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huilian · 3 years

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for Damian Wayne Week 2021, day 5, prompt: ‘Mother and Son’ and ‘Brother’

Dick watches as Talia scours every inch of their cell. She has been doing that for almost three hours, now. Dick stopped way back at hour one. He knows why they’re here, knows exactly why it’s the two of them in this cell. Ra’s will get his way, whether they like it or not.

It brings back memories, to be honest. This is just like the first time he met Talia, except this time, instead of testing Bruce, Ra’s is testing Damian.

“Talia,” he finally says, “sit down. You know you’re not going anywhere.”

She scoffs. “Maybe you were raised to give up, Richard, but I was not. I will find a way out of here, and when I do, my father will have many things to answer to.”

Dick sighs. He doesn’t want to do this either, but he knows that even if they manage to get out, Ra’s will just try again. He’s like a cockroach, unable to be killed. Eventually, he will get what he wants, and this time, what he wants is to test Damian.

“And what are you going to do once you’re out?” Dick asks, trying to appeal to Talia’s logical side. “You know he’s just going to do it all over again. This time, it’s just a kidnapping. What if next time it’s worse? Do you want to do that to Damian? Better to just get it over with.”

Talia looks at him with venom in her eyes. He knows that it’s because she knows that he is right, and she is pissed about it.

“Fine,” she spits out. “But only because of Damian.”

She walks around the cell one more time, and then chooses the spot that is farthest away from Dick to sit down.

They spend several minutes that way, each lost in their own thoughts. Dick wonders what Talia is thinking about. He knows what he is thinking: the last time he saw Talia. The image of the Heretic, standing over Damian’s body with a bloody sword, swirls in his mind. He will never be able to forget it, no matter how many times he has hugged his little brother to convince himself that Damian is here, breathing and alive.

Finally, because he has always wanted to ask this to Talia, and because there is no better time and place than right now, with just the two of them in this cell and no lethal weapons between them, Dick says, “Why did you kill him, Talia?”

She turns her head towards him in an instant. He sees her eyes narrow, but Dick stands his ground. He needs to know this, because Damian may have accepted the fact that his mother sent out bounties for his head, may have accepted the fact that his mother sent a clone of himself to kill him, but Dick hasn’t.

“I didn’t kill him,” she snaps at him, but Dick doesn’t want her semantics.

“You sent a clone of him to kill him, Talia,” he snaps back. “You killed him.”

“I didn’t kill him!” she shouts. Dick watches as she takes in a few breaths, and then she whispers, “I didn’t mean to kill him.

“He… He wasn’t meant to kill Damian. He was supposed to follow orders, he was supposed to follow my orders,” she continues. “But then he…” She closes her eyes, placing her head back on the walls of the cells. “He was supposed to follow orders,” she finishes.

“The Heretic?” Dick asks.

Talia nods.

Suddenly, Dick understands. He knows about the Heretic, knows about Talia’s plans to create a perfect child, a child who would follow her every order. He also knows the lengths of what Talia would do to achieve that.

“He’s a human being too, Talia,” he finally says.

She sighs. “Yes. Yes, he was.”

They sit in silence again for a while, but the previous conversation only gave Dick more questions than answers. “I still don’t understand,” he tries again. “Even… even discounting what you did with Leviathan, you still hurt him. You said the Heretic was supposed to follow orders. Damian was too, wasn’t he?”

Damian, forcing himself to go on patrol even when he’s almost delirious from a fever. Damian, forcing himself not to flinch when he think he has done something wrong, because he knew that flinching would earn him an even worse punishment. Damian, not comprehending the fact that someone could love him just for who he is, and not for what he could do.

Dick doesn’t wait for an answer. He continues on. “I don’t understand how you can do that to a child, any child, much less your own.”

Talia looks back at him. “Do you think it’s easy being the daughter of the Demon?” she growls. “Life in the League is hard. Being a relative to the Demon’s Head is even harder.”

Dick frowns. That’s not the explanation he wanted— nothing would ever be an explanation he wanted, because he could not comprehend doing that to Damian— but it’s something. Something to build on.

“Is that why you do all of that?”

“I…” Talia sighs. She looks around the cell they’re in, and then seems to decide something. The tension in her body disappears, and she almost looks like she is melting into the wall behind her. “I bore him, you know,” she says. “I told him he was made in an artificial womb, but the only artificial thing about it is that it has been made and remade, again and again, with the Lazarus. Nine months, and more.” She smiles. “Even as a baby in the womb, he wants to have his way.”

Dick finds himself smiling back. He doesn’t know why Talia is talking about this, what purpose this conversation will have, but he senses that Talia is, for once, being honest about Damian with him. And he would never say no to baby stories of Damian.

“That does sound like Damian,” Dick says. “What did he do?”

“The average length of a pregnancy is thirty-nine weeks. He was with me for forty-two weeks. The doctor was about to induce labour when my water suddenly broke.”

“Not about to let anyone tell him what to do, huh?”

“That’s Damian,” Talia says, the smile on her face softer than anything Dick has seen before.

“Why did you tell him he was made in the artificial womb?” Dick prods.

She pauses, and, in an uncharacteristic display of honesty, says, “To stop his sentiment on me.”

“What?”

“Tell me, Richard. What has sentiment ever done for me?” She shakes her head. “Nothing but pain. I thought…”

“You could spare him that pain,” Dick finishes. “Didn’t work, huh?”

Talia goes back to looking at him with venom in her eyes. This time, however, the venom is of a different kind. It’s the kind of venoms that mothers will willingly spit out for their children, even as it hurts themselves.

“Obviously,” she says, in a way that is so reminiscent of Damian. It’s clear where Damian got those traits.

Dick waits for Talia to keep talking, but she is like Damian in this way too. Or, perhaps, more accurately, Damian is like her in this way. They both realize that they have said far too much, and stops. Thankfully, Dick is well-practiced in the art of coaxing answers out of Damian.

“You love him, don’t you?” he asks.

Talia bites her lips, war clear in her eyes. Or perhaps only clear for someone who has seen that exact same look in her son’s eyes far too many times. Finally, she spits out, “What do you think? His blood is my blood and his bones are my bones.”

Dick takes that in, and then says, “I think that I have never understood you, Talia. You say you love him, but then you control his body. But then you put a bounty on his head. And even if you said you didn’t mean for him to die, you still put him in that situation. How am I supposed to believe you love him when you did all of that?”

“I…” Talia sighs. “I might as well go all in and answer that. I’ve said far too much already.” She shakes her head. “But, a trade, if you will, Richard? A question for a question. An answer for an answer.”

Dick thinks about it for a moment, and then shrugs. What’s the worst that could happen? “Sure.”

“I did that out of… jealousy,” she says. “Or rage. Or madness. I don’t know. Or maybe I’m tired of being used by someone I cared about and wanted to see what it’s like to use someone. And Damian… Damian is the only one who can be my target.

“Or maybe I just want to have Damian for myself. To not have to share my son with someone else. Because,” she looks him straight in the eye, “if you recall, Richard, by then Damian was no longer only mine, and will never be only mine again.

“Selfishness, then.” She closes her eyes, and breathes out. “For twenty months, I am all that he knows, for even Ra’s al Ghul wishes to do nothing with an infant. For twenty short months, and that’s including his gestation, I am his whole world. But then I have to share him with my father, with the League, and with his father, eventually.

“Why do you think I didn’t tell him about his father until much later? I didn’t want to share him. But share him I did, and that made me…. bitter.”

Dick blinks. He wasn’t expecting that answer. It made Talia seemed… human.

Of course he knows that Talia is human, but in Dick’s mind, Talia is always something else. Something other. Lazarus pits and Leagues of Assassins and forgotten myths from centuries ago.

He should have known better. She is as human as he is, and right now, she sounds like any other mother, who wants to keep their child to themselves.

“So I guess,” she continues, “the answer to your question is, I took his body because I want to feel what it’s like to use instead of be used. And I… I killed him because I’ve had to share him with others. The Heretic was also mine, you know. So were the Sons. I convinced myself that I didn’t need, didn’t want Damian anymore because I have them already.

“But I was wrong. Damian is my son, and that will never change.”

“Do you regret it?” Dick can’t help but ask.

“Regret it?” she looks at him incredously. “I will spend the rest of my days asking myself why I did that. I will spend the rest of my days being thankful for Damian’s forgiveness.”

Dick has nothing to say to that. Talia doesn’t either, it seems, because she is silent for a while, before she visibly collected herself.

“That’s enough from me for now,” she says, mask firmly back on. “You owe me two answers, Richard.”

“Two?” Dick asks.

“You asked two questions, did you not?” she raises her eyebrows.

Dick sighs. He should have known. “Alright,” he sighs. “Ask away, Talia.”

She is silent for a while. “What did you do,” she finally says, “that makes Damian love you so?”

Dick blows out a breath. He really should have known. Talia isn’t going to skimp on the questions. He knows how she thinks. She didn’t expect to be giving out so much information, but now that she did, she’s going to make the most out of it and grill him for as much information as she gave out.

“Asking difficult questions, huh, Talia?” he asks, more to give himself time to think than actually asking.

“You are the one who started it, Richard,” she replies back. “Now answer the question.”

Dick tries to gather his thoughts, but eventually, he says, “I… I guess it’s because… it was just the two of us. That time when Bruce was gone. Everyone else left and…” He wants to say that he cannot in good conscience let Damian go back to her, but that doesn’t seem like a good thing to say right now. He does have some tack.

“And it was just the two of us,” Dick repeats. He looks back at her, and remembers that she gave him an honest answer, or as honest as she could manage, and decides that he will too. “I didn’t give up on him. He kept expecting me to send him away, but… But I need him to be there, too.” Dick laughs a little, because if you told him, back when he was still wearing the cowl and shouldering the weight of the legacy Bruce left him, that he needed Damian there, he would have scoffed. But he knows better, now.

“I need him there with me, because if it was just me, alone, I don’t think we would be having this conversation, Talia,” Dick says with a small smile. “So I didn’t give up on him, and he didn’t give up on me, and we came out together.”

“And that made him love you?” she asks with a frown on her face.

“That made us love each other,” Dick answers.

“Ah,” she says, but Dick can see the frown deepening on her face. He considers explaining to her, but ultimately decides not to. She needs to figure this out on her own.

Besides, she would not appreciate it if she think he’s condescending her.

“Your second question?” Dick prods. He’s half-tempted to consider that her last question as the second question in this ‘game’ that they’re playing, but even he’s not that cruel.

Talia opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, the door to their cell opens.

“Mother!” Damian shouts. “Grayson!” he shouts again, almost running towards Dick.

Dick is already standing up before his little brother even steps foot inside the cell. He opens his arms and Damian crashes into them, pushing the air out of Dick’s lungs.

Then, almost as quickly as it happened, Damian releases himself from the hug. He looks over towards Talia, as if remembering that she is also here, and composes himself.

“It is good to see you well, Mother,” Damian says.

“It is good to see you well also, my son,” Talia replies.

They look at each other, but Dick has had enough of looking and of awkward silences. He scoops Damian back up his arms, and says, “Where’s everyone else?”

Because if Damian came here by himself, there will be hell to pay back home.

Damian seems to know that, because he turns to look at Dick, eyes wide even through the lenses of the domino mask. “They are outside,” he says.

Which means that Damian ditched them to come here on his own. Dick raises his eyebrows, which is retaliated by Damian’s scrunched up nose. “They are outside,” he says again, voice tinged with petulance.

Thankfully— and this shows just how much have changed between the two of them, that Dick can honestly be thankful for this— Talia is there. She crouches down in front of Damian, and says, slowly and clearly, “That was foolish.”

“I…” Damian tries, but with the two of them looking at him, he doesn’t have a chance. “Fine,” he grits out. “Fine.”

Which is good enough for Dick. For now, anyways. He doesn’t want to do this in front of Talia, no matter how much insight about her he has just gained. He shakes his little brother a bit, just to show that he’s teasing, and says, “Were you worried about us?”

“No,” Damian grumbles. “I was more worried about the fact that the two of you were left alone, unsupervised.”

Talia clicks her tongue, seemingly sharing Dick’s exasperation. She is just more vocal about it. For a moment, Dick thinks that she’s going to flick Damian’s ear, or bop his nose, but of course she doesn’t. After that one, single click, she goes straight back to business, and asks, “And what does my father wants you to do this time?”

Dick almost misses the woman she was, just a few minutes ago, when it was just the two of them, confessing something only the other one would understand. Almost. But then he snaps back, remembers that they are here for a reason, and tunes in to Damian’s answer.

“... another one of his cumbersome tests,” Damian finishes. Dick subconciously tightens his hold on Damian, thinking of all the things Ra’s al Ghul would want to test, before he deliberately lets go again. Damian would not appreciate Dick treating him like a child, especially in front of Talia.

“Hmm,” Talia hums, apparently thinking the same thing as Dick. She looks over Damian again, but, evidently finding nothing wrong with him, just taps him once in the cheek and says, “Be careful.”

“Yes, Mother,” Damian grumbles again. “Can we go, now? I believe more of Grandfather’s men is currently heading in this direction.”

“You go,” Talia says. “I have several things I need to discuss with your grandfather.”

“Mother,” Damian starts to protest, but Dick catches Talia’s eyes, and sees in them a shadow of the woman from before. She has business with Ra’s, alright, and it almost certainly involves Damian.

Dick nods at Talia. Whatever discussion she would have with her father, Dick wants Damian nowhere near it. And it’s clear that Talia doesn’t want her son near it too.

“Come on, Dami,” he says to Damian, who look between them as if he could not decide who he wants to follow. “Let’s go.”

“Go,” Talia tilts her head towards the door. “I will see you later, habibi.”

Still reluctant, but finally acquescing to the unspoken demand, Damian nods. Then, he walks to the door, half-pulling, half-hindering Dick with him. Dick takes charge, then, changing his grip of Damian so that he is the one leading.

But, as they walk out the door, Dick turns back, and he meets Talia’s eyes. She looks back, and in that one moment, the two of them understood each other perfectly.

#damianwayneweek #damianwayneweek2021 #dc #dick grayson #damian wayne #talia al ghul #lian writes

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badwolfcrown · 6 years

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one friendship/team up

#damian wayne #maya ducard #nobody #robin #batman #messy art #looks kinds different from my normal art #damianwayneweek #damianwayneweek17

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nightwing-stan-account · 3 years

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I’m doing Damian Wayne Week 2021!

Day 1 (6-13): Truth serum | Damian Wayne Protection Squad™ | Best friends to lovers

#damianwayneweek2021 #@damianwayneweek #damian wayne #batcow #titius #goliath #alfred pennyworth the cat #my art

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jinmukangwrites · 3 years

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@damianwayneweek 6 (6-18): Baby Damian | Family bonding | First crush

Warnings: none

Notes: Short, sweet, barely edited cuz it's 1am. Please enjoy some de-aged Damian and frazzled Dick. Yes I'm back on my Damian and Dick bullshit. I just love them so much.

-o-o-o-o-

Three days, according to Zatanna. The magic that hit Damian isn't permanent, and should wear off on its own within three days.

Dick already doesn't know what to do with himself. He was hardly prepared to take over and raise a ten year old, let alone a toddler.

But here he is, sitting in the manor living room watching as a small version of his already little brother toddles around on chubby baby legs. He can't be more than two. He can walk around on his own well enough—though Alfred did block off all of the stairs in the manor anyways—and every so often he'll point at something and say... Something that sounds like a demand.

Dick wasn't really ever good with understanding baby gibberish. It doesn't help that Damian seems to have reverted in memories as well... so the things he's demanding probably aren't in English as it's not his first language.

Damian wobbles up to Dick, holding out a toy train that Alfred dug out from the attic that used to belong to Bruce. Dick takes it and thanks him, but Damian pays him no mind and returns to his toys, babbling about something only he understands.

It's so weird seeing him like this. All small, chubby, soft, and bright eyed. Dick doesn't know everything Damian has gone through... growing up in the League... and as much as Dick dislikes Talia, he knows she was the best mom she could be to him. She's raised him to be a smart, strong young man, and taught him to be able to protect himself in his dangerous surroundings... and of course Dick has known Damian long enough to have gotten through his walls and see the wonderful boy underneath, but as he watches this toddler squeal as another toy train turns on and runs on its own...

He cannot help but mourn the child Damian could have been. Should have been if every child in the world had the privilege of growing up in a safe home and no worries besides homework.

He shakes his head. He cannot think like that. Whatever child Damian could have grown into if he hadn't been raised by the League is still in there. Just a bit harder to bring out. Dick can feel himself getting closer every day.

Damian notices him shaking his head and makes a curious ah sound. He walks over to Dick, lifting his arms, and Dick assumes he wants to be lifted. He smiles at the kid and grabs him under the armpits and lifts him into the air perhaps a bit quicker than what he was expecting. The kid screeches as Dick lifts him over head and let's go for just a moment to catch him and bring him back down to his face.

Damian scowls a familiar scowl and hits Dick on the nose with his stubby little fingers.

"Bah," he scolds, and a laugh bursts from Dick's throat.

Yup, Damian is still in there.

-o-o-o-o-

"I'm beginning to understand why B adopted all of us when we were already in elementary," Dick complains as baby Damian screams in his wooden high chair—yet another thing dug up from the attic that probably belonged to Bruce.

Alfred hands Dick a rag with a smirk. The thrown bowl of mac-and-cheese is all over Dick's shirt.

"Master Bruce always had a tenderness for infants," Alfred replies as he uses another rag to wipe off the still screaming and complaining Damian. "He always found joy in finding whatever excuse he could to hold and play with a baby. We used to go to a church when he was still a child himself, and there was a woman there without a husband who would always bring her infant. He would always offer to hold the child for her during the sessions to give her a break."

There's a twinkle in his eye when he looks over at Dick. "I imagine that if this had happened to you, or your other siblings, when he was still around, he would have loved every second of it. Food throwing, tantrums, and all."

Dick can't help but smile. He looks over at Damian who's now kicking his legs and waving his now clean hands in a fit. "Still, I wonder what's making him so mad."

"He might not like the taste," Alfred says, "or the texture. Perhaps some experimentation is due."

After some expiration and a lot of screaming through baby lungs that couldn't possibly hold that much air, they find that Damian really likes tomato soup, apple sauce, and broccoli.

-o-o-o-o-

"Master Dick," Alfred speaks up on the first evening while they were showing Damian Pooh's Heffalump Movie. Dick was relaxing and watching the movie, trying to remember if he's seen this one or not, while Damian was on the floor playing with an old kitten stuffed animal.

"Yeah?" Dick asks. He looks over at Alfred, only to see Alfred raise an eyebrow down at Damian. Dick follows his look, then his stomach drops when he finds that under the recently shopped for infant clothes, is a full looking diaper.

Dick looks back up at Alfred.

"Please, god, no."

Alfred drops a diaper, a bag of wipes, and a cloth into Dick's hands. "Good luck, sir."

-o-o-o-o-

Dick's about to lose his mind. He did everything Alfred told him to. He read a bedtime story—Where the Wild Things Are, as it was Dick's personal favorite as a child. He made sure his diaper was clean. He turned on some white noise. He even gave him Zitka. Yet, everything he did, Damian would scream and sob in his borrowed crib until Dick picked him up and started to sing the lullabies sung to him as a child. He sings the ones from his own native language, and even though there's no way Damian understands Romani, the kid calms down and reduces to exhausted little hiccups and almost seems to fall asleep with his little fingers curled in Dick's shirt.

And the second Dick puts him down, the crying rekindles.

Dick doesn't know what to do. Damian cries and cries until he's held and sung to, but Dick can't hold and sing to him all night. He paces Damian's room, bouncing the aforementioned kid-turned-infant in his arms, mumbling tunes to whatever lullaby decides to leave his lips.

Alfred told him he has permission to wake him up if he needed anything with Damian through the night, but Dick can't bring himself to. Alfred already works so hard during the day and night, keeping the manor in shape and making sure Dick doesn't get himself killed during patrol... He shouldn't have to be relied on to take care of a grumpy baby that won't go to sleep.

No, no Dick can handle this. Damian is calm when he's held and sung to, so that's what Dick will do. He walks to the cradle and pulls out Zitka, then goes to his own bedroom to sit on his bed and holds Damian close to his chest, singing and bouncing him gently.

Eventually, Damian goes completely still against his chest, snoring slightly, but Dick's too fearful to risk anything now. He stops singing though, resorting to simply holding Damian and trying to keep his own eyes open.

He fails, but he wakes up in the morning with Damian laying on his chest, still fast asleep and drooling all over his shirt.

Dick doesn't look a gift-horse in the mouth. He shifts into a better position, then allows them both to sleep in a little longer.

-o-o-o-o-

Alfred discovers the problem quickly when Dick tells him how hard it was to get Damian to sleep. Turns out, Damian's teething. By noon, Alfred had returned from the closest grocery store with a few tools to help with that. He puts a few water filled plastics into the fridge, then gives Damian one to chew on in the meantime. And chew on it, Damian does. He gets slobber everywhere, but at least he's no longer so upset, especially once a cold one is exchanged into his grubby little hands.

-o-o-o-o-

"That's absolutely adorable," Barbara says over the phone. Dick's just finished sending her a massive amount of pictures he's taken of Damian after taking him outside to play in the backyard with the dogs. He's sent her the pictures mostly because he needs people to see how cute Damian is while trying to tackle a dog twice the size of him... but also partly because he gets the feeling once Damian's back to his normal age, he will make sure all evidence of this is destroyed.

Barbara is someone Dick's sure can keep pictures hidden in a safe place... just in case Dick wants to see them again after lying to Damian he deleted them.

-o-o-o-o-

Dick's beginning to understand why people like babies. Like, they're cute, yes. The sounds they make are cute sometimes too. The things they find funny are usually very goofy and enjoyable to watch. Their laughs are contagious, and their babbles are enjoyable to try and decipher...

But nothing beats watching them sleep, curled up against your chest. Full trust in you that you'll keep them safe. It's nap time, and instead of trying to peel Damian off from him and put him in the crib, he's decided to just let the kid pass out in his arms and use the opportunity to take a nap himself.

Apparently it's bad to always let babies sleep with you, but Damian's not going to be this small forever. Might as well enjoy holding him like this in pure peace while he can.

-o-o-o-o-

It seems Zatanna was generous with her prediction, as he wakes up with his breath being knocked out of him. Damian, his rightful age and dressed in his full Robin uniform, scrambles off of Dick's chest. It's all knees and elbows, and Dick's left rubbing his ribs as Damian pats his body, as if making sure he's really a 10 year old boy and not an infant.

"Good to have you back," Dick grunts, rubbing his eyes and holding back a grin.

Damian whirls on him and points an accusing finger. "I don't remember what all happened," he hisses, "but you will delete any photos immediately."

Dick bursts into laughter, grabbing Damians pointed hand and tugging him into a proper hug. Damian squawks just a little, but relents when Dick squeezes him tighter than what he would to an infant. Yes. This feels right. Baby Damian was cute and cuddly, but he really missed the prickly attitude of this rascal.

"Okay," he says, releasing his charge. "I'll delete the photos, after we tell Alfred you're back and you've changed out of the suit."

Damian huffs and nods. "That was horrible."

"I don't know, I thought it was fun," Dick teases. Damian glares at him and Dick grins back.

Yeah, he missed his kid.

#damianwayneweek2021 #damian wayne #robin #dick grayson #Nightwing #dc comics #jin writes #fanfiction

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snackcraving · 3 years

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I think I'm late but here we go. @damianwayneweek

#damianwayneweek2021 #day 1 #truth serum #damian wayne #dc #doodle #art #robin #bat family

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preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years

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Hearts Painted on Skin

Written for @damianwayneweek's Day 4. I selected Soulmates for this. I've never written a soulmate AU before, so this was fun to explore. Thanks @audreycritter for the idea! She flooded me with ideas for this week and I am so thankful for them all.

Characters: Damian and Dick

Summary: Damian has a mark just under his collarbone in the shape of a feather. Mother has always told him it was a scar. He was mostly okay with that until he came to Gotham and saw more marks. Marks that could not possibly be scars. He is starting to wonder if she lied, and why.

AO3 Link

Damian looked in the mirror, his shirt in his hands, prepared to pull on. For what felt like the thousandth time, he paused to look at the little mark on his skin. It was a feather, unmistakably. Damian had held enough up to it for comparison, whenever he could get his hands on one.

“It is a scar.” Mother’s voice echoed in his head.

It was a statement she’d told him time and time again. Each moment he brought it up. Every moment he looked at a League member who had a darker patch on their cheek, or wrist. Whenever his eyes lingered on flowers and swirls and shapes painted on fingers, arms, feet, and one time an eyelid. She would lean down, her voice soft, promising, full of truth, hard as law, and whisper those four words. It. Is. A. Scar.

“But others have similar.” Damian had asked once.

“Of course they do, they are fighters as well.” she had told him.

Damian believed her. Why would she lie? What reason had she to speak falsely about such a thing?

And yet.

He dropped half of the shirt to run his fingers over it, it was smooth as the skin underneath. It was skin, just of a darker color. A warm chocolate to his tan. It was not raised, not pinched. Nothing about it was creased or seemed to be anything but natural. As if it had always been there.

“But I do not remember getting it.” he had said again, in response to her once.

“You received it when you were young. A baby.”

He had furrowed his brow. Who would harm a baby? Even in the League? Especially Talia’s child? She’d never told him.

Damian tugged his shirt on, covering the spot with soft cotton and a bright pattern of animal silhouettes that somehow did not look childish. He ran his hand over the fabric, again pausing by the not-scar. His eyes flit to his dresser. In the drawer rested a bottle of concealer, matched to his skin tone exactly. It was empty now, used up and he had yet to replace it.

Normally, Damian would cover his not-scar with it. Careful layers blended to hide the fact that anything blemished his skin. It was a dangerous mark. Made when he was a baby, and carrying a weight on it that Mother insisted would draw catastrophe to him if it were seen.

He had complained about the concealer once, hating the time it took to apply and how it made his skin feel itchy sometimes.

Mother had run her fingers through his hair, gentle and loving, “I know, dear, but it is not safe to bring attention to. If others learned of it--you would be in danger.” She had even gone so far as to insist Damian not tell Grandfather.

It was a dangerous secret so terrifying the leader of the League of Assassins could not know. One Damian had to protect him from. At least, that was what Damian had thought then. Now, he wondered if Mother was protecting him from Grandfather.

He tugged on his shirt, testing the collar, even stretched it hid his mark with ease. No one would see it today. Perhaps his new concealer would arrive soon. Pennyworth had approved the order, as something useful to help them hide their identities better. Bruises from patrol were hard to explain, especially when Richard was under scrutiny for caring for him.

A knock immediately preceded, “Damian? You ready?”

Damian turned and nodded at Richard, “Yes, I believe I am.”

He looked over his brother, searching his skin for anything like Damian’s own mark, but beyond real scars, Richard was unblemished.

His brother, and guardian, smiled at him, “Great, let’s go! It’s a beautiful day and I promised you some ducks.”

Damian allowed a smile, “Yes you did.”

They spent the day at one of Gotham’s parks. Richard said they were doing recon to determine if Wayne Enterprise should fund a beautification project, but Damian was well aware his brother was using this as a day of relaxation. He was taking the day off work, and Damian had been excused from classwork for the outing.

He’d intended to take the recon seriously, by marking down elements both in favor of, and against selecting this park as the location for beautification funds. And for a little while Damian had. Then he’d flipped to a blank page in his notebook and started sketching the scene ahead of them.

Beside him, Richard lounged on their picnic blanket, reading what looked to be a romance book, and picking at grapes Pennyworth had packed for them. Normally, Damian would take the opportunity to berate him for laziness, but they had faced a number of difficult patrols over the past few nights and Damian was inclined to let him have his break.

Richard consistently drilled into him the importance of caring for one’s body all the time, mentally and physically. Damian knew this day would make Batman safer in the field, and also--he was kind of enjoying the quiet time. It was new to him, learning to relax and feel safe outside of the very few places he’d had at the League, but he could see the appeal to it. It did help keep him sharp, and he was always better rested after.

So he focused on on relaxing. He sketched for a while, drawing the pond first, and the trees around it. Then flipping the page to work on his figure drawing. As he drew, Damian’s eyes caught on marks. On birthmarks, and scars, and tattoos. Most importantly, his eyes locked onto various not-scars. Which is what they had to be.

He doodled them on another sheet. Drawing each unique one. Even those that were similar in style usually had little differences. A star might have one arm longer than the other, while one was perfect.

The only time he saw two of them match perfectly were on a couple pushing a stroller. The couple had little numbers on the back of their hands, one on their left, the other on the right. Damian pressed his lips together. They could have been tattoos, many people had them, but Damian couldn’t help but wonder.

He had been wondering since he’d arrived in Gotham months ago. People here all had marks. They had marks and they showed them off. Confused, Damian had messaged his mother to ask her. She’d said they were scars, tattoos, birthmarks that were meaningless. They were the marks of a different type of people than Damian had been raised around.

Distance had a way of stripping his mother’s voice of it’s old comforting truth.

But he had been busy learning. There was so much to learn in Gotham that had nothing to do with the mark on his body. Damian had spent more time frustrated about rules, and fearing he’d be sent back to a place that felt less and less like home every day. More and more time learning to be a good Robin to his Batman, and learning to trust Richard.

The question of his mark was rarely on Damian’s mind, and mostly relegated to moments he was alone or like this.

He glanced over at Richard. The man was still immersed in his book and Damian’s question died on his lips. He flipped his book to a new page and focused back on the pond, specifically the ducks swimming around on it. He had, after all, been promised some ducks.

That night they returned to patrol. Damian almost suggested they take a break, but they’d been working a drug trafficking case over the course of the week and were close to wrapping it up. If all went well during this patrol then they could rest. Damian would insist upon it if Richard did not.

They staked out an old appliance store. Richard figured the drugs were being shipped out either in the appliances or the crates. They just needed to intercept a shipment, incapacitate the team working on it, and confirm the drugs were there. Then they could call in Gordon and be done with all this.

Batman and Robin were crouched together. Richard had declared that they should stick close tonight. Damian wondered if it was because he knew they both were still feeling a little worn down. He could read it in Richard’s body language, and he knew his mentor could read the same in his.

After around twenty or so minutes, a truck pulled up to the building and the shipping door opened to allow it to back in. They watched for a moment, confirming no other trucks were on their way, and then both pulled back from the edge of the roof they’d been peering over.

Richard pointed to a large vent they could drop in on the store from. Damian nodded, and followed his mentor. The slipped into the vents, then moved like mice over to where the shipping area was located. Damian paused behind Richard as the man peered through an exhaust vent to watch the proceedings below.

“They’ve started unloading.” he whispered, then tapped something on his cowl and was silent for another long moment, “And they’re talking about the drugs.”

“So we go?” Damian asked.

“I’d say so.” Richard said, “Stick close tonight Robin, I’ve seen a couple guns swinging around and I don’t want to explain a bullet wound to Al tonight.”

“The same goes for you.” Damian responded.

“There’s twelve by my count, two of those are still in the car. Try to get to them first. I’ll grab the guys with the guns,” Richard directed.

“Affirmative.” Damian agreed. Taking out the ones that could remove the product, and the ones that were the most dangerous first was a good idea.

With that, Richard kicked out the vent, tossed a handful of gas pellets, and they dropped into the smoke.

Damian bolted through it for the truck. He was able to easily dodge the men and women in the room, now sent into a flurry of action and confusion over the smoke. He ducked around the driver’s seat of the truck and yanked the door open.

The man inside was shocked, and Damian was able to use that element of surprise to yank the man out of the front, sending him tumbling to the ground. A few quick blows had him unconscious.

Damian straightened, and turned back towards the truck cab. His eyes went wide, seeing the passenger leaning over both seats, a gun aimed out the door at him. Damian dodged to the side as the gun went off. Pain sliced through his arm as the bullet nicked him, but at least it hadn’t hit him in anything vital.

He swore, Richard had just told him not to get shot.

He snarled at the man, immediately returning fire with a batarang. It caught fingers, and the gun went tumbling to the floor of the cab. Damian then lurched forward, and dragged the passenger out of the car. Twisting his arm as he fell to drag it up behind his back.

In another movement, Damian grabbed the man’s other hand and yanked it behind his back, securing them both with a zip tie.

“Stay.” he growled into his ear, “Or you will regret it.”

He climbed up into the cab and jammed a pole under the steering wheel, locking it in place to keep it from moving if anyone tried to drive the truck.

With that, he turned back into the fray. At this point the smoke had begun to clear. Damian could see that Batman had knocked out a few men already, they were down to 8 enemies to fight. Richard’s warning to stay close was fresh in Damian’s mind, his throbbing arm a reminder that maybe his Batman had wanted him to not quite jump ahead like he had. But then again, Damian should have been able to handle two men in a truck.

He huffed, and fell into line beside Batman.

“Robin, you get the car under control?”

“It will not be going anywhere.” Damian confirmed.

“Good.” There was something tight in Richard’s voice Damian didn’t recognize, but there wasn’t time to explore the reason for that the other men and women were on them already.

Damian had to admit, he and Richard worked well as a team. They were efficient, and quick. Richard’s insistence on having them run drills and practice together before they’d ever gone out into the field had paid off early on, and since then they’d only built on that success.

They managed to take out the rest of the criminals quickly, and they prevented any of them from escaping. After that, Richard directed Damian to zip tie the unconscious thugs while he checked out the boxes of goods.

As Damian was finishing up with the last man, Richard called out, “Found them! I’m calling it in.”

“Good, I am finished here.”

They paired back up outside the building as Batman called the car to their location. Damian had his cape tugged over his arm in an attempt to hide the bleeding, but as they waited, a breeze caught him by surprise and tugged it up, and out of the way.

“Robin!” Batman said, “Why didn’t you tell me you’d been injured?”

Damian tugged his cape back in place, scowling, “You told me not to get shot.”

Then his eyes caught on Richard’s left arm, it too was visible and bleeding. Damian pointed at him, accusing.

“You as well! How could you not tell me you’d been injured?”

Richard opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, “I-For the same reason as you. It happened right at the start.”

That must have been why Damian hadn’t heard it, they’d been shot at roughly the same time.

His brother shook his head, “Amazing, we both managed to do the one thing we didn’t want to. Alf’s going to have a field day with this one.”

When they returned to the bunker Alfred directed them both to a shared cot.

“Shirts off young masters, I’ll need to dress both of those wounds.”

Damian rolled his eyes and started tugging off his vest, then undershirt. It wasn’t until it was off that he remembered he still had not covered up his mark. Hopefully they would lump it in with the other scars across his chest.

It was not to be however. Next to him, Richard had stilled. He was staring at Damian’s chest. Damian could feel it, his eyes locked on the feather just under his collarbone.

He froze, his spine stiffening. He didn’t know what to say. His mother’s excuses felt like lies on his tongue and he knew he couldn’t give them to Richard. The man wouldn’t believe him for a moment.

Richard’s gaze was strangely soft. Not angry or upset or any of the things Damian had come to expect from what someone might do when they saw his not-scar. It made him want to squirm in his seat, but he was Damian al Ghul-Wayne. He did not squirm.

“Damian--” Richard’s voice was terribly soft, his eyes glittering, “I had no idea.”

Damian swallowed, there it was. The sadness that he had thought might come. It was dangerous. Seeing it put people in danger, and Richard had seen it, and Damian--Damian did not want him in any kind of danger.

He reached up to put his hand over the mark, and looked down, “I am sorry--I forgot. Had I remembered I hadn’t covered it I would not have--I would have dressed my arm on my own.”

“Do you not want me to see it?” Richard sounded hurt.

Damian looked back up at him, surprised. Richard sounded like he did when Damian was particularly cruel. He tried not to be that way sometimes, but--well pain or frustration drove him to saying things he regretted.

“I--Mother told me no one was allowed to.” He pressed his palm against it a little tighter.

“Why?” Now Richard sounded confused.

Damian was confused. Shouldn’t he know? The way Mother spoke of it had made Damian believe it to be something that anyone would recognize. A black mark.

“It is dangerous.” Damian said simply, “Just seeing it would put myself and others in danger.”

Richard’s brow was furrowed. Behind him, Alfred cleared his throat.

“Master Damian, might I ask, do you know of soul marks?”

“What?” Damian asked, looking up at him, “No, I have never heard of the term.”

Something twisted in his stomach. Sour and warm. He was certain now Mother had lied. He didn’t know why she had lied, but it was making him sick. The warmth was a kind of hope. An answer to the questions plaguing him since he’d arrived.

“A soul mark is a mark each of us are born with. It is to help us find the person most suited for us in the world. Some people never meet their soulmates, but find love all the same but others do and their marks always match.”

Damian remembered the couple he’d seen in the park, their matching hands.

“So then--this is one of those? Not a scar?”

He let his hand drop, fingers grazing the feather.

“I can confirm that it is indeed a soul mark.” Alfred said.

Damian frowned at him, “Have you seen its match?”

Alfred smiled at him. Richard cleared his throat and Damian returned his attention to him. Understanding now blooming, Richard had thought he’d keep something like a soul mark from him. Had believed Damian wouldn’t want him to know something so personal. He must apologize.

Before he could get the words out, Richard had tugged his own shirt off and there, under his collar bone and just above his heart was a feather. It was the feather. Damian’s feather. The one he had seen every day in the mirror. The one he’d traced a hundred times wondering about.

“Oh.” Damian said.

And then, “I don’t understand. I--we would not be romantically compatible?”

Richard snorted, “Soulmates don’t have to be romantically involved, Dames. It can be totally platonic. Often best friends will have matching marks, or a father and son. It just means--well it means we fit together in a special way. That we’ll always be precious to each other.”

Damian could have told Richard that, and it seemed his body had already done the work for him. Or fate? Damian felt he may get a headache if he tried to figure this out.

The point was, Richard was the most important person in his life. He just--he’d had no idea that it had been declared before he’d even met the man. Before he even knew that they would get to the point where they’d trust each other with their lives. It felt right. Instead of a declaration these marks were a promise.

Richard had chosen to love Damian with his whole heart before even knowing who Damian would be to him. And Damian? Well Damian had done the same.

“I hate to break up this moment, but you are both still bleeding.” Alfred said, “You may continue to talk but I really must begin caring for your wounds.”

Damian blushed, “Yes, of course.”

Instead of talking, they fell into silence, both Damian and Richard lost in their own thoughts. Soon, Alfred was finished, and had dismissed both of them.

Damian looked from Richard to the elevator that would return them to the penthouse and back, “I still have questions.” he said, not wanting to be sent to bed with his mind still racing.

“Me too.” Richard said, “How about some cocoa? We can talk upstairs.”

“That sounds nice.”

They moved up to the penthouse, and Damian sat at the bar, his hands pressed into the marble countertop of it. They’d both dressed in pajamas, but even with a shirt tugged over his soul mark --and how nice it was to have a real word for it-- he still felt exposed. Raw. Like there was something new and strange about him.

But nothing had happened with it. It was still there, still the same color and size. Still just a part of him that he’d always had.

“So.” Richard said, taking the seat next to him, and sliding a mug of steaming hot chocolate over, “You have questions?”

“As do you.” Damian said, taking the mug to hold between his palms, “Why don’t you ask yours first?”

His brother hummed, “I think yours will probably answer mine, but let’s start with something easy or maybe not easy, but, well what do you know about soulmates or marks?”

Damian nodded, “I--Mother never explained soulmates to me. I know the term only in a general sense. A phrase used not literally, but figuratively to describe two people romantically entwined. None of my teachers spoke of it, and no one at the League did either.”

He tapped his mug, “I was not blind, I saw the marks. But I believed them to be other things. Scars, birthmarks, or--well I did not have a word for what they were.” Damian could not look at Richard, it was silly. He should have asked more, pressed Mother for answers or done his own research, “It was not until I arrived in Gotham that I saw so many and began to wonder. Surely not everyone in the world could have gotten tattoos? But--not all were visible and so I did not ask.”

Richard was quiet, listening and taking in Damian’s words with rapt attention. He hadn’t even sipped his cocoa. Damian took a gulp of his, just to do something that wasn’t watching his brother.

“And yours?” Richard asked, “What did Talia tell you about it?”

“I--Mother told me mine was dangerous.” Damian pressed his fingers to his chest again, “I was not to talk about it or ask about it. It was supposed to be a scar, from an attack on me when I was a baby. But I always knew it was not. Still, she was insistent I not tell anyone or let others see. Especially Grandfather.”

Damian frowned, “I thought for a long while it was to protect him. That I was cursed.”

He looked up at Richard, into his brother’s eyes, and knew at last why Mother had been so insistent he stay silent, “But I was wrong. Mother was protecting me, and you. If Grandfather knew I had a soulmate, he would have hunted the world for them, and then used them against me.”

Damian did not think he could have stood having Richard in danger because of him. He hated the very thought that anything would happen to his brother. Especially because of him.

He sipped his drink again, “Mother used to rub her wrist. I saw a mark there once. A little bat. I never asked her about it, and she never offered to tell me--Richard? Do the marks have special meaning? Or are they obscure?”

“They do have a meaning, there’s a lot of meaning in their placement and look and well everything.”

“Teach me?”

His brother smiled, “Of course. I’d be happy to.”

They worked their way through their mugs, and second rounds while Richard spoke. He talked about how soul marks that were hidden usually meant that the relationship was more intimate, but not always. How marks mirrored each other, one on the left, one on the right so that the pair could be face to face and match, like looking in a mirror. How if one’s soulmate died the mark faded to be almost invisible or if their relationship broke and shattered how it would line with cracks.

“Just because someone has a soulmate doesn’t mean that things will work out perfectly. We are human after all.” Richard said.

Some people could be born without marks, and very rarely one would change, and shift to take on the form of another. Most often that happened if a soulmate had died, but sometimes it happened for other reasons.

“And the meaning?” Damian pressed, wanting to know, to understand why a feather? Why this mark on his skin and not something else?

His brother hummed, “There’s books and stuff out on their meanings, especially for marks of similar styles. But when it all comes down to it, the meaning really comes from the pair. Some people know instantly why a mark looks the way it does. A shared memory or love of something. Maybe it is the first line a lover traced across another’s wrist, or an idea that is important to them.”

He leaned forward, elbow on the bar’s counter, “Want to take a guess at ours?”

Damian furrowed his brow, “Robin?” he guessed, “or your previous title, Nightwing is indicative of a bird and flight?”

Richard nodded, “Those are good thoughts. I’ve always looked at it as a symbol of flying and of freedom. But feathers have other meanings too. Trust, loyalty, hope, a connection between the creature who had the feather and where it has gone now.”

“I like those.” Damian said, and then looked down at his mug, “You have given me many of those things.”

“And you’ve done the same for me.” Richard said, “We don’t need to name why it is a feather you know. We can feel the meaning here.” he pressed a palm to his heart, “and just know.”

Damian nodded, “I am glad I share it with you. And--I am glad I did not know before now.”

His brother frowned, then nodded, “I see, if you did, and we’d have seen each other’s marks, then you might have thought our relationship was because of the soul mark?”

“Is that silly?” he said, peering up.

“No. It’s a worry a lot of people have.” Richard reached out and took Damian’s free hand, “But soul marks don’t make relationships Damian. They just indicate potential, and while they are incredibly accurate in that indication, it’s up to us what we do with it.”

Damian squeezed Richard’s hand, “I see. We are--doing well?”

Richard laughed, “I’d say so. We had a rough start, but yes, Dames. I think we’re doing just fine.”

Damian smiled, “Excellent. Thank you for answering my questions.”

“Of course.” His brother stretched, “Now, it’s later than either of us should be up. We can chat more tomorrow.”

“Yes.” Damian said.

They got up, rinsed their cups and moved to the hall with the bedrooms. Damian paused, hesitating before he entered his own.

“I was planning to suggest we take the night off patrol, but our injuries have cemented that. Perhaps we can return to the park tomorrow?” he said.

Richard smiled, “Sounds like a plan.” In a motion he tugged Damian forward into a tight hug and pressed a kiss to his forehead, “Love you, kiddo.”

Damian returned the hug, “You as well.”

#damianwayneweek2021 #Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #day 4 #soulmates #platonic soulmates #soul marks #fluff #canon typical violence #hurt/comfort #injury #precious posts #fanficiton

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heyitsani · 3 years

Text

A Dream Ripping at the Seams

@damianwayneweek fic Reverse Robins

Word Count: 5024

Rating: Teen and up

Warnings: Referenced past child abuse, canonical character death mentioned

Pairing: None

Summary: He had planned the whole thing out. The moment he had seen the notes in Richard’s file on the computer, he had known he needed to get him out of there and away from Batman as soon as possible. He refused to lose another brother.

Saving Richard because he failed to save Todd was his only priority.

Notes: Guess what! IT’S MY BIRTHDAY! And it also happens to be Reverse Robins day for Damian Wayne week! So to celebrate, I wrote this fic to give to all of you lovely people. But especially those in the RR Discord who are always willing to encourage me to run with an idea that comes up last minute.

Also, this fic ends abruptly and that’s the point. I might continue it, I might not. But it’s supposed to feel sudden and full of questions.

To clear up confusion: Dick was 10 when adopted, Jason died when he was 15 and Dick 11, Dick is 12 (nearly 13) when the story starts, and 13 when it ends.

You can also read it on AO3 here

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Damian waited until he had the opportunity to get Richard away from the manor for the afternoon before he approached the subject with the boy. He hadn’t been certain he would need to, at first, but the longer Richard was in the house with his father the more he saw the signs he had seen with Jason. And that meant he needed to act.

So he had asked Richard if he wanted Damian to pick him up from school one Friday in February so they could go for ice cream before dinner. Richard had, unsurprisingly, agreed enthusiastically like Damian had known he would. With the kid’s sweet tooth, he never turned down things like ice cream. Especially since it wasn’t something the circus really got much of apparently. Traveling in trailers didn’t allow for too many luxuries like freezers.

“Richard,” Damian started once they were seated on a bench in a local park, not far from a playground that the child was eyeing. When the sapphire eyes turned on him, Damian took a deep breath and looked directly at him. “I know you have figured out what Father and the rest of us do in the night.” Richard nodded, smiling as he licked his cone. “Has Father approached you about training yet?”

The boy nodded again, and Damian pressed his lips together. Twelve years old. Twelve. None of them had been that young outside of himself, but his situation was different. Being born into the League of Assassins made for a different upbringing. “Is that bad?”

Shaking his head, Damian made sure his face was neutral before speaking again. “No, but I have concerns.” The boy blinked at him, but remained silent as though he was waiting for his brother to tell him what it was he was concerned about. “You do not know of my childhood, but it was far from…pleasant. I was raised in a place called Nanda Parbat that trains people to be the kind of people Batman fights against.”

“But you were a kid?” Richard sounded confused; ice cream forgotten as he tried to sort through what Damian was saying. And what he wasn’t saying. “Why would you train a kid like that?”

“Because that was the way things were done there.”

“Then they were done wrong.”

Damian let out a soft laugh, corner of his mouth raising just slightly at the thought of this twelve-year-old child telling him that he had been raised wrong. “Be that as it may, you are correct that I was a kid and that should not have been my childhood.”

Richard hummed and went back to his ice cream, looking out at a pair of dogs playing in the grass. Damian observed him as he watched the dogs, wondering what he was thinking. He wasn’t sure how to ask the boy to do what exactly he was thinking, but he just hoped Richard would go along with it. That he would agree to leave because this was not the life he should be living.

“Dami?” Richard looked back to him, and Damian raised his eyebrows. “You don’t want me to train with Batman.” Damian shook his head. “Ever?”

And wasn’t that the real question?

Damian wasn’t sure if he wanted Richard, the purest of them all, to be exposed to how ugly the world was the same way the rest of them had been. It would ruin him. It would steal the innocence that Damian found himself desperately wanting to protect. It would tear out everything good in him and leave him a shell.

“Never,” he admitted quietly. Richard dropped his gaze again and chewed on his lower lip. “I want you to understand why. My childhood aside, I do not want to see what happened to Todd happen to you. I do not want you to lose yourself the way I have seen Drake do. I do not want you to realize the ugly truths of the world long before your time the way Cain or Brown have. I want to protect you from all of that.”

With brows drawn down, Richard looked at him again. He was looking at Damian with that look, the one he had seen Cain look at him with too many times to count. The look that penetrated all the walls and shields he had put around his mind and heart.

“You want me to leave.”

“I want to take you away from here and hide us both until you are able to stand your own against Father on the subject,” he quickly corrected, not wanting Richard to think he wasn’t welcome in the Wayne family. “I want to protect you from a fate I wish we all could have been protected from.”

Richard took a lick of his ice cream and Damian waited, worried the boy would tell him no and then tell his father everything Damian had planned. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Richard nodded. “Okay.”

And Damian released his held breath, relief washing over him. He could save one of them, the best of them. He could do one right thing in his life, a life filled with so many wrong things.

“We leave in a week.” Richard’s eyes turned determined, and he gave a firm nod before looking over toward the playground again.

“Can I play after my ice cream is finished?” Damian laughed and nodded, too relieved to deny him anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who is she?” Richard asked, tugging on the black chuba Damian had selected for himself the moment they had touched down in Tibet. The weather was fairly cool, and he hadn’t thought to purchase the proper wears before he had put his plan into motion. But thankfully he had anticipated needing to switch enough money into Yuan to get them by for the first couple of months. It had made purchasing weather friendly clothing for himself and Richard much easier.

Looking down at Richard, Damian frowned and followed his eyeline to the familiar statue that stood at the top of the mountain, guarding over Nanda Parbat. “She is Ruma Kushna,” he told Richard, who couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the beautiful stone statue. He couldn’t blame the kid, he had been fascinated with the goddess when he had been younger. She had been formidable and even his grandfather had spoken highly of the goddess. “She watches over all of those in Nanda Parbat.”

Richard frowned and looked away from the statue, blue eyes skittering over the various people wandering around the market they were making their way through in an attempt to find lodging. “She is not kind then,” the boy said, looking up at Damian with a fierce look.

“What makes you say that?”

Richard shrugged and looked away, curiosity stealing the boy’s attention once more. But Damian couldn’t forget that look for stubborn protectiveness that had covered Richard’s face in the moment. It had been breathtaking if he were honest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him like that when they weren’t preparing to fight him for one reason or another.

Pausing at a stall with various spices that smelled familiar and distant at the same time, Damian gave the older woman a friendly smile. “Tashi delek,” he greeted her, giving a small bow of his head. “My son and I are looking for lodging, do you know of anyone with vacancies in their home that would spare space for us? We are willing to pay.”

The woman seemed to consider him closely, glancing from him to Richard and then back again. He knew his excuse of Richard being his son was flimsy when someone considered their age difference, but it was the story he needed to stick to for the time being. He couldn’t risk someone looking too deeply into their relation if they thought they were merely brothers. And Damian would be drawn and quartered before someone took Richard from him and returned him to Bruce.

“I have a spare sleeping quarter if you could spare your strength,” the woman finally replied, kindness heavy in her old eyes.

“Tuchi che!” Richard exclaimed, smiling brightly at the woman who almost looked surprised at his enthusiasm. Damian struggled to hold back a smile of his own as he gave the woman a firm nod, silently agreeing to her terms.

“I am Damian and this is Richard. We are grateful for your hospitality.” The woman chuckled and waved them off, telling them to scout the market for anything they might need since their packs were small and probably did not hold much out of the bare necessities. “What should we call you?”

The woman’s smile warmed, and she leaned back. “I am Amala,” she responded. “Now go find you both some clothing that is not of the city but of the mountain.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You are al Ghul,” Amala stated as she handed over the cup of tea. Damian froze, eyes wide as he looked at the woman who still looked at him with that same kindness she had since that first meeting almost four months ago. But he couldn’t figure out how she could possibly look at him that way if she knew who his family was. “The League is well known in our village, as small as we may be. They look after their own on the mountain. But there were whispers of the Heir refusing to return and the Demon Head demanding justice.”

Looking down at his teacup, cradled in both hands to warm his palms from the cool night air coming in from under the door, he sighed before glancing back toward the corner where Richard was sleeping. Confirming Amala’s words would put them both in danger of being discovered. He had picked this village because it meant they were right under his grandfather and mother’s noses. They would never look for him here.

But if he lied, he risked having to run with Richard again. And the child was finally settling nicely in the village. He had made friends with some of the other children and he was catching up on his studies. The last thing Damian wanted to do was uproot him yet again. His life had been disrupted enough since the death of his parents.

“I am he,” Damian admitted, looking back to Amala. The woman smiled knowingly before pressing a finger to her lips in a ‘shhhh’ motion and Damian let out a sigh of relief. “How did you figure it out?”

The woman shrugged. “You have your mother’s eyes,” she said, as if that was enough to give it all away. “And your mother used to bring you down here as a babe, just learning to walk the mountain. I recognized you the moment you approached my stall at market.”

“Has anyone else?”

“Not that I have heard.”

But that didn’t mean they hadn’t. If someone told his mother or even one of the footmen, Damian would need to pick Richard up and run. He wouldn’t have a choice. He probably should do it now before anyone had the chance to come after them.

“Thank you, for trusting us then.”

Amala waved a hand. “I could see in your eyes that you were running from something. That you were protecting your son from something.” Damian held back the cringe at the word son, knowing she had to have figured out that Richard wasn’t his. “You are safe in my home. I will not bring harm upon you. No matter if it is from up the mountain or from far away.”

Damian swallowed, bowing his head against the onslaught of emotion that hit him from her words. “Thank you,” he whispered, unable to look at her just yet. “Protecting him is all I am after.” He looked over at Richard again and blinked away the tears. “It is my only goal.”

“And that is what makes you a good father,” she said softly, “blood or not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Baba!” Richard called out; voice distorted as it came into the house from outside where he had been helping plant some new seedlings. “Dami!” That made Damian pause. It had been a while since Richard had called him by his name, out of habit or fear Damian couldn’t be sure which. But it made a small sense of panic arise in his chest and had him dropping the piece he had been sketching and immediately run out the front door.

He froze when he saw a man kneeling in front of Richard, black cloak and hood pulled over his head, hiding his face from Damian but not from Richard. But when the man looked up, Damian felt his stomach drop.

“No,” he whispered, hurrying forward and pushing Richard behind him as he glared at Timothy Drake, his father’s second eldest but first adopted child. “You are not welcome here, Drake,” he said lowly, English rusty from lack of use since coming to Tibet.

Drake held up his hands and took a step back, but Damian held tighter onto Richard who tried to move out from behind his legs. “I am not here to cause trouble, Damian,” Drake offered. And Damian knew him well enough to know the man was being honest. But it didn’t mean he could let his guard down. “He doesn’t know I’m here. He doesn’t know I found you.”

“Trackers.”

“Rerouted.”

Taking a deep breath, Damian glanced around before giving Drake a nod and herding Richard into the house, knowing Drake would following them. “Richard, go work on your schooling.” Richard looked up at him, frowning at the order, before glancing over at Drake. “Now, Richard.” And though Damian knew the child didn’t want to, Richard walked away with a pout to the table where his schoolwork sat waiting. “How did you find us?”

“It wasn’t easy, you covered your tracks better than any of us expected,” Drake said, eyes watching Richard as he took his seat and began writing in the notebook. Damian could tell he was curious, but Damian needed answers before Drake got his own. “I looked at footage we had searched through a million times and got lucky.”

“And Father doesn’t know? I’m meant to believe you simply didn’t tell him? You?”

“He thinks I’m off world with the Titans.”

“That doesn’t answer why you didn’t tell him.”

Drake seemed to consider his answer for a moment before shrugging both his shoulders. “Dick didn’t seem to be in distress in the footage I found. He looked like he wanted to be with you.”

“I explained it to him before we left. He agreed to come with me on his own.”

“Why did you take him?”

A familiar anger built in his core and Damian had to push it down with a few deep breaths before he could answer Drake without yelling. “Because I would not let him sacrifice Richard the same way he sacrificed all of us. Because since losing Todd, he has lost sight of the true mission and we have become nothing but soldiers to him. I would die before I let that man turn Richard another glass case bearing a bloodied suit of armor,” he growled, fists clenched tightly.

Drake watched him with those eyes, the ones Damian had always hated because it always felt like he was a risk and Drake was calculating how dangerous he was in any given moment. As if Drake was just like his father, with a file of ways to put an end to Damian because part of him was too dangerous to be trusted.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Drake finally said, looking back to Richard with a nod. “I didn’t believe you could have taken him for anything other than his own good.” The cool blue eyes looked back to Damian and had lost some of the calculating look. “B won’t stop though, Damian. He’s desperate to find you both even though it’s been over six months. I don’t know how long until he realizes that you hid both of you in plain sight of the League. Does Ra’s or Talia know you’re here?”

“Not that they have revealed to me,” Damian admitted. “Our patron, she knows of my heritage and has sworn an oath of secrecy. But she is League loyal due to their protection.”

Damian watched Drake fully take in the appearance of the home they were in, the simple nature of it all and Damian couldn’t help but wonder what the man thought of him now. What did he think of the haughty Wayne heir who had loved to shove that fact in every ones faces, telling them that he was the heir to one of the richest men in the world. That he was heir to Batman, the Dark Knight. The Damian standing in front of Drake was far from that person as Damian could probably get.

“This has not only saved him,” Drake finally said, looking directly at Damian. There was no lie that Damian could see and though he wanted to deny what his brother said, his eyes glanced over to Richard and knew it was the truth. He was not who he had been before they had left Gotham. He had been losing himself in his own grief and it was only the deep seeded fear of losing yet another family member that forced him to pull out of it and take action.

But he couldn’t admit that to Drake, could he? “I wouldn’t lose him the way we lost Todd. I did what I had to do. He never would have listened.”

“No, he wouldn’t have.”

“And has anything changed?” Drake frowned; eyebrows furrowed. And that was enough of an answer for Damian. “He’s just become obsessed with finding us instead.”

Drake nodded. “It’s been bad enough that Superman watches Gotham from afar to keep B from doing something he might regret.” And Damian knew, yet again, that he had made the right choice in getting Richard away from that. “Can I give you a burner that only I know about?” Damian’s eyes snapped back to Drake, having drifted back to Richard yet again. “I want to be able to give you a heads up if he comes your way. It might not be much of one, but maybe enough for you to get a head start.”

It wasn’t a bad idea, having that option, but Damian also knew it might give his father access to the pair of them without Drake even knowing. But Drake did know technology more than anyone else in the family. Perhaps it was a risk he could take.

“All right,” Damian relented, giving a nod. Drake’s features looked relieved, to the point where Damian wondered if he had made the wrong decision. But he could work on the device later and see if it had been bugged or tampered with in any way.

Drake dug into his small pack and pulled out a small phone, probably a prototype that Wayne Tech had decided wasn’t worth the trouble. He quickly showed Damian how to turn it on and use the basic features before it was turned off yet again and Damian was tucking it into the pocket of his pants.

“I need to go, I can’t reroute much longer. But if you need anything, please call me. I have your back.” Damian gave a nod before watching Drake walk over to Richard and kneel down to talk quietly with the teen. He didn’t bother listening in, knowing Richard would tell him what was said later, but he did watch. He watched Richard listen and nod, responding with his own words before reaching out and hugging the man around the neck.

When Drake stood and turned to leave, Damian was fairly certain he saw a sheen of tears in his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian knew something was different the instant he walked into the small house, even if he couldn’t immediately tell what. It caused him to stop short in the doorway, Richard smacking into him because he had been too absorbed in the book of mathematics one of the men of the village had shared with him.

“Baba, what…?” The child complained but Damian’s eyes focused on the figure in the corner of the room instead, not answering.

“Mother.”

The woman moved forward, like a serpent seeking prey, into the light with a smirk on her face. “Son,” she greeted, eyes looking over his ragged appearance from his day of labor with a hint of distain before stopping on Richard. “You really do have too much of your father in you.”

Rolling his eyes, Damian shuffled Richard into the house and nudged him toward their sleeping corner. And though he didn’t think his mother meant them harm, he still kept his body between the two of them and coiled his muscles to prepare for a fight.

“What are you doing here? How did you even know?”

“Oh please, Damian,” Talia sighed and came closer before lounging in one of the chairs near the fireplace. “Do you honestly think we weren’t aware the moment you landed in Tibet? That we weren’t tracking you from the very start? You have forgotten your roots.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Then why did you wait so long to approach me?”

“Because we did not need you.” That made Damian tense further. The League needing him would lead to nothing good, he knew that deep in his core. “I have something in Nanda Parbat that requires your attention before it can be dealt with. And no,” she held up a hand to stop his question, “it is not your father. But it does have a link to him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He couldn’t trust his own eyes in that moment. It wasn’t possible. Was it? No, he had seen the body. He had been there as the coffin had been lowered into the plot and covered with dirt. He had laid his hand on the tombstone and apologized for not being able to get to him in time.

But that was definitely Jason Todd in front of him.

“How is this possible?” Damian asked, glad he had put Richard in his old rooms while he handled this. Richard had known Todd for only a year before he had died. This was not something Damian wanted to expose the teen to before he knew what the point of all of this was.

“We are not certain. We can’t even say how long he has been like this. He has been dead for nearly 18 months and we have had him here for the past six.” Damian frowned, walking closer to Todd, trying to catch the teen’s eye. “He is alive and everything is in working order, but it is as though death stole his soul.”

“Of course it did! He died!” Damian snapped, looking back at his mother who stood a ways back watching but looked bored. “We buried him. We…” Breathing heavily through his nose, Damian looked back to Todd and shook his head. They had mourned him. And now he was there, living and breathing but lifeless. Everything that had made him Jason Todd seemed to have been stripped away. “What do you intend to do with him?”

His mother’s heels clicked on the marble floor as she moved closer and stopped once she reached the pair. He watched a slender hand reach out and pet the side of Jason’s face. Annoyed, Damian’s hand shot out and grabbed his mother’s wrist to stop the obscene gesture. “What do you intend to do with him,” he growled, gripping her wrist tightly and turning to fully face her. He narrowed his eyes and stared her down, not willing to let her brush him off. She had brought him here for a reason.

“We will put him in the Pit, of course,” she said, unaffected by the grip he had on her or the look on his face. “We just wanted to see if a familiar face might wake him up first.”

“Mother,” Damian gasped, releasing her and stepping back. “We do not put innocents in the Pit. It is not done.”

Talia raised a brow and Damian glowered. “There is no ‘we’, Damian. You made your choice.”

“You cannot do that to him. He had anger before his death. He was murdered brutally. These are all things the League has always avoided in resurrections.” Damian looked over at Jason’s empty eyes and frowned, shaking his head. “You cannot sentence him to that Madness. He is a child.”

“He is no more a child than any of you were. My Beloved has only had one true child in his home and you stole him away in fear of him turning your precious Richard into the same monster each of you fight off daily.” Talia tilted her head, considering him. “You most of all, my son.”

“You created the monster long before he got his hands on it.”

A slender shoulder rose and fell gracefully. “Perhaps, but you have Demon blood in your veins and you have always been destined for so much more than this charade of a life you have taken up.”

Damian clenched his jaw and looked away from his mother, unable to deny her words. He knew this farce he and Richard had been living would not sustain them forever, but he knew it was what the teen needed at the moment. If he returned Richard to Gotham, his father would rip the child away from him and Damian would lose him to the fight he desperately wanted to protect Richard from. The Bat would get into his head and Damian would lose.

No, returning to Gotham would never be an option until Richard was old enough to stand on his own.

“You could remain here. Take up your title again and we could train and teach the boy to be the very best.” Damian immediately shook his head. That wasn’t any better than the fate that awaited them in Gotham. “It is only a matter of time before he finds you. He will exhaust all resources and then call upon me. He will come to Nanda Parbat and hear the tinkling laughter that reminds him so much of the boy his own son had stolen away from him. He will follow the sound to a yard where a teen with black hair and sapphire eyes kneels in the dirt, pulling weeds from around the plants that have just begun to sprout.

“He will watch in wonder at the change a year, perhaps two years, has made in the boy. And then he will see the man who is responsible for the heartache and fear he experienced over that time, standing in the window watching the teen just as he had been. And he will take him back. He will threaten them both with everything in his itinerary until there is no choice but to return.”

“And then he will ruin him,” Damian whispered, closing his eyes because he knew his mother was right. It was the fear that kept him up each and every night. His father would never stop searching and he would eventually get desperate enough to turn to Ra’s for help. And he would come himself to plead his case because otherwise Ra’s would laugh in his face and behead whoever was foolish enough to come in his stead.

Opening his eyes, he stared into the familiar one watching him closely. “You win.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian hated that his mother insisted on Richard being in the room with them when Todd was placed in the Pit, but he wasn’t in any position to argue. He just hoped that nothing happened that would require him to use the sword strapped to his back in order to keep Richard safe. The last thing he wanted was for the teen to see that side of him, the side that would require him to take up arms against another of his brothers.

But Richard stood just behind him, stubborn look on his face as he watched Todd over near the Pit. The green glow of the waters within gave the room an ethrial look but made Jason look sickly. With that blank look on his face, Damian felt his heart ache for the boy he remembered. He had tried harder with Todd than he had with Drake, but it didn’t mean he was the best of brothers. He hoped the teen knew he had tried.

But emotions had never been his forte.

Thankfully, he was doing even better with Richard than he had with any of the others. The teen had taught him much more than he ever thought possibly while he had taught the boy what little he had to offer outside of self-defense. Which, he had taught him as well. Just not to the same effect that training to be a Cape would have done.

“Are you ready to witness true magic, Richard?” Damian frowned over at his mother when she entered the room and moved over to stand with the two of them. He looked back and down toward the teen, who he found watching his mother with narrowed, untrusting eyes. Good boy.

Damian had made sure that he always questioned his surroundings and stayed wary of those he didn’t know. Apparently, Talia al Ghul fell in that category.

The woman simply quirked an eyebrow at him before she walked over to where the footmen were getting ready to move Todd to the platform. Reaching out, Damian tugged Richard closer to him in hopes to shield him from the coming disaster. His mother might be certain this was a good idea, surely for her own gain, but he knew this was not something that should be done. But as good of a fighter Damian was, he could not take on the entire League. And he would need to do just that if he wanted to get Todd out of there before he was manipulated and twisted into a shadow of the teen he had been.

“Let us begin,” Ra’s said as he took his place on the opposite side of the Pit.

#damianwayneweek2021 #damian wayne #dick grayson #reverse robins #anikah writes #happy birthday to me

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nerd-by-definition · 3 years

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Damian Wayne Week Day 3: “that wasn’t supposed to happen”

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Damian Wayne/Colin Wilkes, Damian Wayne & Colin Wilkes, Damian Wayne & Tim Drake Characters: Damian Wayne, Colin Wilkes, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (DCU), Wally West, Barbara Gordon, Artemis of Bana-Mighdall Additional Tags: Fluff, Humor, Crack, Dick Grayson's Harem of Red-Heads, Jason Todd's Harem of Red-Heads, Why are there so many red-heads?, Damian Wayne Week 2021, Day 3: "that wasn't supposed to happen", POV Damian Wayne, Pre-Slash, Damian is in denial Series: Part 3 of Damian Wayne Week 2021 Summary:

Shoving past him, Damian decided ignoring a pest often yielded the best results. “I don’t have time for this.” “He has red hair.” The proclamation befuddled Damian so much that he felt struck dumb by the inanity of it all. “What are you--” “Colin. He has red hair.” Or: Tim makes a devastating observation that Damian might be more like his older brothers than he thinks.

@damianwayneweek

#damianwayneweek2021 #damicolin #damian wayne #colin wilkes #fanfiction #dcu #bat fam #day 3: that wasn't supposed to happen #its dumb & cracky but I had to #I had this ready before midnight but stupid post limits made me wait #red head harems everywhere

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aeligsido · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics), Robin: Son of Batman (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson (mentioned), Stephanie Brown (mentioned), Cassandra Cain (mentioned) Additional Tags: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Good Sibling Damian Wayne, Alternate Universe, The Batkids were adopted earlier, and also idk if there's a Batman in this, you just have to know that Tim is baby, and Damian is even more baby, Kid Damian Wayne, Pre-teen Tim Drake, Pets, turtle - Freeform, it was intended to be, Autistic Damian Wayne, Autistic Tim Drake, idk if it's really present in the story itself though, Fluff, Cuddles, Jason Todd is a little shit, but he's kiddie too Series: Part 3 of Damian Wayne Week 2021 Summary:

"Damian lurked near the door, waiting for the right moment to come in. Since the incident, Timothy had refused to talk to him or even to be in the same room as him. It was infuriating, even if Damian did understand the root of the problem.

Or, at least, he did now, after Richard sat him down and talked to him about the Drakes and Timothy’s childhood."

OR: Damian hurt his brother by accident, and now he has to apologize. Luckily, he knows exactly what to do.

Day three of @damianwayneweek with Reconciling with Tim + Autistic Damian Wayne! <3

#fic #my fic #writing #my writing #damianwayneweek2021 #dc #batfam #damian wayne #tim drake #i saw the prompt and decided to write fluff #bc nothing can stop me

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danny-chase · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/7 Fandom: Batman (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Damian Wayne, Duke Thomas, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Jon Kent Additional Tags: Damian Wayne & everyone else, DamianWayneWeek2021, Damian Wayne Centric, POV Damian Wayne, Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily (DCU), a smidgen of canon typical violence, mostly fluff with a little angst, Eventual Family Bonding, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is Batman, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne Gets a Hug, good siblings everyone Summary:

This is my entry for Damian Wayne week, all stories are connected. Basically, an excuse for me to send Damian to summer camp and then on a family camping trip lol. There will be shenanigans at the end don't worry lol. Diverges from canon a bit.

@damianwayneweek Thanks for running the event!

#damianwayneweek2021 #this is the first event I've written specifically for #so hopefully it goes well!#damian wayne #dick grayson #stephanie brown #tim drake #there are mentions of Cass and Jason offscreen so i won't tag them but they're there #Duke's also there but he doesn't show up till day 4 #batfam #batfamily #Dick!bats era

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damianwayneweek · 2 years

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Greetings! We (and by “we” I mean me because I’m the only mod) are pleased to announce the first official Tumblr week dedicated to the fifth Robin and the son of the Bat himself: Damian Wayne!

Here’s how it works:

Each day you’ll be given three prompts to base your works on, and you can combine prompts if you so wish. We accept all mediums including but not limited to: writing, art, edits, moodboards, audio/video, playlists, and cosplay.

The prompt submissions will open on February 14th and close on February 27th, and there will be a Google Form released when the time comes. The prompts can be things like “Humor”, “Alfred the cat”, “University AU”, etc. so long as they’re safe for work. Vague prompts are better because that way creators can interpret it however they like. Prompt voting will be from February 28th to March 14th, and the final prompts will be released the day after on March 15th.

Posting dates will be from June 12th to June 18th. Late posting is okay, and we will reblog up to a week after the event is over.

Rules

FAQ

Prompt submissions [CLOSED]

Prompt voting [CLOSED]

Prompt list

If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to drop it in our ask box, DM us, or contact the mod, @incorrectbatfam.

Happy creating!

#damianwayneweek #damianwayneweek2022 #damian wayne #robin #batfamily #super sons #dc comics #fandom event #prompt event #tumblr event

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nightwing-stan-account · 3 years

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@damianwayneweek

Day 6 (6-18): Baby Damian | Family bonding | First crush

baby damian featuring talia!!!!

#@damianwayneweek #damianwayneweek2021 #damian wayne #talia al ghul #batfam #my art

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jinmukangwrites · 3 years

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@damianwayneweek Day 1 (6-13): Truth serum | Damian Wayne Protection Squad™ | Best friends to lovers

Note: Rushed. I'm sure it's still the 13th somewhere.

Warnings: kidnapping, nonconsensual drugging, needles.

-o-o-o-o-

Dick wakes to the taste of blood on his tongue.

Thankfully, after slowly moving his tongue around, it's just because he bit the inside of his cheek sometime between when he was knocked out and when he woke up. His head pounds like a war-drum with his heart as he tries to get ahold of his situation. Without opening his eyes, he assess his arms are restrained behind his back and he's sitting on an uncomfortable metal chair. His legs are also tied to the chair, keeping him from running.

The suit he wears feels suffocating, proof that—once again—him wearing Batman's cowl isn't some sort of sick joke. However, his shoulders are a bit lighter suggesting his cape has been taken. Not that he'll mourn it.

His cowl is on. He silently curses himself for not checking that first. It would be the first thing Bruce checked.

He always prioritized the identity. The mission. Secrecy before safety, Gotham before everything else. Not injuries, not friends, not family, partners-

Dick's eyes fly open, reminding him of the real thing he should have checked for first.

"Robin," he gasps out loud, looking wildly around the room and tugging on the ropes holding his back to the chair.

The room is dark and small, the walls made of cinder bricks that have water mold where it connects to the cement floor. In front of him is a metal table with a black, palm sized box placed on top. Dick ignores that for now and looks to his side, only relaxing when he finds Damian to his right, tied similarly to another chair with his chin to his chest. Only unconscious, Dick notes as he watches his stomach rise and fall.

However, anxiety flutters in his gut when he sees there's a dried trail of blood running down the side of his head.

"Robin," he tries again, knowing at the back of his head that Bruce would be telling him to be quiet. Check for cameras. Look for an escape route. Don't let them know you're awake until you have a plan-

Dick shakes his head. Damian could have a concussion, and that takes priority. Dick could have one as well, considering how badly his head hurts, but Damian is only ten years old and Dick knows better than anyone the lingering effects injuries could have when you're a child.

He presses his feet to the ground and pushes, attempting to slide closer to his protege. He does nothing more than jolt in place. There's not enough leverage.

However, it seems the sound of the metal scraping against the ground is enough to wake up the boy. He comes to with a small groan and a pain laced crease between his brow.

"Robin," Dick repeats a third time. He can do nothing but sit as Damian blinks slowly behind his mask; his shoulders tensing as he too notices the restraints.

Damian opens his mouth, but before any words could leave there's a loud clang. The door in front of Dick and Damian, on the other side of the table, swings open.

In walks three men; two are unfamiliar, but the third Dick recognizes from the case files he and Damian got from Gordon about a week ago. Jonas Gibbs. Known arms dealer and smuggler. He's made his moves in Gotham these past few weeks, getting the police and public nervous about shootings with illegal guns. Batman and Robin had finally pinned down the date, time, and location of his next shipment and intended to take him down then, but he was smart and had hired help from various mercenaries that Dick could confidently bet used to be in the military before they were dishonorably discharged.

The way they moved, worked, and attacked was too strategic and planned. It was only a matter of time before one got a lucky hit on Damian; a blow with the butt of their rifle across the kid's forehead. The barrel of the rifle pointed down at Damian's unconscious body was all it took for Dick to raise his hands in surrender.

And now they're here, in some damp old room. Tied to chairs. A table placed in front of them with a mysterious box set on top of it.

"Perfect timing," Gibbs says, grinning. The two other men, clearly mercs, stand on either side of him as he drags up a chair and sits on the other side of the table. "I was almost afraid we'd have to dump water to get you up."

"What do you want?" Dick growls. He must want something. He hasn't taken off the cowl… or at least he hasn't tried to get through the various traps to pull it off. It means he must need something that an identity reveal wouldn't give him.

"I'm glad you asked, Batman," Gibbs says, a grin spreading on his face. He looks to one of his goons and they immediately pull a small camera out from a bag they had around their shoulder. He points it at Dick.

Dick gets a bad feeling about all of this.

"I want you to tell your real name for the camera."

Dick glares. "Are you serious?"

"Very. One of my men has second degree burns thanks to that cowl of yours electrifying him. So, I decided I'll let you go without any more harm. You tell me your names, and I'll let you go. Won't even show the video to anyone. Well," he smirkes, "unless you get in my way."

Dick clenches his jaw. Besides him, Damian mumbles something.

"I'm going to give you to the count of three," Gibbs says, unphased. "Otherwise it will get unpleasant."

His eyes drift to the black box, signifying it's mysterious importance. Dick doesn't let it scare him. He's not going to let this low life criminal blackmail him... put him and his family in danger. He'll take whatever will be thrown at him until he can work out a way to escape.

Gibbs counts down, and he reaches zero uninterrupted.

"Well," Gibbs says, unsurprised. "The hard way then. Gag him."

The grunts move like clockwork, and before Dick knows it his face is being grabbed and held in place while the other shoves a rag into his mouth and wraps a layer of tape around his face to hold it there.

"Batman..." he hears Damian mumble as the grunts back up. He sounds out of it. In pain. Dick can only hope that the hit he took to his head isn't too serious.

Gibbs retakes his attention, however, when he reaches forward and presses a hatch on the side of the black box, flicking it open on spring-loaded hinges. What's inside makes Dick's stomach drop. A needle and a glass vial filled with a yellow tinted liquid lays neatly inside. One of the grunts lifts the needle and the vial to begin filling it up.

"Do you know what this is?" Gibbs asks as the liquid fills the syringe. "I've yet to test it on anyone, but word is from the man I bought it from... It forces the truth out of you." The grunts finishes filling the syringe and flicks the bubbles. "Truth serum."

Dick has no doubt that the serum will work. He only wonders why he's threatening with it while he's gagged.

When the grunt walks around the table to Damian, he doesn't wonder anymore.

He can only tug on his restraints as the grunt grabs Damian's arm to aim the needle. Damian, for his effort, attempts to pull away, but the weakness of his head injury and his restraints do nothing to stop the needle from entering the inside of his elbow.

"You could have done this the easy way, Batman," Gibbs says. Dick watches as the syringe is pressed down, pushing the liquid into Damian's body. "I never like getting children involved."

Damian squeezes his jaw shut and turns his head away from the needle in his arm. It only takes a moment before the grunt pulls the empty syringe out before returning to standing besides his leader. A bead of blood appears where the needle left Damian's skin, but the boy doesn't move.

The air feels solid. Dick can hardly breathe as he tries to conceal his panic. He wants nothing more than to get out of these restraints and punch Gibbs and his men into next year, but he can't reach anything useful to do so. All he can do is watch Damian sit stock still as drugs spread through his veins.

A minute passes as Gibbs sits there in smug silence. Then, when a few more moments pass, he speaks.

"Robin," he says. Damian flinches, but doesn't look his way. His jaw still clenched. The goon with the camera points it right at Damian. "Why don't we start with something easy? What's your favorite animal?"

Damian curls his fingers behind his back and keeps his jaw grinding shut.

"Tight lipped huh?" Gibbs chuckles. He doesn't look surprised. Or worried. "Don't worry, I was assured that once it's fully in your system, it will hurt more to say nothing. What's your favorite animal, Robin?"

Damian says nothing, but he looks ridged. Tense.

"You look uncomfortable, Robin. Do you feel it in your head? I promise it will get better when you stop resisting. Let's try something different while we wait. Are you from Gotham?"

Damian's knuckles must be white under his gloves.

"How about your favorite color? Is it blue?"

Damian breathes a shaky breath through his nose, and Dick's heart breaks. He works harder to find a weakness in his restraints.

"My, your resilience is admirable. Were you trained on this?" Gibbs asks. Damian remains stubborn, but Gibbs still doesn't look worried. "Who were you trained by?"

"The best," Damian whimpers, cutting himself off with a growl and shutting his jaw. Gibbs smiles.

"What's your favorite animal?"

Damian shakes his head, a frustrated cry caught in his throat.

This continues, Gibbs finding victory in the one slip and pressing with everything he's got. Dick doesn't know how long Damian can last like this, and he doesn't want to find out. With every passing second, Dick knows it's only a matter of time before Damian's lips loosen. No amount of training can beat a good concussion and drugs designed to make your lips loose.

"What grade are you? Do you have any friends?"

After each question, Dick can see more and more discomfort in Damian's position. He's beginning to fidget and whimper and Dick's... Dick's had enough.

"What's your favorite color, Robin?"

"Green," Damian says with strangled gasp, sounding horrified with himself.

Gibbs smirks like a predator, knowing he's finally won.

"What's your real name?"

Yeah. Dick's had enough. With a hard tug, the ropes around his wrists finally snap against where he's been rubbing at them with his gauntlets. Gibbs and his men can barely react before Dick's upon them, cutting away the rest of the ropes with a batarang from his belt. He makes quick work of them in their shock, knocking them out and leaving them on the floor in unconscious piles.

He almost bends to put cable ties on their arms and legs, but he hears a tight whimper behind him. The moment after, he's rushing over to Damian to undo the ropes.

"Are you okay?" Dick asks, cutting through the bonds.

Damian shakes his head. Dick almost kicks himself.

"It's okay," he quickly says. "No one can hear. Let it out."

He's almost afraid Damian will force himself to remain silent, but to his relief and heartache, Damian opens his mouth and lets out a heaving sob. "It hurts- it hurts-"

Dick finally undoes the ropes, then he pulls his kid in close to his chest. "Get it out," he soothes, rubbing Damian's back.

"Dogs-" Damian starts, dissolving into quick rambling breaths. Every question he had been asked begins to be answered. Dick holds him close and lets him get it out with his tears. Silently, he sends a message to Gordon to pick up Gibbs and his men, then he messages Alfred to get the med-bay and lab ready. Soon enough, Damian is silent except for pain laced gasps, he holds tight to Dick's chest as Dick lifts him up and stuffs the vial with extra serum into his belt.

"I got you," he says as Damian continues to cry all the way to the batmobile. "I got you."

#damianwayneweek2021 #damian wayne #dick grayson #robin #Nightwing #dc comics #jin writes #fanfiction #violence tw #needles tw #noncon drugging tw #ill upload to ao3 with an edited link in the morning

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preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years

Text

Bad Night, Good Knight

@damianwayneweek day 3: That Wasn't Supposed to Happen

I'm playing a little loose with the prompt since the thing that wasn't supposed to happen takes place before the fic starts but you know what? Sometimes you just want to write a few pages of Damian reacting to a bad patrol instead of experiencing it (and also experiencing more bad patrol).

Summary:

After what Damian would consider a fairly disastrous start to patrol, Spoiler takes over and helps him work out some of the stress and frustration he's still feeling.

AO3 Link

Damian kicked his feet out, letting the heels of his boots hit against the brick behind them. He shifted a bit, so he was leaning back on his palms. Below him, the city sparkled on a rare clear night. The city looked bright, glittering almost like Bludhaven did after the rain.

His thoughts were not as carefree or bright. Damian focused on his breathing, attempting to still his heart as it continued to race, even well after the anti-toxin had kicked in. He kept his eyes on the buildings, on shadows moving behind curtains, and an owl that fluttered by. It was much better than closing his eyes.

Closing his eyes meant being back in that warehouse. It meant not knowing the difference between truth or fiction. If the hands on him were friend or foe. It meant worrying--thinking-- believing he’d gotten his family killed.

Sharp pain raced up both wrists and he hissed, pulling forward to lift the weight off them. Careful, Damian tugged at his gloves and pulled them off to examine the skin underneath. His wrists were ringed with red, bruised, with slightly raised lines here and there. Left over from the ropes he’d been tied with for the better part of the night.

“Tt.” he turned his hand over, displeased that he’d come away so affected, in mind and body.

“I’ve got some cream for that.” Stepahnie’s voice preceded her by a moment as Spoiler dropped to the ledge beside him.

A purple glove held out a small bottle to Damian which he took, and eyed. It was what she’d said, bruise cream, the container about half empty, but with plenty left for Damian to use.

“You keep this on hand?”

She shrugged, “You never know when you’ll need it, for us or civilians.”

He hummed, and popped open the top, a light citrusy scent tickled his nose. Stephanie waited while he applied the cream to one wrist, then the other. It made things feel better almost immediately, if only because it felt cool and soothing.

“Thank you.” he said, capping it and handing it back over.

Stephanie ruffled his hair, “No problem.”

Damian scowled and leaned away from her hand, but she followed him, truly messing up his carefully styled hair. Well, it had been carefully styled before they’d left for patrol. He had no idea how it looked after being nabbed by Crane and dangled as bait for the rest of his family. His hair hadn’t been at the top of his priorities for the past few hours.

“Where are the others?” he asked, attempting to keep his tone casual.

“Batman’s wrapping up with Crane. Hood’s already left to finish his route. And Nightwing’s back at the cave resting, and has been for a while. The others are where they’ve been all night.” She mimed dancing and drinking tea, “At the gala we got lucky enough to miss.”

Damian’s heart twinged at Nightwing. He wanted to ask further about Richard, but Stephanie’s tone seemed to indicate he was fine. Still, tone was not enough to still the worry in his stomach. The last he’d seen of Richard was the man sitting up, bleary eyed, with blood trailing down his forehead. And then Damian had been dragged too far away to see him at all.

“Is he--” the words slipped out before Damian could stop himself.

“Wing’s fine, Robin.” Stephanie’s voice softened, “I found him after you disappeared, and he’s been home since under A’s careful eye. Argued up a storm over not being allowed to come help find you, but eventually B talked him down.”

Damian nodded, injured Richard would have only been a further liability in the field. Damian had already made himself enough of one by being captured, Father would not have wanted any more sons in danger.

“And are you here to return me home?”

“Do you want to go home?”

He shook his head.

“Then I say we continue to patrol. Bruce isn’t the boss of us.” She stood, and reached a hand down to Damian, “Come on, grab those gloves, we’ve got stuff to do.”

Damian let a smile slip across his face, the first all night, “Excellent.”

Stephanie took point on their route, and Damian was happy to let her. He wanted action, and movement, and whatever they could do to help shake the fear still lingering over him.

They started by stopping a mugging.

Together, Spoiler and Robin dropped down behind the two men, and broke them up. Damian distracted one, dancing around him to force him to move away from the woman they’d been terrorizing.

Behind the guy, Damian watched as Spoiler kicked over the other man, and he stayed down. Damian ducked a wild swing from his own opponent, and threw a punch at the man’s open side. It landed and sent the guy stumbling backwards.

Damian let his attention slide back over to where Spoiler was. She was leading the terrified woman away from danger. Good, that’d give Damian room to really move if he needed to.

He traded blows with his opponent, before leveraging himself off one of the nearby buildings to slam his feet into the man’s chest and take him down. Damian zip tied him, and stood, turning back to search for Spoiler and the woman again.

Instead he found himself face to face with the other thug. The man loomed over him, and Damian froze. Fear raced through his chest in a sharp wave. He was back where he’d been earlier that night, surrounded by green gas he couldn’t stop breathing in and facing down an enemy too big for him to deal with while Nightwing was hurt, on the floor behind him.

Damian knew what was going to happen next. He’d try to lure the man away only to be knocked out by a lucky swing from the guy’s bat. Then he’d be caught. Dragged away from his family. Trapped. He’d--

Purple flashed across his vision as Spoiler jumped in with a high kick that cracked the man’s jaw so hard Damian heard it clearly. The sound snapped him out of his haze and he lurched back into action. Together, they took the guy down in seconds.

When they were done, Brown eyed him but didn’t comment beyond, “I’ll call it in, let’s keep moving.”

While Spoiler’s voice rattled off the crime and location over the comms to the GCPD Damian mentally worked out how to get them back on their regular route.

They patrolled for another ten minutes, swinging from building to building and occasionally stopping to sweep a street. Worried meows of a cat caught Damian’s ears. He froze, then scanned the street.

It was a residential one, lined with apartments and old trees that climbed close to buildings. After a moment a high, young, voice followed one of the cat’s noises.

“Chance, please get down, boy. I can’t climb up there!”

Damian and Stephanie exchanged looks, then together they moved in the direction of the noises. It was obvious after a moment that Chance, a tabby, was stuck not in a tree, but on a jutting portion of roof overlooking a child’s bedroom window.

The voice belonged to a little girl, with braided pigtails and Wonder Woman themed pajamas. She was leaning precariously out of her window and waving frantically at the cat. At the sound of vigilantes landing on a nearby tree, her attention shifted, and blue eyes widened at them.

“Robin! Batgirl!”

Stephanie winced and muttered, “Spoiler, but close.”

She elbowed Damian indicating he should be the one to rescue the cat. He rolled his eyes behind his domino.

“Don’t worry.” Damian said to the girl, “I’ll get Chance down for you.”

Somehow her eyes went even wider, as if she couldn’t imagine how he might know the cat’s name, despite having yelled it out moments before.

Careful, Damian climbed from the tree to the building’s roof. Then he made his way across shingles to the cat, terrified and clinging to its spot on the roof.

“Here boy,” Damian murmured, slipping a treat from one of his utility belt pouches (Father had once told him that animal treats were a waste of a good space, if only he could see their usefulness now), holding it out to the frightened cat.

Well, Chance seemed to be still a kitten. A growing one, but he had not reached full adulthood yet, which was probably why he was so hesitant to jump the easy distance into the girl's arms.

Damian waited patiently for the scent of food to overcome the kitten’s fear, and when it was distracted enough, he scooped the creature into his arms, and let it have the treat.

He hooked his grapple to the roof and lowered himself carefully down to the window. The girl eagerly reached for her kitten, and Damian made sure she had a secure hold on the creature before fully releasing it.

“I would suggest against opening the window late at night, even a little bit, Chance is still small enough to wiggle through and get stuck again.” he said.

She gave him a serious nod, and then, “Thank you, Robin! And thank Batgirl too, you’re both so cool.”

Damian smiled at her, “Have a good night, you and Chance.”

He pulled himself back up to the roof and then rejoined Spoiler in her tree. The two waved at the girl, and jumped back into patrol.

After that they stopped to help a woman unloading groceries from a late night shopping trip, walked an inebriated young man home, and shooed off teens eager to graffiti a food truck. They were all easy tasks, and somehow they never turned to another mugging or robbery. Damian did not realize that until he was standing beside Spoiler as she helped change a flat tire with the surety of a pro.

“Spoiler,” Damian said, after the car was on its way back down the road, “Are we going to stop any more crime tonight, or act as errand boys for Gotham’s late night citizens?”

“Errand boys and girls.” Stephanie corrected, “And we’ll stop crime if we see it. O hasn’t phoned anything in where we’re at yet, and it’s good to be helpful. We’re preventing crime, rather than stopping it.”

It was a smooth, practiced answer. Like she’d heard it before when questioning Batman or Timothy on a previous patrol. Damian let it slide for the moment, intent on keeping a careful eye out for other crimes.

His hesitance earlier would not be repeated, he would make sure of that. He would prove that he was fine. That the shaky feeling in his chest when he breathed was exertion, not lingering fear or embarrassment over his earlier predicament.

Only, they continued with the easy tasks. They waited with another Gothamite who’s car had overheated, until the tow arrived. Then they found a box of puppies and took them to a local shelter Damian recommended.

Finally Oracle called in an alarm going off at a convenience store nearby where they were patrolling. Damian moved instantly towards it, unwilling to let Spoiler pull him back again.

She didn’t say anything, only fell in beside him as they made their way over to the store. When they arrived, four men were exiting the building in a hurry. One of them carried a register they’d grabbed, two of the others had a huge burlap sack carried between them, and a third carried a smaller one heavy with whatever they’d taken from inside the store.

Damian swung down, a wrecking ball of force and frustration. His feet slammed into the chest of one of the men carrying sacks. The man went flying, the contents of the bag scattering across the concrete around him as he landed.

Before the other three could really figure out what was going on, Damian had turned away from the thief he’d taken out, and was already throwing a batarang at the guy carrying the register. It caught his hand and he yelped, dropping the register with a crash.

By that point, Spoiler jumped into the fray, her cape flowing out in a huge swoop meant to blind the men still on their feet.

Damian turned back to the guy who’d dropped the register and threw himself at him. The element of surprise had faded at this point and the men were rallying, but Damian was trained well, no matter what his failure earlier that night had pointed to.

He swept the man’s feet out from under him in an arc, then came down on his stomach with his elbow.

As Damian stood, someone grabbed him from behind, and hauled him up. Damian scrambled, and grabbed at the hand but whoever had him didn’t seem to care about the way Damian’s fingers scratched at him. Before he knew it, Damian was tumbling backwards, thrown down not into the ground like he’d expected, but into something soft that caught him just before the hard concrete.

One of the bags the men had been using to steal from the shop closed around him and Damian felt his heart speed up. He tried to shove himself up, darkness closing over him as whoever had grabbed him tightened the strings on the large sack. But his hands couldn’t get purchase on the bag. It was taught with his weight, meaning there wasn’t a good area to grab at.

He kicked and shoved, his brain whiting out as the idea that he was trapped closed over him. No. Not again . This couldn’t be happening again. He couldn’t have failed a third time tonight he--He couldn’t breathe.

And then the bag swung. Damian’s stomach lurched, with the movement. He braced himself as best as he could, curling tight to protect himself before the bag slammed into the ground. The impact broke his curl as his knees and elbows cracked into the hard ground and he gasped with the pain of it all.

The only good thing he could take about the jarring action was that it had shaken him from his stupor. Body aching, he dug a batarang out and sliced the bag open. He tumbled out as the man lifted the sack again for a second attack.

Damian rolled over to push himself back to his feet. His arms were shaking, his chest tight. Something curled in his chest that felt vaguely like unshed tears. Damian couldn’t quite name the emotions tossing themselves around his head like he’d been tossed helplessly in that bag, but none of them were good or a call to get up and fight.

Behind him, he heard Spoiler grunt, followed by the smack of weapon against skin, and a thud. Then, for the second time that night, Damian found a purple gloved hand reaching out for him.

“Need a hand?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, but took her hand and let her help him to his feet. His head swam slightly, but otherwise he was fine.

“Thanks.” he murmured.

“No problem.” She said, giving his hand a quick squeeze before letting go.

Damian busied himself tugging the unconscious men towards each other and tying them up, while Spoiler made their second call of the evening.

“If you’re ready, I’ve got our next location locked in.” Stephanie said, as Damian stood.

He wasn’t. He was pretty sure the only thing he was ready for was bed. To curl up, safe and sound, with his face pressed into Titus’s flank thoughts of failure long gone in the comfort of home. Instead of admitting that, Damian nodded. He was Robin, and he’d be as useful as possible as long as their patrol lasted. Even if he seemed to keep freezing up. At some point he’d get over it. He always had during training back in the League, eventually he got over his fear. This was no different than that. He just had to keep pushing.

Spoiler led them both to a playground. It was known for late night drug deals between some of Gotham High’s more affluent teens.

The playground was large. It had a swing set with six swings, a couple seesaws, those little animals on springs, and a sand pit. To top it all off it had a huge sprawling play place in the center. Tire swings hung off it, monkey bars and rope bridges connected portions of it. Three slides of various types came off it in different areas. It even had a little rock wall for enterprising kids to use instead of the other stairs to climb up.

“What are we doing here?” Damian asked, looking around.

“Acting as deterrents. Oracle said she’d heard some chatter about a meet up tonight. I figured two vigilantes camped out should be enough to make any wayward teens think twice.”

Damian nodded, relieved that they wouldn’t be moving directly back into action. Mentally he berated himself for that, if he were to get over the night’s failure he needed to be more proactive, not less.

Damian followed Stephanie to a spot on the play place where they could look out onto the park. Stephanie leaned up against one of the walls and Damian kicked his legs over the edge eyes scanning the park.

“So.” Stephanie said, “Ready to talk about it?”

“Tt.” Damian pulled his legs up and towards his chest.

She had given him long enough to calm down a little from the night’s events, and while he was still shaky, the effects of the toxin had at least seemed to fade a bit.

“It was--unpleasant.” he admitted.

He pressed his eyes closed, remembering. On a good day it was not fun to be captured and held as bait. They had an in-joke about how Robin held the honorary title of boy hostage, but in truth none of them enjoyed that role. Robin’s duty was to protect Batman, and being held against him was the exact opposite of that.

But Damian had been held hostage, and used against his family.

He’d been taken on what should have been a routine investigation of a shady warehouse. He, Nightwing, and Spoiler were just supposed to look. Instead, once the three had split up, Crane had attacked. Damian made it to Richard before anything too terrible happened to his brother, but he hadn’t been prepared for the toxin, hadn’t been prepared for the number of goons.

It was pure luck that Crane had only taken him. Though, Damian now assumed that to be Spoiler’s doing, showing up before both Nightwing and Robin could be taken. As the lightest, of course they’d grabbed Robin.

“I--” he started, and shook his head.

Stephanie knew what it was like to be taken. What it was like to be under the effects of Crane’s toxin. He did not have to explain how he’d struggled to escape or the panic that had laced his chest when his family had arrived to rescue him and he’d watched as they fought, were cut down, continued to fight, and were cut down again. His worst fear of them dying because of him playing out on a loop until Father managed to administer the anti-toxin.

Stephanie laid a hand on his shoulder, “It’s never fun to be taken by someone you’re trying to stop, and even worse when they hurt you because of it.”

He squeezed his arms around his legs, old feelings of embarrassment at being so vulnerable tried to claw their way out of him. And another feeling rising up, protectiveness over them, guilt over being why they’d been in danger.

He shook his head again, “I do not care that he hurt me. I put the family in danger. Father, you, Todd. Richard.” he admitted, “You were led into a trap because I was too weak to defend Nightwing. Too slow to catch onto the toxin in the room. I failed, and you all could have died because of it.”

He trained his eyes on the swing set, unwilling to meet his sister’s gaze. He was being far too open with his emotions, but--the talking helped. Stephanie and Richard had drilled that into his head.

Talking. Trusting. Letting himself fall so they could catch him.

But? Should he if it put them in danger? Tonight seemed to blow a wide hole in all those promises. Richard was home, injured, and all because he’d trusted Damian. Stephanie had saved Damian three times this night alone because of his own inability to be better. How many falls were too many?

“First of all, you didn’t fail. No more than any of us did when Scarecrow made his first attack. We were all caught off guard. You were just a little more unlucky than we were.”

“It was Nightwing they attacked.”

Stephanie leaned over, so her face was in Damian’s field of vision, hair hanging over a shoulder, “You protected him. Got him a mask, and kept them from taking him instead. I’d say he was pretty lucky to have a little guardian Robin looking out for him.”

“Tt.”

She poked him in the arm, “Don’t tt at me, you know it’s true. Would you rather Nightwing not have had you there?”

“Never!” Damian spun on her, and Stephanie grinned with victory. She’d tricked him into looking her way.

“There we go, now we can have a proper conversation.”

“We were talking.” he huffed, but maintained eye contact.

Stephanie reached out and cupped his cheek, “You were the one we were worried about. Did you forget that we want to protect you just as much as you want to keep us safe?” She brushed a finger across his cheek, and he felt the spark of pain where a goon had hit him to wake him up.

“I--”

“You matter.” she said, reading his mind, “Your health and safety is as important as the rest of ours. It’s okay to be rescued from time to time.”

He huffed, “I know. But knowing does not help the frustration. I am supposed to be better. Be worthy of Robin and able to protect you all. Instead I was--I was-- helpless.” Just saying the word brought heat to his eyes, tears pricking at him, begging for release.

Stephanie tugged him close, into a hug, “It’s okay.” she said, a hand in his hair, “It’s hard, I know, but you’re allowed to be vulnerable, Dames.”

He sniffed, blinking back tears, “No names, Spoiler.”

She scoffed, squeezing him a bit tighter, “There’s no one out here to hear.”

Damian huffed, but did not pull away from the embrace. It was nice, resting like this and letting Stephanie play with his hair. It made the tight feeling in his chest ease. Knowing she was fine, that he was fine, that things would be fine.

After a moment he pulled away, running a hand under his nose. Stephanie let him, and they settled back apart, both at the edge now. They were quiet for a while after that, the minutes ticking by in peace.

Then, they saw a car pull up into the lot at the far end of the park. A figure climbed out of it, and started making their way towards the park. They hadn’t seemed to realize that Robin and Spoiler were the one’s camped out in the park yet, and actually raised a hand to wave.

Stephanie winked at Damian and raised her own hand in response.

“Let’s see how long it takes him to realize who we are.” she whispered.

Damian smiled, and chuckled lightly.

The young man pulled out a phone and started messing with it, typing something into the screen as he moved forward. He made it almost all the way to Damian and Stephanie before he looked up. When he did he froze, staring at them, mouth agape.

Stephanie waved again, “Hi. What’s a good kid like you doing in a park like this so late?”

“I--” he said, and Damian thought he looked a bit like a catfish, blinking and startled, “Nothing.”

“Well, Mr. Nothing, I suggest if you don’t have any important reason for being here, you head home.” Stephanie said.

Damian gave him one of his most unsettling smiles, sharp and toothy, “Yes, this park isn’t safe after dark, and we wouldn’t want you getting hurt or into trouble.”

He looked between Spoiler and Robin and seemed to decide that whatever deal he’d had planned for the night was not worth bothering two vigilantes over. With a sharp nod and a “yes, yeah, good idea.” he scurried off, half running half tripping his way back to his car.

“Drive safe!” Stephanie called.

After he was gone, Stephanie broke into a fit of giggles and Damian followed soon after, her laughter infectious.

“Alright.” she said, after a minute, “Let’s go get something ridiculously greasy and terrible for us, as a reward for a deed well done. Then after I say we head home. ”

She stood and held out a hand to Damian, “Unless you’d rather do ice cream?”

He took it and let her pull him to his feet, “Fast food sounds perfect, lead the way Spoiler.”

#Damianwayneweek2021 #Damian Wayne #Stephanie Brown #hurt/comfort #angst #fluff #kidnappings #scarecrow #fear toxin #post fear toxin #a bad patrol #but a good partner always makes it better #Steph is a good sister!#Damian is a good brother #Precious Posts #fanfiction

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