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Damian was lulling the pretender into a false sense of security with every passing day. His devious, evil plan would surely—
Ahh, that was the spot.
Damian turned his head so Drake would scratch over that particular spot right behind his ears again. Drake would keep his hands after Damian's plan, most assuredly. Damian would have to avoid hurting him too badly, but he needed this.
Drake chuckled, and Damian arced his neck just a little more to get just the perfect pressure. This felt so good—Rather, his evil plan was working. Certainly, that’s what he meant. He would be a villain worthy of his grandfather’s status, just as Mother wanted. He flicked his whiskers in self-satisfaction. Oh yes, one day, he would use this vulnerability against Drake. One day very, very soon, Drake would pay for—
Drake started to pet down Damian’s back. Damian mrowled in protest and jumped up onto his paws. Turning around was a tricky business. Drake’s legs were an uncomfortably squishy surface for walking on, even though they made a good bed, but Damian still managed to turn himself around so his head was where his back had been. He looked up at Drake expectantly and chirped. Drake could resume falling for Damian’s plan now.
Drake raised an eyebrow at him, then rolled his eyebrow and smiled. “Okay, I see how it is.”
Drake’s hands suddenly dipped under Damian’s tiny body and swept him up before he could react. Damian meowed in fear. Did Drake know Damian’s plan?
A chill ran down his spine. Had Drake been luring Damian into a trap this whole time?
The thought hurt more than a knife, even though he had no right to be pained. He’d thought he was safe. He’d thought Drake cared about him, even though Damian had been planning to use that against him. He hadn't…the more times Drake had “snuggled” (an American word meaning ‘hold and make babyish noises at while petting and kissing’) Damian, the more hesitant Damian was for his evil plan to constitute any true harm to Drake’s body. Just some humiliation would be enough to prove himself to his father and grandfather, surely? He knew Drake would never snuggle him again afterwards, so he kept putting it off…
Damian meowed in fear and drew in his limbs. He'd been such a fool, and now Drake was going to kill him for it. He was so small, Drake could crush him just by pressing his hands together, but he was too young to be able to shift quickly between forms.
Drake cooed and brought Damian up to his face. For a panicked moment, Damian thought Drake was going to bite him. Instead, soft lips gently brushed the top of his head, and he was brought snuggly, but not tightly, up against Drake’s chest. Drake’s short fingernails gently scratched circles behind Damian’s ears.
“Hey, it’s okay, kitty. I’m not going to hurt you,” Drake promised.
Could he read minds? Or was this a lie? Damian should try to get away, but he was too petrified. As soon as he tried to escape, Drake would hurt him.
Drake kissed Damian’s ear. “I can feel your pulse through your ribcage, Dami. Everything’s okay, though. We’re not the League. We don’t surprise attack people here.”
They didn’t? If Drake wasn’t going to attack him, and this kindness was simply kindness, Damian would like that, but then how did the smaller, weaker, vulnerable members of the group rise up rise up the ranks or preemptively take out stronger opponents? Did they only fight proper duels?
“We’re a family here,” Drake whispered. “All of us. We’re not going to hurt you, we’re not going to let anyone else hurt you, and we’re going to keep you safe because we love you.”
Damian meowed in confusion. Nothing made any sense. How would Damian win his father’s love and approval if he couldn’t prove that he was the best? And how could he be the best if they never hurt each other? All Damian knew how to do was how to hurt and kill…and fingerpaint, but he didn’t think that would earn even a smile from his father.
Drake kept petting, though, like he really meant that he loved Damian. Damian didn’t even know what to do with that thought. All he could do was hide his face in the crook of Drake—of Tim’s arm and hope it was true. Even if Father asked Damian to attack Tim now, he didn’t think he could bring himself to harm Timothy. Father would be mad, but at least Damian would still have his…brother.
Damian had a brother, and his brother loved him. That might just be enough. Hesitantly, nervously, Damian purred.