The name is better than the story tbh. Here's part 1

Tim couldn't wait for the weekend. He was spending the night at Dick's flat which meant far fewer rules and far more conversation. He'd been bragging about it all weekend to the rest of his teammates. He was sleeping at THE Nightwing's house all weekend. They'd surely have a blast. Not only could he brag about it to his teammates, but he was also able to brag to his friends at school for staying at the most eligible bachelor in Gotham's house. He practically had everyone hanging on his every word. He wished he could take a picture of their faces when Dick pulled up on his motorcycle. "Hey Tim, you ready to go?" Dick greeted. Tim nodded with a grin and ran to meet him. 

"I can't wait for this weekend," Tim said after being handed a helmet. 

"Same here. I could use the company," the older replied.

"You're feeling lonely? Strike me down with a feather," Tim answered. Dick laughed but there was something off-key about it. Maybe it was just a voice crack. Yelling at criminals and shouting encouragement to civilians could really take a toll on your voice. "You could say that. Hop on."

They arrived at his flat around tea time and got down to business. Unluckily for Tim, his teacher in last period gave him an essay for Monday. So much for a pleasant weekend. "What's the essay about?" Dick asked, overlooking Tim's homework diary. The younger groaned as he pulled out his computer. 

"Fascism in Italy and whether it was actually accepted or not," Tim replied.

"Sounds fun, want me to order some brain food?" he requested. Tim nodded and picked up a pile of takeaway menus. For someone so fit he had an awful diet. It was a miracle he could even fight. He flicked through the takeaway menus, pulling a face at a few that had rather disgusting pictures of food. He continued until he saw a letter in the mix. Being curious, he looked around, finding Dick was looking out a window. It was almost as though he was looking for someone. He was probably trying to find out the latest street drama. He could be a gossip since he could never turn off the detective mindset. Tim took the letter and looked at the envelope. Wasn't a bill otherwise there'd be a little plastic window revealing his full name. No, the address and name written on were handwritten. Personal. Though, why would anyone close to him handwrite a letter? He opened the envelope back up and pulled out the letter. Before he could get a good look at the letter, it was snatched from his hands. "Can't a guy get some privacy?" Dick snapped.

"I was curious. Handwritten letter means something personal," he responded in intrigue. "You got a girlfriend? Boyfriend? A secret admirer?"

"Trust me, it's nothing like that," Dick said gravely. He scrunched up the letter and threw it in the bin. "Forget what you saw and start on your essay. We can't do anything when you have that waiting for you at the end of the weekend." Tim nodded to keep him happy. "Chosen your brain food?"

"Pizza, the usual," he replied.

The pizza came, was eaten in under twenty minutes which was a new record, and Tim had nearly finished his essay. He couldn't concentrate on whether the Italian people actually wanted Fascism and it wasn't a result of the fear of socialism. Something about that letter. Dick didn't even humour him and he always humoured everyone. There is something damning about the letter and he needed to get his hands on it. They were sitting on the couch together, watching some Real Housewives of wherever. Dick was sat unusually but that was just him. The day he sat normally was the day when the world stopped. "How're things at the old stomping grounds?" Dick inquired, half concentrating on the reality show. 

"Manor wise, Bruce is hardly there. Thinks there's a mole at work so he spends half his time there and the other half arguing with the League over anything," he responded.

"So nothing new?" Dick responded with a laugh.

"Nope. School wise, they're giving me an award next Tuesday for my achievements in the sciences," he added. Dick's ears perked up.

"Is it a proper event? I'll come if you want," he said quickly. He was one for jumping at any chance he could get at family time but this was overkill. Thinking about it, Tim staying the whole weekend was overkill. He'd normally stay a night, maybe two if he really needed to but three? That was one too many. And at such short notice now that he remembered. He was asked that Monday when normally things like this were negotiated a few weeks before. Odd. Then there was that letter. Something told Tim they were all connected but how? He needed to get his hands on that letter. "Tim?"

"Erm yeah, there is, Tuesday 8 pm. Bruce will probably be busy so you can take his place," he replied. He must've gotten lost in thought. 

"Great! I'll mark it on the calendar."

Was Tim acting weird? No, it was probably just Dick misinterpreting it. Tim was a teenager after all and they're notoriously hard to understand. He knew he was when he was Tim's age. He practically had his own deformed version of English that he just expected people to get. Those were the days. When the League only worried about how odd he was and not the mounting levels of trauma he had. Did he book that therapy session with Black Canary? He'd check the calendar later. "I was planning on going out around midnight since that's when things really heat up. If you've finished that essay by then, we can be out till five," Dick suggested. Tim hummed in agreement. He looked lost in thought, though he assumed it was due to the matter of his essay. He doubted it was an easy topic. "How's the team on your end? They tend to sort of straighten up when I'm around, God knows why," he continued. Was he rambling? Maybe. He just missed having someone to natter too. Plus it kept keeping his mind off something rather unpleasant. "That's because they think you're their boss and they're adapting well. Maybe loosen up a bit when you give missions."

"Noted." A subtle beep brought him away from the mindless conversation. He reached in his pocket and instantly sat up straight. Suspicious, yes, but maybe he could play it off. The number was instantly recognizable, drawing a heavy sigh from his lips. "Who is it?" Tim questioned, leaning over to get a look at the message. Dick stood up before he could get a good look. 

"My Commissioner must've had a breakthrough in a case we've been working on. Mind if I call him?" Tim shook his head, watching him leave and enter the bedroom.

Perfect. Tim placed his computer carefully to the side and crept over to the bin. The scrunched up paper was sitting on top, practically begging to be unfolded and read. He hesitantly grabbed it, wondering if it was a breach of the other's privacy. Dick was much older and he wouldn't appreciate it if he was reading something potentially damning. Then again, he should've burned it if he truly wanted him not to look at it. He knows what Tim was like. Tim picked up the paper and carefully smoothed it out so he could read it.

Dick walked out of the bedroom with a frown firmly set on his features. He didn't know why he bothered to take days off work then they always called him asking if he'd do a shift. It wasn't like he was the only police officer in Bludhaven. "Dick," Tim announced. He looked at the teen. He was holding the crumpled letter that had now been uncrumpled. Time stood still. "This is a death threat." 

Part two tomorrow