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Despite what Father may claim, Damian was not missing Grayson. That would be irrational, especially when Grayson had just contacted him the day prior. And, Damian was sure that the man wouldn't let Damian miss him, it was nearly impossible for him to go for more days than strictly necessary without any family contact. So, Damian most definitely did not miss Dick. No matter what any of his annoying siblings or father had to say about it.
"Hey, demon brat," Todd's irritating voice invaded Damian's thoughts. The boy growled in response, turning to glare at the zombie. Todd must have seen something in Damian's eyes, because his hand went to not-so-subtly rest on the gun holstered on his hip. Good , it's always Damian's goal to scare annoyances.
"What do you want, Todd?" It took more self control than usual to prevent himself from reaching for one of the many hidden daggers on his person. Ever since Grayson left, Damian had no one to prevent him from dealing with his problems the easy way: violence.
"The old man said you need to get out of the house and let out your anger. So, I'm takin’ you on patrol with me,'' Todd responded gruffly, reaching out to ruffle Damian's hair. He didn’t manage to reach his target before a dagger was being swung toward his hand. Jason pulled away, but Damian was prepared to stab him the moment he let down his guard. Todd did nothing more than chuckle, like it was an amusing game to him. It probably was.
"I highly doubt Father would ask you of all people to accompany me on patrol."
"Well, you're right about that one, demon spawn. I would rather go on patrol where I know I'll return with all of my limbs intact."
"Exactly. I see we are in agreement. You may go now," Damian responded satisfactorily, fist still clenched around the dagger’s handle.
"Yeah, neither of us are getting out of this that easily."
"Then I shall simply stab you. That should solve this issue quite neatly."
Todd scoffed, "Neatly for you , maybe. Sorry, kid, but my hands are kinda tied here."
"Since when?"
"Since B got big bird to call me," Todd admitted reluctantly. Ah, that made sense. Grayson always had a knack for convincing Todd to do things he didn't want to. "So, let's go, demon. Don't want to make big brother sad, do we?" He grinned, knowing he had Damian beat.
"Fine," Damian bit back, scowl etched on his face.
That was the first of many ploys from Damian's... family… to get him out of the house. And, also, to get him to stop missing Grayson. Which he didn't . But, he would play nice with them, if only for Grayson's sake and eventual return. Though, the next person to drag Damian somewhere was even more shocking than Todd.
It all started with a knock on the wall next to the entrance to the bat-cave's training room. Damian, dressed in simple but effective workout clothing, was slashing at a reinforced dummy with his favorite katana. He probably would have ignored the sound and continued, if he didn't then hear the telltale footsteps of Drake behind him. The man was not trying to conceal his presence, that much was obvious. So, he wanted something.
Damian turned around to face the young CEO, not bothering to lower his katana. Drake looked tired, as usual, with giant eye bags, mismatched loungewear, and messily done hair that Alfred would never let see the light of day if he had anything to say about it. "Why are you here?" Damian asked in an accusing manner, pointing his katana at Drake.
"Lunch," Drake responded tiredly, holding up a comically large coffee mug to drink from. Damian scrunched his nose at the man's bad habit.
"How does it concern me with what you eat, Drake? I am sure Pennyworth has sufficient sustenance should you find you need it." Drake muttered something beneath his breath, sounding suspiciously like curses with the name Dick sprinkled in. " What are you saying about Grayson, Drake?" Damian was poised to strike, just in case there was an attempt to spoil Grayson's good name.
"Calm down. Dick suggested we go to lunch after he found out Alfred was taking B somewhere during lunchtime today."
"I know why Grayson would want you to eat, but I see no reason why that should involve me." Drake looked at Damian like he was trying to decide something, before he sighed in defeat.
"Would you believe me if I said he wanted you to come along to make sure I actually eat something 'nutritious'?" Silence followed as Damian thought about Drake’s words.
Finally, Damian spoke, "Tt—I will accompany you. But if you're lying, I won't hesitate to gut you like a fish." For added menace, he made a smooth downward motion with his katana, relishing in the way Drake eyed it warily.
"Yeah..."
The lunch with Drake was pretty uneventful all things considered. Damian only tried to stab him in public once. Once ! Father congratulated Damian on his improvement, before begging him to try to get the stabbing down to zero. He didn't agree with the sentiment, but he didn't argue for the sake of avoiding Father's ire.
Unfortunately, Grayson hadn't been able to contact Damian in days. Not that that particularly bothered Damian or anything. Again, he didn't miss Grayson, he was just curious. As Father has said before, a detective's greatest tool is knowledge. Damian was simply trying to follow that sentiment.
Damian would have continued with his thoughts if he didn’t hear a knock on his bedroom window. Frowning, he looked over to see a sheepish Jon floating outside. Reluctantly, Damian abandoned the painting he was trying to work on to let the other boy in.
"Heyyy, Damian!" Jon exclaimed as he touched down on the wooden floor of Damian's room.
"Kent. I did not know you were going to be visiting today." If looks could kill, Jon would be six feet under already.
"Yeah, haha, I was in the neighborhood." Honestly, it was a wonder how Jon could keep his secret identity under wraps when he was such an obvious liar. Damian proceeded to inform Jon about such aloud, watching as his face flushed in embarrassment. "I'm not that bad!"
"I disagree. I am convinced that the only person your identity appears secret to is yourself. You do not even wear a mask as Superboy." Jon obviously didn't have a rebuttal to that argument, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. "Stop standing there like an imbecile and get to the point. I was in the middle of doing something," Damian growled, a lack of true malice behind his words, as he gestured at his unfinished painting.
"Oh, sorry... it's just..."
"Spit it out, Kent."
"Well, I was outside for a bit and you just seemed to be kinda staring? At the painting?" Jon rushed out, "And you didn't make any progress in that time so I assumed maybe you were done?"
Damian blinked. Once. Twice. Finally, he did what his family did best—deflect. "That painting? The one that is so obviously incomplete is ‘done’?" Jon looked over at the painting, wincing.
"Uh, yeah?"
"For an alien with superhuman vision, you appear to be unable to see the simplest of facts." Jon chuckled, used to Damian's sharp words.
"Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out for a while? Maybe you could explain the painting to me?"
"I shall, but only so you can understand art for once in your life."
If anyone asked Damian, he would vehemently say that Jon was a thorn in his side. He could never admit his fondness for his friend, nor could he admit how much he actually enjoyed hanging out with him. Jon even ended up staying the night, which put Damian in a semi-decent mood for the next couple of days.
It didn't take long for that mood to sink yet again, when he realized he hadn't spoken to Grayson in a week. Grayson had, of course, warned Damian that he was especially busy with whatever off-planet mission he was on. So, Damian wasn't worried. And, he had gone longer without speaking to Grayson, so it's not as if he missed Grayson. Preposterous.
"Young Master Damian, are you finished?" Alfred asked, prompting Damian to look back down at the plate in front of him. The toast lay half eaten and the scrambled eggs sat untouched. Damian could have sworn the last time he looked at the eggs, there was steam wafting off them, but they appeared as if they had always been cool.
"Yes," He replied shortly, but not unkindly. If there was one person in the house Damian could always stand, it was Alfred. Why else would he name his cat after the older man?
Alfred smoothly picked up the plate from the kitchen table Damian was sitting at and disappeared into the kitchen. Letting out a silent breath, Damian began to get up to find something else to waste his time on. Just as he reached the doorway of the dining room, he heard Alfred call out for him, and quickly redirected to the kitchen.
"Ah, Young Master Damian. I'm glad I could catch you before you headed upstairs. I was wondering if you would like to help me tend the animals and garden today?" Alfred asked. Unlike Damian's two brothers, he didn't bother to give an excuse or particular reason why he was inviting Damian. He could respect that.
"Certainly,” Damian readily agreed, “I realize I have not visited bat-cow in a while."
Alfred nodded, "Excellent. I suggest you change into something more comfortable, however, as today appears to be one of the rare times that Gotham is actually sunny."
"Of course." Damian acknowledged, turning to go to his bedroom again. He stopped just before he was out of Alfred's line of sight, to calmly thank the man. Alfred gave a smile in response, but didn’t make a big deal about Damian’s manners otherwise (unlike how his brothers would respond). Another reason why Alfred is Damian's favorite.
It was three more days of no contact from Grayson before Damian could admit he was slightly (and only slightly !) nervous. That nervousness was starting to, regretfully, impact every facet of Damian's life. He hadn't gone out as Robin the past two days simply because he nearly beheaded one of the men they had been trying to apprehend.
He would claim, if asked, that he benched himself. Father, on the other hand, would correct that with the fact that he had benched Damian. Unfortunately, his brothers were more likely to trust Bruce when it came to the truth (though for what reason, Damian couldn't comprehend; Father was way more secretive than him.)
Even benched, Damian refused to be driven out of the bat-cave. He had in fact just finished his training regimen when he stumbled across his father. Bruce was dressed casually, no hint of his armor to be found, and his hands were stuffed in his sweatpant’s pockets. He was trying to appear relaxed, though Damian couldn't fathom a reason why.
"Hey, kid," Bruce greeted Damian. His tone made it obvious that he was looking for Damian, and that there was something he needed to say.
"Tt—I am not a child, father." Bruce chuckled softly in response.
"Most would disagree, Damian," He reminded him, "Though I know I could still use your help on something." That had Damian perking up.
"Yes? Are you finally allowing me back on patrol?"
"Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to sit down at the bat-computer with me and help solve a recent case I've been working on." Damian hummed in response.
"While I would still rather you let me patrol, I shall help you." At that, Bruce gave him a half smile, and led the way back to the computer.
Dick Grayson knew it was unwise to leave Damian for extended periods of time. The entirety of Gotham had seen what had happened when Nightwing was missing in action for a few days, and it wasn't pretty. The worst part was, it wasn't the Gotham rogues terrorizing the citizens (at least more than usual). No, they had one person to attribute the chaos to: Robin.
Robin’s apparent danger to others was a fact backed up by all of the bat and bird vigilantes, who had to deal with Damian not just as Robin, but also as himself. When Dick finally returned, he was threatened at gunpoint ( thank you, Jason ) to stay in the manor for the next month. It was only once all of the inhabitants, excluding Dick, deemed Damian safe to be around that Dick was allowed to leave (with the promise he would return the next day).
For the next year, whenever Nightwing was a candidate for an off-world mission, Batman quickly vetoed it. It was only after many compromises and a lot of begging that Dick could even be considered for longer missions on Earth itself. And even longer before he could be considered for any missions in space. But, finally, after months upon months, Nightwing was requested for an off-planet mission. Dick only hesitated a little before agreeing to take it.
The ensuing argument with Bruce was more mild than Dick had expected it to be. His pseudo-father seemed resigned to the fact that Dick would be leaving, and simply requested that he contact Damian as much as possible during the mission; a requirement which he had no issue in fulfilling.
<<+>>
What Dick hadn't expected from his family was a phone call from none other than Bruce , less than a week after the mission had begun. A call which explained how Damian was starting to get twitchier than normal and how even Alfred was worried. Bruce also mentioned how he tried to get Jason to take Damian on patrol—to let out his anger—but Jason wasn't very receptive to the idea.
So, Dick did the only thing he could think of, and called his brother. It was easy to threaten Jason when you knew where to aim for, and quickly he had reassured Dick that Damian would be taken on patrol.
It became a sort of habit to call his various family members, and also Damian's best friend Jon, to make sure that the entirety of Gotham was safe in Dick's absence. He even managed to get Bruce, who had been avoiding Damian's bad mood, to offer the boy a chance to help with a case.
Three weeks of being off-world later, Dick's mission finally ended. Which was great, because he had started to get increasingly worrying texts from his family members regarding Damian. Some of which mentioned how he had been benched from being Robin until Nightwing was back in town and how he had stabbed Jason in the shoulder unprovoked.
Now, to hope that the manor wasn't burned down by the time Dick got there.
Three weeks. Three weeks of Grayson being on an off-world mission, and three weeks of Damian becoming increasingly more irate. He would still stand by the fact that Todd deserved to get stabbed yesterday, because he was in Damian's way. Grayson would say that's not how you deal with your problems, but Grayson had left and hadn't bothered to contact Damian in days.
All things considered, it should be understandable why Damian is currently attacking a third practice dummy, since the other ones could no longer withstand his onslaught. No one had been around the training room since Father earlier that day. Even he appeared worried when he saw the remains of one of the reinforced dummies strewn across the floor. That probably was an underreaction, even if Damian would never admit it.
"Damian," Drake's voice grated on Damian's ears, and the younger boy whirled on the man. A dagger left his hand at record speed, and Drake just barely was able to dodge it.
"What do you want, Drake? Can you not see that I am preoccupied?!" Damian growled, already reaching for the katana at his side.
"Whoa, don't shoot the messenger! Agent A wanted me to tell you that lunch is ready," Drake defended himself, not taking his eyes off the recently sharpened katana.
"Tt—I did not shoot you, I threw a dagger. I believe you have had one too many concussions, Drake."
"I—" Drake paused, "You know what, nevermind. Just know that Alfred said lunch is non-negotiable." Damian scoffed, which Drake apparently took as a 'yes' because he left as swiftly as he arrived.
Damian still had the decency to clean up the training room before he trudged upstairs for lunch, but that was as far as his goodwill for the day could extend. He couldn't promise that if he saw Drake's idiotic face again, he wouldn't stab it.
Fiddling with the sheathed dagger in his hoodie pocket, Damian headed toward the dining room. It was quiet in the hallways, even quieter than normal, but he couldn't tell if it was off-putting or relaxing. Normally, Damian would already be poised to attack any intruders, but he was off-kilter, and had been for several days at this point. It wasn't as if he couldn't take down the intruders still, but maybe he'd thank them for making the manor quiet for once before he did so.
Admittedly, Damian was a little distracted when he walked into the dining room. Which is why, when he walked in he didn't immediately notice the elephant in the room. Not until he ran straight into a hard chest, a familiar chuckle filling the room. The young boy froze in his tracks, before looking up in silent hope.
Green eyes met familiar blue, and suddenly Damian was emotionally crashing. Grayson was back? He... he didn't even inform Damian of his return? The boy couldn't stop the tears welling up in his eyes, even if he tried.
"Oh, hey, Dami, don't cry," Grayson... no, Richard murmured gently, pulling Damian into a hug. He drowned in Richard's arms, limbs feeling like they were being weighed down by rocks.
"Richard," Damian breathed out, because he wasn't sure he could manage to say anything else.
"I know, I'm here, Dami."
They stood in that position for several minutes, but Damian couldn't find it in him to care. Richard was back, and everything that was feeling wrong started to right itself. "Please don't leave me," Damian muttered desperately. The arms around him squeezed tighter.
"I won't ever leave you, habibi."