Project W.I.N.G.

Chapter one

240 hours before (10 days):
Midnight

A rather angry yell sliced through the peaceful silence of Wayne Manor, house to a family not by blood, but by heart. At least most of the time...

"Tim Drake, I swear to god, if you forget our anniversary ONE MORE TIME, I'm going to steal one of Damian's swords and castrate you!"

"Hey! Don't bring me into your relationship crisis. AND DON'T YOU DARE STEAL MY SWORDS!"

"We don't have a crisis! Steph, c'mon, it's not that bad!"

"Aren't you supposed to be the smart one, Replacement? Of course it's bad, you forgot your anniversary for the third time in a row!"

"Don't talk about things you don't understand, Jason! I don't see you having a girlfriend!"

"And if you don't remember this next year, then you won't have one either!"

"Would you all shut your traps, I'm trying to sleep!"

"Not in that tone, Master Damian!"

"Boys-"

"Hey, here are girls, too, Bruce! Don't be so sexist!"

"Fine, kids, if you don't stop this right now and go back to sleep, then none of you'll go on patrol tonight!"

And just like that, the Manson went silent once again.

234 hours before:

Tim Drake awoke with a head splitting headache. He groaned and turned to his side, smashing his hand against the beeping alarm clock. "Shut it, you annoying peace of metal," he grumbled and sat up in his warm and comfortable bed, rubbing his eyes. He groaned again. His stomach hurt.
And then the events of the night came crashing back at him and he realized just why he had such a bad stomach ache. Fear and dread. He had forgotten his and Stephanie's anniversary. Again. He promptly fell back into his pillows.
Steph had told him last year, after he'd forgotten their two-year anniversary, that it was his responsibility as her boyfriend to write her a cute message the following year at midnight. And he forgot.

"Timmy," came the voice of his girlfriend from downstairs, oozing with false sweetness and Tim new he was screwed. "Come down, Timmy, it's breakfast time!"
"Uh," stuttered Tim, looking for a way out of this. "I think I'll stay in bed, I don't feel so good!" he yelled downstairs, hoping to sound convincing.
"Timothy Jackson Drake, if you don't get your ass down hear in three seconds, I'm gonna make good on my promise from last night!"
Tim gulped. He really didn't want to be castrated, especially not with Damian's swords. Who knows which guts he's put them through.
"Coming, sunshine!"

"Hey, Tim," greeted his older brother Dick when he sat down at the table, as far away from Stephanie as possible. Alfred was serving breakfast and Bruce was reading today's newspaper. Damian and Jason were- to no one's surprise- fighting (only God knows what about) and throwing pointy things at each other. Steph was explaining Monopoly to Cassandra, who didn't seem to see any sense behind the game and Dick was enjoying his food, thinking about who knows what.

"Why don't you eat, Tim?" asked Stephanie innocently, smiling that false sweet smile again. Tim glanced down at his food and then back up at his by now devilishly smirking girlfriend.
"Eh, not hungry." Tim didn't trust his food anymore. Heaven knows what Stephanie put into it! "A shame," she cackled and bit demonstratively into her scrambled eggs. Tim's stomach grumbled, but he ignored it and threw a glare at his chuckling tormentor. "I hate you," he mumbled, resting his elbows on the table and his chin in his palms. "What was that?"
"Nothing," he squeaked.

232 hours before:

"So not fair," grumbled Jason, shouldering his backpack. Tim nodded. "Yeah, why is Dick excused from school, but we have to go!" Bruce groaned. "Because Dick and I are going to Blüdhaven and look for an apartment for him. I told you that during breakfast." Jason huffed in annoyance and Tim could hear Damian snicker. "What's the problem, Todd? Afraid you can't keep up at school?"
"Why, you little..."
"Young Masters, please. The Limousine is waiting outside, Miss Stephanie and Miss Cassandra are already inside and waiting for you to come," interrupted the British butler the boys' bickering. "Still, Dick is not eighteen yet, he should have to go to school just like us!"
Bruce, who looked really pissed now, sighed. "Jason, Dick is going to be eighteen in a few days, while your seventeenth birthday was just a few weeks ago. And don't get me started on Tim and Damian. You two are practically kids."
"I'm not a kid," growled Damian. "I'm twelve. Drake is the kid."
"I'm older than you."
"I don't care."
Bruce narrowed his eyes. "If you don't get in the car right now, I'll bench you for the next whole week."
"What?! You can't do that."
Bruce gave Jason a hell-I-can look and crossed his arms. "You want to test me, Jason?" The two had a stare down, until Jason grabbed Tim's arm and dragged him out of the Manson, Damian trailing behind. Tim could hear Jason mutter thing like, "Stupid", "They are all idiots" and "Dick is a dick," as they climbed into the car.