tim's hip. The breath against his neck makes him squirm back against the body that isn't pressed against him.

The hand on his hip firms. "You'll wake Dick," Bruce whispers gravelly against Tim's ear.

" 'm awake," Dick mutters.

Tim drags his blunt nails in circles on Dick's back. "No you're not. Go back to sleep."

Dick makes a purring noise and arches against the touch. Tim rubs his back, pets his hair sometimes and listens to the quiet sound of Bruce's breathing skimming the back of his neck.

And has to bite back a whimper when Bruce licks his ear.

Bruce is suddenly *there*, snug against his back and scraping teeth against Tim's neck. Tim has to turn his face into the pillow, which muffles the sound but exposes more skin for Bruce to maul.

Tim falters a little with the hand scratching Dick's back, so he drops it and digs his fingers into the sheet instead. Needs to, especially when Bruce lifts Tim's leg and rests it on top of Bruce's. He's on his side with his legs spread just wide enough to let Bruce slide his hand into Tim's pajamas, past the half-hard cock to play with his balls. Tim whimpers into the pillow.

"Bruce, are you groping Tim?" Dick's voice is muzzy.

Bruce runs a teasing stroke on the soft skin but doesn't answer. "Yes," Tim answers for him.

"I thought it was my turn to be in the middle." Dick manages to sound sarcastic even while yawning. He rolls over and gives Tim a bemused look when Tim gasps against the impossibly delicate touches that almost tickle his shaft.

He knows Dick's amused look is forced, that he's way less okay with Bruce being here as he wants Tim to think. But Dick is doing it anyway, for *him*, and Tim doesn't know the right way to say thank you. He's pretty sure there *isn't* one.

Tim chokes out a moan when Dick licks his mouth, and suddenly kissing him back seems an ideal way to show gratitude.

Tim loses himself in the kiss because Dick is a *good* kisser, but he has to break it before he wants to and groan, because Bruce is gently squeezing Tim's cock. Bruce must be in one of *those* moods, where he wants them both to know that it's Bruce who's making Tim hard and it'll be Bruce to decide who comes and how hard and when.

Tim pushes his ass against the silk-clad erection behind him. He can tease just as hard as Bruce can. Plus, Dick's on *his* side.

Bruce leans across Tim and catches Dick's mouth. Tim hears Bruce moan quietly. Bruce never makes noise unless it's the three of them together. He barely lets himself gasp when he fucks Tim against the console or in the shower after patrol. But on nights like this when they're all together, Bruce makes small moans and occasionally words.

Tim closes his eyes and listens to the wet sounds of the kiss until Dick *grinds* against Tim's crotch. Tim groans and presses his mouth against Dick's skin.

Dick writhes deliberately against Tim while he lets Bruce kiss him, and by the time Dick breaks the kiss, Tim is *clutching* Dick and panting.

Dick clucks his tongue. "The youth of today have no stamina." He reaches into Tim's pants and wipes the pre-come off the tip. He pushes the wet finger into Tim's mouth. "See how ready you are? And Bruce hasn't even *done* anything yet."

"*You* try being in the middle." With the finger in his mouth it comes out mumbled. Salty taste of his come and sweat and Dick's right, it's not going to take much.

It's Bruce who shoves Tim's pajama bottoms down. The air feels cool against his cock but his back is warm from Bruce pressed against him. Bruce angles his own cock until it's nestled in Tim's cleft, which is good because Tim is a little sore from last night. Bruce is thoughtful that way.

Bruce reaches around and squeezes Tim's cock again. It makes him groan and Dick is kissing him again and somehow Dick got naked when Tim wasn't paying attention because his bare shaft nudges against Tim's. Tim wraps his fist around it and strokes, pressing his calluses against the underside the way Dick likes it.

Dick leans in close to Tim's ear and whispers, "Nnn, yeah. Put... put your finger in me, Tim..."

Tim closes his eyes at the feel of Dick's breath on his ear, and Dick is whispering because he doesn't want Bruce to hear him *need*. Tim pulls Dick a little closer, reaches his free hand around to Dick's cleft and nudges a finger inside.

"Ohhh, that's... do it *hard*..."

Tim shoves his fingers in roughly and lets Dick fuck his fist. Dick *groans* and tosses his head, and he's panting and occasionally muttering Tim's name. Dick is trying to be quiet and that just makes Tim work him roughly because *he* knows how much Bruce likes to see Dick *lose* it.

From the way Bruce is moving in Tim's cleft, he's enjoying the show.

Tim has to concentrate to keep the rhythm for Dick because Bruce is *working* against Tim's ass and the hand around his cock is squeezing him steadily. It's not a stroke, nothing that will bring him off but it's enough to make Tim buck and try to thrust into Bruce's hand. It's enough to make him *need* to come, but Bruce won't let that happen yet.

Tim strokes Dick faster, twists the hand in his ass and reaches for Dick's prostate. Brushes it on the next thrust and Dick tosses his head back and pulses hot in Tim's hand. His mouth is wide open for the groan, and he's shuddering enough to shake the mattress a little.

Bruce lets go of Tim's cock, gripping his wrist, instead, and tugging his hand away from Dick's cock. Bruce licks Tim's fingers clean as Dick pants against the sweat-damp pillow. Once his hand is clean, Bruce releases his wrist and settles his hand back on Tim's hip. Tim groans at the loss of contact from his cock, starts to reach for it himself, but Bruce grabs his wrist again.

"Dick," Bruce's voice is low. "Say thank you."

Dick growls and *dives* and suddenly Tim's cock is engulfed in his warm, wet mouth. Tim whimpers and drops his head back against Bruce. *Demon* tongue playing in the slit and Dick alternates between stroking the shaft and lightly rolling Tim's balls. Dick *knows* what that does to him and Tim can't stop himself from *using* Dick's mouth.

Bruce's hand is back on his hip and he moves with Tim's helpless rocking. Tim thrusts in to Dick's mouth and back against Bruce's cock, and Bruce nips Tim's neck and Dick *hums* around his cock.

"Bruce, I can't--you have to..."

Hot breath against his ear. "You feel so *good*."

And that's enough to make him choke and spasm and Dick swallows it all, doesn't stop sucking until Tim whimpers in discomfort.

Bruce doesn't make a sound when he comes, just a slow exhale right before Tim feels the hot splash between his legs.

Bruce relaxes against Tim's back, and Dick slides back up and throws an arm across them, resting his hand on Bruce's arm. They won't stay like this long -- Bruce always goes back to his own bed -- but for now Tim closes his eyes and breathes in their mingled scent.

He kisses Bruce's bicep and absently hopes Alfred bakes scones for breakfast before letting himself fall asleep.

~end