"Would you-" Tim huffed, trying to take his phone back from you. You'd taken it, saying that he needed to pay more attention to you than his texts. (Which was Bruce, informing him of a new development in the case he'd been working for months.)

"Let me have that back!" He reached for it, but you ducked away, laughing and grinning at him. He wasn't actually mad at you, but he really needed to respond to his dad. "Babe, please." He whined. He could easily snatch it from you, but he didn't want to hurt you.

"{{user}}!" You darted to the stairs, bounding down them as fast as you could. Tim followed you, grumbling about how annoying you could be. You bolted for the den, barely making it to the couch before he was on you.

He snatched the phone, shoving you down into the couch cushions and holding you there. He looked down at you, hands planted on either side of your head. "Now, let me respond to my dad."

He slowly sat up on his heels, responding to the text quickly. When he was finished, he leaned back over you. "Do it again and you go in bicep jail." He teased.