Chapter Text
Snuggled cozily in the biggest hoodie he had been able to find, Tim scrolled through page after page of surveillance photos and notes, trying to keep his eyes open.
He had been following Penguin for weeks, hoping to locate his latest shipment of weaponry, but so far it appeared that all he'd gained were sore muscles and sleepless nights.
“Hey, my favorite! Thanks.” Jason cheerfully snatched the can of Red Bull from Tim's hand, drinking it as he walked away.
“Jason!” Tim snapped, lunging after his brother.
“You'll thank me later.” Jason shrugged, tossing the empty can back to him. “You don't look like you’ve slept this week.”
“I’ve been working on an important case, okay? And I’m meeting Steph at the skatepark later, I was just trying to get some energy.”
“Again, thank me.”
“I’m not canceling on Steph just to take a nap.”
“Then I’m telling Alfred.”
“Okay, you know what? What’s with you?” Tim growled, spinning back around and slamming his laptop shut. “I’m just trying to get some work done before I leave. I wasn’t even bugging you! Are you just incapable of leaving me alone?”
Jason feigned shock and hurt, one hand to his chest, but then dropped the act and shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah. Also, you get insufferably snippy when you’re sleep deprived and I don't want to have to deal with your bullshit.”
Tim glared daggers at him, trying to find a comeback.
He couldn't and Jason simply smirked.
“Learn to keep a sleep schedule. You're looking like a Tim Burton character.”
“Screw you.” Tim spat back, grabbing his things and storming out of the room.
He was exhausted, but had already broken a few too many promises to Steph to hang out lately and this outing was largely meant to make up for that.
He wasn't about to cancel again.
Dropping his laptop in his bedroom, Tim grabbed his skateboard and headed for the front door, deciding to just arrive early to the park.
Yyyyy
The wheels of his skateboard whizzed along the sidewalk, letting him swerve and dodge around the scant few pedestrians that were actually out walking.
Most either wore hoods or carried umbrellas, as it was raining.
As for Tim, his hood was up and both ear buds were in, music at full blast in an effort to put himself in somewhat of a better mood before he met Steph.
He really wanted to have a break from work and just have fun with his friend.
He had been hunting Penguin so obsessively for the past several weeks that he hadn't given himself time to think about much of anything else.
Cobblepot had managed to coordinate a massive shipment of weapons into Gotham, right under their noses.
Tim had found one of the trucks that had transported them but so far, that was as close as he'd gotten.
The police had the driver, but interrogations hadn’t gotten them anywhere, nor had the truck itself. They knew where the guns had been, but not where they were going.
Tim was determined to find them, but it was starting to drive him crazy.
In frustration, Tim stomped back on the tail of the skateboard, stopping and yanking out his earbuds.
He was taking a break!
He was going to have a fun time with Steph.
He was going to stop thinking about the damn bird-obsessed man for the next few hours or he was going to lose his mind-,
“I swear- I swear! That's all I have! Please don't shoot!”
Tim bolted towards the voice without another thought.
A young man, about his age, was backed against the wall of an alley, hands out in front of him defensively.
The front of his shirt was bunched in the fist of a very large, very much armed man.
Tim saw the handgun as he swung his skateboard like a baseball bat at the back of the man's head.
It hit with a painful crack and the mugger stumbled, but Tim was already grabbing the other man's hand and running down the street with him.
“Thanks!” he shouted, following and even managing to keep pace with Tim.
Tim turned to check on whether they were being followed and noticed that the man had a gash on his cheek.
They were far enough away that Tim slowed to a stop and grabbed the man by the chin, turning his head to examine the wound.
“U-um.” He complied with Tim, but flashed him a confused look.
It occured to Tim that he hadn't said a single thing yet, which was probably making the man uncomfortable.
“Sorry. I’m Tim. You should get that cleaned.”
The man reached up and touched the blood, wincing in pain and looking mildly surprised . “Uh, yeah.”
“Did he get your wallet?”
“No. I forgot it at home and only had my keys. And,” he held up his other hand. “I still have those.”
“That's lucky.”
“Hey!”
Time moved in slow motion.
The man's eyes darted past Tim and widened in terror.
Tim turned.
Down the street, bleeding from his head and holding the gun, was the mugger.
Tim had once heard Jason tell him that, based on how fast sound traveled versus a bullet, people didn’t tend to hear the gunfire until after they’d been hit.
But he certainly saw the muzzle flash.