Chapter Text
Gotham has always carried itself with a certain grimness — gritty and dark, exactly as its name suggests. With a crime rate that rivals its population count, police sirens are just background noise, and watching your step on the sidewalk is less of a habit and more of a survival skill.
And yet, somewhere between the shadowed alleyways and the flicker of neon signs, Gotham still has its quieter corners. Ordinary ones, even.
Tucked behind buildings and storefronts in a half-Gothic, half-modern style, in an old residential block, there's one apartment that always has its own particular rhythm of noise.
It's a small place — one living room, one kitchen, one bathroom, two bedrooms side by side.
The apartment belongs to Richard Grayson, or Dick, as he calls himself. A local cop, transferred here for work. Living with him is Tim Drake, young CEO of Drake Industries, professionally addicted to both his job and coffee.
They also have two other housemates, smaller ones. First: Jason, a Rex rabbit with fur the color of ash and gunsmoke, with one very conspicuous tuft of white on his head. Second: Damian, a black cat, sleek-coated and green-eyed, who has a habit of watching everyone in the apartment in complete silence.
They accidentally became a family about three months ago.
Today is Dick's turn to go grocery shopping. Before leaving, he makes a point of bringing Jason along. The rabbit fights this with everything he has — kicking Dick in the face, repeatedly, with great dedication. When he finally accepts that Dick is not going to put him down, he goes limp and lets him do whatever he wants.
With the two of them gone, it's just Tim and Damian left in the apartment. Tim is sprawled across the sofa, one hand propping up his head, the other pulling out a drawstring and dangling it in front of Damian. The small cat watches it intently — then lunges, claws fanning out from tiny paws, looking far too sharp for something that size. He catches the string and chews on it in a manner that is simultaneously dangerous and vaguely aristocratic. Tim watches with mild amusement. This particular aristocrat has personally destroyed five of his drawstrings. Tim flicks it in a different direction, muttering under his breath.
"Good thing I'm not poor, you spoiled little prince ."
He's in the middle of coaxing the cat toward the sofa when Dick bursts through the front door like a minor weather event.
"Tim! We found something really cool just now, me and Jason!"
"Oh?" Tim tilts his head back to look at him, watching as Dick walks in with one hand full of groceries, the other holding Jason. "Do I even want to know?"
The man has an unreasonable body — all flexibility and strength wrapped in one. Tim is grateful, on a personal level, that he's not a criminal. He has absolutely no desire to get into a hand-to-hand with someone whose smile is that cheerful and whose hits are presumably that painful.
Dick sets Jason down into his carrot-shaped bed. The rabbit blinks tiredly at nothing in particular, then simply tips over and falls asleep. Tim has never quite gotten used to the way Jason expresses comfort. If he were the one looking after this rabbit, cardiac medication would probably become a dietary staple.
Dick is already fishing around in the grocery bag with theatrical secrecy, eyes fixed on Damian. The cat, no longer interested in the drawstring, has turned his full attention to Dick instead — watching him with quiet, evaluating eyes, tail curling with curiosity.
"Alright, little D, I'm pretty sure this is going to get your attention!"
Dick whips out a cat wand. A deluxe one. With a Batman figurine on the end.
Tim looks at the wand. Then at Dick. Then at the wand again.
"What the hell, Dick."
"It's a Batman cat wand."
"I can see that."
Dick gives him the look Tim hates most — the one that says why don't you take more interest in your own pet. Tim sighs and sits up properly to watch whatever Dick is about to do. He's still got the drawstring in his hand, turning it over absently between his fingers.
Damian, meanwhile, is still watching Dick. He glances at the wand. Seems to assess it. Then slowly starts moving toward it.
Dick practically levitates with excitement, though he manages to keep waving the wand with what he probably thinks is patience. Tim watches Damian with the expression of someone who has been deeply, personally betrayed. His grip on the drawstring tightens. It crumples into a small ball in his fist. He tracks every step the cat takes. Two minutes ago, that drawstring was apparently the most fascinating thing in the world. And now Damian is walking, with great dignity, toward a piece of plastic that still faintly smells like cheap manufacturing.
Typical. New thing always wins.
Ignoring two sets of eyes burning into his back, Damian approaches the wand, sniffs it once — ears tilting back, nose wrinkling in apparent disdain — and then promptly turns around and climbs directly into the bag that had been carrying it. Ignoring the two incomprehensible humans entirely, he focuses on his new toy.
Dick and Tim both go very still.
Tim turns away, shoulders shaking with the effort of not laughing. Dick looks like he might actually need medical attention. He stares at Damian with profound sadness, then turns to Jason, still asleep, and buries his face in the rabbit's soft fur, making the most theatrical noises of heartbreak.
"Jay, oh Jay, Dami doesn't like my gift. I'm so devastated. Really."
Jason makes a half-hearted attempt to push Dick's face away with his front paws. When that doesn't work, he delivers a few solid kicks with his back legs. Dick absorbs all of this without moving. Jason shoots Damian a look of absolute fury, ears pinned directly at the cat like a pointed accusation. Damian glances up with complete contempt, then returns to the important business of destroying the bag.
Tim watches Damian play with the crinkly paper in quiet satisfaction.
A small, private victory.
The Batman figurine ends up on the dining table next to a little plant. The wand itself becomes Dick's exclusive rabbit-teasing implement.