DISCLAIMER: I don't own nothin.
Somewhere...in the background the theme to JAWS was playing. He was sure of it. A head poked out around the corner as blue eyes swept over the room quickly, assessing any threats, with an almost panicked demeanor.
Finally gathering enough courage, Tim stepped out into the large grandiose hallway, leaving the comfort and safety of the kitchen area. Step by step he made his way across the floor, heading for the next room. He could make it. He WOULD make it.
His body was tense, coiled and ready to spring to action at any moment. His senses on high alert. All he had to do was make it past the stairs, down the hall, to the study...Bruce was there. He'd be safe.
Suddenly he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he whirled around just in time to see a dark clad figure lunging from the banister!
Tim screamed like a little girl.
His vision was blocked by the cloud of white foam that sprang forth from his assailants' hand. His ears rang with the laugh that bounced off the walls. He remembered the weapon in his own hand and brought that up to fire blindly in the general direction. He must have been lucky as he heard an indignant yelp.
Wiping the foam from his eyes, he couldn't help but grin. "Gotcha."
"Geez Tim." Dick laughed, "You scream like a little girl you know that?"
Still trying to rid his face of the blinding whipped cream, he gave a wounded look at his 'brother'. "Do NOT!"
"We'll have to start calling you the Girl Wonder." Dick flashed his bro a brilliant white teasing grin.
"Do and Die."
There was of course the inevitable scuffle that followed, only to be interrupted by a deep voice, "What's going on here?"
Both boys broke apart at the sound of Bruce's voice. They looked at each other for a moment, seeing the other completely covered in whipped cream then back at Bruce, dressed pristinely in designer clothes. An eeeeevil idea came to them.
Bruce barely had time to turn and run before his two 'sons' took off after him.
Later of course it was Alfred that had the honor of cleaning the whipped cream off the walls. It was, he thought, well worth it for the sounds of joy (and various protégé's on the losing end) that followed.
Somewhere...in the background the theme to JAWS was playing. He was sure of it. A head poked out around the corner as blue eyes swept over the room quickly, assessing any threats, with an almost panicked demeanor.
Finally gathering enough courage, Tim stepped out into the large grandiose hallway, leaving the comfort and safety of the kitchen area. Step by step he made his way across the floor, heading for the next room. He could make it. He WOULD make it.
His body was tense, coiled and ready to spring to action at any moment. His senses on high alert. All he had to do was make it past the stairs, down the hall, to the study...Bruce was there. He'd be safe.
Suddenly he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he whirled around just in time to see a dark clad figure lunging from the banister!
Tim screamed like a little girl.
His vision was blocked by the cloud of white foam that sprang forth from his assailants' hand. His ears rang with the laugh that bounced off the walls. He remembered the weapon in his own hand and brought that up to fire blindly in the general direction. He must have been lucky as he heard an indignant yelp.
Wiping the foam from his eyes, he couldn't help but grin. "Gotcha."
"Geez Tim." Dick laughed, "You scream like a little girl you know that?"
Still trying to rid his face of the blinding whipped cream, he gave a wounded look at his 'brother'. "Do NOT!"
"We'll have to start calling you the Girl Wonder." Dick flashed his bro a brilliant white teasing grin.
"Do and Die."
There was of course the inevitable scuffle that followed, only to be interrupted by a deep voice, "What's going on here?"
Both boys broke apart at the sound of Bruce's voice. They looked at each other for a moment, seeing the other completely covered in whipped cream then back at Bruce, dressed pristinely in designer clothes. An eeeeevil idea came to them.
Bruce barely had time to turn and run before his two 'sons' took off after him.
Later of course it was Alfred that had the honor of cleaning the whipped cream off the walls. It was, he thought, well worth it for the sounds of joy (and various protégé's on the losing end) that followed.