Work Text:
“Tim, are you there?”
Like a statue, Tim stayed frozen in place. Not a whisker moved as he watched, through his feline eyes, how his older brother slowly scanned the room. His tail, on the other hand, started moving from side to side.
There was one slim chance of Jason not noticing his hiding spot—which wasn’t much of a hiding spot if Tim was being honest. He was currently under an old, forgotten bed in the dusty attic. He crouched, keeping his eyes locked on the target.
“Tim, I know you’re here,” Jason sing-song, shaking his all-time favorite cat treats.
Not fair, Tim thought. Jason had even picked out his favorite treats this time.
Under any other circumstances, Tim wouldn’t have thought twice in getting out of his hiding spot and begging for some. This time however, Tim stayed close to his principles. He didn’t need treats. He was a hunter. A predator.
With that in mind, Tim slowly crept towards his prey, eyes on the target. He was so close. He only needed a couple more steps to be within striking distance and then he’d pounce.
Unaware of the fate that cruelly awaited, his brother let out an exasperated sigh and tucked the treats back into his pockets. He looked kind of tired, if Tim was honest. As if he was freshly out of a post-patrol shower.
He sniffed and scrunched his nose. It seemed that Jason had not only showered but had cleaned his clothes, making all of his hard-work efforts in scenting him go down the drain.
Usually Tim would make the time and the effort to scent all family members. Nothing too territorial of course— the last thing Tim wanted was to make them believe Tim didn’t have any sort of manners, which he did— but he’d scent a small pair of clothing here and there to make them smell like him.
A pair of socks. A favorite t-shirt one of his brothers liked to wear. Sometimes it would be something small and discreet, like sunglasses or a watch.
It wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things, but Tim liked to think of it as honest work. One that involved many hours of tumbling over the freshly clean clothes and frequent naps.
“Tim?” Jason called out his name a couple of times before he grumbled something under his breath. Then suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and turned his head in Tim's direction.
Pressed against the wall, Tim made himself small.
“There you are.”
A small squeak escaped from his mouth when one hand reached out for him. The reaction was instantaneous. His fur puffed out as Tim let out a threatening yowl. No. He wasn’t going to move out of his hiding spot. Not without a fight.
Like a vicious prey defending his territory, Tim swatted the hand away and paid no mind to the small string of curses that fell out of Jason’s mouth. It was only when the hand decided to retreat that Tim stopped the bloodied massacre.
Satisfied with his work, Tim licked one of his paws. Surely that would be enough to prove his point and let the other know who was in charge.
What Tim didn’t exactly envision was that Jason could use his two hands at a time. So distracted, in his impending quest of destruction, Tim forgot about his brother’s other hand. It was only when he felt a certain pinch near his neck Tim remembered.
He didn’t manage to land out a bite when the hand grabbed him by the scruff. In an instant, his body went limp. Tim howled, distraught as he was slowly and carefully dragged out from his precious hiding spot and cradled to the arms of his brother.
“Oh, c’mon Replacement. Don’t be melodramatic,” Jason said, rolling his eyes as Tim tried to wiggle his way out. Tim paid him no mind. He was a man on a mission. If he was going to die, he’d rather die with a bang.
“I’m not even hurting you!”
Like a possessed man, Tim contorted and twisted his body up until he found a way to land a bite. Jason grunted when Tim sank his fangs in his palm. He snarled, even kicked the hand with his legs for good measure until the hand stopped moving.
His brother raised a brow when Tim finally let go. “Are you done now?”
A chirp.
“Thanks,” Jason deadpanned and tucked his bloodied hand away from Tim’s reach.
He scratched the silky fur between his ears and Tim started purring. Softly. As if Tim wasn't a tiny little murder machine that loved to break havoc over his hands but instead a domestic small-spotted cat who loved belly rubs and copious amounts of petting.
Pfff. As if.
While Tim had explicitly told them what type of animal he was— his younger brother never talked about his animal form—Jason and the other had a hunch he had to be some sort of wildcat. That could explain the wildish and irregular behavior.
What Jason did know was, based on the copious amount of dead gifts he left every morning, that Tim was one hell of a hunter. He was the absolute terror of Wayne’s living ecosystem. Mices, cockroach, there was even one time when Tim dragged a whole ass bird to their doorsteps. Tim hunted them all.
“Seriously. What’s gotten into you,” he grumbled under his breath. “Everyone’s been crazy looking for you”
Tim purred innocently and Jason scoffed.
“You should have seen Damian earlier. He thinks you got eaten by an owl or something. Wouldn’t be surprised considering how tiny you are—” Tim couldn't help his warning growl. “Sorry, my bad. I mean how big and dangerous you are. Terrifying creature. Ra’s al Ghul’s worst nightmare.”
Tim didn’t bother to respond.
He stayed silent, opting to close his eyes instead. The only indication Jason knew Tim was listening to him in the first was because the tiny claws started kneading his arm. Jason scoffed, not believing him. The sheer nerves of him.
“If you don’t want to tell me that’s fine, but sooner or later you’ll have to talk about it,” he warned him. It wasn’t an empty threat. While Jason didn’t know much about Tim, he knew how his mind worked. The little rascal would open up… eventually.
That was, of course, if Tim didn’t pick another hiding place. If there was one member of this family who loved to hide, it was Tim. Tim had a natural knack for it. Sometimes it would take days to find him. Other times, the family had no other alternative than to wait until Tim got bored and went to bother Alfred and yowl for some food.
(They still didn’t know why Tim liked to reincorporate himself to civilizations at 3 a.m, but nevertheless, whenever it happened, he woke up the entire house.)
As if knowing Jason was thinking about him, Tim began to rub his head against his hand. Repeatedly.
“Okay, fine, whatever, but,” He showed Tim his wounded hand. “This better not get infected or I’m kicking your ass.”
Tim simply meowed in response.