Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. Unfortunately.

A/N: This is my first attempt at a story that isn't a one-shot, so please bear with me- I'm still trying to get the hang of this. I'm also fairly new to the characters, so any feedback would be appreciated, and please tell me if you feel any of them are too out of character/I've got anything wrong, and I'll try to do something about it!

The phone rang in the Blüdhaven apartment, a shrill whistle that jerked the occupant out of his unplanned nap on the sofa and into a panicked fumbling for the receiver.

"Dick Grayson spea—oh, hey Bruce." Running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair, Dick leaned against the wall to as he talked to his father, sleep-addled brain running in desperate overtime to try and work out what was happening.

"What do you mean do I have space? Oh… so, Tim and Damian? Why can't- half an hour? I have work in—no… fine. I'll clear the spare room. See you soon then." With a click, Dick hung the receiver back on the hook and turned to survey his apartment, flicking his hair from his eyes as he did so.

The room looked a mess. Sofa cushions were piled on the floor, mugs littered the coffee table, and wires from the games console spread their reach across the floor. Not to mention all the case files and papers littered on the floor. Dick had been sorting through some of his old paperwork before the impromptu nap, and now he had no idea what he'd been looking for. Sighing, he trudged to the kitchen to put on the kettle for another coffee before kneeling on the lounge carpet and scooping up the documents, grimacing as the files – which had undoubtedly been at least half-ordered a moment before – were scooped mercilessly into his arms and stacked into an almost neat pile.

At least maybe if Tim was here he might force Dick to tidy his apartment.

Barely half an hour later and there was a knock on the door, followed by a thud as Damian pushed Tim into the door.

"Coming!" Dick shouted and, believing Timothy Drake's unplanned collision with the door to be an impatient second knock, he sprinted across the room to open the door. Standing in the doorway were two of his younger brothers, Tim and Damian, and a rather hassled looking Bruce.

"Dick, thank you so much for taking them both!" He rushed, and Dick bit back his catty 'well I didn't have much choice' when he had been given time to examine Bruce's stressed expression. He tactfully changed his sentence.

"Want a cup of tea? Coffee?" Bruce shook his head, grimacing.

"I have to be at the airport in…" He checked his watch, and then frowned, "I have to be at the airport now. Be good boys." He turned to Dick, "No capes for either of them while I'm away. I don't want them to be out in Blüdhaven on their own." Dick glanced at Tim and Damian. For a man who was happy to let his sons run across the Gotham rooftops and beat up criminals, he was strangely overprotective.

"Sure. You'd best be off then." Impulsively and out of habit, Dick hugged Bruce before everyone called their last goodbyes and the door was closed. Damian and Tim looked at him expectantly, bags slung over shoulders.

"Hello, Timmy, Dammi." Dick smiled, hugging Damian – much to his annoyance – and ruffling Tim's hair. "Who wants to help Dick tidy up his apartment then?"

With a dismissive 'tt' Damian turned around and looked around the room.

"Referring to yourself in the third person will not gain you my sympathy."

"Where do you want us to dump our bags?" Tim asked, trying to be at least slightly helpful. Dick pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Uh… spare room or sofa." Dick shrugged, somewhat disappointed that Damian didn't even pretend to be pleased to see him. Of course, Dick knew he was happy. He'd just like Damian to admit it once in a while.

"The Fake Robin can have the sofa." He said, before walking off to dump his bags in his room. Tim looked at Dick.

"Well Damian's still as much a little shit as before." Dick looked at Tim reproachfully. Tim shrugged, as if to say 'well it's true.'

"You shouldn't say things like that. I know Damian isn't exactly… friendly… but, you could at least try." Tim shook his head.

"I have. It doesn't work. We all know he loves you and Bruce and hates everyone else." Dick shrugged, aware he was fighting the sort of battle he'd had all too often - and nine out of ten times lost. Giving up, he changed tack.

"Dump your stuff in here, if you want. You hungry? I have cereal and… cereal. Might even be some milk that isn't off." Tim was given time to smile at Dick's interesting dietary choices before Damian slunk back into the room, a disapproving frown fixed onto his face.

"You're standard of living has dropped somewhat since you left the mansion, Grayson." He said, looking around the room, "perhaps you should move back in with my father and I." He shot Tim a sly look, "Drake could always live here." He sounded all too hopeful. Dick raised his eyebrows.

"So you miss me do you, Little D?" Amused, he went and stood behind Damian, putting his arms around the smaller boy. Damian just glared at Tim, as if somehow Dick's proximity and closeness to him was the other boy's fault.

"Unhand me, Grayson, before I hurt you." He muttered, but it only felt half-hearted. Dick only smiled, quite unfazed by Damian's threats.

"Well anyway." He began, still hugging Damian, "I have work in an hour, so I want you to stay here and be good boys while I'm gone." He gave them a dazzlingly patronising smile. "I'm only on a short shift, so I don't want you fighting, arguing or preferably even talking to each other while I'm away. Is that clear? It's only a half shift, so if I come back and you've still destroyed my apartment, I'll throw you out the window."

"I wouldn't want to talk to that-"

"Damian…" Dick admonished, shaking his younger brother lightly.

"Well that's ok, Dammi, because I wouldn't want to talk to you either."

"Tim!" Dick snapped. "Be nice." Pushing Damian gently away from him, Dick turned to go and get ready for work.

This was such a bad idea.