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Alfred the cat was purring obnoxiously as he lay curled up in Damian’s side. The feline’s head rested on his arm as he stared at the ceiling. Twitching whiskers on either side of the cat’s head tickled his skin. The cat’s ears twisted back at the loud buzzing of Damian’s alarm that he had yet to turn off. After another moment of listening to the noise, Damian slammed his fist on the infernal device, silencing the blare.
He did not want to go to school. Damian would rather be out on patrol despite it being in full daylight. But, Father insisted it was mandatory.
Rather than sit and mope on his bed all morning, Damian got up, ignoring Alfred the cat’s displeased twitch of his ears and the glare the feline sent his way before flicking his tail over his eyes and going back to sleep. Damian eyed his pet enviously then walked out the door.
Tt. He didn’t see why he needed to go to school. Mother and Grandfather never would have made him go.
As he slowly meandered down the hallway and made his way toward the kitchen, Drake barreled past him, his laptop under one arm as he tried to tighten the tie around his neck.
He is late for another meeting,
Damian thought, watching his brother leap onto the banister for the entry hall stairs and slide down. Damian rolled his eyes.
In the dining room, Alfred had laid out a spread of pancakes of various sizes and a numerous amount of different toppings—ranging anywhere from maple syrup to cinnamon sugar. At the head of the table, Father’s place was empty, half-eaten food remaining on the plate. The only other person at the table was Thomas. Richard tousled Damian’s hair as he walked past him into the hallway. Damian fought the urge to smack his brother’s hand away, forcing himself to accept the gesture of affection—although he did not particularly understand why it was seen as affectionate to mess up someone else’s hair.
Damian sat in his chair, piling pancakes onto his plate before pouring a good helping of blueberry syrup on them and adding a couple of the actual berries on top. Alfred walked in a moment later.
“Good morning, Master Damian. Master Duke,” Alfred greeted them.
“Morning, Alfred,” Duke said, swallowing a bite of his own pancakes—which were covered in maple syrup, whipped cream, and various types of berries. Damian had to restrain himself from curling his lip in disgust at the mess on Thomas’ plate. He could be worse than Richard sometimes when it came to manners at the dining table. Which was a feat in and of itself.
“Pennyworth,” Damian replied, to which he could see Alfred holding back a sigh. Forcing himself not to roll his eyes, Damian added, “Good morning.”
This got a smile from Alfred. Even after roughly two years of living with Father, Damian still had yet to acclimate to
Western culture
. Alfred had insistently been trying to get him to say “good morning” back to him—it wasn’t working very well. In most cases, Damian was, as Stephanie liked to say, “ignorant of American culture”. And it certainly didn’t help that Damian was simply refusing to comply in many cases.
Alfred poured Damian a glass of orange juice. Damian thanked him before taking another bite of his pancakes. Across from him, Thomas was downing his own glass of orange juice and pushing his chair back from the table.
When Damian finished his breakfast, he thanked Alfred and headed back to his room to get ready for school. Alfred the cat was still curled up on his bed. Although, the cat had moved to lay next to Damian’s pillow. Yellow eyes peeked open and watched him as he got dressed for the day.
A soft knock came on his door as he was finishing up his hair. Adjusting the tie for his uniform, Damian left his bathroom and opened the door, grabbing his backpack from its place at the end of his bed on the way. Thomas stood on the other side of the door, his own tie crooked, a soft smile on his face.
“Alfred’s waiting for us,” Duke said.
“Your tie is crooked,” Damian replied, walking past him.
Behind him, Thomas squeaked—a very childish noise to be coming from a teenage boy—then scrambled to catch up to Damian.
“Thanks.”
Damian shot a look at him from the corner of his eye. His tie was still crooked. Throwing his arm out in front of Thomas, Damian halted him in his tracks and moved in front of him. Ignoring the look he got from the older teen, Damian undid the horrendous knot Duke had put his tie into and retied it for him. He would not be associated with someone who did not know how to tie their own tie.
“You should ask Alfred to teach you how to tie this,” Damian said as he finished retying it.
“Thanks,” Duke replied, ducking his head in a failed attempt to hide a blush. “Again.”
Damian rolled his eyes and spun on his heel before continuing down the hallway. Alfred was indeed waiting for them in front of the Manor when the two of them walked out the front doors.
The drive to Gotham Academy was silent. At least for Thomas and Alfred. Damian had his earbuds in, listening to a playlist Richard had made for him with all his favorite songs on it. Todd had added some of his music to the playlist as well. Both were equally bad. With most of the songs making Damian’s ears feel like they were bleeding. Richard and Todd both insisted their taste in music was better than the other’s. They were both wrong. Tremendously so. To the point that Damian often questioned why he kept listening to their suggestions when it came to music—or anything for that matter. Some days, when the music was bad enough, he would miss the short time period when Todd had been turned into a girl. At least then he listened to better music. Damian would rather suffer through an hours-long session of Kelly Clarkson breakup songs than the cacophony of noise Todd called music.
Students walked past the car outside Damian’s window as Alfred came to a stop and put the car in park. Thomas hopped enthusiastically out of the car with a “Bye, Alfred”. Damian started to climb out after him, but paused, remembering what Alfred was trying to drill into him.
“Goodbye, Pennyworth,” he said before following after Duke.
Kids crowded around him as he walked through the front entrance and made his way to his first class. He saw many of them smiling and chatting with their friends while scrolling through social media on their phones as he walked past them and found a seat near the window. As he walked past a group of girls, he paused at a video of fast-moving images of… Richard?
One of the girls noticed his presence and looked up at him. Bright red spread across her cheeks and she grabbed the phone from her friend’s hands and turned it off. Her friend let out an exclaimed, “Hey!” before looking up and noticing Damian standing there. Her cheeks turned scarlet. Before she could open her mouth and offer an explanation, though, Damian was walking away and sitting down at an open desk pushed up against the wall under one of the windows.
Behind him, he could hear the group of girls whispering under their breath in the short amount of silence between songs as he set his backpack on the ground next to him. He glanced back at them once and caught them shooting nervous glances his way. When they noticed his attention, they quickly looked away. Turning to the window, Damian wondered what that video they were watching was. He didn’t have long to wonder, though, as the bell rang and the teacher walked up to the front of the class. The chattering that had filled the classroom died out. Phones were hastily put away. Damian pulled out his own earbuds and shoved them into his pocket.
At the front of the classroom, the teacher began droning on about the civil rights movement for the third class in a row. Damian intermittently twirled his pencil in his hand while jotting down notes every so often. Richard would constantly tell him that taking notes in class was important. He tried to listen to his brother. But he didn’t feel as though this was something he needed to know. Besides, how much could he trust Richard’s advice when his taste in music was so dreadful? Even Drake’s taste in music was better. Not by much, but it was.
The ringing of the bell drew Damian from his thoughts. Shoving his notebook into his backpack while the teacher shouted out a last-minute reading assignment due before the next class period, Damian slung his bag over his shoulder and exited the classroom.
Pulling his earbuds from his pocket and putting them in his ears, Damian brushed past another group of girls on their phones. He caught a glimpse of another video with fast-moving images, this time featuring Todd. It occurred to him then, that Thomas had warned him of such videos prior to him starting school.
“Thirst traps”
he’d called them. Damian made a note to ask about them later.
One class down, three more to go. Plus study hall and lunch. School was lame. Damian wished he could be out on patrol. Then he wouldn’t have to see his classmates watching thirst traps for Richard and Todd—whatever those were. At least he hadn’t seen any of Drake, or even Father. While he didn’t fully understand what they were, he had a feeling once he found out he wasn’t going to like the answer. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to ask Thomas about them, though. He still fully intended to find out why the girls in his school were seemingly obsessed with watching those videos.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was the middle of study hall when Damian’s phone started ringing. His study hall teacher was one who liked to collect each of the student’s phones and keep them on his desk at the front of the class. The teacher, Mr. Edwards, was reading a large book when the phone started vibrating on his desk.
“Students,” he said. “Please remember to turn your phones on ‘Do Not Disturb’ before entering my class. This is meant to be a
study hall
.”
Mr. Edwards looked up from the book he was reading and picked up the offending phone. He paused when he saw the contact name on the screen, his gaze sliding to Damian’s as he held up the phone.
“Mr. Wayne, I believe your brother is calling you. I would ask that you tell him to call you back later. Preferably when you are not at school.” Mr. Edwards raised an eyebrow as he finished speaking.
A few of Damian’s classmates snickered quietly as he stood, brushing nonexistent dust from his uniform before walking up to the desk and taking his phone from the teacher before hitting the answer button.
“This better be important, Drake,” Damian said. “I am at school.”
“What the hell d’ya answer the phone for?” Drake asked.
“You have five seconds before I hang up. Five. Four. Three.”
“Wait, it’s actually important,” Drake rushed out.
“Two. One. Time’s up.” Hanging up the phone, he started to hand it back to the teacher when it started ringing again, Drake’s contact showing up on the screen. Damian clicked the Decline button.
As he turned to walk back to his seat, he heard a muffled cough come from behind him. Spinning back to Mr. Edwards, Damian saw him holding out his phone to him. Richard’s contact was on the screen this time.
Withholding a sigh, Damian accepted the phone—ignoring all the questioning looks from his classmates—and answered. “Richard.”
“Damian, why did you hang up on Tim,” Richard asked.
This time Damian did not hold back his sigh. “I am at school. Stop calling me, Grayson. If Drake needs something he can wait until I am not at school.”
“Tim said you left your lunch at the Manor,” Richard told him before he could hang up. “He asked me to take it to you. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Tt. Fine. Study hall is almost over, I will meet you at the front doors.” With that, Damian hung up the phone and turned it off. Then he handed it back to Mr. Edwards and returned to his seat.
He could not
believe
he had forgotten to grab his lunch. Alfred always made the best lunches—much better than the disgusting garbage they offered in the cafeteria anyway.
Damian twirled the pencil he was holding in his hand. Richard would likely get there before the bell dismissed him from study hall. He did not want to keep his brother waiting, but he also knew he would probably get in trouble for leaving early. This presented a problem. But not one he could solve, so he focused his attention back on the assignment lying on the desk in front of him. He twirled his pencil again before jotting down another answer to one of the questions.
Near the end of the period, hushed conversations started floating around the room as kids started chatting quietly. Damian repeatedly twirled his pencil in his hand agitatedly as he tried to focus on his assignment. He only had a few questions left. But he could not concentrate on any of them with the smattering of giggles and whispers behind him. He had half a thought to turn around and chuck his pencil in their direction—he had plenty more in his backpack—but he did not want to accidentally embed the pencil in one of his classmates, again. Father was not pleased when he found out Damian had sent a kid to the nurse’s office with a pencil stuck in the boy’s arm. He would not be receiving a repeat of that lecture.
Before Damian could reconsider his decision not to send his pencil flying into one of the kids behind him, the bell rang. What was it Richard would say about timing like that? Saved by the bell?
Gathering up his things, Damian shoved them into his backpack and went up to the front of the room to grab his phone. The hushed chattering that had floated around the room turned into full-on conversations as his classmates packed up their own things and followed their friends out into the hallway. Damian grabbed his earbuds from his pocket and put them in. One of Todd’s song suggestions started playing as he pressed play on his phone.
A deep bone-shaking bass filled his ears as he pushed past a group of athletes and made his way toward the front of the school. As he walked, he noticed the groups of chatting kids getting larger, their attention on something further down the hall. Some of the students nudged their friends when Damian walked past, their gazes flicking from him to whatever it was everyone seemed to be staring at.
Damian shot a glare at one student. His annoyance grew when the girl did not look away immediately, instead offering him a warm smile.
Tt. Girls.
Finally, he got irritated enough to pull out his earbuds, Todd’s loud-ass music still blaring from them, and look at what everyone else was staring at—
who
everyone else seemed to be staring at.
Damian rolled his eyes. Richard grinned when he spotted him and started toward him, the students around him moving out of his way like a river around a large rock. His brother tried to pull him into a hug as he got close enough. Tried being the key word. Damian ducked out of the hug and crossed his arms.
“I told you to meet me at the front doors,” Damian told him, eyeing the kids around him. “You did not have to meet me halfway.”
“Sure I did,” Richard said. His blue eyes sparkled as he followed Damian as he began walking toward the entrance. “You’re my brother.”
“Tt. I do not need you babying me, Richard,” Damian replied.
Richard raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond.
Damian shot daggers at all of the kids who met his gaze. Their stares were the exact reason he did not want his siblings visiting him at school. Or calling him for that matter.
Most of his classmates instantly diverted their eyes when they saw the look on his face. A brave few, however, met his gaze and held it—only for a few seconds before their bravery ran out and they ducked their heads.
“Where is my lunch?” Damian asked, glancing at Richard for a brief moment.
Richard lifted a brown paper bag in his hand. Damian reached for it, but Richard lifted it above his head, far out of Damian’s reach.
“Tt. Richard,” Damian warned. “Give me my lunch. You have a meeting today, do you not?”
“Eh, I can be a few minutes late,” Richard shrugged, smiling at a group of attentive girls.
The girls blushed bright red. As they walked past the group, Damian pointed a menacing finger at the girls behind Richard’s back, narrowing his eyes as he did so, before turning to catch up with his brother.
“Why are you really here?” Damian asked him. “I know Drake did not tell you to bring me my lunch. He would rather let me starve.”
Richard all but gasped, shooting Damian a concerned look. “Tim would never let you starve, Dami. You’re right, though, he didn’t tell me to bring you your lunch. I had to wrestle it out of his hands before he ate it himself.”
“Why are you here, Richard?” Damian repeated.
Richard sighed, coming to a halt next to the front doors. “Bruce asked me and Tim to go on a trip to Hong Kong in a couple of weeks, but I need to go back to Blüdhaven soon and Jason outright refused to go.”
“And I am the automatic default after Todd? What about Thomas or Brown?”
“Duke needs to stay here. Alfred insists that he needs to take some summer school classes.” Damian snickered.
He
certainly didn’t need to take summer classes. “Don’t you go laughing now. If you don’t accept this mission I’m sure Alfred would be all too happy to suggest summer classes for you too.”
Damian scowled.
Turning his head away, he said, “Fine. I will go. But I do not understand why this could not wait until after I got home from school.”
Richard placed a hand on his shoulder. Damian forced himself not to shove the hand off, instead meeting Richard’s eyes as his brother smiled wider—if that was even possible—and said, “Oh, it definitely could have waited. But you did leave your lunch on the kitchen counter and I would rather Tim not eat it when I could just bring it to you and ask you to go on the mission at the same time. Two birds, one stone, and all that.”
Damian gave him a puzzled look.
“What do birds and stones have to do with this conversation?”
Richard blinked. “Oh,” he chuckled. “It’s just a saying, kill two birds with one stone. It basically means to accomplish two things at once.”
“Well, you have successfully accomplished your goal. You can give me my lunch and leave now,” Damian said, ignoring the lingering confusion of Richard’s idiom, and gesturing for him to give him the bag.
“You’re no fun sometimes, Dami,” Richard pouted.
“Tt. How many times do I have to ask you to stop calling me that before you will listen?”
“Never,” Richard grinned. Then, handing Damian his lunch, he ruffled Damian’s hair—again with the messing up someone else’s hair,
how is this considered affection?—
and pushed open the door. “See ya after school,
Dami
.”
After unsuccessfully swatting at the hand Richard had used to muss up his carefully styled hair, Damian scowled after his brother for a moment. Once his brother disappeared from view, he put his earbuds back in—the music still playing from when he had taken them out upon seeing Richard—and turned around. The crowd that had gathered during Richard’s visit had dispersed in the time since Damian had turned his back on them. A few stragglers still stood nearby, but none of them paid him any mind as he walked past.
The cafeteria was bustling with obnoxious teenagers when Damian walked in and made a beeline for the doors that led to an outside patio. Patches of blue sky peeked out from behind a multitude of dove-gray clouds in a rare display of sunshine amidst Gotham’s near-constant rain and storm clouds. It was dismal. He would sometimes find himself missing the constant sun spilling in through the windows while he trained with Mother. But then he would remember how oppressive the heat could be and he would be grateful for the more mild temperatures in Gotham. Not that Gotham’s weather was any sort of mild. But the heat was certainly less harsh.
Finding an empty table to sit at was impossible. If one did happen to find one, they would soon be joined by unwanted socialites looking to make people think they were so kind for sitting with the loner. So Damian walked straight past the few tables outside—one of which did happen to be empty—and made his way to his preferred lunch spot, a tall oak tree that was perfect for climbing. The tree towered over him, leaving a large shadow.
The space beneath the tree was blessedly empty as Damian walked over and climbed up the branches until he sat on one a good distance from the ground. It was his favorite place to eat lunch. Nobody could bother him, not when they didn’t know he was there.
He had just settled himself into a comfortable position, opening his lunch and taking a bite of the Nutella sandwich Alfred had made for him when a group of girls walked up to his tree with their lunch trays—filled with inedibles the school tried to pass off as food—giggling and laughing with each other and sat at the base. Their girlish conversation—yes it was very girlish, filled with talk of boys, sleepovers, and shopping trips—drifted up to him. He couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying over the cacophonous noise of Todd’s music, though, and he was glad for it. It was the one time he would ever appreciate Todd’s taste in loud, bass-filled, music—if one could even call it that—because it prevented him from having to listen to the gaggle of mindless geese disguised as teenage girls sitting directly beneath his preferred lunch spot.
Damian took another bite of his sandwich, content with ignoring the girls sitting at the base of the tree and watching the crow that had landed on his branch steadily hop closer to him. When the bird was within arms reach, Damian tore off a piece of his sandwich and set it in front of the bird. The crow eyed the piece of sandwich, briefly looked up at Damian, then took the offering and flew off with it. Damian smiled after the bird. Then he finished off his sandwich and pulled out an apple and a granola bar. He made quick work of the granola bar—shoving the now-empty brown paper bag into the side pocket of his backpack for later disposal—and was about to take a bite of his apple, his attention having strayed back to the group of girls sitting at the base of the tree, when he paused.
The gaggle of geese-girls—he was spending way too much time with Richard—was gathered around one girl’s phone. Shifting his position, Damian leaned over his branch to get a clearer view. He instantly wished he hadn’t. They were watching a thirst trap video. Of Father.
Damian wanted to vomit. The images he saw were things he could not unsee. He did not want to ask Thomas more about those videos now. He understood why he had been warned away from them.
Shoving down his disgust, Damian changed his position on the branch and dropped to the ground, right in the middle of the group. The girls around him squealed in surprise. At first, their looks were ones of rage, but they immediately turned to embarrassment when they realized who he was. The girl whose phone the video had been playing on hurriedly turned the device off, her cheeks crimson red as she tried to hide behind her ash blonde hair.
One of her friends said something, but, of course, he didn’t hear it due to the blaring of Todd’s music.
Taking out one of his earbuds, Damian asked, “Did you say something?”
“Yeah,” the girl said, anger lacing the word. Her usual pale complexion was flushed scarlet with what Damian assumed was both anger and embarrassment. “I asked you what the hell you were thinking, jumping from the tree like that. You could have landed on one of us. Did you do it on purpose?”
Damian tilted his head. “I would not have landed on any of you. I have excellent aim.”
He was about to put his earbud back in when the blonde girl asked, “You didn’t say whether you did it on purpose or not. Were you trying to scare us?”
“Why would I do it on purpose?” Damian asked, knowing full well that he did, in fact, do it on purpose. It was either that or throw his apple at them. But then he would be stuck in the tree and have thrown away his apple for nothing.
The blonde girl’s friend—the pale one with hair dyed a disturbingly bright pink—gaped at him, but sent a warning look her friend’s way. Then she said, “I don’t know. ‘Cause you’re a boy.”
Damian’s brows furrowed, but he said nothing at first. Instead, he shrugged, took a bite of his apple, and turned away. Then, swallowing the bite he’d just taken, he said, “I always eat lunch in this tree. It’s not my fault you chose to sit under it.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Todd all but ambushed Damian when he got home.
“Demon brat, I have another song to add to your playlist,” Todd said by way of greeting.
Damian bit back a groan, but snapped, “No. Your music is worse than being punished by Grandfather. As does yours, Richard,” He added as Richard walked past them.
His brother gasped, putting a hand to his heart saying, “You wound me, Dami.”
Damian scowled at him and turned back to Todd. “I liked your taste in music better when you got turned into a girl.”
“What are you talking about?” Todd asked. “My taste in music has been the same since I came back from the dead.”
“You cannot lie to me, Todd. I heard you singing along to Taylor Swift and Kelly Clarkson when I walked past your room.” Damian pointed an accusatory finger at him.
Todd narrowed his eyes at him. “I will carve out that tongue of yours, gremlin, if you so much as say another word about that.”
Next to him, Richard was trying so hard not to let Todd know he was chuckling, covering his mouth with his hand. His body was shaking with the effort to contain his laughter. He was failing. Todd turned his death glare to Richard, who snorted then let out his laughter.
“Not a word, Dickie,” Todd started.
Richard shook his head. “Taylor Swift, Jason?
Really?
You gonna start calling yourself a-a—what do they call themselves again?”
“Swifties.” A new voice chimed in.
“Yeah, that.”
Todd turned his attention to Drake, his anger rising anew as Drake asked, “Why are we asking Jason if he’s a Swiftie?”
Damian crossed his arms and smirked. Todd shot a glare his way, but Damian was undeterred.
“Because I caught Todd listening to Taylor Swift when he got turned into a girl.” Damian grinned wickedly at Todd then added, “And he was singing along.”
This sent Drake and Richard howling, both of them collapsing in heaps of laughter on the ground. Todd growled and stepped over them as he stormed off.
Turning over his shoulder he pointed at Damian and shouted, “I will get payback for this, Demon brat.”
Damian smirked. “You can try.”
“Master Damian,” Alfred said, walking in behind Thomas. “I believe you have some homework that needs to be done.”
Damian forced himself not to roll his eyes at the comment and said, “I do not know what homework you are referring to, Pennyworth. I finished all of my assignments at school.”
Thomas grinned. “Great. That means we can go catch up on those videos I was showing you.”
Alfred frowned as he saw Richard and Drake still lying on the ground, taking deep breaths as they came down from their high. The butler looked like he was about to ask about it, opening his mouth, but he stopped when Damian said, “Do not ask. They will be there all day if you do.”
Casting another glance at the pair, Alfred decided to heed Damian’s advice and instead said, “Very well, Master Damian. If your homework is indeed complete, then you and Master Duke may do as you please with the afternoon. Dinner will be ready by six. Please do not be late. That goes for you too, Masters Dick and Timothy. I would very much appreciate it if you were not late, again.”
Richard lifted a hand in the air and gave Alfred a thumbs-up. “Sure thing, Alf.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Drake added. Then he snorted again. “Pfft. I can’t believe it. Taylor Swift?”
This sent the two off on another round of laughter. Damian rolled his eyes. Thomas gave them a worried look but did not resist Damian as he tugged him toward his room.
While Todd and Richard had been giving Damian music suggestions—most of which Damian now planned to discard, maybe—Thomas had been showing Damian ‘streamers’. The boy had mentioned something about them, and, at Damian’s look of confusion, had instantly offered to cultivate him in the ways of the streamer. Out of all of the many things his siblings had started doing to help acclimate him to Western culture, Damian had to admit that this was his second favorite. Only because, surprisingly, Drake teaching him how to skateboard was infinitely more fun than anything else. Not that he didn’t appreciate the others’ attempts. Barbara’s computer games were fun, and the ‘cartoons’ Stephanie showed him were—sometimes—enjoyable. They were all quite, enlightening.
Thomas’ room was dark when they walked in. The curtains were still closed, and there was a pile of clothes on the floor. Damian was unsure whether they were clean or not, so he decided not to lean either way. He followed Thomas over to the bed where Thomas opened his laptop, grabbed his earbuds, pulled up the streaming website, and turned on the video.
Damian climbed onto the bed next to Thomas and took the offered earbud, the streamer’s intro immediately filling the silence.
Hours later, a knock came to the door. The boys looked up just in time to see Father standing in the doorway. He smiled at them and told them dinner was ready then left.
Damian pulled the earbud out and clambered off the bed, reaching the door before Thomas and starting toward the dining room. The quick pattering of footsteps behind him alerted him to Thomas walking swiftly to catch up to him.
As he did so, he said, “So, a friend of mine said you scared the shit out of some girls at lunch today. Jumped out of a tree or something.”
“And?”
“
And
, I was just curious as to why you did it.” At the look on Damian’s face, Thomas scrambled to add, “I mean, you don’t typically do anything like that so, I just. I mean. You know what, just forget I said anything.”
Thomas shoved his hands in his pockets.
Damian huffed.
“They were watching a video,” he said at last. “Of Father.”
Thomas looked at him, an eyebrow raised.
Damian rolled his eyes and added, “I believe it was what you called a ‘thirst trap’.”
Thomas’ dark skin flushed and he quickly found somewhere else to look. He cleared his throat.
“I do not know how the maker of that video got such images of Father, and I do not particularly
want
to know,” Damian said in a low voice. “I simply wanted them to stop watching that video before I threw something at them.”
“Something like a book?” Thomas offered. “Or a batarang?”
“Something like that,” Damian replied. “Do not tell anyone about this.”
“Don’t worry,” Thomas told him, eyes wide. “This stays between us. I’m sorry you had to see that video. I saw one of Tim once and I’m scarred for life.”
Damian nodded.
“Then we are agreed. We will never speak of this again.”
“Agreed. Now, what do you say to getting some of Alfred’s cooking in us? I’m starving.” Thomas entered the dining room and strolled over to his seat.
Damian followed behind him, making his way to his own seat. Most of the family was already seated, with the exception of Brown who entered soon after Damian and sat down across from him next to Drake. As per Alfred’s rule, nobody had touched the food until everyone was seated—the only exemption being if someone was unable to attend dinner, which, if Alfred had his way, would be never.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“I spy with my little eye, something illegal going down,” Brown’s voice came over the comms.
“Ooh I think I know this one,” Drake said from beside Damian. Then over the comms he asked, “Is it two guys robbing a liquor store?”
“
Errrh
.” Came the reply. “Wrong.”
Drake frowned.
“I think it’s four guys in clown masks terrorizing a very pissed-off old grandma,” Richard said in response.
“Ding ding ding. Aaaand the winner is… Nightwing!” Stephanie cheered. Then in a slightly muffled voice so as to imitate a chanting crowd, “Nightwing. Nightwing. Nightw—”
“Keep the comms clear,” Father interrupted.
“Hmph. You’re ruining all the fun, B,” Stephanie told him.
Whatever lecture Batman was about to give her was interrupted by Oracle who said, “Batman, Robin, Red Robin, Red Hood needs assistance.”
“Did he actually ask for it?” Drake asked.
“When does Red Hood ever ask for help?” Oracle asked rhetorically before listing off directions.
“That’s what I thought,” Drake said, mostly to himself.
Damian followed after his Father, who had already started in the direction Oracle was leading them. When they reached the location, Damian spotted Todd immediately, his sleeveless red hoodie stark against the darkness of the alley he was in fighting off a large group of gangsters.
After his abduction and Black Mask destroying his Red Hood helmet, Todd had opted for a new look. His new Red Hood costume had a black domino mask as well as a red muzzle-like mask, and a sleeveless red hoodie.
One of the gangsters got in a good hit to Todd’s stomach, causing him to double over. Oracle was right to have called them. Even for Todd, there were way too many men for him to take down, especially since it looked like one of them had stabbed him.
Without hesitation, Batman was leaping from the roof they were on, Robin and Red Robin close behind him. The men surrounding Red Hood cried out in surprise as the trio joined the fray. Damian heard Todd curse as he landed on the man who had landed a kick to Red Hood’s bleeding abdomen.
“I didn’t need your help, Mini bat,” Todd snarked.
“You are welcome,” Damian replied, knocking the guy out with the hilt of his katana.
Todd grunted and turned to fight another man, leaving Damian to take out the guy who had tried to sneak up on him during his brief exchange of words with Todd. This man had a knife coated with blood. He was likely the one to stab Todd, Damian would have to be more careful than usual with this one. Very few people could get in a good hit to a Bat, and those that could were typically very skilled…
Damian stood over the man’s unconscious body. It had been way too easy to take him down. Which meant either Todd was getting sloppy, or this man had jumped him. Likely the latter, given the fact that Todd would never let himself get sloppy.
Toeing the unconscious knife-wielder with the tip of his boot, Damian made sure he
was
unconscious. He looked up from the man just in time to see another gangster taking a swing for his head. Ducking out of the way, Damian swept the man’s feet out from under him while simultaneously punching him in the face knocking him out cold.
As he finished taking down his most recent assailant, Damian spotted a runner. He took off after him, following him into the condemned building next to the one Batman, Red Robin, and him had leapt off of only minutes earlier. His boots splashed in grimy puddles as he chased the man deep inside the building and up several flights of stairs before the man came to a halt in a room with no windows and only one exit. The doorway which Damian now walked through.
His sword refracted what little light came in from the hallway as he came to a stop barely ten feet from the man. He would have kept walking had it not been for the click he heard behind him, followed swiftly with a man saying, “Drop the sword, kid.”
“Tt.” He hated it when adults called him that.
Despite the fact that it was technically true, he was not a kid. Not by a long shot.
Damian did as the man said, however, and, slowly turning so he could see the man, dropped his sword, keeping his hands raised so as not to alarm the gun wielder and his two buddies that flanked him. Then, over the comms, he said, “Chat this doesn’t look good.”
“What?” The man holding the gun furrowed his brows. “What the hell are you talking about, kid?”
“Tt. Stop calling me that.”
The flanking goons snickered at his response along with the man.
Damian remained unmoving where he stood while the man he had chased in there moved around him and joined his partners. The man who held the gun was large, not like Todd or Father, more like a boar. He even had a scraggly beard to go with the underbite of his jaw.
Boar-man sneered at Damian—Richard’s nicknaming habit was rubbing off on him, and it needed to stop. Immediately.
“I don’t pride myself on shootin’ ya, kid,” Boar-man said, tightening his grip on the gun. “Can’t have you chasin’ after us, though.”
Tt. This was not how he had hoped patrol would go. Damian braced himself for the shot. His eyes traced the path the bullet would likely take. He likely would not die from it, but it would hurt enough to be an annoyance for a while. Especially if Father decided to bench him. He did not want to be benched until it healed, but it didn’t seem as though he had a choice.
Damian heard the gun go off. But he didn’t feel any pain. Next to Boar-man stood Spoiler, who had shoved the gun toward the roof just before the man could pull the trigger.
Tt. He didn’t need her saving him. He could have handled it himself.
Spoiler then wrenched the gun from his hand and used it to knock him out, his now-unconscious form falling to the ground alongside his partners. This left only the man Damian had chased into the building standing. Damian squatted and picked up his sword, throwing a batarang at the man as he did so. By the time he was standing again, Spoiler had knocked him out too.
“You’re welcome, Mini bat,” Spoiler said.
“I had it handled, fatgirl,” Damian snapped, sheathing his sword.
Brown made a noise of hurt. Then she turned and left, walking over the unconscious men on the ground as she said, “Fine. Then I trust you can
handle
tying up these bad guys without me.”
“Tt.”
“—should not have gone after him alone,” Father was lecturing him again. “I want so badly to bench you right now, but you’re not injured so there’s not really any point. Instead, you’re going to do three hours of situational awareness training every day for the entire week.”
“Tt.” Damian crossed his arms. “Is that really necessary, Father? I am more than capable of being aware of my surroundings.”
“Clearly not, since Stephanie had to save you from getting shot,” Father replied.
“Girl Blunder came in before I had a chance to do anything,” Damian retorted. “I could have taken care of things myself. Without getting shot.”
He knew that wasn’t true. Damian had been weighing the risk of getting benched until he had healed versus risking the man trying to kill him if he tried to go for one of his gadgets. He had a feeling the latter would not have ended well. For him or Boar-man.
Damn you Richard and your insolent nicknaming habits.
“May I go now, Father?” Damian asked before Batman could go off on another lecture for him calling Stephanie ‘Girl Blunder’—Father did not like the nickname.
Father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before saying, “Yes, Damian. You can go.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Stephanie was waiting for him when he exited the elevator back to the Manor. Damian tried to brush past her, but she stopped him.
Looking up at her, he said, “Out of my way, wench, before I knock you on your—”
“Hey, easy there cowboy,” Stephanie interrupted him. “It’s cartoon night, remember. You don’t have school tomorrow.”
“Oh. Fine, then. Let us get this over with,” Damian replied.
Brown smiled and tried to grab his hand. Damian pulled it from her grasp and walked out of the room ahead of her. Unwilling to let him beat her, Stephanie skipped past him and continued down the hall toward the theater room.
As Damian entered, he noticed Cass already there holding two bowls of popcorn in her hands. Cass looked over at him and offered him one of the bowls, which he gratefully accepted. Damian took the seat to Cass’ left. Stephanie snatched the remote from the seat she had already claimed on Cass’ other side and pulled up a new cartoon series.
Last week they had successfully finished a show that Brown had insisted was iconic. Damian had been less than impressed. This week, Stephanie introduced him to what she called her favorite show as a kid,
Avatar: The Last Airbender.
After the last two shows he had been forced to suffer through, Damian did not have high expectations for this one.
The intro for the show was corny—a word Damian had never heard, or understood, until Todd had used it to describe Richard’s ‘Discowing’ costume. An accurate description of the horrid thing. Damian looked forward to the day he could burn it and any images of it.
Despite his initial reservations for the show, Damian found himself enveloped in the storyline by episode three. By episode eight, however, he noticed that Cass had dozed off and Stephanie was on the verge of doing the same, her eyes drifting closed as the end credits started playing on the screen. While he always initially protested TV nights with the two, Damian did enjoy spending time with his newfound family, and he did not want Stephanie to feel as though she had missed out on that time with him. He knew how happy it made each of his siblings when he elected to spend time with them.
Reaching over Cass’ lap, Damian grabbed the remote from Stephanie’s hand and paused the episode before it could get through the intro. Then he turned off the projector and stood. Rolling out his neck, he turned back to Cass and adjusted the blanket draped over her, then he made his way to his room and flopped onto his bed.
Despite the late-night Damian had had, he woke with the rising sun. He tried to go back to sleep but failed significantly. Titus was a massive lump at the end of his bed, and Alfred the cat was curled up next to the dog. Damian envied the ease with which the two had woken at his movements before proceeding to instantly fall back asleep.
He felt this ache in his rib cage, like he couldn’t fully get a breath down. It was something he often felt whenever he pulled too many later-than-usual nights.
This must be how Drake feels all the time
, he thought morosely. That would have to change. He did not like the feeling, and he definitely did not want to be comparing himself to Drake unless it was in regards to how much better he was at something.
As if his thoughts had summoned the devil himself, Drake came barging into his room and literally dragged him from his bed.
“Up you get, Little snot,” Drake said cheerfully. “The sun is up and it’s a bright day in Gotham. Well, as bright as it can even get in Gotham, but who cares. It’s time for today’s lesson in culturing the Heir to the kingdom of the Damned in Western culture.”
“That was a lot of words, Tim,” Richard said from the doorway. “I don’t think he understood half of what you said.”
“Tt. I understood everything he just said,” Damian retorted, yanking his arm from Drake’s grip. “And I will not go with you until I have gotten dressed and eaten breakfast. Now get out. Both of you.”
Richard raised his hands placatingly and backed out of the room. Drake, on the other hand, put his hands on his hips, a snarky reply likely about to leave his mouth.
“Get out, Drake,” Damian said. “Before I slit your throat and leave your corpse rotting in the hallway.”
“Fine, geez,” Drake relented. “I’m leaving, alright, you vicious, homicidal little punk. I’m leaving.”
True to his word, Drake left.
Damian would have taken his time getting ready, if he didn’t fear Drake barging back into his room and dragging him to the park without him having eaten breakfast. As it was, he dressed quickly, did his hair, and left his room in under five minutes—a feat in and of itself considering his hair still did not look the way he wanted it to. Just as he was exiting his room, he ran into Cass.
“Don’t forget about our plans today,”
she signed.
Right.
He had nearly forgotten about that. Cass had insisted weeks ago that she wanted to take him somewhere. He had agreed, then apparently promptly forgotten the date she had told him.
“Do not worry,”
he signed back.
“I will not let Drake keep me long.”
Cass smiled and, after a short hesitation, gave him a—somewhat—awkward pat on the shoulder before walking away. Damian followed after her.
The smell of freshly made bacon and sausage filled the air as Damian and Cass entered the dining room. Thomas and Richard were already seated at the table, Todd stood behind Thomas’ chair pointing at something on a piece of paper Damian assumed was a homework assignment. Richard pointed at something with his fork, his mouth full of food as he said something. Todd gave him a disdainful look. Then he said something in reply and turned back to Thomas’ assignment. Dread coated Thomas’ expression as Todd and Richard bickered back and forth—likely about the answer to whatever question Thomas was stuck on.
Cass made her way to her seat and began piling food onto her plate. Beside her, Drake plopped into his chair, a half-eaten piece of toast in one hand.
As he walked over to his own seat, Damian cast a glance at the assignment Richard and Todd were attempting to assist Thomas with and said, “You are using the wrong equation. The answer is three times the square root of two.”
The trio turned their heads to look at him as he passed them.
“The hell you know that?” Todd asked, snatching a strawberry from Richard’s plate and popping it in his mouth. “You barely glanced at it.”
“No way.” Richard shook his head. “I’m sure it’s the right equation.”
Damian raised an eyebrow and recited the equation his teachers had drilled into him the moment he had been forced to attend school. Despite Father wanting him to go to school with kids his own age, he had relented to letting him take higher math classes—if only to stop him from failing the classes because he would not do the assignments out of spite. Due to that, Damian was taking the same level of math classes as Thomas. And he had already finished that very assignment in the first few minutes of study hall the day before.
Todd grunted and stole another strawberry from Richard’s plate—much to his brother’s dismay—before exiting the room. Richard protectively scooted his plate closer to himself.
While Thomas continued multitasking between his homework and his breakfast, Damian grabbed a few things from the spread on the table and started eating. Across from him, Drake eyed his progress like a hawk. Damian had no doubt that the moment he put the last bite of food in his mouth, Drake would be dragging him out of the Manor. With that in mind, Damian savored every bite he took, keenly aware that he was running out of time.
As he’d expected, the moment Damian swallowed his last bite, Drake was dragging him from his chair—shouting a farewell to their siblings and Alfred—toward the front door of the Manor. Drake shoved Damian out the door. He grabbed two skateboards from the front steps and led the way down the front steps.
Damian followed after him, a frown on his face. He did not know why Drake was in such a rush. When he asked as much, the only answer he got was, “We gotta get there before too many people show up.”
Rolling his eyes, Damian held back any further questions or protests. Out of anything else Drake had suggested for his part in what Richard had dubbed Damian’s
mandatory sibling time
, skateboarding was the only acceptable option. If he had been offered a choice, however, Damian would have rather not been forced to spend the first couple hours of one Saturday a month with Drake. But Richard had not given him a choice. Hence the term
mandatory.
By the time they arrived at the skate park of Drake’s choice—having passed at least two others on their way—the sun was high in the sky. Not that Damian could tell seeing as Gotham’s ever-present clouds blocked out any sunlight.
The park Drake had dragged him to was, for the most part, deserted. There were a couple of teenagers hanging around, but aside from that it was empty. Drake led him across the street to the park and set down his skateboard. Damian did the same with the skateboard Drake had shoved into his hands on their way out of the Manor. Todd had, reluctantly, agreed to drive the two of them into the city, grumbling under his breath about having to borrow one of Father’s cars rather than ride his bike. Drake managed to squeeze out a promise for a ride back to the Manor before Todd had sped off to do whatever it was he did during the day.
Stepping onto his skateboard, Drake picked up where he had left off on their last outing, showing Damian a few tricks before gesturing for him to try them out. Damian followed his lead. It was more difficult than he wanted to admit. There were more than a few occasions when he fell. His hands and arms were covered in scrapes and bruises in a matter of minutes, and his pants already had a tear in one knee. But despite this, he was having fun. He even, begrudgingly, admitted this to Drake, who, upon hearing this, had tackled him with a hug. Damian had immediately regretted saying anything as Drake strangled him.
Drake had been correct about their timing because after about an hour the skate park was soon swarming with kids. The two of them tried their best to avoid them.
After a particularly bad fall, Drake sat on the ground panting. His hand was covering a cut on his leg that was bleeding more than it should have. Damian made his way over to him.
Lifting his hand to inspect the wound, Drake chuckled and said, “Guess this means we’ll have to cut our fun short.”
Damian barely caught a glimpse of the injury before Drake was applying pressure again. Drake pushed himself to his feet, letting out a soft grunt as he did so.
“I’m going to give Jason a call. Would you grab my skateboard for me?” Drake said, limping over to a bench.
Rolling his eyes, Damian agreed and walked over to Drake’s abandoned skateboard. Someone else beat him to it, though. Damian came to a halt a few feet away. He recognized the boy, having run into him at school on more than one occasion.
Watching Damian approach, the boy smirked and turned to one of the other two boys at his side, saying, “Look who it is, Kyle. It’s Damian Wayne.”
The other boy, Kyle, snickered.
Turning to Damian, the first boy said, “Come to get your skateboard, sand rat?”
“Not mine,” Damian said, ignoring the insult the boy had thrown his way and indicating to Drake behind him. “My brother’s.”
Looking over his shoulder, the boy glanced at Drake, who was clearly arguing with Todd over the phone about getting a ride back to the Manor.
Shifting his gaze back to Damian, the boy sneered at him and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Drake walking—limping over.
“You get lost looking for my skateboard, gremlin?” Drake asked as he approached. Looking between Damian and the other boys, Drake narrowed his eyes and added, “Everything okay?”
Damian jerked his chin at the skateboard in the first boy’s hands. “Everything is fine. He has your skateboard.”
The sneer that had been on the first boy’s face before had quickly transformed into a genuine-looking smile as he held out Drake’s skateboard and said, “This yours? Sorry, thought it was mine for a second.”
Drake eyed the boy warily as he accepted the skateboard from him and glanced at Damian, who had already turned and started walking away. Hurrying to catch up to him, Drake slowed as he reached Damian, matching his pace.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
Drake looked like he wanted to press him on it, but was interrupted by the screeching of tires as Todd pulled up in front of them.
Damian climbed in the back, pulling his earbuds from his pocket and putting them in before Drake could try and start up a conversation.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Upon returning to the Manor, Damian had barely taken one step inside when Cass was dragging him out the door again. She brought him to where Alfred was waiting beside the limo and all but shoved him into the car. Damian protested to no avail. He wanted to at least change into clean clothes before Cass dragged him on this mystery outing—she had refused to tell him what they would be doing.
Cass climbed in after him. Shoving his earbuds back into his pocket, Damian tried once again to ask her where they were going.
“That would ruin the surprise,” she replied.
Crossing his arms, Damian turned his head and looked out the window. He completely ignored the excited tremors rolling off Cass in waves. She rarely got this excited about anything, though so he didn't push her on it.
Damian watched the scenery rush by. After a while, Alfred slowed and came to a stop outside the mall. Turning to Cass, Damian raised an eyebrow. She was taking him shopping? In return, Cass smiled at him and climbed out of the car when Alfred opened the door for her. As he climbed out after her, Damian watched Alfred hand her one of Father’s credit cards.
Accepting the card, Cass latched her hand around Damian’s wrist and pulled him with her as she walked toward the entrance. She waved farewell to Alfred just before entering the building. Damian tried to pry his wrist free of her hand. Her grip was vise-like, though, and he eventually gave in and allowed her to drag him past store after store until she came to a stop.
Lifting his head, Damian eyed the name of the store.
Shifting his gaze to Cass, he said, “Build-a-bear? What is this place?”
Cass smiled coyly at him and pulled him into the store. Damian scanned his surroundings. The shop was filled with stuffed animals, mostly bears—no surprise there. It was, for all intents and purposes, a children’s store. Releasing her grip on his wrist, Cass walked over to a line of bins to their right and started looking through them. Damian hesitantly followed after her.
Above each bin was a different stuffed bear. Peeking into one of the bins, Damian lifted a scrap of fabric, coming to the conclusion that Cass had taken him to a hobo store—he wasn’t quite sure what a hobo was, but he had heard Todd use it often enough to get the gist. As he inspected the scrap of fabric, however, Damian realized that the patterns matched that of the stuffed bear on the shelf above the bin. Scanning the shop again, Damian’s eyes stopped on a machine filled with cotton. Then it clicked,
build
-a-bear. He was supposed to choose a bear, then fill it with cotton, and finally—having made note of the tiny outfits in the back of the store—pick out an outfit for his bear.
Setting the cottonless bear back in its bin, Damian scanned the shelves above the bins with renewed interest. Cass walked back over to him, having picked a bear for herself, and watched in earnest as he moved down the line of bins. She said nothing as he looked. Then he spotted the one he wanted. Picking up one of the empty bears from the bin, he turned to face Cass, who was grinning ecstatically.
Damian returned the smile with one of his own, his, however, being more restrained, and followed her over to the cotton machine. The worker at the machine told them to pick a heart for their bears before he put in the cotton. Next to the machine was a glass bowl of small stuffed hearts. Cass grabbed one for herself, leaving Damian to grab one for his bear. The tiny cotton-filled heart was barely bigger than a quarter.
With their hearts picked out, Damian and Cass handed them to the worker, who in turn put them in their bears before filling them the rest of the way with cotton from the machine. Once their bears were stuffed, the worker tied closed the hole in the bears’ backs and handed them back to Damian and Cass.
Cass looked approvingly at the black bear Damian had chosen, the pads of its feet and insides of its ears a bright yellow. Her own bear was a dark brown color with a darker shade of brown for the pads of its feet and insides of its ears.
“I like it,” she said, nodding to his bear. “Very, Damian.”
Damian nodded, his eyes returning to his bear, which he then proceeded to hug close to his chest as he said, “I like yours too.”
Having finished building their bears, Cass led Damian to the rows of outfits near the back of the store.
It took Damian a matter of seconds to decide on an outfit for his bear. After which he searched the aisles for Cass, and once he found her, they walked over to the computers where they would officially name and adopt their bears.
Seeing the outfit Damian had picked for his bear, Cass giggled and said, “Very fitting.”
Damian turned to look at her, having just finished “adopting” his bear, whom he named Bruce. A
very
fitting name, considering the Batman outfit he had picked. Cass laughed softly as she read the name off the adoption certificate that had just printed out.
“Dick will like this,” she said. Then looking up at him, added, “So will Bruce.”
Ducking his chin, Damian cleared his throat. After a moment, he looked up as Cass showed him the name she had given her bear; Robin. Damian smiled at her as she picked up the Robin outfit she had picked for her bear. Picking up Bruce and the Batman outfit, Damian followed her over to the counter where she paid for their things.
The worker asked if they would like to put the outfits on their bears now, to which Cass nodded enthusiastically.
Walking out of the store with their bears safely tucked inside the cardboard “houses” the worker had put them in
“for their ride home”
, Damian followed Cass back to the entrance of the mall.
“Was that… fun?” Cass asked him as they waited on the sidewalk for Alfred to pick them up. Her fingers fidgeted nervously as she waited for him to reply.
“Yes,” Damian replied. “That was fun.”
Cass’ face lit up at his response. She looked like she wanted to hug him, but refrained from doing so. Instead, she patted his head affectionately.
Damian restrained himself from swatting her hand away.
This family and their insistence on ruining my hair
. He had enjoyed the time with her. Even though stuffed animals were for children.
“Do not tell anyone I said this,” Damian said, remembering what Richard had been trying to drill into him for months, as Alfred pulled up in the limo. “But, thank you.”
Cass practically skipped up the steps of the Manor upon their return, eager to show off her new bear. Damian trailed after her, albeit at a much calmer pace. He, too, was eager to show Father his bear, if a bit nervous as well.
Father was in his study when Damian found him, Cass already there showing her bear to him, a proud smile on his lips. His gaze shifted to Damian as he entered the room. Damian paused in the doorway. He waited for Cass to finish signing excitedly to Father before walking in further.
As he approached, Cass turned to him and, forgoing the restraint she had had earlier, gave him a tight hug before rushing from the room to show Richard. Alone with his father, Damian hesitantly pulled his bear from the cardboard house and held it up.
“What’s his name?” Father asked, chuckling.
Damian fought the blush that started spreading across his cheeks as he mumbled, “Bruce.”
Patting his shoulder, Father said, “Bruce is adorable, chum.”
“Thank you, Father.” Damian pulled Bruce, the bear, in close and hugged him tight.
With that, Damian turned and left the study, leaving his father to whatever he was doing before the interruption.
As he walked out, intent on returning to his room for a well-deserved nap after the later-than-usual night he’d had, he passed Drake saying something to a frowning Todd. The pair cast a glance at Damian, who ignored them, then went back to their conversation.
Damian shot a look at them over his shoulder but shrugged and continued on his way to his room.
Closing his door behind him, Damian hopped onto his bed and closed his eyes, grateful for having finished his homework assignments in study hall.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The weekend passed quickly, and soon Damian was back at school on a typical gloomy Monday. Todd and Drake had spent an unusual amount of time together. Enough so that Richard had commented on it at Sunday night dinner. Drake had redirected the conversation, but not before giving Richard a look that said he’d explain later. Damian had rolled his eyes and continued eating.
Walking down the halls with his earbuds playing one of Richard’s songs—one of the only ones that was half-way decent—Damian brushed past his classmates and made his way outside for lunch. As he walked toward his usual lunch spot, he was stopped by the boy from the skate park and the two goons he called friends. Pulling out his earbuds, Damian eyed the group.
“Hey, there brownie,” the boy said. Damian had finally remembered his name, Neal Hammond. According to Drake, his father owned some big oil company that dug somewhere in Afghanistan. “We didn’t get ‘ta finish our conversation the other day.”
“I do not know what you mean,” Damian replied. “It seemed over to me.”
Neal narrowed his eyes and took a step closer. “Then you’d be wrong.”
Damian saw the punch coming, but did nothing to stop it as Neal’s fist connected with his face. Pain splintered down his cheek. It was nothing Damian hadn’t felt before. From Mother or Grandfather, or from any number of criminals he fought on a nightly basis. But despite that, the sensation of pain was still there. He could feel his eye starting to swell and knew immediately that it would become a black eye. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he fought the urge to fight back.
Father had scolded him the last time he had gotten into a fight at school. Had said it could reveal his identity as Robin. His father had been right, but it took everything in him not to grab the boy’s wrist, flip him over his back, and slam him onto the ground. Instead, Damian took the punch, stumbling back a step.
After Damian’s first fight at school, Richard had told him to try and avoid any future situations that might lead to him getting into another fight. Unfortunately, Damian was not very good at that.
This was not the first time since then that Damian had been confronted by a classmate. It was not his first time hearing the insults about his heritage either. But he did not want to get another lecture from Father, so, despite every instinct he had to do the opposite, he did not fight back. He did not have to this time anyway.
As Neal prepared for another hit, someone behind him grabbed his wrist.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Red Hood growled.
All the blood in Neal’s and his friends’ faces drained at the warning in his voice. Todd towered over them as he released Neal’s wrist and the trio turned to face him. Each of the three boys looked like they were one second away from wetting their pants.
Red Hood crossed his arms, and said, “You have five seconds to get out of my sight and never do anything like this again.”
“Tt.” Damian glared at Todd. He didn’t need him fighting his battles for him.
“Best do what he says,” a voice chimed in from above Red Hood. Shifting his attention, Damian clenched his jaw when he saw Nightwing sitting on his favorite branch. “I don’t know if I’m fast enough to stop him from shooting you.”
That comment had the three boys scrambling to get away.
Todd chuckled as he watched them sprinting toward the cafeteria entrance. Hopping down from his place in the tree, Richard joined Todd in his laughter.
Turning to his brother, Todd asked, “Did you really have to suggest that I’d shoot them? I thought I was doing fine on my own.”
Richard shrugged. “It was worth it.”
“What are you two doing here?” Damian asked, interrupting their conversation.
As one, the two men dropped their smiles—at least Damian assumed Todd had been smiling, he couldn’t tell behind his mask—and turned to him. Nightwing frowned and moved closer to him, squatting in front of him so he could inspect his eye. Damian remained frozen in place as his brother tenderly touched the already bruised skin around his eye where Neal had punched him.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were being bullied?” Richard asked at last.
Damian rolled his eyes. “It was nothing. How did you even know?”
Todd raised an eyebrow. “Tim overheard what that kid called you at the skate park. Did you really think he wouldn’t tell someone?”
Crossing his arms, Damian scowled. The action caused his bruise to smart, but he ignored it. “I can handle myself.”
“Clearly,” Todd said.
Richard shot him a look over his shoulder. “Not helping, Hood.”
Todd rolled his eyes.
Turning back to Damian, Richard said, “Why didn’t you fight back, Dami?”
“You and Father told me not to.”
His lips forming a line, Richard’s eyes softened behind his mask. “We didn’t mean for you to do nothing. B just wants to make sure your identity is safe.”
Damian turned his head away. In his peripheral vision, he could see some of his classmates with their phones out and pointed in their direction.
“You should go,” he told his brothers. “I know my way to the nurse’s office.”
With that, he left his brothers standing there and headed inside the school. A few of his classmates tried talking to him, but he ignored them and put his earbuds in. Despite not liking it, he found comfort in Todd and Richard’s music as he walked to the nurse’s office and asked for an icepack.
He knew he was due for a lecture as soon as he got back to the Manor after school. Whether it came from Richard or Father, it didn’t matter. Damian knew he had messed up, again. It didn’t make sense though. He thought he’d done what they asked. So why had Richard looked so disappointed?
Drake was going to get his ass kicked for telling Todd and Richard about Neal, Damian decided as he left the nurse’s office, icepack pressed firmly against his eye. He did not need his brothers fighting his battles.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The lecture Damian had expected did not come when he returned to the Manor after school. Nor did it come the next day. Or the day after that.
His classmates openly stared at him in the hallways after Todd and Richard had “saved him from Neal”. Damian made an art of ignoring and avoiding as many of them as he could, with his earbuds in at any given moment. It wasn’t unlike any other day, actually, with the exception of the other students’ attention. Most of them looked at him with awe, but a few of them looked at him in fear. Likely fear that if they upset him, they would have Nightwing and Red Hood to deal with.
While Damian had managed to avoid receiving any form of lecture from either Father or Richard, he had overheard Father loudly lecturing Richard and Todd for the stunt they’d pulled. Todd had instantly blamed Drake, who had been pulled into Father’s study to receive a lecture of his own. Cass and Steph had eavesdropped on both of them.
As punishment for their little day trip, Todd and Richard were benched from patrol for the rest of the week. Drake only received a verbal warning for his part in it. Damian had been so worried about receiving his own lecture that he had steered clear of Father’s study over the past couple of days. As such, he had heard nothing of the actual lectures his brothers had gotten. Stephanie had offered to summarize it for him, but he had declined, instead heading toward his room to work on his homework assignments before patrol—which Father was, thankfully, still letting him go on despite his minor injury.
It was a surprisingly clear day on Thursday when Damian and the rest of his classmates in his social studies class got onto the worn-down school bus for the field trip. Father had signed off on the trip two weeks prior. Damian was not particularly looking forward to it, seeing as he could visit Wayne Enterprises anytime he wished with Father, but he had no other choice.
Damian filed onto the bus after his classmates, others lining up behind him, and made his way to the back of the bus. Claiming a seat, he pulled out his earbuds and put them in. Much to his displeasure, the seat next to him was soon taken. He was relieved to realize that the brown-haired girl who had taken the seat immediately pulled a book out of her bag and buried her nose in it. The book was much larger than Damian would have expected someone his age to have been reading, but he didn’t judge her on it. He was just relieved it was the bookworm who decided to sit next to him and not the overtly chatty girl with freckles and wireframe glasses.
His relief was short-lived, however, when book-girl paused her reading and tapped him on the shoulder.
Pushing aside his annoyance, Damian pulled out one of his earbuds and turned to her asking, “What?”
Book-girl froze, her nervousness written all over her face. Then she took a deep breath and asked, “What are you listening to?”
Damian blinked. Then he turned on his phone and showed it to her.
“My brothers made me a playlist of their favorite songs,” he said.
The girl shifted her brown eyes from his phone and met his eyes. “Are they any good? The songs, I mean.”
Damian snorted. “Not particularly.” He paused, then asked, “Would you like to listen?”
A blush spread across the girl’s face, but she nodded and accepted the offered earbud.
“I’m Astra,” the girl said, closing her book.
“Damian,” he replied.
She smiled at him. “Nice to meet you, Damian.”
Damian returned her smile, and they fell into a comfortable silence, listening to Richard and Todd’s appalling taste in music, as the bus continued on its way to Wayne Enterprises.
Astra and Damian stuck close together as the students filed off the bus and followed their teacher through the front doors of Wayne Enterprises. The large group was met in the lobby by Lucius Fox who greeted them and gestured to someone at his side who would be leading them on the tour. At the back of the group, Damian was unable to see who it was at first, but as the kids in front of him shifted, he caught a glimpse and had to resist the urge to groan as he saw Drake introduce himself to the students.
Catching the look on his face, Astra leaned over to him and tentatively asked, “Are you okay?”
Damian nodded. “That is my brother.”
Astra’s eyes widened. Then she turned and stood on the tips of her toes trying to get a better look.
Turning back to Damian she said, “Tim Drake is your brother?”
“He is adopted.”
Astra smiled. “I see. We’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t see you then.” She paused, looking down at her hands which were fidgeting again. “If that’s what you want, I mean. I just thought since you looked—I don’t know—”
Damian cut off her rambling. “It does not matter. We are here for a field trip. We should try to enjoy it.”
Looking up again, Astra met his eyes and smiled again.
“Thanks, Damian. You always seem to know what to say.”
The two of them followed the rest of their classmates as Drake led them on the tour of the building. Drake offered facts about the company and answered the many questions coming from the students—most of which were irrelevant to anything he was saying. Many of the students simply asked about him and his brothers. Their teacher tried her best to keep them on track, but was not doing a very good job at it.
“Are you single?” one girl asked, the one Damian had been grateful to not have sit by him on the bus. The teacher, Mrs. Valdez, gasped at the question, a scolding on her lips as the girl continued, “‘Cause my older sister would definitely go out with you if you are.”
“Gwen!” Mrs. Valdez exclaimed. Then to Drake, she said, “I am so sorry—”
Drake held up his hand, stopping Mrs. Valdez from continuing. He seemed to be fighting back a laugh as he addressed Gwen and said, “I’m sure your sister is a very pretty girl, and I appreciate you advocating for her, but I am not looking for anyone to date.”
Damian snorted. This drew Drake’s attention, and upon meeting his eyes, he sent Damian a warning look before continuing where he left off on the tour.
“What was that about?” Astra leaned in and asked as Drake let the first half of the group, including Mrs. Valdez, into one of the elevators before leading the second half of the group into a second elevator.
“It is nothing,” Damian replied.
“Oh, okay.”
Later in the day, after Damian had returned to the Manor, he had just closed his bedroom door behind him when a soft knock sounded on it.
“Come in,” he said, dropping his backpack at the end of his bed.
Turning around, he watched as his father opened the door and asked, “Hey there, chum. Can we talk?”
Nodding, Damian sat on the edge of his bed. Closing the door behind him, Father sat next to him.
They were both silent for a few moments. Damian was about to ask what his father wanted to talk about when he beat him to it, “I wanted to talk to you about what happened the other day at school. About the fight.”
Damian tensed. He knew it had been coming. Father was going to bench him just as he had Todd and Richard.
Sensing his concern, his father hurried to say, “You’re not in trouble, Damian. This isn’t a lecture. And I’m not going to bench you from patrol.”
“Then why are you here?” Damian asked, forcing himself to relax.
Father sighed. He seemed to be contemplating the best way to approach the subject.
After another minute of silence, he finally said, “When you got into your first fight, I got upset with you.”
Damian snorted.
“Okay, maybe a little more than upset,” Father amended. “But I was just worried about you. Dick went through the same thing when he was your age. Granted, he got into way more fights than you do and I had to repeatedly remind him of why he couldn’t do that. Jason and Tim never had as much of a problem with it—Tim especially.” Father paused, collecting himself. “I’m getting off track. What I’m trying to say is, when I told you not to get into fights, I didn’t mean don’t defend yourself. You can still defend yourself from a bully without having to take the punches.”
Father turned and met Damian’s eyes.
“How am I supposed to fight back without revealing my identity?” Damian asked, confused by what his father was trying to tell him.
“Fighting back and defending yourself are two completely different things, Damian,” Father told him. “You can block attacks without throwing a punch of your own, remember.”
Damian lowered his head. “I suppose.”
A gentle hand on Damian’s shoulder had him looking up and meeting his father’s gaze again.
“You don’t have to face them on your own, either,” Father said. “Part of being a family is looking out for each other. As reckless as their actions were, Jason, Tim, and Dick did what they thought was right. They looked out for their little brother. Don’t get mad at them for having your back.”
“Okay.” Damian reluctantly leaned into Father’s side as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
“If you have any more problems with bullies, don’t hesitate to ask one of us for help. We’re family, we’ll always be there if you need us.” Patting Damian on the shoulder, Father released him and stood. Pausing at the door, he added, “One more thing, the trip to Hong Kong is in a week, right after the end of the school year. I’ll brief you and Tim on the mission in a few days.”