Disclaimer: I do not own Jason or Tim…seriously, does fanfic make us say this every time just to rub it in? XP
Tim walked down to the Batcave, still in his Nightwing pajamas (A/N We all know he has them XD). He had a little time before breakfast, and what better way to spend that time than doing something productive in the cave? Or in this case, paper work. Again.
He groaned, plopping down in the spinny chair. Soooooo many files! Repeat secretary comment.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a package, wrapped in brown postage paper. He eyed it for a minute before picking it up lightly. In sharpe was scrawled "to Tim".
He raised an eyebrow, running his fingers along the edge of the wrapping. It wasn't from Dick, he knew. It if was it would be wrapped in bright colors and sparkly bows that would require sunglasses. It was too roughly wrapped to be from Alfred. He wasn't even going to consider Damian unless it was bad. A dagger pops out like a jack in the box maybe?
It could be Bruce.
He began to tear the edges, before giving up on patience and just ripping it off. Who uses THAT much packaging tape anyway?
He finally managed to open the box, with the help of a bat-a-rang or two, and ducked under the desk. No explosion, not from Damian. He peeked inside. He blinked at the contents. Inside was plastic red package declaring Canadian bacon, a pair of sunglasses, and a note.
Happy B-day Timmy. I found some HAM (and it is just ham) for ya. I was going to put a bow kid brat head, but someone beat me to it.
PS. You'll need the glasses, I saw Grayson in the wrapping paper isle.
What did he meet someone beat him to-
"GRAYSON UNHAND ME THIS INSTANT! I DEMAND YOU RELEASE ME AND REMOVE THIS HIDIOUSLY COLORFUL RIBBON FROM MY HAIR!"
Tim put on the sunglasses, shaking his head as he headed back upstairs.
"Thanks Jason, love you too."
Internet pleassssssssssssssssssse work! No? SCREW YOU MEDIACOM!
Anger issues? Yeah, a little bit…oh well it happens XD
Yuuri-nyan's last chapter…I think...I never know okay? I might wake up in the middle of the night and start typing crap (yes, it has happened before). You-you tell me what I'm doing! Predict the future, or get me a fortune cookie, or something, cuz…I have no idea what I'm writing lately *looks lost and confused*. I was so close to writing something violent in the **. I'm thinking about Sweeny Todd too much today…
Tell me if you love it, hate it, or want a fortune cookie with Sweeny Todd's name on it. PEACE!