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Tim flopped carelessly into the nearest armchair and let his feet fall on the living room rug. He thought about kicking off his shoes, then reconsidered. He had a meeting in fifteen minutes. He couldn’t stay for long.
Dick trailed in a few seconds behind, and Tim watched him nod across the room at Jason.
“Hey,” Dick said. Jason gestured vaguely in acknowledgment, so Dick moved on. “Hey, Damian. Bruce told me you were great last night. He noticed.”
“That’s kind of him,” said Damian, from his spot cross-legged on the floor. “I’ll keep it in mind the next time he forgets my birthday.”
Tim felt himself make a sympathetic face, so he dropped it immediately, for his own safety. “That’s the Wayne experience.” After a moment of reflection, Tim pointed at Jason. “Except you. Bruce remembers yours.”
“What?”
“He does,” Dick confirmed. “He gets depressed.”
“Oh boo-hoo.” Jason shifted sideways in his own chair, legs thrown over an armrest, boots dangling above the floor. “It’s my birthday, not his. He can get over it. “
“The point is that it’s yours,” said Tim. “He pays attention to you because he internalized the death thing. Also, you’re a problem.”
“I’m what?”
“A problem.”
“Thank you.”
“Sure. I think when you have this many kids, you can only focus on a few at a time. Two at a time? I think it’s two.”
“Sounds right,” said Dick.
“So two of us get attention,” Tim continued. “You, Jason, are always one of the two because you’re, and I repeat myself, a problem.”
“Good,” said Jason. “Who else?”
Damian put down his phone and raised a hand. “Me, I think.”
“Still?”
“Yes.”
Dick shrugged. “Maybe not. I say it’s time-specific, and we all switch in and out.”
“Cool. Let’s alternate,” said Tim, to Damian. “I want Tuesday.”
“I planned to light a house fire on Tuesday,” Damian said, straight-faced, “but I will accept a coconspirator.”
“Good thought. If there are two of us, we can knock Jason out of his spot.”
“Stop having ideas,” said Dick.
“I will not,” said Damian.
Jason pulled something sharp from inside his jacket and tossed it into the air. He snatched it back as soon as it fell, up, down, repeat. “Take my spot. I don’t want it.”
“Oh boo-hoo,” said Tim, imitating Jason. “I’m a priority, and my life is so hard.” Tim dropped the voice, rolled his eyes, and and pointed to his own chest. “When is it my turn with the parental attention?”
“Earn your own attention! Sow chaos. Commit a murder.” Jason waved between himself and Damian. “Apparently that one works.”
Damian glanced down at his lap, and for that moment, Tim wasn’t sure what to expect. Then Damian looked up again, completely deadpan.
“That does work, yes.”
Jason burst out laughing, and Damian turned to Tim long enough to raise an eyebrow.
“Don’t break my streak,” Damian warned.
Tim held up his palms in an I-get-it kind of gesture.
“Or,” said Damian thoughtfully, “I could finally kill you. Dying gets attention too.”
“Finally,” Tim noted.
“Ideas,” repeated Dick.
Tim leaned back in his chair. “Dick? You were the only kid for a decade. How did that go?”
“Hm.” Dick raised both hands and mimed a set of scales. “I don’t know. There were pros and cons.”
“Makes sense.”
“Good times.”
“Has he ever forgotten your birthday?”
“Oh yeah,” said Dick, nodding.
“Great.” Tim turned back to Jason. “See? Just you.”
Jason grabbed his blade out of the air and held it in a closed fist. “Whatever. Tell him I don’t care.”
“Tell him yourself. It’s you, so he’ll make the time to hear it.”
“Oof,” said Dick.
“I’m right,” said Tim. “And I have a Zoom meeting, so I need to go.” He climbed out of his chair and grinned. “Damian. Until Tuesday.”
“Of course.”
Tim threw up a half-salute as he moved backwards, misjudged the turn, and came very close to slamming into the doorframe.
“Didn’t happen,” he said. “Goodbye. I’ll be upstairs.”