Hi everyone!  I wrote this for Rose, since today's her birthday and 
she's a sweetie!  It's mainly a Robin fic, although I tried to make 
it belong to about six other characters...but it all seemed to fit.
Happy Birthday!!!

Disclaimer:  None of these characters belong to me.  They belong to 
DC/Time Warner and as a bored college student, I decided to borrow 
them and write a little story about them and wanted everyone to know 
that I'm making zero cash from this and wouldn't be worth suing, 
anyway.

***

Birthday Blues
By Smitty

***

"Gaaah."

Tim Drake did a face plant onto his bed.  The marshmallow 
softness swallowed his groan and enveloped him in the warmth and
peace of mind he associated with the precious commodity of sleep.  The 
springy firmness of the mattress sucked at his sore muscles, offering 
comfort in oblivion.  The coverlet caressed his cheek, assuring him 
that it would be all right to close his eyes for just a few
minutes…

"Perhaps you'd be more inclined to go to bed at a reasonable 
hour if you didn't sleep through the day."

Tim's eyes shot open and his body tensed as the nasal voice of 
Wesley Thomas.

"Good thing I have you to keep me straight," he replied, 
dryly, pushing himself off the bed.  He walked over to his desk and 
eyed his odious math book.  He briefly considered studying for the 
dreaded test scheduled for the next morning, but picked up the 
cordless phone, instead.  He hesitated for just a moment, then 
steeling himself, punched in a familiar number.  It was time for his 
semi-daily beatdown.

"Hey Steph-

"I told you not to call!  Now hang up and forget my number 
before I sic the police and Batman on you for harassment!"  The 
connection was terminated with a horrific crash that just might have 
been phone breakage.  

Tim stared morosely at the buzzing receiver and carefully set 
it aside.  Then, he very deliberately opened his math book, place his 
head between the pages and fell asleep.

***

He awoke several hours later with creases in his cheek and the 
very morose feeling one gets when one knows that his birthday has
been all but forgotten.

Because it was Tim's birthday.  Sure, his dad and Dana and 
Mrs. McIlvane had called and sent a card; a money-holding card, too, 
with real money in it.  But they could have at least come to visit.  
To take him out to dinner or something.  

After all, he was sixteen.  This should be the year he got his 
first set of keys…oh, that's right.  As the primary mobile adult
in his house, he could already drive.  No biggie, then.

He'd realized at lunch that day that he should have at least 
said something to his friends.  But it was too late.  To say anything 
then would just make them feel bad that they couldn't do anything. 
He should have said something yesterday.  It would just be a quiet 
birthday this year.  A birthday complete with a math cram session.

***

In honor of the impending math test and the fact that he was 
turning sixteen, Tim gave himself the night off from being Robin.  
Wesley helped by being in the room, constantly.  Even with the added 
annoyance, Tim felt a sense of triumph when he found himself brushing 
his teeth at 10pm.

"Could you please close the window when you go to bed?" Wesley 
whined from his bed.  "I'm getting a draft."	

"Sure thing, yer highness," Tim grumbled around his 
toothbrush.  Finishing up his toiletries, he shuffled to the window 
and stuck his head out for one last gulp of fresh air before shutting 
himself in with the overpowering aroma of Wesley's Bryl Crème and 
Pledge.

"Happy Birthday!"

"Gah!"  Tim jumped back from the window as Nightwing's face 
appeared outside the window, upside-down.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to get to the 
window.  C'mon, get your tights and let's blow this Popsicle stand."

"I…can't…" Tim hissed between gritted teeth.

"Why not?"

As if to answer Nightwing, Wesley's voice rang from inside the 
room:

"What on earth are you doing, Timothy?  I'll never get to 
sleep with all the racket you're making!"

"That's why!" Tim hissed to Nightwing.

"So?"  Nightwing shrugged, an odd gesture when done 
upside-down.  "Alfred's got all your stuff, right?  Let's go out and 
break some faces!"

"Yeah, " Tim muttered.  "See you in ten."

***

"I had understood that you were planning an early evening, 
Master Timothy," Alfred commented, noncommittally, as Tim dug through 
the 'Robin' drawer.

"I was," Tim grumbled.  "But that's before Nightwing busted in 
on my night off."

"Aah," Alfred said, as if that explained everything.  Which it 
did.  "Master Nightwing has always been rather…persuasive…in
his pleas for attention."

"Which is why all the girls think he's the greatest thing 
since Fred Astaire and I'm still getting my ear blasted by Steph."

"I offered my services as a dance instructor-"

"Forget it, Alf..." Tim sighed, adjusting his mask.  "I gotta 
go."

"Glad to be of-"  Alfred watched Tim disappear out the window. 
 "--service."

***

Robin crawled into the tree outside Alfred's window and 
scanned the campus.  If he could get an early jump on his older 
brother-in-Batarangs, he might survive the night relatively
unscathed.  Emphasis on the 'might'.  As it turned out, Dick wasn't 
trying to hide from his little buddy at all.

"Robin?  Robin, where the hell are you?  Hey, get offa me!  
Leggo of that!  OW!"

Tim found Nightwing, the original Boy Wonder, near the wall of 
the property, hopping around on one foot as the fierce little form of 
Cardigan, Dean Nederlander's pugnacious pooch, dangled from one boot.

Tim couldn't help it.  He laughed.  He laughed long and he 
laughed hard.  And it felt good.

"Stop that and come get this thing off me!" Nightwing growled, 
trying to pry Cardigan from his ankle.

Tim finally managed to pull himself together enough to squat 
down and whistle. 

"C'mere, Cardigan!  Where's the good wittle doggie?"

Cardigan immediately released Dick' leg and ran to Tim, nearly 
tripping over his own paws on the way.  He hurled himself into the
Boy Wonder's arms and panted desperately for a tummy scratch.

"Yeah," Tim cooed.  "There's a good boy."  He scrubbed on 
Cardigan's tummy for a moment, then set him aside.  "We're just going 
over the wall for a little bit, but we'll be back to play later, ok 
boy?"

Cardigan panted and Tim looked up to see Dick already perched 
on top of the wall.

"Can we get going now?" he asked, rubbing his shin.

"Sure," Tim answered with a grin.  "Later, boy!" he called to 
Cardigan as he leapt to the top of the wall and followed Dick, who
was already a quarter mile away.

***
	
"Uh…so what did you have in mind?" Tim asked, trying to sound 
conversational despite the fact he was hanging from a construction 
scaffold.

"We're going to visit Oracle."

"Oracle?  Cool!"  Tim smiled, wickedly.  "'Cause there's 
nothing going on there…right?"

"Right."

"Uh huh."

"Brat."  Before Tim could come up with an appropriate retort, 
Dick barked, "NOW!"  They both released and dropped twenty stories to 
grab twin flag rods and let their momentum swing them around and 
outward.  "Shoot!"  They pulled out the retractable decel line guns 
and fired.  Tim felt his hook on something and his swing start.

"I'm hooked," he called, so Dick could hear his voice.

"Great," Dick called from somewhere above him.  "Pull your 
feet up.  You're low."  

Tim realized he was low as the edge of the Clock Tower roof 
caught his shins and he slammed chest-first onto the grimy roof.

"You ok?"

"Can I take the blindfold off, yet?"

"Not yet.  We're not in, yet."

Tim sighed.  He wasn't sure why Dick felt the need to sneak 
into Oracle's lair each and every time he wanted to see her.  Tim
just used the window.  

"Here's the breaker box for the roof alarm," Dick said, 
feeling the block of metal.  "Of course she already knows we're here 
since you took the dive onto her sensory area."

"Yippee skippy," Tim commented, as Dick pressed something hard 
and metal into his hand.

"Here," Nightwing said, softly.  "You dismantle the window 
alarms.  It's the green wire and then the blue one.  Don't snap the 
red."

Tim reached for his blindfold.

"And no peeking."

Tim peeked anyway.

***

"So there you boys are," Oracle said, smiling at Nightwing and 
the slightly bedraggled Robin.  "I left the door unlocked, you know."

"You never leave the door unlocked," Dick reminded her, 
kissing the top of her head in greeting.  "Besides, I'd feel silly 
shuffling around on your doorstep in my tights."

"All my neighbors would be jealous," Babs teased him.  "And 
YOU, Boy Wonder, Happy Birthday!  How old are you now?"

"Sixteen," Tim blurted out automatically before remembering 
that not revealing any information about himself was essential in 
keeping his identity a secret from Oracle.

"Hey, Killer!" Dinah Laurel Lance, better known as the 
beguiling Black Canary popped out of the kitchen.

"Dinah!" Dick greeted her warmly, with the air of someone who 
was pretending to be happier to see someone than he really was.  "How 
are ya?"

"Black Canary!" Tim said with the air of a Teenage Boy who was 
really happy to see a blonde superhero who wasn't yelling at him.

"Hey, kiddo," Dinah replied with a wink.  "I'm not around 
much, but I figured that since I was in town and you were aging 
rapidly, I should show up and bake you a little something.

"Bake me…"

Cassandra Cain, who had taken up residence in Oracle's tower 
when she wasn't out fighting crime came from the kitchen, holding a 
birthday cake, lighted with a single candle, and looking slightly 
bemused.

"Happy Birthday to you!" Dinah started to sing, loudly and 
slightly off-key.

"Stop that," Babs instructed her, throwing the little 
Nightwing doll at her.  "We all hang out with Batman.  We don't sing."

"Well, *I* don't-"

"Make a wish and blow out the candle, Robin," Babs instructed 
over BC's complaints.

Tim smiled and leaned over the cake.  *I wish I could have 
these people at every single one of my future birthdays* he thought.  
*And I wish that I could pass that math test* he added hastily before 
extinguishing the little flame.

Everyone clapped and lights, which had dimmed when Cassandra 
appeared, came back to full strength.

"We've got pizza over on the table," Babs told the boys.  "And 
Dinah's cutting the cake.  I…would be careful with that, though,"
she added, out of the corner of her mouth.  "Hey, I heard something from 
Alfred about having problems with Geometric Sequences?  C'mere.  I 
held Dick's hand all the way through that lesson."

"Really?" Tim asked, snagging a slice of pepperoni and then 
going to hang over the hacker's shoulder.

"Only because I couldn't convince her to hold anything else," 
Dick cracked, his mouth already full.

"He didn't have a clue what he was doing," Babs assured Tim.  
"Now let me show you a trick…"

***

It was nearly morning when Tim slipped back onto campus, full 
of pizza, confident about his math test, and ready for a few hours of 
sleep before hearing Wesley's whine again.  The grounds were quiet
and dark; even Cardigan had gone to bed long ago.  Tim climbed up the
tree nearest to his own window and transferred to the roof.

"Happy Birthday, Robin."

Tim spun around to see the Dark Knight standing on the roof 
behind him.

"Batman!  You're here!  Oh, geez, you needed me and I was 
out-"

Batman shook his head.  "No.  Dick reminded me that it was 
your birthday.  I…felt that I should come let you know."

"Let me know what?"

"That I knew.'

"Oh."  

"And that I'm proud of you.  You're still doing good work."  
Batman looked around.  "Must be hard to get in and out of this place."

"Well, yeah," Tim admitted.

"There's this little…dog."

"Cardigan?"  Tim grinned.  "He's no problem."

"I see."  Batman nodded again.  "Oracle tells me you have a 
test later.  Good luck."

"Thanks, I-"  Gone again.  Tim frowned.  Was it his 
imagination…

Or had there been a bite out of the edge of Batman's cape? 


The End