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The Drakes were a respectable family.
At least, as respectable as a rich family could be in the city with the highest crime rate in America.
Jack and Janet Drake had been able to keep their name off the payrolls of the underworld, a feat that alone was an indication of talent.
The only times you heard of them was when they were traveling or at galas, where they were the first to donate large sums to the city.
There was nothing to say about them.
Of course, it was too good to be true. The Drakes had their skeletons in the closet too: they were werewolves.
And Bruce had just been kidnapped by their son.
Honestly, why was Bruce even amazed?
Just last week a cult had tried to bring their god back to life, destroying half the city.
A werewolf pup was the least weird thing.
"Aren't you a little too young to be a Rouge?" he asked softly, keeping his tone light as Brucie's.
The puppy blinked his big blue eyes, and Bruce wasn't sure if he understood what he said or not.
Timothy, he thought was the boy's name.
Bruce didn't know if calling him by name would make a difference, and how much the boy understood. He was young, and at his age, it was normal not to be in control of one's transformations.
He took a long look at the cub: Timothy was more huge than an ordinary wolf cub, but still small for his species. The boy had had a lucky shot before.
Bruce sighed, "I'm a busy man. I can't play with you."
An intelligent person if he were taken from the entrance of his house and dragged away, would be in a panic.
But Brucie wasn't smart, and he had to avoid looking like a threat to the puppy.
It was for the best. It was embarrassing enough that he'd been kidnapped by a werewolf pup, not an adult.
He blamed the surprise and 48 hours of no sleep.
Bruce was a mess when he was tired.
Bad enough to get kidnapped by a puppy.
If he repeats it enough, he'll probably believe it.
The puppy (small, he was so small, was it normal for him to be so small?) approached Bruce, with no apparent violent intentions.
It reminded Bruce of when Ace wanted to be cuddled, and he gingerly reached out to stroke his head.
The pup leaned into his touch, looking like he just hit the jackpot.
Bruce tried to withdraw his hand, but the wolf made such a desperate cry that he made him squeeze his heart and start stroking it again.
"Did you kidnap me for this? Did you want cuddles?"
Timothy just wagged his tail, too busy to give him a real answer.
So, recapping: Bruce was in his neighbor's living room, cuddling their werewolf son, having a headache and desperately needing sleep.
Not his worst Thursday.
"I'll have to explain a lot to your parents when they get back," Bruce sighed.
He will also have to reassure them that their secret was safe with him and that he won't use it against them.
It's going to be a mess because werewolves were notoriously territorial and Bruce, even if not willingly, was in their den, endangering their pack.
All he could do was wait and keep petting the wolf cub.
Again, not the worst way to go about a hostage situation.
Hours passed, and there was no trace of the boy's parents.
Bruce tried to be patient. He had a reputation to uphold.
But the more time went on, the more it became apparent that the Drakes weren't coming back.
"They were here on Monday, I'm pretty sure…they attended a museum auction…just as Selina broke into the vault to steal a Spanish queen's necklace…"
By the end, the necklace had already been stolen by someone else, which pissed Selina to no end.
The Drakes were definitely at the museum then. But after?
He tried to remember, but he'd been busy, and before, he'd never had a reason to worry about his neighbors.
But before Bruce didn't have a puppy who had attached himself to him, and who had kidnapped him so as not to be alone.
He looked at the wolf, "You have really bad taste, boy."
The wolf let out a contented cry. He was cute.
How could anyone leave a puppy like that unattended?
There was no one else there or he would have known.
From what he remembered from his formative years, werewolves were creatures that needed structure.
Living in a pack was essential. Especially for puppies.
The Drakes leaving their son there was abandonment. Point.
He didn't care about their reasons: a puppy needed a pack, and depriving him of it was cruel.
He squeezed a little too tight, and the wolf yelped.
Bruce felt like a worm, "I'm sorry, Timothy, I didn't mean to hurt you. I was thinking…"
I was thinking about who I could entrust you with.
He didn't know many werewolves, and there was no way he was going to leave the boy to the Al Ghouls.
He wanted to give the pup a pack, not a cult that wanted world domination.
While he was thinking, Robin came in through the window. Ah, when it comes to timing.
"Mr. Wayne! Are you okay?" the thirteen-year-old asked, brushing off the shards of glass.
It had been too blatant and useless an entrance onto the scene, but Bruce didn't have the will or the energy to reproach him.
Ah, the effects of relentlessly cuddling a wolf cub.
"I'm fine…and I'm not in danger."
The teenager frowned, "You have been kidnapped. Someone has also tampered with the cameras. You have no idea how difficult it was to find you!"
Tampered cameras, huh? It seemed that someone thought carefully before kidnapping Bruce.
The man was quite impressed. It wasn't for everyone to hack into his security system.
"He didn't mean to hurt me."
At that point, Robin noticed the wolf cub and melted away.
"Oh, my God! He's so small!"
"I know."
"Did it was him?" Robin asked, looking genuinely surprised.
"Yes, it was him."
"But he is so small!"
Yes, Bruce knew it, there was no need to twist the finger in the wound. Werewolves were much stronger than normal humans, give him a break.
Robin was totally in love with the puppy, and he unceremoniously started petting him.
Usually, it wouldn't be a good idea to play with a wolf, but Timothy seemed extremely happy to have new attention and Robin couldn't resist something so cute.
"Is it just him? Don't I have to worry about his pack?"
So much for attention to detail. Bruce pursed his lips, "There is no pack."
Robin stopped from cuddling, horrified, "No pack? Are you sure?"
"I've been here for hours and no sign of parents or guardians. The boy lives in isolation."
"It's not fair!"
No, it wasn't. Kidnapping Bruce hadn't been a good idea, but it was the only thing the puppy could do for his survival.
He said, "I was thinking of taking him to another pack since his parents aren't doing anything for him."
"Another pack?"
"Yeah, sadly I don't know many werewolves."
Robin looked thoughtful, "Could a pack of another species do as well?"
"What do you mean?"
"Could he live with other creatures?"
"Theoretically, yes…"
"Could he also live with humans?" Robin asked too lightly.
He didn't like where his son was going, "Robin, he's a werewolf."
"So?"
"Humans can't deal with that."
"Normal humans couldn't. But we could."
Bruce sighed. He was afraid he would say, "It's not that easy. I can't just take him."
"We could say he came to us," Robin said.
"And that he did it due to a magic bond or something like that. No one would take him away from us, not even his parents."
"Robin..."
" He chose you! Do you want to ignore it?"
Bruce wasn't sure it was a choice and not a need driven by necessity, but as he watched Robin play with the puppy, he felt his resolve waver.
Finally, Bruce gave up, "Call agent A. Tell him we'll have a new guest."
"Yes!"
" It's only temporary," Bruce had to stop to his son's joy.
"Until we find a more suitable pack for Timothy."
Robin snorted, "Keep believing it. But we both know Timmy will stay."