A Father’s Love: Conditional or Unconditional?

by UnicornVomit

Summary:

When Damian quickly learns that disrespecting teachers = no more Robin, he stays silent when one of those teacher’s hands wander too far. If there’s anything he knows best, it’s how to take a punishment.

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Notes:

This is a fluffy but very dark story with many triggers. Be aware of what you can and cannot handle. Stay safe folks 🩷

“Excuse me?”

“If you insist.” Damian raised his eyebrow at her obliviousness. 

“That is no way to speak to a teacher, Mr. Wayne. That is no way to speak to any adult, especially within this faculty.” The lady scolded in a heightened tone, still remaining respectful despite the tight stretch in her voice. “As you are still relatively new to this academy, I am providing you with a rare opportunity to apologise. Failure to do so will result in not only a standard detention but a meeting arranged amongst your primary guardian and the dean.”

Damian waited for her to finish, staring tiredly at the single strand of hair out of place on her head. “I understand. Either way, I shall not apologise to someone who is beneath me in not only breeding but also status. My father pays you. You would do best to remember your place and find it within that brain the ability to comprehend that your assigned homework is irrelevant to my life and I will not be attempting it, completing it nor handing it in. My father’s phone line is usually free around two the four PM. Feel free to leave the message regarding the meeting within that time period. Have a nice rest of the day, Miss Maine.” 

And with that Damian left, not wasting a moment longer to listen to the excuse of a teacher beg for his forgiveness. She was a suitable scholar indeed, however there was much left to desire in her comprehension of a social hierarchy. The homework was not at all difficult, a singular worksheet questioning the student on algebra of all things. It was child work. Damian was at college level at the very least when it came to mathematics. He would not let himself be insulted with the Academy’s insistence to refuse to acknowledge his excellence. 

Father will understand. 

---

Father did not understand. 

 

It was outrageous. Damian was sat in the office with his Father, the dean and Miss. Maine and he was forced to watch in horrifying silence while Father apologised for his son’s behaviour and attitude. 

It made no sense as Damian watched his Father, Batman, blubber out a string of sorry and niceties. Why was his Father not defending his honour? Mother would have slit the tongues of the two members of staff as a mercy! Why wasn’t Father seeing the matter as it was?

“I honestly had no idea, Mr. Wilton, I swear-“

“Father,” Damian cut off, having finally had enough. “Whilst it-“

“Hush, son.” His Father rebutted in a sharp tone, eyes transforming from the apologetic begging trance to a swift glare in a millisecond as he turned to face Damian. “We will talk about your poor behaviour at home once I hear suggestions about your punishment from Mr. Wilton. Although,” Father turned towards the staff again, eyes reverting back to the pathetic gaze from before. “Miss Maine’s ideas are also very welcomed. I am again so very sorry for the rudeness.”

“Yes, well,” The lady adjusted her glasses. “You really shouldn’t blame yourself so much, Mr. Wayne. I have had the pleasure of teaching both Richard and Jason. I’m sure we can both recall that while they had their moments they were both exceptional. And this was after you had the chance to raise them some. Young Damian here is clearly not falling behind on his behaviour due to your efforts.”

Damian scowled harder, how dare she imply—

“Either way,” his Father spoke once more. “We can never fully blame a child for their actions. The adults in their lives must always bear some of the blame at least.”

Disgustingly false—

“Modest as usual, isn’t he Miss? Now on to Damian’s punishment. I believe at school we may offer him three weeks of detention, plus having him submit his missing homework in not only mathematics but his other studies before the end of this semester.”

Punishment? Him? Wait until Father strikes out against this imbecile of—

“That sounds completely fair, Mr Wilton. And I will ensure he continues his studies at home. Not just me but also Alfred, you remember him too, Miss Maine? Either way, he will also face punishment at home. This behaviour was unacceptable and I will personally make sure it is corrected.”

Damian felt… he felt… he didn’t know. It was odd, not having a trusted figure stand up for him. Even against grandfather, Mother’s silent presence was enough to allow Damian to hold his head high. To be able to do nothing as he watched Father agree with those below status insult him as well as also insult Damian himself? It was an odd feeling. 

The next thing he knows, Father is standing and shaking hands, ushering Damian to leave the office. Damian takes the opportunity of walking down the halls to glance at Father. His fake smile radiant with a slight sign of his deepest frown. 

“Father—“

“Are we home yet?” He interrupted abruptly, startling Damian somewhat.

“Pardo-“

“Are we home yet?” Father repeating, spiking irritation within Damian. 

“No, Father.”

“I expect you to at the very least be able to respond to simple instructions. We will talk about this at home as I said earlier.” Father hadn’t even bothered to look at Damian throughout this entire exchange. However, recalling the harsh gaze set only for him back in the office, maybe it was best this way. 

“Yes, Father.” Damian bit his tongue. This felt odd. And unfair. If there’s one person who has always been in his corner then it is Richard. 

 

Richard will understand. 

 

---

 

Richard did not understand. 

 

“It’s been half a semester and you haven’t done any work?”

Damian openly scowled at the gobsmacked look on Richard’s face through the video call. “It was an insignificant waste of my time.”

“So all this time,” Richard continued as he fumbled around his apartment through the screen. “Whenever you say you’re doing homework you’re actually…?”

Drawing. “Polishing my strategic abilities. A skill many in this family would do well to practise.”

Richard’s face bloomed into what Todd might call a ‘shit eating grin’. “You just said we’re a family.” He mocked. 

Damian’s already irritable self prickled even more. “I did not-“

“No take backsies!” Richard sang in glee. What was everyone’s issue with allowing Damian to talk without interruption? “Whatever though. What’s your punishment?”

“Well,” Damian started, glancing up uncertainly before forcing himself to return to maintain eye contact. He will not display signs of a child. “The academy has demanded that I submit every missed assignment in addition to three months of detention. I am to make use of the time in the detention to complete said homework.”

“Sounds fair,” Richard shrugged. 

But how in anyone’s right mind was it fair? Why did everyone refuse to take his side on the matter? It was unnecessary work! Why couldn’t Richard especially just respect his view on the matter?

“But I was thinking more about Bruce, what’s he saying?”

“He, um” Damian cursed himself for the stutter. “I am not entirely sure. He told me to wait here in the living room whilst he discussed with Alfred.”

“Ouch,” Richard winced, his tone shifting more towards Damian’s favour. Damian tried to ignore that it was due to his foolish stutter and far away glances that Richard had decided to talk more gently to him. As though he was like a child. How irritating. “Usually that means that Bruce himself thinks his punishment is too harsh and wants Alfie to lower the bar for him.”

“Fantastic.” Damian muttered. “I am glad we decided to have this discussion.”

“Hey,” he said playfully. “You called me, remember? Also I’m sure it won’t be so bad. The school’s already dragging you for that. Rightfully so to be fair.”

Damian’s gaze sharpened. “What do you mean by that?”

Richard kept his annoying voice gentle. “Dami, I know you enough to know you’re not revealing the whole truth of the matter. Whether that’s because you don’t want to share it with me or you’re looking at the situation through rose coloured glasses, you gotta admit that you can get a bit much at times, kiddo.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“You should see this from my perspective.” Damian insisted. 

“I am. I see a kid who’s thrust into a new society where everything is upside down for him.”

“I am no child—“

“Will you let me finish?”

Will you let me?

“It’s just that we’ve been giving you so many chances. By now you should know to just listen to adults around you. They do know more about what they’re talking about sometimes. Like Miss Maine! If you had just listened to her in the first place and did your homework then we wouldn’t be having this problem right?”

“That is not how I see it.” Damian gritted out. He still did not wish to snipe at Richard. 

Even after he let out an exhausted sigh. “Of course not. Look, just listen to us grown ups okay? Especially in school, Dami. Maybe this is a good thing, it’ll teach you more about the world and following orders and yada yada. Now as happy as I am to lecture you, I do need to go and pee.” Richard grinned, “I can always take the phone with me but—“

“Why are you like this!” Damian spluttered, ignoring his brother’s guffawing. “Honestly how can- ugh! Goodbye, Richard.”

“Bye bye, Dami! Good luck with Bruce!”

Damian sighed and dropped his phone. He had already waited forty minutes for his Father to cool down with Pennyworth. What’s a few more minutes? He closed his eyes and focused on finding his meditative centre, subtly ignoring that this tactic was to distract from the pit of anxiety forming within him. 

It had barely been five minutes when the door to the library opened abruptly. Father walked in as he normally did with a stance of confidence and power. Although, this time an aura of frustration and anger filtered through. 

“Father,” Damian greeted as he stood up. 

His Father took a second to study the boy intensely before sighing, forcefully relaxing his posture and adding a bit of a slouch. He dragged a chair out from under the table and gestured Damian to sit back on the couch. 

Damian sat properly on the couch, back straight and hands clenched in his lap. Prepared for the punishment. What would the ridiculous statement be? A week of helping Pennyworth?

His Father sighed again before finally speaking. “Damian. You are my son.”

Uh huh. Amazing deduction. 

“You are no different from Dick, Jason—“

“I am your blood!” Damian erupted, instantly furious. 

“Let me finish!”

Father’s unusual yell humbled Damian a bit. He clicked his jaw shut but glared, shaking in pure anger. 

“You are no different from Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass and Duke. Even Stephanie and Barbara. They are my children as well. You are all on an equal line in my heart and in every other aspect. I feel like a broken record here. I’m telling you that there is no difference between all of you and your refusal to listen is frankly tiring.”

His voice was firm and curt and was filling Damian with dread. Where was Father going with this? Father had to love him more and had to respect him more. He was blood. 

“I have been patient because I have acknowledged that you being the blood heir and whatever else, has been drilled into you since birth. And even though you’ve been in this home for awhile now,  and you’ve learned that so much of what you knew turned out to be lies, for some insane reason you can’t see how much the true blood thing is a lie as well. You are the same as everyone in this household and honestly you are the same as every other human being.”

But he was better, he was carefully created and designed to be better. 

“Yes, the punishment will be harsh this time but I have been too lenient with you in the past and it’s making no difference.”

Damian could take it. He’s taken the worst punishments. He’s got the scars littered on his body to prove it. 

“Until further notice I am benching Robin.”

 

What?

 

“What?” Damian sprung up and Father just sighed again. “You cannot do that! Robin is my right—“

“Why can’t you understand that you don’t have rights above everyone else?” His Father leaned forward and snapped bluntly. “You disrespected your teacher, Damian. Can you comprehend how incredibly rude you were? It’s one thing being completely rude to us but to your teacher? She was helping you. It’s her literal job. And for you to have insulted her so much is outright horrible.”

“I already know what she has to teach! To do her work and every other teacher’s work from that gutter of a school is barbarically a waste of my time!” Damian spat. His fists shaking as his heart hammered in his chest. 

“Your time? Which is spent doing what? Being Robin? If you are unable to divide your time efficiently then of course I have no other choice than to remove Robin.”

“But I am Robin!” Why couldn’t Father understand? “I am Robin before this nonsense. I am doing the world as well as you a favour every night!”

Father took a moment to breathe before speaking. “You are Damian before you are Robin. Not the other way around. If you can’t understand that then maybe you shouldn’t be Robin at all.”

Speechless, Damian stared at his Father helplessly. Suddenly he was breathless, his blood rushing heavy in his ears as his heart shattered at the prospect. If he wasn’t Batman’s Robin then what was he? “You cant-“ he started. 

“I can but I won’t.” His Father interrupted him. Damian’s world tilted itself back abruptly. Leaving him dizzy and he sat himself back on the couch behind him. “Robin is permanently yours. Dick chose you to carry on his title and it feels wrong to take it away without discussing it with him first.” 

Father shifted his chair forward and took Damian’s shaking hands in his own. His large hands cocooned Damian’s. His tone had changed to something more gentle as Damian stared up at him wide eyed. 

“I promise you, you are still Robin, Damian. But I’m only benching you right now so that you can focus on what a child your age should actually be focussing on. All the school work you need to complete now will take up so much of your time. You also need to have some sort of privilege removed for how you treated your teachers. You need to understand not to disrespect them and this was one of the only ways I knew would make that lesson stick. You must apologise to them all and especially Miss Maine. She didn’t deserve that from you for no reason.”

Father moved Damian’s hands so that he could hold both in one while he laid his other hand on Damian’s shoulder. “And I had no idea that you prioritised Robin more than yourself. You’re not two different people, Damian. I know I’m a bit of a hypocrite but honestly, you need to put Damian first and understand who you are before I can trust that you can be Robin.”

There was a deep silence as Father finally finished speaking. Damian’s heart had calmed and his hands stopped shaking. He was still Robin. 

“Can you say something please?” Father asked as he felt the silence grow awkward. 

Dazed, Damian shook his head. He didn’t want to speak. 

For the fourth time in the past ten minutes Father sighed. “Alright. Well, once you have apologised to your teachers, completed your work and have an evident change of attitude towards the faculty and students in the academy then I will think about letting Robin back in the field. We can still train in the Cave and you can occasionally monitor the comms. Is that okay?”

Father was nice like that sometimes, he would allow Damian to be silent as he did with Cain. Unlike Mother who always believed it was an act of defiance and rebellion. Sometimes it was too difficult to speak through the haze. He nodded to his Father because even if he had the strength to speak what else could he do? 

“Okay.” Father pulled him forward for a brief hug but Damian felt no warmth as he stood tensed with his arms by the side. He imagined that Father was feeling guilt, he often did when Damian refused to speak. “Let’s go to the kitchen for a snack before dinner, huh?” 

Again, Damian motionlessly allowed himself to be led to the kitchen. He would’ve been ignored either way. His thoughts towards the Academy were ignored and the only aspect in his life with meaning was temporarily removed for a significant amount of time. He wished Father could’ve just beaten him. He was used to that. Physical pain was okay. Damian had no idea how to react to this pain inside of him. 

 

---

 

Damian laid in bed completely miserable. He left Richard a text on his punishment but the man hadn’t read it yet, most likely out as Nightwing at the moment. He stared at the ceiling simply breathing. 

What was his purpose? It was not to just be a kid. He was not a child, he never had been. His mother trained him even before he could walk. Logical brain activities to sharpen his mind. Every other hour practising on his awareness and eye movement. And then he learned to walk and his training became physical. He trained for hours on end, mastering several different types of weapons and fighting styles. Learning from his tutors on subjects those teachers at Gotham Academy have most likely have never even heard of. 

He believed in his mother’s love for him. Whilst Talia Al Ghul trained him to the point of nearly requiring the Lazarus Pit on occasions, she told him daily that it was for the sake of his purpose in life. To be the heir to his Grandfather and Father’s thrones. Damian Al Ghul was destined for greatness. For power. For respect. He fully believed that his mother loved him. 

And then she sent him to Gotham. He had finally succeeded in his lessons enough to be allowed not only to meet his Father but to stay with him. Damian Al Ghul became Damian Wayne overnight. 

He expected some difference, of course. But to be thrust from being a well respected prince to an irrelevant annoyance was startling. 

He tried his hardest. He showed off his skills and power. Trained and fought till his bones ached in a way he couldn’t describe. Proved himself worthy of whatever mantel Father deemed good enough for him. And he watched each time, searching Father’s expression for any kind of approval. For a sign that he was doing good. But he has still yet to receive it. 

 

And then Richard came. A man Damian believed to be an opponent slowly became an acquaintance. And Damian believed he knew what love was truly supposed to look like. 

Every sign for approval Damian strived to gain from his Father, he didn’t even need to try for Richard to drown him in it. Constant praise poured from the man’s mouth simply from the sight of Damian, let alone if Damian actually put effort into his training. He also always seemed to know when Damian was on the verge of collapsing, when his bones felt a second away from snapping and his stomach so empty from constant training that he felt fainter than he’d want to admit. Richard would sit Damian down, shove food into his mouth and a blanket over him as they watched a horrible child’s film. 

Damian would never admit to the feelings his adopted brother forced out of him. 

But Richard wasn’t always there. And Richard wasn’t his parent. Damian strived for the same love from his Mother and Father. Perhaps even more. And to obtain it was to fulfil his purpose. 

Once he arrived in Gotham he was dismissed, lost and alone. But Richard had given him a new purpose to fight for. 

 

Damian was Robin. 

 

His family didn’t curse or scold him as much since he moved his vigorous energy into being Robin. He was allowed to train in the Cave with several members of the family. He learned from Richard how to truly fly between buildings. Drake shared his knowledge of the Batcomputer at Damian’s request. Jason would practise with him on rooftops when the nights were quiet. Pennyworth would converse with him when mending Damian in the medbay.

And being Robin was the only time Father truly acknowledged him. Batman and Robin. Father trusted Damian to watch out for him, to fight beside him. Damian was respected. He had a purpose. 

And that purpose was Robin. 

And now Father himself took it away. He benched Robin. He stopped trusting Damian. Stopped respecting him and acknowledging him. What was monitoring the comms occasionally when he wasn’t allowed to fly? To be free? To feel light in the cold Gotham nights when he ran away from the reality of the day that came in the forms of school and galas and whatnot. 

Robin was ripped away from his hands all because of his teachers. Because he didn’t show respect to his teachers. That was the main cause. No matter how stupid their assigned work was. 

 

A tear escaped from Damian’s eye, it ran down towards his ear and hid itself in his hair. 

 

Damian would never disrespect a teacher ever again. Not if it meant losing Robin. His purpose.

 

Never again. 

 

Notes:

There’s a lot more to come. Stay tuned!

Chapter 2: Chapter Two

Summary:

“You know I love you right?” He nudged Damian’s shoulder with his own. “You’re my lil’ Robin. You’re good. And pure. You get a little bit passionate sometimes but I love that about you.”

Richard turned to stare at the ceiling and smiled softly. “And you remember what I always say? No sin you commit can make me ever stop loving you. Kill a hundred people and I’ll still be there for you to fall back on. No matter what.”

Notes:

I’m so happy with the response 🩷 can you believe I wrote this back in 2021? Just never got around to posting it

Damian entered the manor tiredly behind Pennyworth. Of course his body outwardly showed no physical sign of exhaustion but he definitely needed to lie down to regain his full efficiency. 

But he didn’t have time for a bed just yet. He was on an important mission. 

“Master Damian, if you could wash up whilst I prepare a sandwich for you.” Pennyworth advised. 

Damian called out before the butler could leave the room. “Actually, Pennyworth. I have a task to complete and so I may be a bit late. Please delay in preparing my food if it is not too much trouble.” He was proud of himself for how easy ‘kind’ sentences came to him now. Two months of practising niceties in situations he would otherwise not care for was paying off. 

“Certainly, Master Damian. And may I say ‘good luck’.” Pennyworth wished before leaving. 

Damian made sure to smile politely at him. Of course, Pennyworth knew. 

With his bag still hanging off his shoulder and his heart in his throat, Damian marched towards his Father’s study like a trained soldier. Which he was. But he’s had to forgo so much of his training in the past two months as he worked hard to earn back what he still believed was rightfully his. 

As he reached the study door he took a breath in and clenched his hands tight to prevent the shaking of anticipation and anxiety. He raised a fist and knocked twice instead of entering abruptly as he once would have. 

Once he heard a low call of “come in,” Damian slowly entered. Trying not to allow his nervous thoughts to affect his behaviour. 

“Father,” He greeted. 

“Damian,” Father turned away from his computer and shut one of the many books on his desk, giving his son his full attention. “How was school?”

“Satisfactory,” Damian replied. “Actually, that is what I wish to discuss.”

“Something go wrong?” His Father leaned forward and furrowed his brow. 

“No, the opposite.” Damian swallowed. Now or never. “I submitted the last of my late work in this afternoon.”

“Oh,” Father blinked. “Oh! Well done, son. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

Did Father just praise him? Damian fought his smile as his chest fluttered sillily. Those praises were so much rarer than Richard’s. Should Damian really ruin this moment by asking?

He had to, he’s done the work to deserve it. 

“Thank you, Father. It was indeed a long task. I apologise if I may sound rude now,” slipping in one of those many niceties to make Father happy. “But I have a question.”

“Yes?” Father leaned back, evidently curious.

“I have spent the past two months completing my assignments, apologising to my teachers, practicing my manners and learning about myself. I am very aware that it has not been a full three months yet but these were the conditions set by you that would give me permission to… to be Robin again.” Damian held his breath, clenching his jaw nervously. 

Father was silent, watching Damian as he thought for a moment too long. “I did say that. And you have completed every single one.” Father stood up from his chair and walked around his desk to approach Damian. Damian held himself still, refusing to move and break Father’s train of thought. Father placed a hand on Damian shoulder and smiled down at him. “I am proud of you. I hope you know that. You’ve definitely learned your lesson. An entire two months since a teacher has called me? That's a huge improvement.”

Damian couldn’t help but preen at the compliments now. He was not used to his Father not scolding him every other minute. 

“And I do miss my Robin keeping me on my toes.”

‘Do not get your hopes up’

 

“Tomorrow night. Do you want to come out with me as Robin?”

 

‘Yes!’

 

“Yes! Thank you, Father!” Damian’s stillness finally broke as the grin he was fighting slipped in. 

For whatever reason, Father threw his head back and laughed heartily. Damian just watched him with a smile, not understanding that Father was happy at Damian’s childishness. Damian honestly could not care, he was just happy that he had his purpose back. 

Father matched Damian’s grin with one of his own. “Let’s go stop Alfred from making you some snack and take you out for ice cream, huh? That sound good?”

Damian could not care less but he was determined to stay on Father’s good side. If that meant visiting the ice cream establishment everyone else seemed to love then so be it. Damian nodded and Father turned him around to walk out of the office, a light hand on his shoulder to guide him. 

 

---

 

Damian pressed his domino mask in place, the familiar weight making him nostalgic He was ready to finally go out once again into the Gotham night as Robin. 

“Bruce letting you back out?” Drake commented on his way down the stairs. 

“Indeed,” Damian replied as he busied himself in his boots. Playing nice with Drake had been one of the biggest challenges to overcome. The key was short answers and avoiding him. 

“Y’know criminals were starting to ask me where’d you run off to. Some thought you’d died.” Drake continued annoyingly as he logged into the Batcomputer. 

“As if I could die that easily.” Damian retorted. “Will Red Robin not be joining us?”

“Later,” Drake turned on the comms system. “I’m taking over from Babs for the first half of the night cause she’s got some dinner plans.”

“Hm,” Damian acknowledged as he sat and waited for Father. This newly presented opportunity meant that the first half of the night would truly just be him and Father, save for the comms interruptions occasionally. That arrangement was more than satisfactory. 

“Has Dick texted you yet?” Honestly, could Drake stop this conversation already. Although, the thought that Richard wanted to contact him was intriguing. 

“Not since last night.” High on ice cream, Damian had immediately phoned his brother once he got back to the manor to tell him that he would be Robin again. 

“Yeah, so a police case of his got a bit more complicated. He won’t be able to make it this weekend. Sorry.” Drake kept his eyes on the screen, as if trying to avoid seeing Damian’s reaction. 

“Oh,” maybe once Damian would have shot the messenger but he couldn’t lose Robin before he even got it back. But Richard not coming home that week was a true dampener. Damian tried to ignore the feelings arising in him as he heard Father coming down the elevator. He did not want to deal with feelings right as he was going out. He waited for Father to step out of the elevator so that the man could hear him. “Thank you for letting me know, Drake.”

He side eyed Father, there was no way he couldn’t have heard Damian. But Father did not acknowledge Damian’s manners. So no praise this time. Not even the subtle type when Father didn’t know Damian was watching. 

Too many feelings. Time to be a free Robin, leaving these feelings behind and to go and fly. 

 

And he did. 

 

He soared through the air in between buildings, allowing himself to free fall before raising his grappling gun to control his landing. He did so without a trace of a smile or squeals unlike Richard but he couldn’t deny that the cold wind brushing through his hair wasn’t exhilarating. 

He landed beside Father who was gazing down at the streets. His Father kept his eyes down instead of acknowledging Damian and allowed a comfortable silence before speaking in a low breath. 

“You’ve been practising with Nightwing,” he stated. 

“Yes,” Damian confirmed before he caught himself. “Only after a sufficient number of hours of study. It was not a show of procrastination that led to—“

“I understand, Robin.” Father interrupted his ramble. “Calm down.”

Damian clenched his jaw and directed his gaze to the road below as well. A split second was all it took for him to feel embarrassed. Had Father not spoken at all then Damian would still be enjoying the thrill of being Robin again. 

Silently, Father turned and continued his pre-planned patrol route over the buildings and Damian followed close behind. He would not allow this moment to ruin the entire night, Richard had taught him that mindset. The moment had passed and now he was in store for whatever joy the rest of the night would bring. 

Other than swift instructions, him and Father did not speak for the rest of the night. Damian tried hard to ignore how when finally Drake joined the two, Father did indeed speak much more and there were no misunderstandings between them. Just plain easy communication. 

Damian did not yearn for that with his Father. He did not. 

 

They arrived back to the Batcave with little problems. The night had been relatively quiet compared to their other patrols. Drake and Father both made their way to the computer, surely to type up reports. Damian had been by their sides throughout tonight so he had no separate report to add. He made his way to the showers quietly, his body aching as he was not as used to patrolling as he used to be. With his stamina low he slowly finished his shower and trudged back out, straightening when Father on the computer came to view. Drake was nowhere to be seen and Father was focused on typing. 

Damian was not going to allow these odd turn of feelings within him ruin his first night as Robin. Father praising him and taking him out for ice cream yesterday evening had never happened before and of course it won’t repeat itself so soon. Things are just going to go back to normal now. The only difference being Damian keeping himself quiet in fear of losing Robin again. That cannot happen. 

 

So ignoring his heavy heart, Damian made his way up the stairs. “Goodnight, Father.” He called down quietly. He received a grunt in response and let it be. At this point he just craved his bed. 

 

---

 

In the morning, Damian noticed that Richard had left a text. 

 

Richard: “Must’ve been amazing being Robin again :D”

 

It was not as if Damian would reply with his true feelings on the matter. That he felt conflicted, that soaring through Gotham had left him with exhilarating adrenaline. But soaring through Gotham at Father’s side had been draining. Had been tense as Damian warily waited for a reprimand. 

It made no sense to Damian why he was always waiting for one of Father’s light scoldings. The contrast between a sharp rebuttal compared to the swift hit of a whip in the League were not at all on the same level. However, Damian never felt as anxious in the League as he did when he waited for Father’s criticism everytime he was near. 

Of course, Father’s approval held far more significance than that of his teachers in the League. Perhaps that was why he never seemed to care much of the League’s punishments as much as Father’s words? Then again, no beatings ever compared to the way Damian’s heart had sunk the moment Father had taken Robin away. The League teachers could never take away Damian’s position the way Father could. Was that the reason behind his underlying fear? Making up his mind, he finally replied. 

Damian: “It was satisfactory.”

And then he remembered,

Damian: “What date shall I expect your arrival, Richard?”

Richard: “I wish I could say this weekend :( next weekend for sure! 17th. You and me. Nightwing and Robin. Sailing the stars!”

Richard : “oh but also family dinner before patrol”

Damian: “You are ridiculous.”

Richard: “it’s the circus boy in me :P”

Damian: “Oh wow. I never would have imagined you were once in the circus. You have never mentioned it before. This is the first time I’m hearing of such a thing. Amazing.”

Richard: “XDDDDDDDDDDDDD”

 

Alone in his room, Damian allowed himself his smile. Next weekend could not arrive soon enough.

 

---

 

It took every fibre of Damian’s being not to bounce over to Richard the moment he stepped foot into the manor. Richard of course had no such qualms. 

“Dami!” He exclaimed as dropped his bag and latched onto Damian, lifting him off the ground. “I missed you! You miss me?”

Damian scowled, keeping his hands by his sides since Drake lingered in the close by with amusement plastered on his face. Perhaps in isolation Damian would have reacted more honestly but as for now in the presence of others he decided to stay limp. 

“Your absence was felt.” He said simply. 

“Awww,” Richard gushed and squeezed tighter. Darn his ability to read in between the lines. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said!”

“Unhand me, Richard.”

“I love you too!”

“As much as I enjoy seeing The Demon suffer, Alfie’s setting up the table and I’m not gonna get told off cause we’re late.” Drake interrupted. 

With a chuckle, Richard finally let go of Damian. Laying a hand on his shoulder to direct him as they walked to the kitchen. When they reached Drake, Richard raised a hand and lightly flicked Drake on his temple. 

“Ow?” Drake whined as he rubbed the area. 

“Don’t call him a demon.” Richard reprimanded for the 87th time. Damian wasn’t counting. 

But Damian did smile to himself as they made their way to the kitchen, Drake following them while muttering indignantly. 

Richard greeted Pennyworth wholeheartedly. Damian stayed back and grabbed some plates to lay the table with before settling down next to where he knew Richard would sit. Drake continued to help Pennyworth set the table as he conversed with Richard and they all waited for Father and Todd. 

It was not long until Father entered, still wearing a work suit he had not bothered changing out from after visiting Wayne Enterprises. Damian watched a hug between Father and his eldest adopted son that lasted a moment longer than usual. Damian was well aware as to how Richard’s enveloping hugs felt, although he could not help but wonder as to how Father’s arms might feel around him. 

What was he getting so sentimental for? He scolded himself silently and reigned in his wandering emotions. It’s the effect of seeing Richard after a long gap. It does tricks to his trained mind. 

As predicted, Richard sat beside Damian and next to the head of the table where Father sat. Drake sat on Father’s other side and the chair across from Damian was left bare. 

“Jason?” Father asked the boys. 

“He’s definitely coming.” Drake replied. 

“Alright then,” Father said. This happened more often than not where the family would begin eating. Todd being late could vary between a few minutes to not turning up at all. 

A chime rang and Pennyworth set down the last dish on the table before fetching out his own phone. The latest version, one of the many proofs of Father trying to spoil Pennyworth by insisting on giving his life some ease. 

“If you will excuse me, Master Jason is requesting a change of clothes down in the Cave. Apparently he does not want to get someone’s blood on my chairs.” Pennyworth said dutifully as he took his leave. 

“Is he hurt?” Father made to stand up but Pennyworth stopped him. 

“I assume not. If I am wrong I shall alert you, Master Bruce. Sit and eat while I fetch Master Jason.” Pennyworth instructed. Father sat back down, worry plastered on his face and Damian idly wondered if anyone else could make Father listen to them with a single command. Perhaps Leslie Thompson. 

The following forced conversation between Father and Richard was tense. It was not until Todd strutted into the room behind Pennyworth wearing the spare soft clothing Father stores for these types of occasions that the atmosphere cleared. Richard erupted into a grin while Father’s shoulders dropped down and relaxed. Drake, like Damian, did not display any type of relief as they had both been unbothered by the situation. Damian, because there was no need to care if Todd was breathing enough to text, and Drake, because he was already most likely aware of the situation. 

 

“Are you alright, son?” Father asked as Todd sat down. 

Damian stopped himself from spitting out that he was not Father’s son. He was not in the mood for a scolding. 

“Yea, and don’t worry B, guns are all nice and locked away in your lil safe.” Todd said dismissively and made to fill up his plate. 

“I mean about the blood on your clothes?” Father pressed.  

“Oh,” Todd glanced up at Pennyworth. He must not have realised that the information had been shared. “Not mine.”

“Who’d you punch?” Richard asked around a mouthful of food. 

Todd shrugged. “No one. There was a crash on 12th street. Was helping out with first aid till paramedics arrived.”

“It was on the news.” Drake informed. 

It explained why Todd had not shared the information regarding the blood freely considering he was still embarrassed to be ‘one of the good ones’ and it also explained why Drake had not worried over Todd’s whereabouts as he would have usually. Damian noticed Father glancing disapprovingly at Drake for not sharing it with him immediately before turning to direct a small smile at Todd. If Damian learned anything about social mannerisms in the last almost two years then it was that it was ‘nice’ not to brag about one’s own achievements. 

Although, according to Father and Richard there was a fine line between being proud and bragging. Both seemed to dislike whenever Damian did not report his successes but simultaneously gave him a stern look when he rambled on about them to others. 

“That’s amazing, Jason.” Father praised. Damian internally scoffed. It was common to help people in their line of work, what did this require praise for?

“Whatever.” Todd muttered. 

 

With that the table began to rise in volume as stories were shared and family matters discussed. It was enough to annoy Damian quickly who wanted nothing more than to run away as Robin into the night with Nightwing by his side. Damian was lost in such fantasies when he heard the word ‘Demon’ said by Todd and looked up from his plate. He thought about how interesting it was that he learned to subconsciously respond to Demon the same way he responded to ‘Damian’. Pavlov’s dog.

“Don’t call him a demon.” Richard scolded. That was number 88.

“What are we discussing?” Damian asked.

“Just how it looks like you wanna murder someone,” Todd commented. 

Richard frowned, “it was less that, more—“

“I do not look as though I wish to murder anyone.” Damian insisted. He had not said or done a single thing the entire evening and he was still being blamed over nothing. “I was simply eating my meal.”

“Maybe it’s just a permanent look on you then, Demon.” Todd said. 

“Don’t call him—“

“I took no such opportunity in this last hour to even direct a single comment towards you, Todd. If you could have enough sense to try the sam—“

“Heavens forbid I attempt to flatter thou with thy existence,” Todd mocked, hands fluttering about in the air for dramatic effect. “Seriously, that’s how you sound. Take a joke, brat.”

“I speak in the same manner as Pennyworth!”

“You mean Alfred. And he’s not eight years old—“

Damian’s hand came down on the table, the cutlery clinging on the china plates. “I am eleven years of age and do not imply that I am a child!”

“Enough.” Fathers voice echoed lowly. Damian looked towards him to take his help when he saw the glare directed at him. 

“Bruce…” Richard warned quietly. 

“We do not yell at the table. Nor insult our family. Now apologise.” Father commanded, still staring down at Damian. 

Damian hesitated. Flames were lit in his heart with hidden anger. Todd had started it, not Damian. Damian had done nothing wrong. He hadn’t even attempted to provoke Todd. He was only defending himself, and verbally too! He did not even throw his fork into Todd’s eye in the way he craved to. 

“Father—“

“Now, Damian.”

It reminded Damian of the way Father spoke to him two months ago. When he took away Robin. 

He can’t lose Robin. 

 

So he turned to face Todd. Damian’s face flushed in a cocktail of anger and humiliation as he witnessed the small smug look on Todd’s face. The older man was proud of his teasing. 

And Damian was most likely in the wrong. He usually was. No matter what he did he always frustrated Father and occasionally Richard. He probably did look like he wanted to murder someone even though he was just lost in his thoughts. He should have made more of an effort to force a fake smile the way the rest of his family did whenever they were made to do something they hated. He also must have overreacted to Todd’s ‘jokes’. He was known to overreact. 

“I apologise,” Damian gritted out between his teeth, he was ashamed of himself for his inability to act sincere in this moment of anger. 

“I didn’t hear that,” Todd rested his chin in his hand smugly. 

“Jason.” Richard said sharply. 

“Ugh, fine. Killjoy.” 

Dinner had ended after that. On a negative note and due to Damian. He refused to feel bad for it. It couldn't all be his fault. It must have been at least some of Todd’s. 

As they all left the room to move to the Cave, Damian held back from the group and stayed where Richard was trailing behind. Lightly, he pinched the fabric of Richard’s jacket, stopping him. The older brother turned and looked down at Damian with a smile. The smile made him believe that he could not have been that bad at the dinner table. Although, Richard was notorious for ‘cutting Damian too much slack’. 

“Yea, Dami?” Richard asked quietly, knowing that Damian would not want the rest of the family to hear. 

Matching the same tone, Damian said, “can we take a different route from the others during patrol? Not for the entire time but for at least an hour?”

His smile widening, Richard ruffled Damian’s hair before resting his hand at the centre of Damian’s back and continuing to lead them to the Cave. “What did I say? Nightwing and Robin. Sailing the stars! You’ll be tired of me after tonight, Lil’ D.”

Leaning into the hand on his back, Damian smiled. Richard could never be more wrong. 

Nightwing and Robin definitely sailed through the stars. It felt less like patrol and more like a game, something they could get away with due to the fairly quiet night. 

Damian did not reveal any joy through his expressions unlike Richard who was laughing and yelling each time he soared between buildings, but Damian did allow himself to relax at his brother’s side. 

They had spent approximately two and a half hours flying and had prevented one local shop robbery and two muggings. And none of the victims involved required the aid that Batman’s protocol demanded they gave, like sitting with them till they calmed down or walking them home or handing them a Wayne Industries Voucher that Brucie Wayne prepared for Batman via their partnership. 

Instead they ran across rooftops around Gotham until they returned to the Bat rendezvous point where Batman and Red Robin were already sharing reports. 

“Hi, B.” Nightwing greeted with a grin. “Didn’t get up to much. You two?”

“Likewise,” Batman muttered. 

“In other words there was no need for all of us.” Red Hood said as he jumped onto the roof.

“Don’t be like that! Family patrol night is always fun!” Richard wrapped an arm around Todd’s shoulders. 

“These rubber bullets can still hurt, Dickwing.” Todd gritted out. 

“No threatening your brother.” Batman interrupted. 

“Hey,” Drake had approached Damian silently while the others bickered away. Damian raised a brow in question. “Just wanted to say it wasn’t cool of me to not stick up for you earlier.”

“What on earth are you referring to, Red?” Damian nearly spat out. He was not expecting an apology and did not even know what it was for. 

“At dinner. Hood was provoking you for fun but you were the one who got in trouble.”

Damian was bewildered. It was not the first time such behaviour had occurred during family events but it was the first time Drake was saying anything about it. It made Damian feel unsettled and unsure as to how he should feel or react. He was unused to such actions. And what was the cause of this apology? Perhaps Damian’s forced niceties were having somewhat of an effect. 

“You know Nightwing’s gonna talk to him, right? I get that teasing is Hood’s way of bonding but he needs to pick and choose who to do it with.” Drake continued. 

Damian tried not to flush. First of all, he did not require Richard to fight his battles or speak for him as though he was some child. He was not a child in the faintest. He was an Al Ghul. He was never a child. 

And also, Drake implying that Todd was attempting to bond? That statement was bizarre enough in itself. Why would Todd want anything to do with him? More so, why would he try to form a relationship of some sort? Yes, they were allies in masks and acquaintances in the manor but did that mean Todd was trying to form a stronger alliance? Should Damian be trying as well?

Damian finally decided on a response. “It is not of your concern.”

“Still,” Drake shrugged while Batman shushed Todd and Richard as their bickering got louder. “It wasn't fair.”

It wasn’t. But it was the first time anyone other than Damian had said so. 

“Robin and Red Robin. Two more hours and then back to the Cave. Nightwing and Red Hood, I advise you to finish patrol by 3AM but I know you’re not going to listen—“

“Good of you to still keep trying though.” Richard interrupted. 

“— it’s quiet enough to split up but stay in teams if you want. Stick to patrol routes and alert everyone through the comms immediately if need be. Leave nothing to chance. The night might not stay quiet.”

“Deep.” Todd mocked. 

Damian noticed Richard leaning into Todd. He had spent the last two and a half hours with Robin and Damian was not selfish enough to hog his attention anymore. He would allow Richard to patrol with Todd without complaint. He distantly wondered if they would discuss him. Father had already ran off into the shadows, deciding to patrol alone. It seemed as though Robin would fly alone for the next hour. Damian did not mind that at all. 

“Wanna patrol together?” Drake interrupted Damian before he shot off. 

The proposition startled him somewhat. Was this Drake’s way of ‘bonding’? Why was he trying so hard to form a relationship? Would Damian get in trouble if he didn’t try just as hard?

“No talking, promise.” Drake smirked. “Just thought since we’re gonna be out till the same time we might as well run around together. And plus we could end the patrol closer to the cave so it’s less of a hassle?”

It did make sense and Drake’s presence was not currently as grating as it could be. And there was always a chance that this alliance could impress Father in the way Damian knew it would definitely impress Richard. Might even give him an acknowledgment of praise. 

“Alright. But do not get in my way.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Drake stayed true to his promise. Staying quiet and simply doing his job. It made the last hour bearable. They had both come to a stop on a random rooftop, Drake was on his wrist computer, searching through recent cases that they could possibly work on whilst they were out. Damian stayed by the edge of the roof, watching the seven men in the alleyway. 

Was it odd that there were seven men seemingly mingling innocently in an alleyway in the City of Gotham? There was an honest probability. It could be a smoke break for a night shift in a random establishment. There was no way to know for sure unless anything occurred. They were dressed suspiciously, in clothes that were obviously cheap and torn. But Todd had once told Damian off for assuming it meant that they were criminals. So he did nothing but wait while Drake played with his tools. 

Damian was not going to admit that he wouldn’t even have noticed the men had he not followed a stray cat he saw jump into the dumpster in the alley. 

“Red Robin,” Damian said when he noticed the volume rise in one of the men’s voices. Had it just been him then Damian would have jumped in but he required a second opinion if someone else was there to report his actions back to Father. 

“Yeah?” Drake asked as he came over. Immediately assessing the situation when he peeked over the edge of the roof. “Looks sus.”

Damian turned an irritated look towards him. 

“Sorry,” Drake smiled. “Anyways, it’s alright for now.”

Just then one of the men started yelling and another one whipped out a gun at him. 

“Spoke too soon.” Damian said in response to Drake’s dismay. 

Wordlessly, they both jumped down. Drake landed on top of the man who initially pulled out the gun. Disarming him and then knocking him out with the same gun before emptying it quickly. Another man pulled out his gun in his own panic which Damian handled, grabbing his arm to aim the gun upwards and then using his momentum to jump high enough to kick him hard in the chest. With his breath gone, Damian found it easy to disarm the man and bang his head against the alley’s dirty wall. 

One of the other men ran to escape, which Drake handled by throwing a spinning weighted rope at his ankles, successfully tying them together and tripping him up. 

Three more whipped out their guns, Damian swiftly disarmed one with a batarang and focused on the other. The biggest one. None of them had used their guns to shoot yet so Damian felt confident enough to run up at him, daring him to shoot. 

Damian used his running start and grabbed onto the man’s forearms, pulling the gun down and jumping to kick in his nose. The gun went off then with a ringing bang but it was aimed at the ground. Damian spun himself so that he was on top of the man’s back and clinged on. He wrapped his arms around the beefy neck and the man predictably raised his hands to get Damian off his throat. 

Damian used this to his advantage to grab onto the hand with the gun and using his spiked boot he kicked the man’s arm hard enough that he let go of the weapon. Damian swiftly emptied it before turning his attention back to the big man who was now gripping a bleeding hand and was very annoyed. 

He readied himself to run forward at him when he heard an uncharacteristic hiss from Drake. 

 

He turned to Drake to see a batarang lodged in his side. Damian’s batarang from earlier.

 

One of the remaining men must have at one point retrieved it off the ground and got a lucky shot while Drake was preoccupied. 

With a new motivation to make this fast and deliver first aid, Damian ran at the man who most likely threw the batarang, judging from his stretched out hand and stunned expression. Damian yelled a warning to Drake to shut his eyes before he threw a flash pellet. The men all cried out as they were blinded and Damian used this to knock out the current man by throwing a well aimed kick to his knee and a gloved fist up his jaw.

Damian let Drake deal with the other man as he turned his attention back to the now blinded big man and jumped back onto his back. He used a wire to wrap around the man’s neck, reverting to his original tactic. Blind and panicking, the man was unable to get Damian off and instead he choked to unconsciousness. 

“Red Robin!” Damian called once the men were finally all down. He ran to Drake's side. The older boy was gripping onto the bleeding wound tightly as he had been trained to. “Do not remove the weapon.” Damian reminded him. 

“Yeah, I know.” Drake snapped irritably. “Tie them up first.”

Offended by the disregard, Damian frowned. He was trying to be nice. Well, now he was going to follow protocol and not be nice. 

“Robin to all available Bats. Red Robin has received injury to his side by a blade. The blade is roughly four inches inside around the area of his left kidney.”

“Brat,” Drake said. 

“Sit before you injure yourself further,” Damian instructed before Father’s voice came through the comms.

“Oracle, trac—“

“Already sent out the Batmobile to their location, B.” Oracle chimed in. 

“Wait,” Drake reached up to his ear to activate his comms, ignoring Damian insisting for him to sit down and wrap the wound. “It’s like a flesh wound. We don’t need the whole show down here.”

Damian turned to tie the men up before they awoke but was starting to feel insulted by Drake’s lack of cooperation. So he turned his comms back on, “a falsehood, Batman. As mentioned, the wound is at the very least four inches in, if not more. Red Robin is refusing first aid and the bleeding is steadily growing worse. His skin is turning pale and he is sweating. His breaths are growing frantic but he will not listen to me. Please instruct him to do so.”

“Red Robin. You will sit and allow Robin to wrap your side.” Batman’s growl echoed in their ears. 

“I can do it myself,” Drake insisted. 

“Negative. Follow your orders.”

Damian distantly wondered how if he spoke to Batman in that manner then the threat of Robin being taken away from him would have been made by now. What made Drake so different that he was allowed to fight back?

“C’mon, Red.” Richard’s voice rang through the comms. “The Batmobile will be there in a minute. Just bear with it, alright?”

Drake scoffed. His attitude was a direct symptom of the pain. But he had been through worse, they all had. Which was perhaps why he was obviously so annoyed. But with Batman made aware of his injuries there was no way he was not receiving the full medical treatment and rest which could last for weeks. Especially considering his spleen, or the lack of it.

Agitated, Drake allowed himself to carefully fall down and lean against the alley’s wall. By then Damian had finished restricting the criminals so he approached his injured adopted brother. 

“I will need to disinfect it immediately. The grime of this place will be littered with infections.” Damian informed him as he retrieved his minimal first aid box from his belt. 

Drake grunted, his gloves now soaked in red as he tried to hold his skin together. “Whatever.”

“This will sting,” Damian repeated what he heard everyone say before they applied the disinfectant. He had never heard such comments before coming to Gotham but the first time he poured out disinfectant without warning he got yelled at for ages by Todd who had been the victim of the stinging. 

“Dammit, I know.” Drake gritted out. 

Damian tried not to take insult to that. He wondered how old he had to be until he learned what to say to others without it annoying them and when it was appropriate to say which words.

With a quick hand, Damian poured out the disinfectant so that it covered the wound and the batarang. He then got out a bandage to tightly wrap around Drake’s waist. Drake was concerningly losing a lot of blood and his lack of spleen would not be helping. 

As he tied the knot, the Batmobile came charging in the alleyway. Damian offered Drake a hand which he refused and stubbornly stood up on his own, no doubt shifting the batarang despite Damian’s bandaging. 

“We are in the Batmobile, on route to the cave via autopilot. Oracle, please inform GCPD of seven unconscious criminals in the alleyway on 17th who were armed with guns.” Damian reported dutifully. 

“Noted.”

“This was extremely not worth it.” Drake muttered.

Damian frowned, Drake was never usually so uncooperative. “Why do you insist on being so difficult?”

Drake scoffed, “look who’s talking.”

Damian snapped, “what is your problem?”

“Look,” Drake snapped back. “I have been trying to be nice to you all evening so right now could you just leave me alone.”

“I never asked you to be nice to me,” Damian was affronted.

“Well, Dick did.” Drake said and turned his body away from Damian. 

Damian blinked. That information should not be affecting him in the way that it was. He was used to Richard having to force them to be civil with each other but Damian supposes that where he had not known that Drake was forcing himself, it had felt somewhat real.

But what did it matter to him? Drake was an inconvenience as it was. Damian is relieved that Drake dislikes him as much as Damian dislikes Drake.

The rest of the ride continued on in silence. A tension in the air that both boys refused to acknowledge.

A quick glance at Drake’s side showed the bandages bleeding through. But Drake was right in the sense that they had been through worse. The excessively bleeding, paleness, breathlessness and fatigue were hardly concerning.

 

Maybe only slightly.

 

Finally, the batmobile sped into the cave. Damian could see Pennyworth standing near, a mobile medical cot by his side. Damian did as he would have been expected to and jumped out of the car, helping Pennyworth bring the cot closer to Drake’s door. 

Drake opened his door on his own and began climbing out before Pennyworth reprimanded him. With a sigh, Drake listened and allowed the two to guide him onto the cot. Damian observed Pennyworth eyeing the protruding batarang. 

They led the cot into the medical bay and Damian informed Father and the rest that they had reached. 

“The others are on their way,” Damian reported. 

Pennyworth hummed in acknowledgement. “Now Master Tim, I will inject you with local anaesthetic.”

“Alright,” Drake replied and to Damian’s annoyance he was much more cooperative. Allowing Pennyworth to manhandle him and inject him when he wouldn’t even take Damian’s hand earlier.

Cautiously, Pennyworth removed the batarang and immediately got to stitching, instructing Damian to blot away the blood that kept obscuring his vision. That was when Father came in followed by Richard and Todd.

“Tim,” Father rushed to his side. 

“Hey Bruce,” Drake shared a small smile. “Jinxed the quiet night, huh?”

Calmed by Drake’s ability to joke around, the tension in Father’s shoulders noticeably relaxed.

Damian turned away, Drake had no more need for him and nor did he want it. Especially considering his ease being more than evident in the moment compared to not even a few minutes ago when he was in the Batmobile alone with Damian. 

He was headed to the Batcomputer to report the events of the night when he heard Todd swear. 

“Demon Brat, what did you do ?”   

Damian whipped around at the tone Todd had taken towards him. Todd was standing by the metal platter beside Drake’s bed. He had everyone’s attention. All prepared to intervene. And simultaneously, everyone realised that in the platter laid a bloodied batarang. 

Damian was still confused, “I did not do anything other than provide first aid to Drake, Todd.” He said annoyed. 

“Then why the hell was there a batarang in his side?” Todd started to approach him. “What? Wanted to kill him again? Disguised it as a fight with those assholes? How did he end up with a batarang sticking out of him?”

Damian floundered. His mouth opened and shut in a confusion as to what to say. It only took a moment to realise that no one was jumping to support him. Dammit, Drake himself wasn’t jumping to support him. 

“I did not try to kill Drake!” Damian snapped. “I have not taken a life in over a year! I do not kill, you hypocrite! Richard!” Damian looked at Richard. To Damian’s horror, Richard looked unsure of himself. Father was still staring at the batarang. 

“I’m sure there’s some explanation here,” Richard tried. “Though, it is a little odd.”

“So if it wasn’t the resident demon,” Todd was right in front of him now, glaring down at him. “Then how did he—“

“It was my weapon. But I had thrown it at a criminal to disarm the gun he had pointed at me.” Damian clenched his fists, willing himself not to scream. “It laid on the floor. The next time I saw it, it was in Drake’s side. My assumption is that one of those men threw it at Drake when he was foolishly unaware.”

“Oh, that’s convenient.”

“Maybe he’s telling the truth?”

Damian finally turned to look at Drake. Horrified by his silence. They met each other’s gaze. Finally, Drake rolled his eyes. 

“No, yeah. He’s right.” Drake admitted. “Just wanted to see how this played out. Was getting interesting.”

“Tim!” Richard scolded. 

“Tim.” Father agreed. 

“Oh c’mon.” Drake grinned, “don’t yell at the wounded guy.”

“Just wait,” Richard said to him. He then turned to Damian. “Dami, I’m sorry we immediately assumed—“

“Whatever,” Damian stepped away from Todd’s now non-threatening stance. “I am retreating to my room.” Drake could write up the stupid report. 

“Dami, wait! C’mon! Ugh, Tim, that was so unnecessary….” Richard’s voice faded away as the elevator doors closed behind Damian. 

 

Damian slammed his bedroom door shut. He felt infuriated and embarrassed. He felt angry at Drake for playing with the situation. He felt embarrassed that he had enjoyed Drake’s company initially and humiliated that it took Richard’s meddling for Drake to tolerate him. Not that he cared how Drake felt about him. And he was… hurt. Hurt that all of his effort to be a better person for the sake of what’s right, his family’s acceptance and Robin, was for nothing if his entire family immediately expected him to pick up a weapon and kill someone with it.

He had thought that he had done enough for his family to let go of those assumptions. That he had shown enough evidence of his growth. Apparently it wasn’t enough. Maybe it won’t ever be enough.

He was still in his Robin uniform. Pennyworth would be extra frustrated with him now. But what did Damian care? He just had to breathe for the entire family to be frustrated with him.

A knock sounded on his door, “Dami? Can I come in?”

Well, perhaps Richard was the occasional exception.

But he had agreed with Todd.

But he also was reluctant to believe that Damian was Drake’s assaulter.

But he had still questioned Damian and his morals.

“Lil’ D?”

“I’m changing,” Damian lied.

“I’ll wait.”

Damian stood there then, unsure of his next move. He bought himself some time at the very least. He slowly changed out of his uniform and into some old clothes to sleep in, purposely choosing to avoid any clothes Richard had purchased for him.

Changed, he sat on his bed and faced the door. He straightened his back, face expressionless. The cold soldier he pretended to be and who everyone assumed he was. “Ready.”

Richard entered, opening the door slightly and poking his head through shyly. “Hey, Dami.”

Damian huffed bitterly, “Come to say goodnight to the assassin?”

Richard’s face twisted and he opened the door fully to enter, closing the door behind him. “I’m so sorry, Dames. I honestly shouldn’t have just agreed with Jason.”

“I do not care what you believe, Richard. It makes no difference to me.”

Richard looked sad. “I know you do, kiddo. Look, Bruce and I talked to Tim and later I’m gonna get him to apolo--”

“I do not require your meddling for my relationships.” Damian sniped. “I do not need your assistance to get Todd to control himself or apologise when he decides to agitate me. I do not need you to convince Drake to tolerate me and pretend to want my company. Nor do I need you to make him also apologise to me. I do not need it!”

“No,” Richard agreed. He sat on Damian’s desk chair, slumping into himself. “I know you don’t. You could manage it on your own.”

“Indeed,” Damian folded his arms. “I can manage well enough without their fake attempts of brotherhood or whatever other stupidity you’re insistent upon.”

“It’s not fake.” Richard shook his head. “I meant that you’re more than capable of bonding with them on your own terms. And vice versa. I’m just trying to hurry along the process a lil’. Nothing’s fake, kiddo. They do wanna hang out with you sometimes.”

Damian scoffed at the ridiculousness. “Utter lies. Either way, I do not care.” Damian turned his head away. “And what does it matter? When you believe me to still be the assassin you previously lied and insisted I no longer am.”

Richard hung his head, “God, Dami. I’m so sorry about that. Really. Let me make it up to you.” Richard approached Damian’s bed, moving to sit next to him. “You know I love you right?” He nudged Damian’s shoulder with his own. “You’re my lil’ Robin. You’re good. And pure. You get a little bit passionate sometimes but I love that about you.”

Richard turned to stare at the ceiling and smiled softly. “And you remember what I always say? No sin you commit can make me ever stop loving you. Kill a hundred people and I’ll still be there for you to fall back on. No matter what.”

And honestly? Damian felt ashamed that the simple apology was all he needed to feel better in himself. But he was not going to admit that to Richard so easily, even if his pink cheeks betrayed him. “Make it up to me by not forcing the others to tolerate me.”

“They don’t tolerate you, they like you.” Richard promised. “So no can do there.”

Damian scowled, “then what do you suggest?”

Richard grinned down at him, annoyingly knowing that he had been forgiven. “Want a lift to the pet shelter, tomorrow?”

Interested, Damian blinked at him expectantly. 

Richard understood and winced, “No adopting any of the animals though. We go for nothing else but petting and playing.”

Damian blinked and manipulatively frowned.

“I swear to God,” Richard shook his head with a laugh. “I am still in trouble for getting you that turtle. No way, Dami.”

Damian sighed, accepting defeat. “Fine. but we are spending the entire afternoon there.”

Richard wrapped an arm around Damina with a grin. “Done.”

Damian scowled as Richard squeezed, “let me go, Richard.”

“No can do, you are way too low on cuddles!” Richard foolishly sang and wrapped both arms around Damian’s smaller body, squeezing harder despite his struggles. 

Eventually Damian gave up, not wanting to be rude and unintentionally insult Richard. Also because the sooner he gave up the sooner his brother would unhand him. He truly despised the tight hugs Richard insisted on.

But since when did anyone ever listen to Damian?

Predictably, Richard released him and grinned. “Snack time?”

“It’s 3am.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“If I said no, you wouldn’t listen.”

“True. Let’s a go!”

“You share a similar level of intellect to that of a chimp.”

“Thank you.”

 

Notes:

But since when did anyone ever listen to Damian?
“If I said no, you wouldn’t listen.”

Oop - forshadowingggg

Also re-establishing that Bruce isn’t purposefully being a dick. He’s just learned that this method works on reigning in Damian and hasn’t realised the type of thoughts Damian has gets cause of it, considering the kid never shares how he feels with him

Chapter 3: Chapter Three

Summary:

“Do you understand? If I get a single phone call from the Academy again then I will be very upset. There will be even worse consequences. Are we understood?”

Damian could translate that for himself. No more Robin.

Notes:

Thank you to everyone reading 🩷
(This story has a very slow build up if you haven’t gathered that yet)

Also! I’m gonna be 100% honest but I completely forgot about Cass… she’s busy up in Hong Kong in this fic okay I’m sorry 😭

Once they returned from the pet shelter, with unfortunately no new animal companion this time, Drake did indeed apologise.

Not only for staying quiet while Damian was yelled at but for his earlier rudeness. Damian had just shrugged in response. Bitterly wondering how if Damian had behaved in such a manner then the Robin suit would be currently locked away but Drake got no more than having to apologise as a punishment.

And a stab wound but to-may-to, to-mah-to.

Time had steadily passed and before Damian realised, it was the exam season for the term. Inconveniently enough, Scarecrow broke out of Arkham the week before.

Damian was suited up as Robin and snuck into an abandoned warehouse, Spoiler silently behind him. Together they climbed to the top of the wall-high stack of crates, filled with what he was not sure of.

“Found Scarecrow. In pursuit.” He heard Todd’s voice through the comms.

“Bummer,” Brown whispered. “I really felt in the mood for a good ol’ brawl.”

Damian simply rolled his eyes in response. “Let us search through the crates.”

“Yes, sir, Yoda.” 

Star Wars, Damian understood the reference despite never watching it. It was in Richard’s long list of movies to see, added by the courtesy of Barbara.

Majority of the crates they found to be empty, a handful being filled with cases for armoury without the actual weapons being inside. Nothing significant to report. Damian found himself envious of Todd, similar to Brown’s initial reaction. He was hoping the night’s events would make up for all the studying he had to complete tonight. He had multiple exams in the upcoming week and tomorrow he had two.

Of course, his Father was unaware. Damian needed his distraction as Robin and Father would not have allowed him to think of setting a foot out for patrol if he had known there were examinations. Whilst Damian was well learned in the history of the American Revolution and Mathematics, he required training in how to specifically answer the set questions in order to satisfy the low-life teachers at the Academy. One of the unfortunately mandatory things Damian had to do in order to keep Robin.

“Lost him,” Todd’s guttural voice broke through the comms, his voice heavy from most likely a fight.

“Which way?” Richard asked.

“He’s heading North. Robin and Spoiler are closest.” Oracle replied for Batman.

“Masks on.” Father commanded. “Make contact with Scarecrow only if necessary. Wait for backup.”

Damian bit his tongue from responding sharply to the patronising orders. He had encountered Scarecrow before. He knew the orders.

“Aye-aye, B-Man.” Brown said, dutifully strapping on her mask.

Damian copied. They headed out of the warehouse and began to run towards the Rogue, using Oracle’s directions.

And it all went downhill from there.

 

Because Scarecrow was not alone. And Brown was practically known for disobeying Batman, nearly more than the other birds. And she jumped down for a fight. And one of them had a gun.

So Damian pushed Brown aside. They both dodged the bullet. Stephanie landed on her breathing mask. It cracked.

Scarecrow sprayed out the fear gas despite his own lackeys not having a mask on. Scarecrow got away. Damian did not have enough antitoxin to inject into Stephanie as well as five criminals.

 

“Urgent backup required.” He quickly said into the comms. “Repeat: urgent backup required.”

“Report.”

“Wait, I’m okay.” Brown told Damian.

“Six fear gas victims including Spoiler. Only have enough antitoxin for two.”

“Inject two of the other victims.” Batman’s command came after a moment of reluctance. “Backup is nearly there.”

Brown nodded in approval. “That’s the right call. Seriously, I’m okay.”

With his teeth grit, Damian located the two most distressed Rogues who had already begun to yell. With little struggle, he managed to inject them both in the neck. The other three would just need to wait. He tied them up, frustrated that he had enough handcuffs for that but not enough serum. But backup was nearly here, they could wait. Their pulses were not yet fatal. 

Spoiler, on the other hand, was on her hands and knees. Staring at the ground. Coming closer, Damian could hear rushed whispers.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

“You are okay.” Damian reassured, slowly approaching her. “Batman is en route. You are okay, Spoiler.” 

Her gaze lifted off from the ground and turned to him. Her eyes were hysterically wide under her hood and tears were falling. One hand raised itself to rest on her belly and she looked at Damian as if he knew something important. 

When Damian came close enough she gripped onto his arm with her other hand. 

“You are alright, Spoiler.” He said as he had been trained to. “You will get the antitoxin in a moment.”

She moved to speak and Damian expected another bout of rushed whispers but instead she spoke a steeled question.

“Where is my baby?”

Damian stilled. No idea how to answer. He was aware of the pregnancy. Read her medical files. But had not expected her of all people to ever mention it to him. 

“Robin,” her grip tightened. “ Where is my baby? ”

“Spoiler,” he tried. “Remember where you are. You are—“

“ I need to find her! ” Her breathing was developing from rapid to hysterical. Her grip was bruising but that was the least of Damian’s concern. 

Damian activated his comms, “ETA?”

“Three minutes.”

He cursed, he was unsure if they had three minutes as her breathing rushed. 

“No— wait, I’m sorry. I can’t go back.” Brown suddenly said. Damian was unsure how to respond to the change of statements. “I can’t go back. Don’t make me go back. I’m sorry.”

“No one is making you do anything.” Damian promised. “You stay here and after the serum you are going back to the C—“

“ No! ” She shrieked and she released her grip and scrambled back anxiously. 

Damian raised his hands passively as a sign of peace. “Spoiler?”

“No closet! I am not going back in that closet!” She shook her head frantically. “You can’t make me! I swear this time I tell the police! I’ll tell Batman! I’ll have evidence! You can’t put me in there!”

“No one is putting you in a closet.” Damian was getting frustrated. Where was Batman? “See sense, Spoiler. I was saying Cave. You are retreating back to the Cave for recovery—“

“No!”

Damian had to stop himself from rolling his eyes and stomping away. It would do no good and only lead to harm. However, he couldn’t help but notice Brown breathing faster. She was near the point of hyperventilating. 

Hesitantly, he made a move to approach her. “Listen to me, Spoiler—“

“No!”

He was really starting to get agitated. 

“I have a proposal. I will not harm you.”

She shook her head, and to Damian’s horror, she scrambled back even more out of the alley and near the street. It was then that he made the decision. 

In a quick blink he rushed forward, unbuckling his gas mask, and as soon as he grabbed onto her, he ripped her broken mask off and forced his onto her face despite her screams. 

He hurriedly pulled her further back into the alley, knowing that the mask will not do much good without the antitoxin but it might stablise the rate at which her fears and heart beat were accelerating. 

Father was en route. No more than a minute now. It would be okay. 

He controlled his breathing, slowing it down. And despite knowing how much everyone would yell at him for it, for the safety of Brown and himself, he handcuffed her to a rusted pole. Separate and away from the other criminals. But still restrained. And safe. 

He had finally run out of handcuffs. Or he would have tied himself as well. 

Brown was still screaming at him. Somehow likening the restrains to being locked in a closet. There was not much more Damian could do. Besides, Father was near. 

A figure landed behind him, Father was here. 

“Robin, what is this?”

“Batman,” Damian greeted. “I had no other way to protect her. She was a danger to herself.”

Batman stared at Stephanie, restrained, screaming and crying. 

“No,” he slowly said. “There are other ways.”

Damian tried to explain. “Her pulse was high, it was necessary to attempt to stabilise it and so I swapped the masks. In case I too succumbed to the gas, I had to ensure she was at least safe.”

“So you left yourself vulnerable.”

“I had to. And you have the antitoxin for her.”

“You had to? So it would be easier for you to kill her when you inhaled the gas and became violent?”

Damian blinked. His head going empty as Stephanie shrieked behind him. “I would never, Batman. You know I would never.”

“You are an assassin, Damian. It is in your blood.”

“I have your blood too, Father.” Damian fell to his knees, feeling unwell. “I have the blood of Batman.”

“The blood of Batman is a waste in you.” 

“I would never murder—“

“You already tried.”

“Nearly two years ago!” Damian shouted. Brown screamed. “I would never try again. I would never think of it again. I would never hurt my family! Why can’t you accept that I have changed?”

Batman stared down at him. Distantly, Damian wondered why he wasn’t injecting Brown with the antitoxin and comforting her cries. 

“I cannot have an assassin for a Robin.”

“What?” Damian raised an arm protectively when Batman began to approach him. “No. No! Robin is mine! Please, give me another chance. I’m not a murderer, I swear. I need Robin!”

Batman reached towards Damian to rip off his Robin mask. 

“No, Father. Father, I swear I can be better! I can be a better son. A better Robin! I can be better than I ever was but please! You can’t send me back, Father, please, Richard promised, you promised! You promised me that I could stay.”

Batman’s hand rested against Damian’s temple, holding his head still. His other hand came close to his face to rip off the mask. Oddly enough, despite Damian pathetically spluttering for mercy, he noticed the hand touch his neck. 

And then felt a sting. 

And then he can’t remember. 

The first thing Damian felt as he woke up was the throbbing in his head. Not unusual for him but still brings some concern. He forced his breaths to be deep as he faked his sleep, preventing his possible captors from realising he was awake.

He tuned in to his surroundings. The smell was strong from antiseptics, so a medical facility of some sort. He was laying on something firm but not painful, it felt comfortable and caused no pain. There weren’t any restraints on his body. Fools. Perhaps assumed his age and size meant he was weak. They would not be the first to make such an error.

His bones ached dully but there were no immediate feelings of bruises or lacerations. They had yet to harm him. He gradually noticed the sounds of a keyboard typing. A fast-paced and seemingly anxious pace of fingers. The keys were light but present, as though….

As though they were like the Batcomputer’s keyboard. He was in the Batcave.

Damian opened his eyes and turned his aching head towards the computer, withholding his groan. He could see Father at the computer, shoulders hunched and typing away his report. Brown, Damian noticed with a start, was laying in a cot right next to him. An IV inserted in her arm as she slept soundly. It was then he noticed an IV into his own arm. It was not hard to deduce that he had been a victim to fear gas.

It was best to hurry along the scolding. He had left Spoiler vulnerable by restraining her and he had also left himself vulnerable by exposing himself to fear gas. That was what? Two weeks of no Robin for stupidity?

“Father,” Damian called out softly.

The typing immediately came to a stop as Father sprung up from his chair. His cowl was down and his expression bare. His eyes were concerned as he rushed himself to Damian’s cot. Damian attempted to push himself up to greet Father but Bruce was quick to lay a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Damian,” Father breathed with a sigh of relief. “How do you feel?”

“Satisfactory,” Damian replied. “Forgive me for being an inconvenience when you were providing Brown with aid.”

Father looked at him blankly and shook his head, he looked as though he was dealing with a case he was unable to figure out. “Are you honestly feeling okay? No hiding injuries?”

Of course he was not. The first time he had done so, Richard himself threatened to bench Robin back when his brother was Batman. “I am not lying, Father.”

“Right,” Father grimaced. “I wasn’t accusing you of lying. Sorry.”

Damian blinked at the apology. It was odd.

Father poured Damian a cup of water on the table next to him and helped him up to drink it. He then sat himself down on a spare stool, his face awkward the entire time. Damian watched him suspiciously as he drank his water. Waiting for Father to speak.

Father opened and closed his mouth exactly twice before finally settling on what to say. “Remember when Tim was injured? When he got stabbed by a batarang?”

Damian felt the hair on his neck rise. “Yes.”

“Right,” Father glanced over at Brown, quickly reading her vitals on her screen before turning back to Damian. “I know Dick spoke to you afterwards. You guys went for ice cream.”

“Pet shop.”

“Pet shop,” Father corrected himself. “Right, and I, well.” Father turned to look at the ceiling and Damian realised that he was avoiding Damian’s gaze. “I never thought that I should have spoken to you too.”

Damian did not understand what was happening. “There was no need to do so?”

“No, I think there was.” Father looked at mud at the tip of his shoe. “I’m trying to be a better Dad to you all.”

Damian wanted to run. “You are a fantastic parent in every way.”

“No,” Father quickly corrected. “No, I have not been. And, Lord, if you had seen me a few years back you’d see that I was so much more horrible.”

“I refuse to believe this,” Damian was growing frustrated, where was this coming from?

Father finally looked into Damian’s eyes and they were heavy. Reluctant. His tone was flat as he admitted, “Damian, my behaviour towards your older brothers was abusive at times.” 

Damian in turn stared at him. Unsure how to feel or react. With a quiet voice he decided on saying, “you said Mother is abusive.”

“Yes,” Father agreed. “In a different way. More consistent and physical as well as manipulative. And thankfully she’s trying to correct that for you. But no matter what she does in the future it does not change the effect her past actions had on you. Same with me. I was horrible to Dick, to Tim my actions were borderline neglectful. I was even awful to Stephanie.” Father lowered his head. “And nothing I do will ever make up for how I treated Jay.”

Damian stayed silent. He could not imagine his Father behaving anything other than caring towards his family. He had seen too many hugs, kisses and hair ruffles to believe anything else. Well, he had seen how he had treated Todd but in all fairness Todd was a ruthless murderer. 

Father continued, “I neglected you when you first came here. I was sharp and yelled at you and never communicated well. I wasn’t as bad with you as I was with Dick and Jay but I still hurt you. Dick showed me. And I’m sorry. I’m trying to be better.”

“Father,” Damian finally said. He was too overwhelmed and still recovering from the fear gas but he had to respond. “You never need to apologise to me. You are my Father and more importantly Batman. It is understandable if you must correct my behaviour.”

Instead of nodding and walking off as expected, Father let out a small groan and rubbed his face. “Damian, no. This is exactly what I’m trying to fix. Me being your Father doesn’t make me, like, above you in any way. Yes, I may have a role in caring for you and might tell you things that you have to listen to. But everything can be discussed and there might be compromises if you’re not happy.”

“Also,” Father continued and took his hand off his face. He looked so tired. “I am always your Father first before I am Batman. Please remember that.”

That was completely untrue. But Damian felt horrible for how exhausted his Father looked due to him and simply nodded.

“Right,” Father leaned back. “So like I said, I'm working on my communication. Case in point, I should have talked to you awhile back when you were upset. When Tim got stabbed.”

Damian flushed, “I am not a child.”

“I know,” Father raised a hand to hurriedly placate him. “I get that. But I still should have talked to you. Yes, I didn’t say anything at first that agreed with your brothers accusing you for being a murderer. But I didn’t say anything to disagree with them either. And that was wrong.”

 

Damian blanked in confusion. Then slowly, so gradually, he realised. “It was not a hallucination in the alley. It was you. You heard me.”

“And I’m glad I did. Otherwise, I’d have never known, Damian.”

He felt himself grow more warm, horrified that Father had heard him pathetically beg and cry. How disgusting.

“Listen to me, Damian. Please. I know you’re not a murderer. Not an assassin. Those things you did before? You were made to do them. You were a child who could not decide right and wrong for himself. You were trained not to question your actions and why would you when the people you love are raising you that way. It was not your fault and I fully believe you are not a murderer. Restraining Stephanie had been the right call.”

Traitorously, Damian felt his eyes sting. Father was wrong, he could not genuinely believe such a thing. Because no matter what he said, Damian recalled that night where Drake was stabbed. “But you believed them. For a moment when Todd accused me and Drake said nothing you did believe that I had attempted to assassinate Drake.”

Father hesitated. And that was enough. 

“I understand, Father.” Damian just wished to conclude the conversation. “I believe what you are trying to communicate with me.”

“Damian--”

“Honestly, Father. You do not believe me to be an assassin and that is fine. It changes nothing in our relationship. Whilst unnecessary, I accept your apology. I, myself, am sorry that you had to witness my irrational state under influence. And please may I remind you that it was irrational and I do not believe anything I said. May I retreat to my room now?”

He ensured that he said all the right things and ticked all the right boxes. He had been kind and lied that he believed Father. He had said his pleases. He had ended in a vulnerable question and he apologised for his own actions. 

Father hesitated, quite obviously wishing to continue the conversation because he also did not believe Damian and was well aware that while irrational, the fear gas revealed the true deepest fears of a person. But Damian had said everything correctly. All the fake finesse and pretence he had learned in the last how many months was all there.

“Alright, Damian. I’ll wake you up for breakfast.” Father said in an odd tone.

“Thank you, Father.” Damian removed the IV drip before Father could try. Handing the end to Father and making his way to the elevator. Happy to finally be away. 

Before he could completely escape though, Father spoke yet again. “Damian? Just… remember no matter what, you’ll always have a home here?” 

Thankfully, Damian could hear Brown groaning. A perfect distraction as he ran away from his Father.

 

---

The indirect consequence of the night’s events was falling behind in his academics. That night he had planned initially to study for his History and Mathematics paper but not only had exhaustion settled deep into his bones but it had slipped his mind. Something so insignificant as the American Revolution was hardly worth his time. Damian had fallen straight to sleep.

But that morning when he work up, a small ball of anxiety had set it’s home up in his core. How soon would Father take away Robin if he failed his papers? 

But he knew he would not fail. Perhaps earn a slightly lower score from usual but it would hardly affect his final grade.

Damian felt barely able to go to the Academy after his fear-gassed influenced nightmares. But he had climbed mountains in worse conditions. He could force himself to go to school. Father would perhaps have allowed Damian to remain home but Father also did not know of the exams. And he could not know until Damian had passed them. So despite the physical and mental exhaustion, Damian walked down the many stairs of the manor to the kitchen. Perhaps he could study something in the car?

Unfortunately, Drake was sitting at the breakfast table. Despite not having been out on patrol he still looked exhausted and half asleep. Rolling his eyes, Damian passed by him to find some food of his own that Pennyworth was preparing. 

Father and Drake had come to the decision not too long ago that Drake should re-attend school whilst sharing the CEO position with Father. Therefore, retaining his high position as well as completing education and allowing Father to deal with most of the Wayne Enterprises work. They must have come to this decision around the same time as Father decided to communicate more.

However, Drake had surpassed his peers even before he graduated. And so was attending college. Convenient, as it provided Drake with more leeway due to less structured hours and that he had to only attend a few times a month compared to highschool’s daily mandatory hours. This allowed more time for Red Robin, CEO and maintaining a social life. Especially a convenient compromise between him and Father considering that Drake was evidently not completely happy with returning back to “being a child”.

With Drake sitting at the kitchen table, it meant that today was one of his mandatory in-person lectures. Which meant that Pennyworth would be dropping him off. Which meant that Damian was not going to be able to study in the car if he wanted to keep his exams a secret from Father. Pennyworth may believe he was “trying to get ahead” but Drake would realise that Damian was studying for a paper.

Dammit.

He’s just going to have to sit his papers with no preparation. What was the worst that could happen?

This might be the reason Damian ends his life. 

Fair enough, an exaggeration, but this was infuriating. The aftermath of the gas still had him feeling more on edge than usual, jumping and tensing every few minutes. His body’s aches from the tension was agonising but as Damian kept reminding himself, he had been through so much worse. Staying in the Manor was making him soft. Either way, concentrating was proving difficult. Damian had managed to complete his Maths paper in the morning, he knew majority of the answers and it is not as though his workings would be that much different from what the mark scheme demanded. So he could not have done that bad.

History was another situation. It was in the afternoon, and after focusing all through the morning on Maths, Damian found that he felt unwell and exhausted. It must be a direct effect from the fear gas strain. He wondered how Brown felt.

He could not be so sure on what the mark-scheme demanded so he word-vomited all over the pages. Spilling out all the related information for the questions and just hoping his grades were satisfactory enough that he did not get in trouble. In the back of his head he wondered if he would get penalised for writing too much but he would just need to risk that.

He just wanted to get home and as his brothers would say “die in bed”.

“Feeling like shit?” Brown greeted when Damian came in through the kitchen, leaving Pennyworth behind him as he hastily made his way to his room.

“I do not have time for you, Brown.” Damian quipped.

“No, hey, wait!” Brown called out in a pitch that made Damian pause. He finally turned to look at her and noticed the two plates of sandwiches laid on the table. One obviously for her and the other for someone else. That was when Damian realised that she had been waiting for him.

“Yes?” Damian asked, he just wanted to be alone.

Brown hesitated, “I was like, I kinda- ugh.” 

“Perhaps another time--”

“Nope, nuh uh.” Brown interrupted and looked more focused. “I can’t remember last night. Like, I can’t remember after being gassed. Other than my hallucinations of course.”

Damian still had the bruises from her grip on his arm.

“But Bruce told me some stuff, filled me in and whatnot.” Brown looked apologetic. “I heard what you did for me. With the gas mask and all. I just wanted to say thanks. You didn’t need to do that.”

Damian took a steadying breath. This was honestly the last thing he wanted to deal with but he could not help but feel pity for Brown’s pathetic attempts. “It is alright, Brown. It is not as though none of the others would have done the same.”

“But it wasn’t one of the others, it was you. So thanks, Dami.”

Damian felt his ears heat up. He wanted to speed this up. “Is that sandwich…?”

“For you! Yeah,” Brown gestured towards the plate. “Take it, like I know you must feel like shit, I mean I’ve been feeling like hell all day, so I was like, thinking you might want something to eat. Unless you feel like throwing up. I threw up earlier today. Did you?”

“No.” Damian picked up the plate. Whether or not he ate it, Brown did not need to know. “Thank you.”

“It’s alright,” she said and the tension in her shoulders visibly relaxed when Damian took the plate. That moment Pennyworth finally walked in. “I’ll see you later?”

“Perhaps,” Damian said and this time she thankfully didn’t stop him as he quickly rushed upstairs.

 

Father : Come to my office when you can.

Well, if that wasn’t terrifying. 

Damian stared at the message. He really did not want to go and answer to whatever Father had to say to him. His heart was already picking up pace over the ridiculous text. Imagine he approaches Father and it's something insignificant, why is he so concerned? 

But then again, what if it was something significant? What had Damian done recently? He had said his please and thank yous, he had been unbearably kind to his family, he does what he’s told no questions asked. Not that there would be an issue there, no one would listen to Damian if he said no. He was too much labelled as a troublesome child to be taken seriously. But he was not a child. And he could withstand whatever Father had summoned him for. He had done worse.

So with heavy feet, he dragged himself to Father’s office, Titus following behind him lazily and unaware of Damian’s internal anguish.

He knocked steadily on the office door, ensuring that nothing in his stance betrayed his true feelings. It was most likely nothing of importance. 

“Come in.”

Damian made his way inside the office, convincing Titus to remain outside. He did not want to risk irritating Father with the dog in the case that he was in a bad mood. He stood across the desk Father sat at, not sitting down until Father asked him to.

Father was sat, hunched over his desk and signing some papers. His expression looked conflicted and his shoulders seemed heavy. Damian could feel what little confidence he had diminishing.

Damian waited for Father to finish on his own and address him instead of speaking up. He was determined to master keeping Father on his good side like his brothers managed so effortlessly. There had to be a reason they were allowed to argue and say no without consequence while Damian got told off or punished for similar things.

Finally, Father put his pen down and leaned back, folding his hands in front of him and looking over the desk at Damian.

“So, Damian.”

It would be alright. Something so insignificant and not of importance in anyways whatsoever. Wasn’t Drake’s birthday not too far away? Perhaps related to his party?

“Tell me. How were your end of term exams?”

 

That window looked high enough to jump out from and fall to his death.

“Ah, yes.” Damian forced himself not to look nervous. How did Father find out? “They were satisfactory, Father. I should know of the results in the upcoming week.”

“Of course. I mean, you did take them about a month ago. Without informing anyone. Or taking help from anyone. While still patrolling every other night. When you should have been studying.” Father blankly stated.

Damian tried not to flounder but his heart was picking up pace. “I did not realise they were important enough to inform you of them.” he lied.

“Uh huh,” Father raised a brow. “And you say they were okay? Despite keeping up as Robin?”

“Yes. You see, Father. You are already aware that I am knowledgeable in all things my teachers attempt to teach me. The extra time for revision was unnecessary as I am well learned.” Damian tried.

“You’ve made me aware many times, yes.” Father leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. “How was your History exam, would you say? Was that also ‘satisfactory’?”

“I, um,” Damian cursed himself for stuttering. “I wrote down all the information I knew regarding the American Revolution.”

“Right,” Father seemed annoyed. Or maybe Damian was imagining it. “Except you wrote down information mostly irrelevant to the questions.”

Damian swallowed, “I see.”

“Your teacher just called me.”

On a Saturday? “Okay.”

“He wanted to arrange an in-person meeting with me to decide on what to do about your failed grade.”

Failed? Surely the information was not that irrelevant? Damian was better than that.

“So your teacher and I - Mr Reynolds?”

“Yes.”

“Mr Reynolds and I will figure out how to help you in school.” Father nodded to himself and paused. “As for at home…. What do you suggest?”

Damian could feel himself growing cold. The last time they had a similar conversation then he had lost Robin for a long period of time. That’s the only punishment he knew. But how could he tell his Father that?

In a voice that sounded childish even to himself he whispered, “I hadn’t meant to fail.”

“I understand, Damian. But it happened and now we have to focus on fixing it.”

“It was after the ordeal with Scarecrow and Brown. I tried.”

“I know, Damian.” Father tried to meet Damian’s fleeting eyes. “I understand that you didn’t mean for it to happen. Of course you didn’t. Now I want to help you fix it so that you have the best opportunities in school and life.”

Damian’s hands clenched and unclenched in a fit of nerves. “I do not want to lose Robin again. I am sorry I failed my exam.”

Father watched him with careful eyes before he sighed, “benching Robin really bothered you, huh?” Damian didn’t respond and Father pushed his office chair back. “Come here, Damian.”

Slowly, Damian shuffled around the desk. Had he stepped too far? Was he finally going to feel Father’s strike? Nevertheless, it was better than losing Robin. Anything was.

So when Father raised his hand, Damian tensed, preparing himself through practice over the years. 

But Father, who was also practised in all forms of giving and taking violence noticed this too. His hand lowered an inch and he looked sad, leaving Damian to question what had just happened.

Then the hand came to lie on Damian’s shoulder and not for the first time, he realised that he had misunderstood.

“Hey, I would never hurt you, yeah? Remember that, Damian. Come hell or high water, I would never hit you to punish you.”

Father was watching him expectantly so Damian obediently replied with a “Yes, Father.”

Father smiled softly, “Okay, I won’t bench Robin for now. I can see how important it is to you.”

‘For now’

Despite the unsaid promise that Father might take Robin away in the future, Damian felt himself growing hopeful. The relief must have been evident on his face because Damian noticed Father’s expression complicate itself.

“How about grounding? That would mean no Jon though.”

Even though Damian’s friendship with Jon was a much necessary bond, he could still survive a few weeks away. “Phone?”

“You can text for an hour a day, how about that?”

That was hardly a punishment. That was about the longest they communicated with each other anyways because it was how long Damian could put up Jon’s hyperness. “That is acceptable.”

“For two weeks?”

That’s it? His surprise must have shown on his face because Father huffed out an amused laugh. 

“You know Dick would actually kill me if I took away your socialising time completely, right? He’s always talking about how proud he is of your progress in friends.”

Damian let out a small smile himself. “I suppose. He really must mind his own business though.”

“Hm, I’m glad to see how much he loves you.” Father said.

Damian huffed and crossed his arms, turning away. “Ridiculous.”

“Right. Anywhos, I have a meeting on Monday with Mr Reynolds. When you’re back from school I’ll fill you in, okay? And I trust that you keep to the one hour limit with Jon without me monitoring you.”

“Yes, Father.”

Father nodded, “I know you didn’t mean to fail, Damian.”

“Of course, Father.”

“I’m proud of your progress.”

Damian folded his arms tighter and scoffed, feeling himself grow embarrassed. “I am aware, Father.”

Father laughed, clearly amused by Damian’s reactions. “Alright, go on then. That’s all I had to discuss.”

Relieved it was all over, Damian rushed out without so much a goodbye. Simply happy that he still had Robin, could still converse with his only friend for an hour a day, and that Father and Mr Reynolds would make him do what? More homework? This was not as bad a response as Damian thought he would get for failing. By far much more lenient than the League’s reaction would have been. He could live with this. It was nice. Damian was relaxed.

So on Monday evening Damian found himself in the exact same spot. This time sitting down across from Father’s chair. Father had yet to come up to the office but Damian came early to prepare. Wanted to clear his mind and ready himself for whatever extra homework he might have to do.

Father’s steps weren’t hidden, they were loud as they came down the hall and Damian turned to greet Father.

Father’s expression was slightly burdened, as though annoyed. Damian could manage that. Father generally did not allow his moods to bleed into personal matters, Then again, it was not as though this was that important. Well, if Damian could get away without getting yelled at more than once then he would consider this talk a success.

With a grunt to acknowledge Damian, Father sat heavily.

“Evening, Father.” Damian said as he was taught. “How was your day?”

However, Father ignored him and turned on his computer. Damian tried not to feel bad about that. It was just the way that Father was. He was sure that Father must treat someone like Richard in the same manner.

So Damian stayed quiet and waited for Father to speak first. It took a few minutes but he finally did.

“Damian,” Father finally began. “I need to make this quick. You’d expect the people you pay to be able to do their jobs but apparently sometimes things fall apart and then it's you who has to deal with the backlash.” Ah, so it was a Wayne’s Enterprise issue annoying Father.

Damian knew how to deal with those types of situations, “well, Father. You are the best at what you do. If some people cannot respect that and your time then there should be consequences.”

“I’m not firing someone over a mistake, Damian.” Father was quick to retort. 

Had that been the wrong thing to say then? It had worked with his Mother and it was polite. Did it not work with Father? Damian did not understand but pretended to. “Apologies, Father. What will you do then?”

“Well, I don’t need to really discuss that with you, do I?”

Damian felt embarrassed. He’s heard Father discuss these types of matters with Drake and Richard several times. Was this because Father saw Damian as a child? He was not.

“I need to get a move on so let’s make it quick.” Father said and Damian was starting to feel small at the dismissals. “Mr Reynolds had a lot to say about you.”

“Oh?” Damian never really paid much attention to his teacher. The man was decent at his job but was far too cheerful for Damian.

“He likes you. Said you had potential and whatnot. He was disappointed by your test but he said he wasn’t surprised.”

Ow.

“He said that you were showing a steady decline in your academics already and was refusing to do what it took to correct it.”

“That’s not true.” Damian said, embarrassed. “I was not even made aware that my studies were being so negatively affected.”

“Well,” Father seemed irritated at the interruption and Damian cursed himself. “Maybe if you actually paid more attention to your school then you would have noticed or taken it upon yourself to approach your teacher.”

That… felt unfair. It made Damian feel little in the chair he sat in. No longer as confident as he had been only minutes before. Father must have seen how much he was focusing on school now? And he couldn’t be failing. 

“It almost made me reconsider not benching Robin because you evidently need to focus even more on school if a parent meeting with your teacher is what it takes to make you take this seriously.”

“What?” Damian was shocked. Where was the calm understanding Father from two days ago? This was unfair. He could do it! He could balance school and Robin equally. All of his brothers were able to do it easily and so could Damian. He was not a child and he was not less than them. Why could Father not see that?

“But I know how much it means to you,” Father continued. Not hearing Damian. He only did so sometimes apparently. “So I won't. But you will have less time as Robin.”

“You promised me that I could only be grounded!”

“I did not promise. Do not tell me lies.” Father’s voice was growing colder. “I have had it up to here with all these calls from school. All these meetings. I thought you were better than this. I expect better from you.”

“It is not as though I am doing this on purpose.”

“You need to stop and listen.” Father started to glare down at him. Damian was horribly reminded of the first time Robin was ripped away from him. This was not fair. Damian was trying. He was doing better. “On Friday you will not go out as Robin. You will now spend Friday evenings after school being tutored by Mr Reynolds himself. He was kind enough to make room in his schedule for you to see to it that you improve. I offered a private tutor but he insisted. He wants to see you succeed.”

Damian was unsure if he had permission to talk but he felt his shoulders slump as he grew upset. He has gone from two nights as Robin to one night now. That was a huge difference. He did not need the extra study time with his teacher nor did he want it. The man was hardly respectable enough for that extra hour. Father did not need to admire him that much.

“Will you say something?” Father said annoyed. He probably thought that Damian was being rude again.

“Why can I not continue Robin on Fridays if the tutoring is only an hour long?” He asked quietly. He refused to risk angering Father more and losing Robin completely.

“Because Mr Reynolds said that the lessons might continue on for longer. He’ll also set you more homework and you’ll need more than just Sunday to complete all your work including your other subjects.”

Damian was not happy. He was not devastated at least as he did not completely lose Robin but he was distressed. He did not feel heard. But how was he supposed to communicate that? Father most often refused to listen to him.

“I have talked through a plan with him. You will listen to him. I expect no more phone calls, Damian.” Father made sure that they had eye contact to get his point across. “Do you understand? If I get a single phone call from the Academy again then I will be very upset. There will be even worse consequences. Are we understood?”

Damian could translate that for himself. No more Robin.

“Damian?”

“Understood, Father.”

Father shifted his stance and energy. As though purposefully trying to make himself look non-threatening. A clear sign that the conversation was nearing the end as Father forced his point across and then said something ‘nice’ to make up for his tone. As though it changed anything.

“I want to communicate with you, that whatever the consequence will be, you will always remain unharmed. Okay? No matter how angry I am, it will never change what I said about hurting you, alright? I will never hurt you, Damian.”

Damian would much prefer a beating over losing Robin. His purpose. But since when did his opinion matter? No one ever listened to his ‘no’.

He also wondered whether Father was saying this due to Richard’s insistence that Damian be treated with care due to past misunderstandings back when Richard was Batman. Did Richard share all his secrets with Father? Damian had asked him not to but evidently what Damian asks does not matter.

“Are you okay, Damian? You know why this is needed right?”

“To improve my History grade. Yes, I understand, Father. I will see myself out.” Damian replied robotically. This was a recurring pattern at this point. 

“But are you okay?”

After half of his time as Robin was taken away? After the thing that made it easier to breathe on most days was constantly threatened to being ripped away from him?

“I am, Father. I understand why this is needed.”

“Good,” Father leaned back relaxed. He was probably relieved that he didn’t need to put up with Damian for the rest of the evening.

Hell, he was probably relieved that he didn’t need to put up with Robin twice a week anymore. This must have been the excuse he needed to finally force this plan in place.

“I’ll see you at dinner, Father.” Damian stood and excused himself. But Father had already busied himself with his computer. Father hummed in response, and Damian let himself out. Away from Father and everything. 

Titus was waiting outside and perked up at the sight of Damian. At least someone was happy to put up with him. Perhaps Richard too, but he must not have listened to Damian and told Father all sorts of secrets they shared to each other ages ago. So Richard was not as trusting as Damian had once believed. At least Titus was loyal. At least Damian had a friend in someone. Robin or not, he’ll always have Titus. 

Titus always listens to him.

 

---

Friday came all too soon. 

Damian found himself standing outside of Mr Reynolds’ classroom. He had been dreading this hour all throughout the day. Depressed over the fact that tonight he would not be allowed to fly out into Gotham but instead would be stuck in his room whilst the rest of his family freely patrolled. 

Father had caught up with him that morning as well. A hand on Damian’s shoulder and a reminder to behave for Mr Reynolds. To listen and not give any sort of attitude. To smile and be polite and thank him for the extra efforts his teacher was giving to him. 

It made Damian scoff. As if he would risk having Robin taken away completely. 

Straightening his shoulders, Damian knocked on the door. 

“Come in!” A familiar jolly voice called out. Damian open the door to Mr Reynolds standing over his desk and neatening a stack of papers, grinning big at Damian. “Damian! How are you this evening?”

“I am well.” Damian said sharply. Before remembering his manners. “And you, Mr Reynolds?”

“Good, good. Come, sit down. Did you enjoy yesterday’s lesson?” Reynolds came around his desk to lean his back against it. 

Damian sat down and took out his books from his bag. “It was well presented, Sir.”

“Right,” Reynolds put his hands in his trouser pockets and eased himself. Damian could tell he was obviously trying to make Damian comfortable. It wasn’t working. “Now, boy. Don’t get me wrong, I am looking super forward to the next few Fridays. But I know young kids. And I know this is the last thing you’d want, especially on a Friday evening. But listen, I’m sure we’ll both learn from each other and we’ll benefit from these tutoring sessions so much!”

Reynolds leaned down to smile at Damian who was just waiting for him to begin the lesson so that he could leave. “And hey, I talked to your Dad earlier, yeah? Great fella. Big man. And we talked about what would be best for you.” This intrigued Damian. “So don’t forget. Every little thing that we do together would have been mentioned at that meeting, okay? We’ve worked through entire strategies and support plans that should best work for you so that the school and your Dad are on the same team. Making sure you get the best at life. And at least you know me! Not stuck with some random boring old dude.”

Damian took this as his cue. “Yes. Thank you, Mr Reynolds. For your time and effort.” That was all Father could force out of him. 

Reynolds waved his hand, “don’t worry about it! Now. Should we get started?”

Arkham breakouts are better than this.

 

---

“Damian!” Father called as soon as he saw him. “How was your first tutoring session?”

Damian was taken aback by Father’s presence as soon as he entered the manor with Pennyworth behind him. Typically, Damian would have to seek out Father whenever he came home. 

“Hello, Father.” Damian replied as Pennyworth left the room to prepare food. “It was rather boring. I already knew everything that the lesson covered.”

Father’s smile strained. Oops. “Well they are basically revision sessions. Sessions that you evidently need.”

“I suppose,” Damian tried to quickly fix the situation. “All I mean is that perhaps I do not require as many sessions as was initially planned.”

“We’ll let your grades and Mr Reynolds decide that. For now, go eat and get changed. I want you studying tonight.”

“Yes Father,” Damian tried not to grumble as he left for the stairs. Perhaps he could practise his katas in his room instead of that homework.

Notes:

Villain reveal! (Finally right)

Also damn Brucie

Damian is an unreliable narrator. This is from the pov of an insecure 11 year old who had a shitty upbringing. He might be thinking that Dick shared secret with Bruce but that might not be what happened! And with Bruce feeling angsty… who knows why? Bad patrol? Hidden injuries? Fight with someone else? Dami just assumed Bruce hates him cause of the ego-centric personality that most kids his age have

but also reiterating that it doesn’t excuse Bruce’s behaviour. Bad parenting moment Bruce, listen to your kid

I’ll say this in nearly every chapter lol but Bruce can’t read Damian’s mind. He’s like:

Dami: does bad behaviour
Bruce: oi no Robin
Dami: does good behaviour
Bruce: oh shit it worked

Also! Idk much about Stephanie. I know about the baby thing but felt uncomfortable using that but then I read somewhere that her father locked her in a closet? Can’t remember and it might even be wrong so I ran with it "¯\_(ツ)_/¯"

ONE LAST THING - the name Reynolds is completely random and has no relation to anything and if it does then it is by accident. There was another fic with a pedo named Reynolds (can’t recall if it was a Batman or spiderman fic) but I had been writing this before that had even been posted and couldn’t bother to change the name cause I had already changed it before.

Thank yous !!

Chapter 4: Chapter Four

Summary:

“Are you uncomfortable, boy?”

Damian stayed quiet. Reynolds smiled wider.

Notes:

I nearly accidentally deleted this chapter bruh my heart stopped

Today’s PSA is that as a British bish I know nothing about American History so everything was ✨googled✨

Triggers included in the tags.

“I got pizza!” Richard called out Saturday evening. “Who wants a big meal before going out?”

“That is not only unhealthy but unwise.” Damian said from the couch. “It will lower your metabolism and make you tired during tonight’s patrol.”

“Translation: you’ll get fat.” Todd grinned even though he reached out to grab a box of pizza from Richard’s arms.

“Oi, share.” Richard said. “And good. I like squishy and soft!”

“Literally nothing on you is squishy or soft.” Drake mentioned, sitting cross legged on the armchair and typing away on a laptop.

“Except this ass.”

“Ew.”

Damian grimaced, changing the subject. “What kind of pizza?”

“I got you veggie,” Richard received the box from the bottom. “I even got extra chilli on it.”

With a small smile as a thanks, Damian retrieved the box and placed it on the table in front of him. 

“Oh, hey.” Richard asked for Damian’s attention and subtly handed him some spare plain pizza and gestured to Titus who was lazing next to Damian.

Damina’s small smile shifted to a grin as he took the food instantly and started to feed Titus.

“Oh, so the dog doesn’t have to share but I do.” Todd grumbled through a mouth full of food.

“The dog has more personality and loyalty than you ever will,” Damian quipped.

Todd couldn’t hold in the huff of amusement at Damian’s joke. “Does the dog know how to shoot a gun upside down while hanging over a pool of radioactive chemicals and holding onto another unconscious man? No? No vote then.”

“The dog has teeth. The dog can rip your throat out.”

“I can do that too. Wanna see?”

“No biting each other,” Richard chuckled at his brothers’ bickering.

Damian relaxed into the sofa, starting to eat his pizza. It was nice to joke around sometimes. 

“Does Alfred know about the pizza?” Drake asked, still typing. A plate of pizza was next to him but he hadn’t moved. Richard must have prepared it for him while the other two joked around.

“I can give you twenty dollars not to tell.”

Todd lifted a hand up. “I can tell Alfie.”

“I can give you each ten dollars not to tell.”

Cheeks stuffed with food, Damian could only look up to catch Richard’s eye. His intention clear.

“I can give you all three five dollars not to tell.”

“Done.”

“You are aware we each have ridiculously large trust funds, Todd?”

“It's getting on Dickie’s nerves that's the fun part, kid.”

Damian just took another bite of his pizza to ensure that his smile wouldn’t show. So today was a ‘kid’ day and not a ‘brat’ or ‘demon’ day.

It was a nice evening. A much needed relaxation after yesterday’s first tutoring session. It really helped in calming down Damian’s mixed emotions.

He tried not to glance at his biggest brother. Richard was too perceptive for his own good. 

“You did not need to orchestrate that,” Damian had said once they were alone and suiting up in the Batcave.

“I have absolutely no idea what you mean,” Richard grinned as he stuck on his domino.

Damian huffed and folded his arms, “the pizza. The whole evening.”

Richard shrugged, “Oh that? I just wanted pizza.”

Damian scowled at that, “I do not believe you.”

“Good,” Richard started to make his way towards the rest of the family who were huddled by the Batcomputer. “Cause you’re not wrong.”

Warm feelings were so annoying.

 

---

“So Benjamin Franklin, right? We like good ol’ Benji, don’t we?” Reynolds asked. He was sat on top of the table besides Damian’s desk and was eating through a packet of salted crisps. His unprofessionalism was abysmal. 

“Yes.” Damian simply replied. He refused to exhort too much of his energy on this man.

“So 1754, lots of dates to remember, I know, but 1754 he makes this drawing of sorts, right? It’s of a snake. You like snakes? It’s of a snake and--”

“The Join or Die political cartoon which was thought to be the first one to advocate the unification of the colonies.” Damian interrupted and got to the point.

Reynolds didn’t seem to mind Damian and just swallowed his mouthful of food. “Would’ve been handy if you remembered that in the test and then we wouldn’t be here, huh? Right, so, it was uniting the American Colonies against the French and…”

Damian blinked back his surprise as Reynolds continued on. That seemed quite out of character but Reynolds had gone back to being a jolly moron a split second later. Maybe he imagined it. Drake constantly told Damian that he overreacted. That must have been it. And even if it was true, it was fair. Had Damian not failed that exam then he would not be here.

 

---

 

“How was tutoring?” Father asked as Damian descended down the stairs to the Batcave.

“Decent. I dislike it but that is the point, is it not?” Damian replied. He had just gotten home and immediately went to seek out Father before he disappeared for patrol. Tutoring had dragged onto an hour and a half today and Damian found it hard not to fall asleep.

Father frowned and Damian prepared himself for the scolding. “The point is for you to learn from it. And did you?”

“No. I already knew the information.” He said honestly.

“Maybe it will get harder as it continues.” Father said and turned back to his file.

Damian lingered despite the obvious dismissal. He had only just returned home. He deserved a little more of Father’s attention. “Is it true that you discussed the strategies of the tutoring with Reynolds?”

“Mr Reynolds.” Father corrected. “And yes. I didn’t help him with the syllabus or anything but if there is no improvement then I offered some suggestions on what might help. It was his idea and I went along with it since it makes sense. Considering that I have trained you to be Robin successfully.”

Damian opened his mouth but caught himself. He was about to retort with how it was his Mother’s training and then Richard’s new methods with very little of Father’s influence that successfully formed Damian’s version of Robin.

But he did not feel like being grounded any further.

“What kinds of strategies?”

“Like how you respond better to straightforward instructions, do not like being treated like a child and etcetera.”

“Etcetera?”

Father waved his hand dismissively, very invested in the file in his hands. “Just pay attention and you don’t need to find out. I can’t remember right now. I need to focus.”

Damian held back his sigh. “Yes, Father.”

 

“Pontiac was angry at how the Native Americans kept losing land to colonial settlers which is why he led the uprising.”

“Well done!” Reynolds cheered and leaned forward to ruffle Damian’s hair.

He did that a lot. The first time Damian had gotten an answer correct and Reynolds responded with a hand on his shoulder, Damian had startled. Holding in all his training that screamed at him to grab Reynolds’ unexpected wrist and flip him over. He had never had an academic teacher physically touch him. Damian could only assume that Reynolds was similar to Richard and couldn’t help himself.

Reynolds and Richard were similar in several ways. First, they loved children and helping children. Second, they were ‘goofy’ and hyperactive. Never able to sit still and always cracking unfunny jokes. Reynolds always had some sort of fidget toy in his hands. Third, they both constantly insisted on physically touching Damian through hair ruffles, clasps on the shoulders and other little things. 

Damian nearly believed that he might find himself gaining another mentor type of bond with Reynolds, but instead of feeling himself being pulled into Reynolds’ comfortable atmosphere like he had with Richard, Damian constantly found himself falling back. He had to force the polite smile when Reynolds’ had once grabbed Damian’s shoulders from behind and shook him lightly in a moment of excitement. It had left Damian feeling awkward.

Currently, he only smiled up at Reynolds. Hoping it didn’t look too fake. “Thank you.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” Reynolds waved off. “It's looking like you got this topic all in control. Want to move onto the next one?” Reynolds turned through his textbook and Damian found true relief as this meant that they would be eventually nearing the end of his weekly training sessions. The quicker they finished, the better.

“Say, boy. You ever watch Pocahontas?”

‘End me now.’

 

---

 

Drake grinned at him teasingly when Damian passed by him, Brown and Richard in the kitchen that weekend. “How're you enjoying tutoring?”

“Wipe that smug look off of your face before I make you, Drake.” Damian hissed out and went to see what fruit they had.

“Easy,” Richard groaned. His head was resting on his folded arms on top of the table.

“Sorry. But just look at how mopey he is.” Drake said, lowering his voice.

Damian glanced at Richard before picking up an apple. “Is your head ailing you, Richard?”

“Not much. There’s just a couple of construction men in my head that are using their power tools to crack my skull open.”

Brown laughed and Damian scowled at the description.

“If you are in pain then why are you in here?” Damian asked.

“Better question - are those construction men wearing much clothes?”

Keeping his head down, Richard raised a finger to make a point. “Not in front of the actual child.”

Damian grit his teeth. “I am not a child, Richard!”

“Oh, okay then Mr. Adult.” Brown grinned mockingly, looking up from her phone. “Let’s talk about those construction men then. Are they naked? Muscly? Sweaty?”

“Ew, Steph.” Drake grimaced.

Damian felt similarly and his face scrunched up. Unfortunately, that caused Brown to burst into hysterics. Richard groaned at the high pitched laughs.

“Richard,” Damian snapped lowly. “I will tell Pennyworth that you are neglecting your health.”

“I’m going,” Richard grunted. “Just slowly.”

Damian humphed and went to wash his apple. Drake took that as an uninvited cue to carry on his unnecessary queries.

“So what's tutoring like?”

“Horrid.” Damian said bluntly.

“Oh, I’m sure it's not all that bad.” Richard said and finally lifted his head to look at Damian. His face was slightly swollen and his eyes squinted from his migraine.

“It is.” Damian insisted. “I hate it and I hate my teacher.”

“Reynolds, right?” Richard said and harshly rubbed at his eyes. Brown swatted his hand down. “Bruce mentioned him. He can’t be all that bad, Dami. Give the guy a chance.”

“I will, but only because I am being forced to.” Damian said bitterly and aggressively bit into his apple.

“Careful, Dick. The lil’ kid is about to throw a tantrum.”

“I am not a kid, Drake!”

“Says the one being made to attend tutoring lessons.”

Damian growled and stepped forward. Richard stood up and moved more in between them.

“Enough. Both of you.”

The sharpness of Richard’s voice concerned Damian. The migraine must be bad enough if it was causing him to be short with his brothers. Drake must have realised as well because he too did not protest. Brown just continued scrolling through her phone but was glancing up to check on Richard’s state.

“Richard,” Damian said in a softer tone than he was used to. “I can make you tea?”

“No,” Richard shook his head and then seemed to regret it. “I’m going to go lie down before patrol. Can’t really do that if I’m worried there’s going to be fighting.”

Damian guiltily wondered if that was why Richard was sitting in the kitchen instead of resting. To wait for his brothers to be in the same room.

“I’ll watch them, Dick.” Brown grinned.

“You’ll start the fights, Steph.” Richard said tiredly but amused. “Guys?”

“Hey, as long as the Demon Brat behaves then I won’t use self-defence.”

“Likewise.” Damian gritted out.

“Guys.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

With a sigh, Richard left the kitchen. Once he was far enough, Drake turned a grin at Damian again. “Still can’t believe you’re getting tutored.”

“I will bash your nose against the table.”

“Guys!”

“Sorry, Dick!”

“He started it!”

 

---

 

Reynolds placed a laptop in front of Damian. He wanted to show him a video and didn’t want to set up the projector for just Damian. “This will explain it better than the textbook. I found it the other night.”

Damian watched the screen load up. Reynolds walked over behind Damian’s chair so that he could also see the screen. 

“Ah shoot, wait, not this one.” Reynolds leaned forward to change the video.

Damian stiffened. In order to type, Reynolds had moved his arms around Damian, technically trapping him in the middle of the arms. Damian could feel Reynolds’ breath on his cheek as the man muttered the title of the video while he typed it. Damian simply sat there, tense and way too uncomfortable. Was this normal behaviour? Richard might do this sometimes but Reynolds was still too new for Damian to relax. He didn’t even feel able to complain. He simply sat and counted his heartbeats.

The moment lasted not even half a minute. But it had been painfully long.

“There,” Reynolds said. Damian felt his breath brush across his cheek. Reynolds finally leaned back. He acted as though nothing had happened. And nothing had. All he had done was type in a video title.

Damian needed to will his flushed face to cool down and stop overreacting.

 

He texted Richard later that evening. A casual “I do not enjoy tutoring.” 

Richard: why not :/

Damian: I simply do not. 

Richard: need a lil more than that kiddo

Damian: That is reason enough.

Richard: it really isnt

Richard: just a couple more weeks!!

And Damian didn’t reply then. Because Richard was correct. What was Damian supposed to say? My teacher spoke too close to my face? If Damian could not even describe the odd feeling within himself then how could that be reason enough to quit tutoring?

 

Reynolds was sat on the student desk next to Damian, turning the page of the book to the next chapter. “Looks like we finished another chapter. How does that feel?”

Damian nodded, “good.” He said simply.

Reynolds moved his head to meet Damian’s gaze and smiled his odd small smile that Damian was now too used to. He placed his hand right above Damian’s knee and Damian tensed. Uncomfortable. 

“Well done, boy. Would you like a treat?”

Damian only watched him, too perplexed to reply. With that Reynolds patted his leg once and stood up to walk to his desk. Damian released the breath he held. He was overreacting again. He was known to have too much of a ‘personal bubble’. Years of assassin training would do that. 

Reynolds pulled out a tin of chocolate from his drawer and set it on Damian’s desk, smiling brightly. “Pick one.”

Unquestionably, Damian did so. He wasn’t about to disrespect his teacher.

Damian mentioned the chocolate to his Father when he was asked his weekly “How was tutoring?”

Father smiled as though pleased and asked Damian if he should start incorporating treats in training. Damian only shrugged because he couldn’t care less. He was only doing what he was told.

 

Four weeks of tutoring had passed. Four weeks of Robin being halved and four Fridays of Damian insisting that he did not need the extra lessons. But if Father wasn’t listening to Damian before then he definitely would not now.

There had been a History pop quiz that Friday morning and apparently Damian had improved slightly, at least according to Reynolds. Damian flicked through his marked quiz during his tutoring session that same evening, reading the little feedback notes on the sides of the paper. 

“I only marked yours today,” Reynolds had said as he had handed him the quiz. “Since you’re my special student. Had to get that done ASAP for you.”

And Damian nodded in agreement. That made sense. They were now able to go through his paper together while his peers would do that independently as they didn’t need the extra help.

Annoyingly enough, many of the questions on the quiz had not been based off of Damian’s tutoring sessions nor his homework but he had to answer some based off of his previously earned knowledge and he had evidently not done as well as he should have.

But it was an improvement from his last mark and that meant that Father was going to insist on the tutoring to continue as it would seem to be beneficial for Damian.

“Okay, I’m sure you can see that you did great! But also,” Reynolds winced dramatically. “There were quite a few uh ohs.”

“I see,” Damian tried his best to ignore the stupid language.

“Don’t get too down though! Here, take a chocolate.” Reynolds offered the tin of chocolate the same way he did last time.

So Damian picked up one dismissively and set it to the side. At the same time Reynolds took one as well and unwrapped it as he started to go through the first incorrect question. 

“Okay so write this down,” Reynolds sat at an angle so that he was perpendicular to Damian’s side, his knee knocking into Damian’s. “During the French and Indian War, British Prime Minister George Grenville believed all of the following except…”

Damian dutifully rewrote the correct answers underneath the questions he got wrong. Eventually, Reynolds unwrapped a second chocolate as he dictated the correct answers whilst chewing on the sweet.

Damian was so focused on for once actually learning new information that he didn’t even realise how close Reynolds was until he felt the unwrapped chocolate fall from his teacher’s hands and on top of Damian’s leg.

He didn’t jump over a chocolate of all things, but he stopped writing and looked down at the melting sweet that was leaving a mark on his trouser leg.

“Oh, clumsy me!” Reynolds cried out and stood to retrieve a wad of wet wipes from his desk. Damian stayed still and watched as he fumbled. “Look at me, dropping everything again.”

Damian never noticed Reynolds to be particularly clumsy during his classes. He supposes he was simply never paying attention. Why should he? Reynolds didn’t deserve it.

Damian moved to take the wipes from Reynolds when his teacher came closer but to his sudden shock Reynolds moved past Damian’s stretched out hand and laid the wipe down onto Damian’s leg himself.

He froze, jaw clenched tight in the sudden rushing feeling of uncomfortableness. Reynolds continued to mutter about how clumsy he was as he crouched down and rubbed Damian’s trouser leg. His large hand clasped onto Damian’s thigh as he tried to get the stain off. He was too close to Damian’s hip and very much invading the boy’s ‘personal bubble’.

Finally finding his voice, Damian croaked, “let me.” Moving again to reach for the wipes.

Reynolds lightly batted them away. “No, no. I almost got it.” Then Reynolds looked up with what was an attempt to be a reassuring smile. His smile shifted when he saw Damian’s face. “Something wrong, boy?”

“I–” Damian cut himself off. Unsure what to say. Reynolds was still rubbing the inside of his leg. 

Reynolds' smile turned into something else, his eyes never leaving Damian’s. “Are you uncomfortable, boy?”

Damian stayed quiet. Reynolds smiled wider.

“You’re how old again? Thirteen?”

It was the first time anyone had guessed Damian to be older than he was. He had expected to feel pride the first time someone did that but all he felt was a ball forming tight in his chest. And surely his teacher who was aware of what grade he was in, was aware of his age. He knew the answer to this question though, under his breath he corrected Reynolds. “Eleven.”

Reynolds huffed out a laugh, “wow. No wonder you look so tense. I’m guessing no one ever touched you here before, have they?”

To Damian’s absolute horror. Reynolds let go of the wipes and moved his hand. Resting it on top of Damian’s… resting it on top of Damian.

Damian stilled completely. His breath halting. His muscles tightened. His heart was the only thing he felt thundering in his chest. The only thing he felt other than… Reynolds’ hand.

And Reynolds laughed. Loud and boisterous. “Oh, Damian. You’re redder than anyone I’ve met. Does that feel weird?”

It must have been true because his face burned. His head was blank and frozen as Reynolds laughed at him.

Reynolds continued to grin when he pressed down on Damian.

Like a switch, Damian’s mind startled to life. His small hands grasped onto Reynolds’ wrist to stop his movement, to push him away. Damian opened his mouth to speak, to yell, but his words got stuck and tight in his throat, refusing to come out. So he desperately shook his head. He felt pathetic. 

“Oh hey, hey, calm down, boy.” Reynolds soothed. “It's not too bad. Is that really your first time? Have you never tried this on yourself? It's absolutely normal.” Reynolds stood up from his crouch and finally let go of Damian. But before Damian could release his breath, the horror continued. Reynolds grabbed onto Damian’s smaller wrist. “Here, see?”

Damian couldn’t do anything other than helplessly watch in shock when Reynolds pulled Damian’s hand forward and placed it on top of Reynolds’... between the man’s legs.

Damian immediately rushed to rip his hand back away but Reynolds kept it there. His grip bruisingly tight. Damian’s mind was screaming at him, begging him to release his training and fight.

But his body wasn’t cooperating. Nauseated, Damian could only stare eyes wide at Reynolds who was casually gazing down at him.

“See? It's not so bad.”

Finally, Damian’s throat loosened and the words he needed spilled out. “Let go of me!” Instead of a strong yell, Damian could hear the pathetic hissed whisper. 

To Damian’s surprise, Reynolds listened and released him. Damian flinched back and grabbed his abused hand with his other, cradling it against his body. His eyes never leaving Reynolds who crouched down again.

“How did your first time touching a man feel?” Reynolds asked and Damian felt the blood rushing in his head in complete disbelief.

His words thankfully hadn’t left him yet. “You cannot do that.” His brain stupidly settled on.

Reynolds tilted his head in an act of confusion. “And why is that?”

Damian’s mouth opened and closed stupidly, too overwehlmed to figure out how to respond. His subconscious suddenly worked it out for him and he threateningly said. “I will tell. I will inform my Father. I will inform Mr. Wilton.”

Instead of being afraid as Damian expected, Reynolds simply frowned. “What will that do?” Then he blinked. “Oh! Oh, I see the confusion. Didn’t I tell you that your Dad knows about the strategies for your tutoring? This is a part of that.”

Damian could only gape at the ridiculous statement. 

Reynolds was talking about his Father. About Batman. And he expected Damian to believe that his Father had been informed of Reynolds doing… that to him and had given him permission?

The Dark Knight himself?

A terrible lie. With confidence, Damian said. “I do not believe such a thing.”

Reynolds, again to Damian’s confusion, only shrugged. “Okay.”

It was odd. Cautiously, Damian asked, “okay?”

“I mean if you don’t believe me, what can I do?” Then Reynolds brightened up in a lightbulb moment. “Oh wait!” He stood and rushed to his desk, retrieving the school phone from his desk. He dialled a number in and handed it to Damian. “Here you go.”

Willing himself to still his shaking from the aftermath of the recent events, Damian took the phone carefully. “What is this?”

“It's your Dad’s number. Go on and call him so we can clear things up. You can ask him about this specific strategy.” Reynolds encouragingly gestured to the phone in Damian’s hand when Damian just stared at him. “Go on, call him!”

Damian gaped at the phone. It was definitely Father’s number dialled in. All Damian had to do was press the green call option. 

Was this a trick? A trap of some sort? What villain handed the hostage a way out freely? Both his League and Bat training weren’t providing him with the answers he needed. Damian stared blankly. Reynolds had gone over to his desk, not even supervising Damian’s call as he shifted through papers distractedly.

So, Damian moved to do the only sensible thing and call his Father when his thoughts started to question him.

Father obviously would not be aware of what just happened, would he? The man who Damian himself had watched break in the faces of those who attempted to harass and take advantage of others several times. Maybe this was similar to his League training in the sense that it was a test. Maybe Father expected Damian to fight back. To call Father and prove his trust.

Children were not supposed to experience this. Damian may not be a child but simultaneously he was… he still was in a way, wasn’t he? But Reynolds had been amused by Damian’s lack of experience so perhaps he wasn’t too young. Damian’s only knowledge was due to patrol. How Father and Richard had both as Batman made him learn procedures for how to deal with this sort of situation when handling civilians during patrol. How to approach a child who was being hurt. 

And also, Damian was never allowed to deal with those situations. If he was with another member of the Batfamily then protocol insisted that Damian hang back. That’s the only reason that Damian felt unsure about Reynolds' insistence that Father knew. Batman was completely against this scenario.

Or maybe Father was genuinely content with this occurring.

Because he was Damian. He was Robin. He should be expected to bear through what others cannot. So whilst this may be a horrific moment for anyone else, Damian should have enough strength and willpower to not be affected.

The same way how as Robin, he was expected to handle punches and blows from villains but civilians that were older and bigger than him were to be protected from them.

Besides, those children on patrol were truly children. They had not had the training and experience of Damian Al Ghul Wayne. It was obvious why they would be more vulnerable and required specific protocols and procedures to take care of them.

Maybe Damian was made to hang back because he was too brash. Damian was well aware that someone else always took over when dealing with civilians over patrol no matter the scenario, considering Damian could unintentionally be too rude. 

So maybe Father had genuinely told Reynolds to punish Damian in this manner because Father trusted Damian to be able to take it.

But no. That could not be it. Father promised time and time again that he was not like the League. This could not be a test. This could not be allowed. This was Father.

So Damian moved to call him. But then he remembered.

 

“If I get a single phone call from the Academy again then I will be very upset. There will be even worse consequences. Are we understood?”

 

This would be a call from the Academy. It was a school phone. This would be what could take away Robin possibly forever. That was Father’s word. His Promise. That one more call would rip away Damian’s very purpose of existence.

But surely a call for help is different compared to a call of complaint? Or were they the same? Would Father answer the call and scold Damian for questioning his teachers again? For being disrespectful and dismissive just like he was to Miss Maine all those months ago? Because who was Damian to fight his teacher?

It was enough to stop Damian. He looked up at Reynolds who was still by his own desk and flipping through papers.

Does Father truly know what happened today?

Was this worth risking Robin over?

Shakingly, Damian cancelled the call and set the phone down on his table.

Reynolds looked up at the sound and smiled at Damian. “Great! Shall we continue on what the mercantilist economic theory stipulates?”

Damian couldn’t even bring himself to nod and just sat there. Shaking.

His damp trouser leg pressed against him uncomfortably.

What had just happened?

 

---

 

“Ah, Damian!” Father called, catching Damian on his way to his room. Damian had been making his way up the stairs slowly when Bruce had caught sight of him. “How was your lesson?”

Damian had gone rigid the moment his Father called for him. He wanted to escape immediately, to hide in his room and into the dark warmth of his duvet. He did not want to have this discussion at all, let alone in the middle of the manor where one of his many adopted siblings might overhear and use the information against him.

“Did you hear me?” Father asked again but the cheer in his voice was dampening in annoyance.

“Father,” Damian answered as he turned slowly towards him. Politely, he stepped down a few stairs so that they were closer, hopefully the volume in his voice now would prevent any potential eavesdroppers.

He opened his mouth and then closed it again stupidly. His father watched with a raised brow when the simple expectant “it was fine” wasn’t said. But now what was he meant to say? Was he meant to admit what he let happen? That he allowed for a simple teacher from some low grade institution to…. To what? Touch him? Press him? Grope?

Bile quickly rose up his throat when he felt the ghost touches slide up his legs. He grit down on his teeth to prevent the shudder that was coming. He needed to tell Father. He was trained to tell Father.

Even if Mr. Reynolds claimed that Father already knew. Even if he claimed that the two men had discussed Damian’s punishment. 

Even if he destroyed whatever was left of the Al Ghul name. Of the Wayne name. Of Robin.

It was not as though Damian was arguing with the tutoring strategies. He was not talking bad about the punishments decided for him. Robin would not be ripped away from his grasp upon simply commenting on the events that occurred today. Because Father might honestly not have known, or had misunderstood Mr Reynolds’ intentions.

He had to at least try because what if Father was truly unaware? Damian had to make sure he knew, had to try. This was not complaining and everyone always insisted that the Manor’s tolerance for disrespect was higher than the League’s. Robin would not be snatched away without at least any warning, right?

Father would not punish him for a simple comment, right?

“How was tutoring?” Father asked again patiently.

“Father,” Damian tried again despite his dry throat. “Mr Reyn-”

Father’s phone screeched loudly into Damian’s ears as it rang, cutting him off completely.

“Hold that thought, we can catch up at dinner.” Father said dismissively as he answered his phone quickly, ruffling Damian’s hair apologetically and striding towards the corridor that led to his office.

Damian was left there dumbfounded. Having nearly admitted what might have been the most horrific torture of his life but was simply dismissed as though it was nothing. Maybe Father did know? No, no. He was only dismissed because he did not know. He could not know. However, maybe this was a good thing. A sign from a force above that he should not admit what he had experienced in the classroom. That it was too disgusting to be associated with his name. 

He should not have let it happen and it will not happen again.

A shudder was forced out of him when an echo of fingers brushed against his front. No one would know. There was no proof. His skin so difficult to bruise that Reynolds’ tight grip on his wrist hadn’t even left any marks. No one needed to know anything. Damian turned and ran up the stairs, finding himself tumbling clumsily into his bedroom and shutting the door. Staring into the dark as he tried to comprehend and come to terms with what had happened today. The urge to scrub his offended hand was strong.

 

There was no way Father actually knew… Right?

 

Notes:

Dayummmmm

So we got there in the end. Reynolds is showing his true colours

Also my headcannon is Dick always having headaches and migraines for having to deal with this shit show of a family

Bruce also does ask Damian again about this at the dinner table but as they’re in public, Damian is just like “nothing new, tutoring sucks”

Thank you everyone for all the lovely kudos and comments! Some of you commenters are so lovely I just can’t 🩷🩷🩷

Chapter 5: Chapter Five

Summary:

“Why does Father insist that I attend the tutoring sessions with Mr Reynolds?”

There was a moment of silence. And then Drake released a loud breath of air in amusement. Damian felt his cheeks burn in humiliation. Drake didn’t feel like the hero he was to others. The hero that Damian had seen him be to others. What separated Damian from the rest?

Damian sat and listened to Reynolds talk on about the Stamp Act during the American Revolution. He did his best to pay attention but couldn’t help his mind drifting and body tensing every time Reynolds came near. 

He believed that Reynolds suspected as much because his expression continued to show signs of amusement each time it occurred.

Reynolds paced around the room as he spoke, playing with a rainbow slinky as he did so casually. “In 1766, Parliament repealed–” He drawled and passed by Damian’s chair again. Damian gritted his teeth and did his best not to shudder. It gave Reynolds pause as he finally stopped in front of Damian. 

Damian forced himself to look up at Reynolds and meet his smile dead on. He tried not to jump when the man placed a hand in Damian’s hair.

“You know that if you do well, then you don’t have to worry. Right, boy? Those specific strategies are only for when you make mistakes. Don’t mess up and it won’t happen, okay?” He said in a soft voice.

Damian nodded which Reynolds took cue to ruffle his hair and continue with his lecturing. A new spirit had awakened in Damian and he began to make even more articulate notes of Reynolds’ rambling. If not messing up meant not putting up with that horror then Damian would be the best. He did not care for History before but now with a renewed passion he was going to pass these tests. 

Maybe this was why Father gave Reynolds’ permission. It was effective.

The very next week during Damian’s actual History lesson, Reynolds was leaving marked tests on top of his students desks faced down. The children turning the papers around and reacting to the red numbers as soon as he passed by them.

When Reynolds reached Damian he slipped the paper onto his table with a smile and winked. “Well done.” He said over the chatter of the students before moving on.

Damian turned the paper over to reveal a 78/100 with a smiling face doodled next to it.

 

---

 

Damian was lingering about the Cave as Father suited up. He wasn’t allowed on patrol on a Thursday but he was still allowed to look over on patrol with Pennyworth until the clock forced him to retreat to his room. He currently sat with the training equipment, his favourite katana on his lap as he polished it diligently. 

Father slipped on a glove and Damian could feel his eyes on him. But he waited for Father to speak. It was always better to do that rather than rush him. Richard had told him so.

Finally, “I spoke with Mr Reynolds this evening.”

At that Damian stilled his polishing but kept his eyes on the sword. What was he expected to say? Everytime he brought up his teacher Father would grow annoyed; but this time it was Father mentioning him. What did they talk about? Was Damian in more trouble? Would they be discussing Damian’s rude response to that specific punishment?

“He wanted to tell me how much you’ve already improved over a short amount of time.” Father continued. “You did much better on a recent test apparently.”

Oh. That wasn’t so bad. It gave Damian enough courage to meet Father’s eye. “Yes.” Was all he said.

Father slipped on his other glove but kept his eyes on his son. “That’s brilliant, Damian. Well done.”

Damian couldn’t stop the flush from spreading on his cheeks. He ducked his head down and fiddled with the cloth in his hand. “Thank you, Father.”

“It looks like the tutoring is working then.”

That made Damian’s stomach twist. Father wasn’t wrong. The motivation to prevent Reynolds from finding a reason to come near him was strong in pushing Damian to improve quickly. 

But maybe this was Damian’s chance to bring up the type of punishment Reynolds preferred casually and observe Father’s reaction to prove whether or not he was truly as aware as Reynolds claimed he was.

Damian wondered how he would cope if he learned that Father was well aware.

“I suppose Mr Reynolds’ strategies are new.” Damian said cautiously, watching Father’s reaction.

“Yeah, I was talking to him about that too.”

With that Damian’s head whipped up as he stared at his Father. They had?

“He said he had to tell you off just once last week and you immediately improved. I told him in our initial meeting that you would. You’re a quick learner Damian. I’m proud of you.”

But Damian was in a haze. Father was bringing up his first punishment with such an air of dismissal as though it was nothing. Was this the proof? Was Damian truly expected to bear it as Reynolds forcefully–

It must be. Damian was Robin. He was a Wayne. He was better than others who could not take this treatment. He was stronger.

Or at least he was supposed to be.

Because Damian knew that his tutoring wasn’t over. He knew he had an entire semester still left, ten whole weeks. Ten tutoring sessions. Ten days in which him and Reynolds were left alone with Reynolds given the permission to do anything with him. Anything at all.

With a burst of fear Damian quickly said. “But does that mean I can stop the tutoring?”

Immediately, Father’s expression stiffened as he tried not to show his obvious annoyance at the conversation change. Father might have even expected it at this point. “Damian, it has only just started showing to be effective. If you leave it so soon then you’re only going to crash harder.”

“But I know the methods now. I know how to be better. There’s nothing else left for me to learn.” Damian insisted and stood up in desperation, the polish-stained cloth falling to his feet while his katana was held firmly in his hand. The only thing grounding him.

“Damian.” Father said in his ‘this conversation is over’ tone. “I was only just praising you and now you’re trying to pick another fight–”

“Its not a fight!” Damian internally cursed himself at the level of volume and lowered his voice. “Honest, Father. I am simply stating that I do not need the extra tutoring now. I have evidently learned from it, you’ve seen the marks. But I do not need the sessions now. I’ll remember my punishment and won’t do it again.”

Father sighed heavily and his jaw clenched. “I feel like a broken record, Damian. No. You are attending these sessions.”

“But I do not want to!”

A light laugh could be heard coming down the stairs. Damian turned to see Drake descending. “You sound like an actual child. What’s this about?”

Father spoke before Damian could. “Damian doesn’t like his teacher.”

His cheeks burned from how childish that truly did sound. But he was not a child and would not put up with it. “It is more complicated than that.”

“Not really.” Father muttered loud enough for them to hear.

Drake still had his wide grin on his face. “That’s actually funny. The best karma. You hating school and now you needing more school.”

Damian winced and took a small step back unnoticed. It wasn’t funny. It hurt. “I do not like the punishments.” He admitted quietly. His hand suddenly burned when he remembered Reynolds’ forcefully pressing it against himself.

“You’re such a kid.”

Exactly. 

“Your tutoring sessions are effective and you will continue to attend them.” Father spoke in a tone of finality and slipped on the cowl. “Tim, get suited up. We need to leave.”

Damian just stood there, katana loose in his hand. It wasn’t funny. He might not be a child but it still felt overwhelming. Or was it just him? Father seemed to think he needed it. He was raised to trust his Father unquestionably. 

Drake had fully laughed in his face when he complained. Had mocked him. Was Damian really just acting immature?

His hand still burned from the memory.

Father left for the Batmobile as he waited for Red Robin to get ready.

“Drake.” Damian tried.

Drake only responded with a hum, clearly distracted but maybe he’d listen. Despite their rivalry, Drake had proven to be reliable many times. Drake was a hero as well, as much as Damian did not want to admit it. He was skilled and trained and not only is he Red Robin but he was once Robin. Maybe he could at least help Damian understand what was happening.

“I have a query.” Damian started. “On why…” he cursed himself for hesitating. Now Drake turned his full attention to Damian, clearly intrigued in what caused the boy to stumble. Damian swallowed and tried again. “Why does Father insist that I attend the tutoring sessions with Mr Reynolds?”

There was a moment of silence. And then Drake released a loud breath of air in amusement. Damian felt his cheeks burn in humiliation. Drake didn’t feel like the hero he was to others. The hero that Damian had seen him be to others. What separated Damian from the rest?

“You’re seriously asking me?” Drake said. “Maybe because you’re failing your class?”

“Is that really enough for Father to lose his temper and make me attend these sessions?” It couldn’t be. 

“He didn’t lose his temper. What are you exaggerating for? He’s just mad cause you keep questioning him on it. Just go to the sessions and get it over with. It really is not that big of a deal.” Drake continued to suit up. “You need to learn to grow up, Damian.”

Damian felt his eyes start to sting. Maybe… maybe Drake didn’t know. Maybe Drake assumed that the tutoring lessons were normal. That’s why he was so dismissive and mocking.

But what about if Drake knew? Damian wasn’t sure how he could cope with it if Damian said the words and Drake told him that he knew, that everyone knew. That this was what Damian deserved and everyone agreed.

Drake was probably glad. He always wanted to see Damian be punished.

But what if he didn’t know?

“I don’t like Mr Reynolds.” Damian found himself blurting out.

Again, Drake laughed. “I’m sure the entire world knows at this point.”

“He is unkind.” Damian couldn’t stop himself. “Everytime I make a mistake. He…” the words got stuck in his throat again.

“Tells you off?” Drake didn’t even look at Damian. “You’re so spoiled sometimes. No wonder you’re so you.” Drake muttered that last part to himself.

Damian clenched his fists. He felt trapped. And betrayed. Drake had been to the League. He was aware of their methods. He was aware of the scars, the burns and the old broken bones listed in Damian’s medical file. He knew how Damian was once trained.

He could put up with being told off. With being disciplined.

He just couldn’t put up with a man’s hand–

Damian swallowed down the bile rushing up his throat.

“He does more than tell me off.” He tried one last time. “He gives me punishments–”

“Okay, look.” Drake’s face scrunched up in distaste. “Don’t call them punishments, that sounds weird. Quit exaggerating. I’m sorry you have to write some lines or whatever when you mess up but some of us have more serious problems to deal with, Damian.”

And that was that. Drake had suited up and moved to make his way to where their Father had gone off to. Feeling defeated. Feeling alone. Feeling scared. Damian left the Cave that used to represent safety. He had no more energy to try tonight.

 

---

 

That Friday morning Damian laid in bed. He hadn’t had a healthy sleep. He had lain in bed for hours with his eyes closed until he finally drifted off, only for his alarm to blare at him in what felt like moments later. 

His phone told him it was Friday and he felt himself unconsciously curl into a ball under his blanket. Damian was starting to detest Fridays. They brought forth so much anxiety on waiting for something to happen and pain when it did happen. 

No, that was a lie. There was no pain. No hurt. It was only uncomfortable. If Damian could put up with climbing up a mountain with a broken wrist then he could put up with being uncomfortable. 

At least that was what was expected of him. 

Damian hadn’t realised how long he had been laying there until he heard a knock on his door. 

“Master Damian, you were expected downstairs for breakfast fifteen minutes ago. Is everything alright?”

Damian burrowed himself under his blanket at Pennyworth’s question. No. Everything was not alright. But only because he was behaving like a child. Because he was being stupid. 

Due to no reply, the door pushed open. Pennyworth entered quietly. Surprised by the unusual situation. “You’re still in bed, Master Damian? You will be quite late now.”

He didn’t want to lie but it came out of him before he even thought of it carefully. “I am unwell, Pennyworth.”

A shock of silence from the man. Damian volunteering information on him being ill and choosing to lay in bed rather than force on a brave act was more difficult than unusual. A warm hand slipped under the blanket to find Damian’s forehead. 

“You do not feel feverish. What ails you, child?” Pennyworth asked. 

Damian internally panicked. What lie could he make up that Pennyworth would not be able to disprove? A sore throat without a reddened throat? A cold without the phlegm? Pennyworth was well versed in medicine. Damian knew it would be much harder to deceive him compared to his peers and their ordinary parents. 

“My stomach,” he settled on. “It pains me.”

“May I ask you to show me specifically where?”

Hating that he had to wiggle himself out of the tangled blankets, Damian slowly revealed himself. He chose to lay a hand on a wide area of his abdomen to provide more chance of probabilities for his ‘illness’. 

Pennyworth hummed before using his hands to prod at Damian’s abdomen. Asking “does this cause you pain?” Or “how does this feel?”

After a few tests, Pennyworth backed away. “Well, we can remove appendicitis from your diagnosis.”

Damian simply stayed quiet. Unsure how to continue his lie. Could Pennyworth not just accept that he was unwell and let him be like Kent would do with Jon?

“Alfred, what’s going on?” Damian could hear Father calling out from down the hall. 

“It appears that Master Damian is unwell.” Pennyworth reported as Father entered the room.

Father furrowed and approached Damian, laying a hand on his forehead as Pennyworth had done. “Are you okay, Damian?”

“My stomach is in pain.” Damian reported. 

“It is not appendicitis,” Pennyworth said just as Father reached to test. “I have already checked.”

Father hummed and stood back, his eyes looking Damian up and down. “It’s unlike you to admit to being sick.”

Damian just shrugged unsure how to respond. 

Pennyworth said, “I am unsure whether to be relieved that Master Damian feels comfortable enough to admit to such things now or, well…”

“Suspicious,” Father finished for him. 

Damian felt the hairs on his neck rise as Father’s detective eyes stared him down. 

“Dick would play ill to get out of school loads of times back in the day.” Bruce clarified for Damian. “He didn’t happen to tell you anything about that, did he?”

Damian blinked and shook his head. Dread filling his stomach. He might be sick for real now. 

But Father’s face wasn’t furious like Damian expected. In fact, both Father and Pennyworth looked somewhat amused. 

“A part of growing up. But whilst you are a good liar, Master Damian, you might wish to have some practice before making up falsehoods to an ex-agent and Batman himself.” Pennyworth said humorously. 

It didn’t make Damian feel any better. Because this would mean that he would be made to go to school. Which meant attending tutoring. 

Father laid a hand on Damian’s shoulder. And to Damian’s shock he found himself wincing. The hand on his shoulder felt warm, like a burn. As though the hand was causing his clothed shoulder to prickle like multiple small sharp needles were piercing through. 

But Father remained unaware. “This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Mr Reynolds, would it?” He asked with an amused smile. 

Damian nodded honestly, the burning in his shoulder growing worse. 

“Come get out of bed, Damian. You’ll need to eat breakfast in the car. Don’t think about skipping it. Come on.” Father stepped back to give Damian space and took his heavy hand with him. 

The burning immediately stopped. Odd. 

Without another word, finding himself falling mute as his throat crushed in on itself, Damian slipped out of the bed. Pennyworth and Father left to give him time to prepare for the day. But Damian felt stuck on the spot where he stood. Anxiety pumping through his veins as he got ready for the tutoring session to take place in seven hours. 

 

Damian froze when he felt a hand fall on his lap. 

“You got that one wrong, want to try again?”

He shakily attempted to answer correctly. But his mind was distracted when as he spoke the hand in his lap started to rub. 

Damian shifted, trying to get away. Reciting the answers he had memorised under his breath quickly in desperation for the hand to stop moving. 

He must have done something right because the movement paused and the hand firmly patted Damian twice before removing itself entirely. The body that had been leaning behind his chair walking to the front of the classroom. 

“Well done, boy. Now, next question…”

 

---

 

Damian landed with a soft bounce onto the rooftop, feeling a comfortable breeze welcome him into the Gotham night. He was completing his usual patrol as normal, gazing over the citizens of the city as normal, keeping Batman updated on any suspicious activity he noticed through the comms as normal. Because everything was normal. Because nothing happened. It was foolish to believe otherwise.

He ran over the rooftops, keeping a sharp ear for any screams or cries for help. Because he was a hero who responded to cries for help. He was not a citizen who made the cry for help. He was Robin. 

And a cry for help he heard. Damian skidded to a stop and crouched over the side. It was a small act of crime, two teen boys towering over a smaller boy, but a crime it was. So Damian grappled down, silent and unexpected. With little effort he startled the bullies, left at most three bruises each on both boys when they attempted to attack and watched as they expectedly ran off.

Damian glanced over, slipping a hand into his lollipop container, a must-have pocket which Grayson insisted on when his brother was his Batman. 

“Here,” he whispered tiredly, handing over the wrapped sweet. The boy took it shakily, tears spilling out and mixing with the blood from his lip. “Are you far from home?”

The boy, he was not that much younger than Damian, shook his head. Damian nodded and smiled as he was trained. “I plan on ensuring that you find your way back safely. I can do so either through following you from up above or walking alongside you. Which method would you prefer?” 

The boy hiccuped and as an answer took Damian’s hand in his own, the other gripping tightly to his lollipop. Damian allowed him, having had to hold many little childrens’ hands ever since he became Robin.

“May I open your treat for you?” Damian asked, “I also have a wipe to hold against your lip.”

But the boy shook his head and Damian shrugged, just wanting the kid back home and this task over. Besides, the boy was still young, practically a child. Not that much younger than Damian.

Not that much younger than Damian. So why did his father’s protocol insist that he gets his hand held, handed a treat and walked home for receiving a single punch from a bully while Damain was forced to withstand his teacher-

Tutoring him. His teacher simply tutored him. Damian was fine and nothing happened. If Father believed that this was the right course of action then Damain just needed to accept that. More resilience was always expected from the greats and Damian was Batman’s son. He could nod and go along. That's what was asked from him.

The walk back was silent. Not like Nightwing had taught him, to humour or distract the citizen. But Damian did not wish to even pretend tonight, and the boy was happy enough holding a hero’s hand. It was a nice enough memory to leave the child with. When they finally reached the house that the boy led them to, he kept his grip on Damian tight and turned his gaze towards the hero shyly.

“Thank you, Robin.” he finally spoke under his breath.

Damian nodded dutifully, forcing a small smile. “It is what we are here for.” 

 

And with that he left, scaling up the first building he saw and hiding in the shadows as he observed the boy open the unlocked door. Damian stayed and watched through the lit window as whom he presumed to be the child’s mother, noticed her son and ran towards him. Kneeling and gently holding his face in her hands, frantically speaking and pulling her boy into her arms and the child hugging his mother back just as tightly while he sobbed.

Damian turned away then. The feeling of his heart bleeding too much to bear. 

 

The boy’s house had been on the border of Crime Alley, Damian noticed as he focused back on his routine patrol. He had no desire to annoy his adopted brother, to enter his territory just to irritate him and break his set rules as Damian has happily done multiple times before. But he heard a scream. And duty called.

So he crossed over into Crime Alley, assessing the situation as he sprinted. Damian quickly realised that he had no reason to offer his assistance because the Red Hood had already made an appearance. So Damian knelt against the wall of the roof, watching the man fight with as much vigour as usual. He had no idea what the crimes of these men and women were but they were apparently not bad enough on the Red Hood’s list for guns, considering that the weapons stayed in his holsters. Whoever had screamed earlier must have either been one of these criminals or the victim had already run away.

The Red Hood stood up, catching his breath over the unconscious bodies. He looked up for a minute, meeting Damian’s gaze through the helmet. Before he knew it, the Hood had scaled up the building silently, landing behind Damian. The boy turned, unbothered. A long time had passed since the Red Hood had attacked anyone in the bat family for crossing over into his territory. 

“Wanna catch a bite, kid?” 

Case in point.

The two found themselves on the top of Bat Burgers, eating fast food under the polluted sky. Todd, as usual, was one to break the silence. “Dead night for you guys too?”

Damian hummed as he ate, knowing Todd was referencing the lack of Batman’s presence. “One might say. What did your criminals do to deserve your wrath?”

Todd shrugged, “wouldn’t say wrath. I was pretty nice to them. They were off doin’ some shit with kids. Getting them to deliver drugs around.”

“But not consuming them?”

“Nah. I’d whip my guns out for that shit.”

Was that worse? Drugs over… tutoring? 

The burger began to taste stale in Damian’s mouth as he mulled over the bits of scattered information he had been offered. “Hood? May I ask you something?”

“Yeah, what?”

Hood would most likely see the ugliness of the situation, correct? He was the antihero who castrated men with blunt rusted knives, who shot monsters who hid in the dark with slow killing bullets. He would understand. 

“Are you aware of my academic situation?” 

Hood scoffed out a laugh, nearly choking on his drink. “I don’t really keep track of your school life, Brat.”

Damian bristled at already being somewhat dismissed. “Well. After a disagreement between me and a teacher as well as Father, one of my teachers insisted that I was to attend an after school session with him weekly in order to improve. Although, his methods are….” Damian stared at the hustle of the street below, shoulders hunched in the effort to not shake. He only needed to tell his brother. Even an abridge watered down version of the events will ensure that his adopted brother, Jason Todd of all people, would help him. “His methods are… dishonest. Mr Reynolds-”

“Hey, Reynolds!” Todd’s exclamation of excitement startled Damian out of his attempt to collect his thoughts. “I had Reynolds. Man, he was one of the good ones.”

There was a moment of silence while Damian tried to make sense of what just happened. He was sure there was a misunderstanding somewhere. There had to be. “You also studied under Mr Reynolds when you were in the academy?” he asked quietly.

“Oh yeah! He was one of the few teachers I could put up with. I sometimes spent lunch in his classroom just to get away from the other kids.” Todd knocked shoulders playfully with Damian’s stiff arm. “What’d you do to deserve trouble with him, huh?”

“I did not-” Damian gritted out, his nails digging into his burger as he felt the hope seep out of him. “I did not deserve anything.” I did not. I DID NOT.

“Oh, c’mon.” Todd bit into the last of his burger and Damian could hear the disbelief in his voice. “Quit being a palace brat for a second. I know you might think you didn’t deserve to get in trouble, but just get off your high horse for a second and accept that you’re like every other kid. What happened? Get detention?”

“I, um.” Damian swallowed. Taking in a hidden shaky breath as he neatly packed away his burger in a daze. “Due to nightly distractions I failed to prepare for a test and did not pass. Now he tutors me once a week.”

“Well, that's harsh but fair. Just suck it up, kid. It'll be over before you know it.”

“Perhaps,” Damian stood. “Thank you for the meal, Hood. We’ll meet soon I’m sure.”

“Hey, don’t be like that. Oi, Brat get back- ah whatever.” Jason snagged his brother’s forgotten food as the younger boy ran away. “It’ll be good on him anyway.”

 

---

 

The following evening Damian answered his bedroom door when he heard a soft knock. Shockingly enough, Drake stood there on the other side, a closed fist raised as he was caught mid-knock. 

Damian raised a brow. “Yes?”

“Hey,” Drake cleared his throat. “I was wondering if you were busy?”

Suspiciously, Damian folded his arms. “For what, exactly?”

Drake shrugged. “Just anything really. I was bored and I don’t know, I thought you might be too.”

Damian scoffed and put a hand on the door, ready to shut it in his face. “If this is another false ruse that Richard forced you into in some pathetic attempt of bonding—“

“Nothing like that,” Drake raised his hands, palms facing Damian in a show of submission. “I come in peace.”

Although still annoyed and cautious, Damian was curious. “And what do you have in mind, exactly? It is too early for patrol and even then, I am not permitted to go out as Robin on a school night.”

“I mean,” Drake shrugged. “We could play something online together.”

“…”

“…”

“You want to play a game together?” Damian asked in complete disbelief. 

“Look, I don’t know.” Damian could see the tips of Drake’s ears flushing red. “I just thought it might be something to do.”

Damian could see Drake growing agitated with him and felt oddly guilty. This would be something Richard would have loved the two brothers to participate in together. And Damian didn’t particularly wish to complete the set homework that moment. 

“Okay.” Damian said. 

Drake’s surprise was clear on his face. “Okay?”

“Before I change my mind, Drake. Lead the way.”

With a small smile of victory, Drake turned and led them down the hallway. “I left my laptop in the living room. Let’s go there and then we can also connect it to the TV or maybe play a console or I don’t know.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Damian said dismissively. “Just so you know, I will only tolerate you for one hour, Drake.”

“Same here, Brat.” Drake said and Damian could hear the grin in his voice. 

Once they reached the living room, Damian allowed Drake to choose the game as he didn’t have much knowledge regarding online play. 

“Has Dick shown you any retro games?” Drake asked as he was connecting the laptop to the TV. 

“No. Richard is more insistent on filling my head with old movie nonsense.” Damian said as he sat idly watching Drake work. 

“Great, guess it’s my job to introduce you to the world of games then. Jason’s gonna have to educate you on something else.”

Damian found himself flushing at the assumption that each brother of his had an area to educate him on. “I have played some games on a console with Jon before.”

“Oh? Which game?”

“It consisted of race cars and multiple different characters.”

“Mario Kart? Was it on the Switch?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s one classic off my list.” Drake connected the screens together successfully. “Got it!”

Drake picked up a controller and extended it to Damian to take. The younger boy did so but when he took the controller, their fingers brushed against each other. Drake moved to type on his laptop indifferently while Damian subtly clutched his fingers, willing for them to stop their strange burning.

Drake spoke as he typed. “We’re gonna have to pirate this for now and if we like it enough then we can get the real thing.”

“Isn’t that frowned upon?” Damian asked and once the burning calmed down, he turned on the controller while watching what Drake was doing through the TV screen. 

“Meh. When you’re an illegal vigilante some things don’t seem as bad.”

“Right.” Perhaps Drake wasn't as irritating as Damian believed. 

Although, the last time Damian decided to let his guard down around Drake, the older boy had gotten him in trouble. 

Drake didn’t seem to have any similar concerns as he typed away on his laptop so Damian decided not to pick a fight just yet. 

Suddenly, as Drake was navigating through the illegal site, a random advertisement popped up at the centre of the screen. 

“Woah!” Drake yelped. “Wait. Lemme get this off. Shit. Wait. Don’t look! One sec… done! Ugh, real sorry, Dames.”

Damian blinked. Confused more by Drake’s reaction than anything else. 

The blonde naked lady who had popped up on the screen definitely made Damian uncomfortable. It caused him to tense and subtly curl into himself. Unsure on why exactly it made him uncomfortable. But not surprised. Drake however…

His brother flopped down against the couch, a hand on his chest as he dramatically breathed to calm down. 

“Dude,” Drake finally said. “Look away next time.”

Damian was very confused. Was it because the screen showed a woman and not a man that it was different? Was Damian allowed to look at men naked since he was a boy but not allowed to look at women naked?

“Why?” He asked simply. 

Drake opened and closed his mouth, evidently startled by the question. “Cause. You’re like ten—“

“Eleven.”

“—and that’s pretty inappropriate.”

Damian stared blankly. “But why?”

Drake waved his hands about as if trying to grasp the answer in the air. “Cause you’re a kid. And kids aren’t supposed to be looking at porn. I mean,” Drake’s cheeks flushed. “You’re old enough to be curious and look things up but don’t do it around me, ew. But like, uh, be safe I guess. You shouldn’t technically be searching things up.” Drake took a moment to think before his eyes widened. “And you most definitely shouldn’t be doing anything that you look up. With anyone other than yourself I mean. Ugh. Ew.”

“Like what?” Damian leaned forward. Very curious. 

“Like, I know kids have relationships young. Not that I can ever imagine you with somebody.” Drake huffed a laugh. “But, like, the most you can do at your age is, like, hold hands. Maybe kiss. Just don’t tell Dick you kissed anyone if you want him not to have an aneurysm.”

Drake grinned. “Actually, go for it. And record it.”

Damian leaned back. Confused. On one hand, Drake seemed to know what was happening between him and Reynolds and then on the other hand he’s telling Damian not to do such things.

Perhaps it’s really because he means that Damian should not be doing these things with specifically girls? Risking pregnancy and whatnot?

“Look, I’m the wrong guy to ask. If you got sex questions, ask Dick.” Drake said and went back to typing in his laptop, finally bringing the game up. “Let’s play.”

Damian took the controller, pondering over their conversation. Drake said he should stay safe. He supposed that maybe as an adult, Mr Reynolds was safe. He was aware of exactly what he was doing and instructing Damian where his knowledge fell through. Which was apparently in more things than Damian had initially realised. He supposes that might be what Drake meant. 

Damian connected his controller and listened to Drake explain the game. Unsure as to whether he was a little more or less confused about his situation than he had been a few minutes ago. 

 

Notes:

Jason and Tim: kid, we’re doing our best to show you we care
Damian: my teacher—
Jason and Tim: oh shit would you look at the time see ya later

Also with Damian playing sick, Bruce and Alfred are just like aww he’s finally being a kid uwu

Daily reminder that this is a one-sided pov so pls don’t hate the family too much, they’re not exactly mind readers! (Tho they could work a lil harder on those detective skills they’re so proud of)

Thank you for reading !

Chapter 6: Chapter Six

Summary:

“Don’t touch,” he wheezed out. “Don’t. Don’t touch. Don’t-”

“Alright, son.”

Father?

“I’m not touching you. You need to regulate your breathing. You’re alright, son. You’re safe. I’m standing guard by you. No enemies, no Shadows, no Rogues. Just me and you. No one is getting past me. I have you. I’ll protect you. You’re going to be okay, son. Just breathe. You can do it. I’m right here with you.”

Notes:

This chapter gets way more graphic than the other ones. Stay safe.

Damian sat in the garden, Titus resting beside him. The dog snored idly while Damian relaxed to the white noise of his best friend. From where he sat one could just about see the ghost of Gotham’s skyline within the fog. Damian tried to capture it in an amateur attempt of a drawing, tracing the buildings and highlighting the lights that shined brightly even in the afternoon. Saturdays were easy. Saturdays he could breathe. Tonight, Damian would go away and Robin would appear and it would be an even better Saturday.

Titus choked on a snore, grunting awake. Damian laid a hand between the dog’s ears to soothe him whilst the other hand sketched away. The dog groaned and stretched, blinking lazily before suddenly tensing. Damian immediately reacted with a quick scan of the garden around him but remained at ease, the fear of an animal could easily come from something as common as the breeze. Convinced that Titus was behaving as just any dog would, Damian relaxed back but tutted when TItus stood and wandered off away from the comfy spot of sun that the two had been relaxing in for the past two hours. 

Ignoring the pet, Damian continued to draw the skyline when Titus barked a bit away from the spot. “What?” Damian called out tiredly. He let out an uncharacteristic groan when the dog barked again in response, demanding the boy’s presence. The dog had travelled quite away from Damian, calling from the cow’s barn a couple of minutes away.

Damian carefully shut away his book, tucking it under his arm as he stretched up. He trailed over to his dog who continued to bark. “What is it, Titus?” He was barking through the small gap beneath the barn door. So Damian unlocked the door, wanting to see Batcow anyway. 

That’s when he heard the meows. Immediately alert with a burst of excitement, Damian rushed past Batcow and towards a small corner of the barn. Stacks of hay were laid in the area and there was a small gap in the corner, big enough for a mother cat to have birthed five tiny kittens.

“Oh,” Damian breathed out as he crouched down, keeping far away as the mother’s eyes glowed protectively in the dark. The little kittens meowed on, stepping over one another and borrowing themselves into their mother’s soft belly. “How long have you little ones been here? It’s far too cold for you.” Damian peeked around, trying to accurately count the kittens in case one was hiding. “Five little babies. Do not worry, friend.” Damian told the mother cat watching him warily. “I shall provide aid.”

With that said he immediately rushed out of the barn, calling Titus along with him. He made sure the door was shut and locked. Despite the kittens being tiny and most probably still blind, he refused to take any risks. He ran approximately ten minutes back into the manor, trekking in through the kitchen back door. He did not have any kitten food as Alfred the Cat has always been too old for it but he did not believe that kittens needed food at this stage yet. He found the cat food stocked in the lower shelf in the kitchen and emptied two sachets into a bowl his cat rarely used for the mother. He then left it at the side and made a run for the storage room, Titus still following at his feet. He needed to hurry, who knew how long those kittens had been cold?

He did not want to use one of his cat’s blankets, too concerned that the mother cat would worry over the male scent. So he found a fresh unused towel, promising to pay it back in some way. Next, he dug deeper into the corners of the storage room for an emergency heater. Whilst the manor provided indoor heating during the colder days, Father always loved to be prepared. The heater was almost the same size as Damian himself, but he’s carried larger and heavier things in his past. So he bent his knees and lifted, trying to avoid tripping over Titus. 

He had made it back into the kitchen and was nearly out the door when he heard a throat clear. Abruptly stopping, his head slowly turned towards the man by the stove. His mind combated with itself - excitement to share the news of the five little ones or anxiety over being told he was not permitted to take care of them using the manor’s heater and blanket.

Pennyworth stood there, an amused smile thankfully gracing his face. “You seem to be forgetting the food, young sir. Let me give you a hand, shall I?” he said as he reminded Damian of the bowl of cat food he’d left on the side.

“Oh, of course.” Damian stumbled dumbfounded before regaining his senses. Of course Pennyworth wouldn’t refuse care to an animal. He’d push towards sending them to a professional’s hands but otherwise he wouldn’t outright refuse them help.

It was a manor of orphans for a reason.

Together, they wandered back into the barn, Titus on their heels. Momentarily, the heater slipped from Damian’s arms but he regained himself and tried to ignore the butler’s helpful hand reaching out to carry some of the weight. Damian led them into the barn and towards the corner where the litter of cats were located. 

Surprisingly, he heard Pennyworth let out a soft gasp. “I’ll say. How very precious. And you happened to simply stumble upon them?”

“Titus heard them and led me to them.” he corrected, trying to hide the glee within him of Pennyworth’s approval. With the strictness of Pennyworth, Damian tended to forget how different the old man truly was to the authority figures of the League.

“Well, I suppose we can do nothing more than provide them with our best aid until they are ready to survive without us.” Pennyworth smiled gently at the dilemma suddenly on Damian’s face. “With our occasional help with feeds now and then if they ever return to ask.” That seemed to calm the boy down. With that, the butler stood up and began to plug in the heater. Damian took the cue to arrange the blanket in his arms but he hesitated.

“I am unsure how to place the cloth, Pennyworth.” he admitted quietly. 

“Let me show you, my dear boy.” Pennyworth said immediately. Taking the blanket from Damian’s arms he adjusted it by the mother cat, purposefully keeping away from the kittens to show that they meant no harm whatsoever. “Now if the mother wishes to, she can place her kittens or herself on the blanket.”

Nodding in understanding, Damian similarly placed the bowl of food by the mother’s side as well. Standing back carefully. The cat could obviously smell the food because while watching the two humans warily, she sniffed her way to the bowl, tiredly getting up slowly away from her mewling kittens. She took a nibble of the offered food which quickly became full bites as she deemed the food safe.

“Do you think,” Damian trailed off unsure, as if suddenly catching himself when he realised what he was about to ask.

“Go on, Master Damian. I’ll do my best to answer as always.”

“Do you think that perhaps… the kittens would allow me to pet them at some point?” he asked under his breath.

A warm comfortable hand settled on his shoulder. It was different from the other touches he’s recently experienced. It was gentle and barely present, Damian could tell that he was free to shake it off if he so wished to. It wasn’t suffocating. It oddly didn’t burn like the recent touches he’s felt had.

Pennyworth looked down at Damian with a fond smile, “I believe that mother cats tend to wander off now and then. Perhaps if you catch the kittens alone during that period then there is a chance you might even be able to hold one.”

Damian tried to not burst in excitement over the notion of it. “She would not reject them?”

“That is true in birds, dear boy. Cats do not tend to worry over those matters as much.”

“I see,” Damian nodded and turned back to watch the mother settle back down with her babies after finishing her meal. The little newborns burrowed back into their mother’s soft warm fur as she protectively cuddled into them. Not for the first time in the last few months, Damian wondered what it would be like to hug a parent and allow them to protect him from horrors. But experience has taught him that in his life, it was his own parents who brought forward the horror.

Well, Damian thought as he leant slightly into Pennyworth’s warm and caring hand, this and Richard’s own affection was most likely the closest he would ever get to a parent’s true love. He just had to accept it.

 

---

 

Mr Reynolds gestured Damian to come over after Damian entered and locked the door behind him as he did every Friday. Damian walked over to his teacher’s desk where Reynolds was sat, nervous despite promising to himself to show nothing other than confidence. 

“You had gym today, right? You got spare gym clothes then?”

Damian nodded at the strange question, gesturing to the school gym bag in his hand. Reynolds grinned excitedly and waited till Damian found his way to his desk. 

“I got something new today, boy.” Reynolds said, leaning down to meet Damian’s eyes as though this was an exciting secret.

“Yes?” Damian asked respectfully. 

“Well, we’re going to go through your pop quiz today. Alright? So far so good.” Reynolds smiled. As though it could calm Damian’s elevated heart rate. “But my hand gets tired.” Reynolds laughed and rolled his wrist around. Showing it to Damian who remained uninterested. “So, I brought along a toy to help. You like toys, right?”

Because children enjoyed toys, Damian was expected to as well. His family had assumed the same when he first joined them years ago before Damian proved them wrong.

Damian nodded at Reynolds’ question, Father has always asked that he acted as though he enjoyed childish things in public to keep their vigilante identity secret.

“Well, this is exciting. Look at this.” Reynolds took out an item from a bag. Damian didn’t recognise it and looked curiously at the device. “Do you know what this is?”

Damian shook his head which made Reynolds’ smile widen.

“That’s adorable,” Reynolds said. Damian disagreed. “So, this thingy will help us today. See what happens when I press the button.” 

The device started to buzz in Reynolds’ hand and Damian watched on curiously, wondering how it was relevant to today’s lesson.

“And if I turn up the dial, it gets a little… more.”

As Reynolds’ claimed, when he turned the dial up the buzzing grew louder and the device shook more intensely.

“Do you want to hold it?”

Damian was interested in the new device. He believed that he knew everything so it was always interesting to find new things that existed without his knowledge. Perhaps this item could in some way be useful in patrol if designed differently. Damian quietly took ahold of it, feeling it shake in his hand and how the intensity of the shaking changed depending on which direction he turned the dial.

“Cool, right?” Reynolds was watching him oddly. Damian was used to that specific dark gaze now. “Oh, and if I plug it in here then can you see how this extension part has a dial too? I can change how fast it moves from here now.” There was another device now with a wire connected to the end of the original device. True to his word, Damian could feel the buzzing increase and decrease as Reynolds’ played with the secondary dial in his hand, like a remote control.

“Do you want to hear the fun part now? Okay, so I’m going to keep a hold onto this.” Reynolds gestured to the remote control dial in his hand. “While you hold onto that one.” He gestured to the main buzzing device which Reynolds turned off. “But you’re not gonna hold onto it in your hand, right? You see, this is where it gets exciting, you’re going to sit on it.”

Damian blinked at that. What? That made no sense in anyways whatsoever. “I don’t understand.”

“No, I thought not.” Reynolds chuckled. “But I swear, sit on it and as we go through your quiz you’ll understand cause we’re going to play a game.” Reynolds grinned wider to try and share his excitement with Damian. “It’s a part of your punishments.”

Oh. That was… oh.

Damian still did not understand this ‘game’ but his punishments were always horrifying. He hated it but he had to endure it. But what other choice did he have?

“For every question you get wrong in the quiz, I turn the dial up a notch, get me? And you have to stay sat on it. No matter what. If you get up then I might need to make you stay sat with a little help. Maybe if you’re too stubborn I’ll bring around another toy next week. That one won’t be as fun.”

Damian looked unsure. He could of course get loose from whatever restraints Reynolds put him in but he was not allowed to in order to maintain his identity. He knew he’d be able to stay seated on the device. He was unsure as to what the point was, it might be a bit uncomfortable but other than that it was such an odd punishment. What effect would the buzzing have?

“Okay,” Reynolds got up and went up to Damian’s chair, using masking tape to secure the device on the base of the seat. “Alright, that’s there. Now you go sit.”

Unsure and hesitant, Damian went over and carefully sat down. It was of course uncomfortable but that was it. But Damian knew better than to relax. 

“Wait, more like this.” Reynolds adjusted Damian’s position so that he was centred on the chair with his legs slightly spread. Damian forced his breaths to stay slow despite his blood rushing to his face. Reynolds dragged a chair to sit in front of Damian, the other end of the wire with the remote control still in his hand. He placed the pop quiz onto Damian’s table for him to see. 

“Okay! Okay, we’re here now.” Reynolds said cheerfully. Damian felt as though this new excitement was odd. Reynolds usually just looked at him weird but today he was both giving Damian that specific gaze and was also hyper. It made Damian’s stomach sink in distrust. “How about you start reading?”

Swallowing, Damian picked up his quiz. “Question one. What did Parliament’s Proclamation of 1763 do? I chose ‘Forbade American colonists to settle west of the Appalachian Mountains’.” Damian tensed immediately. Prepared for a punishment of some sort.

But Reynolds just smiled at him, gesturing for him to continue. Cautiously, Damian continued to read. And after each answer he’d tense expectantly. Not knowing what he was supposed to be afraid of. 

Until on the seventh question, Damian finally got an answer wrong.

Or at least that’s what he assumed. A small part of him wondered whether or not Reynolds was just growing bored.

“Uh oh, first one. Let’s just turn it on.” 

Damian could not hold in the jump. He flinched away hard when the device began to softly buzz. It was an unexpected reaction to the buzzing. It felt… it felt so weird. Damian shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to get up.

“How does that feel, boy?” Reynolds asked quietly, watching Damian curiously.

“Odd,” Damian settled on.

“Do you like it?” Reynolds swallowed, eyes wide.

Damian winced when he felt too much of the buzzing for a moment. “No. No, its uncomfortable.”

That must have been the wrong thing to say because Reynolds' smile dropped. Damian wasn’t sure which was worse. Reynolds excited or frustrated.

“You will,” Reynolds insisted, annoyed. “Just wait. Give it time and you’ll like it.”

Wasn’t he supposed to dislike punishments?

“Read the next question.”

The tenth he got wrong again. The dial went up and Damian gritted his teeth.

“Nice, right?”

“I do not like this.”

Reynolds scoffed, “quit being so stubborn, boy. Keep reading.”

Damian was no longer intrigued by the new device. He wanted it to be over and done with. He was unsure as to what the end result of this punishment was supposed to be. He wanted to go home. He wanted to drink Alfred’s tea. He wanted to cry into Titus’ fur. He wanted to visit the stray cats. He wanted to text Richard stupid unnecessary things.

Instead he did as he was told. 

Apparently, he got the very next question wrong but he couldn’t have. He was certain he chose the correct answer. He had coincidentally studied this exact question the night before.

But the dial went up and Damian’s breath hitched.

Reynolds smiled slowly, “Oh, now it's feeling good, isn’t it?”

“No,” Damian hissed out. “No, it’s uncomfortable. I don’t-- no.”

“Oh, please.” Reynolds snapped. “Just lean into it. Read the next one.”

It was starting to ache in a way that Damian did not understand. But he clenched his fists and read the next question. Which was wrong. And the next question. Which was also wrong. 

“In 1762 the Parliament of—“ Damian broke off his sentence when he experienced a flash of a feeling. He didn’t understand it but he was too overwhelmed to make sense of anything. He tried to regulate his breathing, breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth to get through this punishment. “In 1762 the—“ Reynolds again turned the dial up and Damian’s body completely tensed from a sudden intensity. 

“Hey, hey. That’s a nice feeling, isn’t it now?”

“I don’t want this,” Damian gasped through the feeling. “It’s too much I can’t—“ he shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. He grabbed onto the sides of his table. He wanted to jump off the chair. It was too much. “I don’t understand this, please.”

“You don’t need to understand this, Damian. You just need to accept it. I’m sorry, but if you had studied and gotten these questions correct then you wouldn’t be in this situation, now would you?” Reynolds leaned forward, his gaze focused on Damian’s shaking legs. 

“I can’t. I can’t. I want to stop. I don’t unders— please stop.” It was terrifying. Experiencing something he couldn’t comprehend. There was a sudden feeling of pressure in his core as the buzzing took over everything. The buzz of the device forcing a feeling so intense that was nauseating. 

Reynolds leaned forward and laid a firm hand over one of Damian’s that was still clutching onto the table. The touch burned. “Breathe through your punishment, Damian. You’ll enjoy this. You made me do this to you, boy. You see? You forced me.”

“Stop,” Damian gasped breathlessly, his eyes clenched shut and sincere tears began to spill. “I need- I need to stand. Sto—“

“I’ll make it so much worse if you stand up, boy.” As though that was possible. “You’ll love this. Just wait.”

“No. No!” Damian shook his head and more tears spilt. “Enough! No more, no more, no—“ he suddenly choked at the intensity of the pressure in his core. His mind faint from the buzz. He felt everything. He felt his muscles become tensed and pained and tortured. 

Reynolds’ burning hand holding onto his.

Damian couldn’t tell anyone what exactly happened. All he knew was that the buzzing was there and then it suddenly wasn’t. There had been a moment of blindness. Of a flash of something. Reynolds turned it off. He turned it off after Damian was forced to feel something he couldn’t put into words. He could not comprehend what had just occurred. He didn’t understand it. 

It was horrifying. 

“There,” Reynolds soothed as his thumb rubbed across the back of Damian’s hand. “Didn't that feel amazing?”

Damian stayed still. Stayed silent. Stayed scared. 

He was shaking. Shivering. He felt nauseous. His face flushed. Sweating. It was too much. He didn’t understand. 

Another hand came to wipe the tears and sweat off of his cheeks. Damian flinched back. He opened his eyes to see Reynolds staring back at him. His gaze dark. Reynolds was breathing heavily. Damian’s lip quivered. An unfamiliar sense of fear. Damian didn’t understand. 

Reynolds stood up off his chair and moved Damian’s table aside, coming to stand completely in front of him. “I want to try something.” He said quietly. 

Damian didn’t respond. Just looked up at Reynolds. Cursing himself for crying despite the discomfort and pain. He was trained better than that. No new experience should change his training. So despite his thundering heart, he met Reynolds’ stare straight on. 

And then the buzzing started again. Reynolds had turned the dial up again. And not just up but Damian saw that this time he had turned it on to its highest setting. 

Damian jerked up, his body automatically commanding him to get away. But then Reynolds’ heavy burning hands laid themselves onto Damian’s thighs and pushed down, keeping him sat completely on the device. 

Damian released a wordless yell. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. It was too much. His head and chest were throbbing in a state of panic and pain. It hurt. 

“Stop!” Damian raised his much smaller hands to push at Reynolds. Struggling to shove him off. “No! No. No. It hurts. Sir, please. Please, please, please, I can’t.”

“Shh, just take it.” Reynolds' gaze was dark and shadowed. Watching Damian’s body uncontrollably shake painfully. “You have no other choice but to take it. You did this.”

It was too much. Too overwhelming. Too much pain. Too much nausea. Damian felt sick at his very core. It hurt. He couldn’t put what he was feeling into words but it hurt. 

“Ple— please. Please. I’m sorry! No more, I’m sorry! I can’t. I can’t. It hurts. I’m sorry!”

“Good boy, now.”

Reynolds pushed Damian into the violent buzzing harder. 

Damian screamed. It was too much. His face was wet with tears and snot he couldn’t control. He couldn’t control anything his body was doing. For a moment he pushed Reynolds back in the way his training had taught him and the man had stumbled back. But then Damian remembered himself and took his strength away. The only thing that this caused was Reynolds impossibly pressing Damian even harder against the buzz. 

“Please!” Damian sobbed. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to!”

He felt stupid. He felt pathetic. He felt betrayed. He felt like the child that he was. 

“You’re going to love it.” Reynolds only whispered in response. 

But the pain that Damian could not describe was taking over. His entire body was sweating and shaking. His nails dug into Reynolds’ arms as he was forced to bear the torture. It was too much. Too much. Too much. Too much. 

“You’re almost there.” Reynolds whispered. “Good boy, Damian. Good boy.”

But Damian couldn’t hear him. He couldn't breathe. He had lost all his senses. Existing in a mindless zone of pain. He was overwhelmed and hurting and sick and

He threw up all down himself and Reynolds.

 

“Agh!” Reynolds jolted backwards, knocking into tables and chairs as he tried to stumble away quickly. 

Without Reynolds there, Damian found himself falling forward, barely missing the sick coincidentally and leaving the device still buzzing violently behind him in his chair.

“You stupid boy! You stupid little shit, what was that!” Reynolds yelled at him. Retrieving a wad of tissue to wipe himself off. “You disgusting boy!”

Damian couldn’t find the strength to respond. He could only lie there beside his sick as he twitched uncontrollably. His eyes dazed and felt heavy as he tried to avoid fainting. His stomach still felt nauseous and his head was pulsating. He could feel himself throbbing achingly between his thighs. He was disgusting. 

It felt as if time had stopped as Reynolds continued to yell at him. His pop quiz still lying idly on his desk table. His thoughts quiet and frozen in his head. 

He wanted home. 

Whatever that meant. 

He felt somebody - Reynolds - grab onto his arm and pull him up. Limply, Damian complied and stood. His entire body still weak and ill. He noticed Reynolds then shifting through Damian’s bag. 

“Here,” Reynolds snapped and shoved his gym clothes in his hands. “Change. You can’t go home in those trousers.” 

Damian glanced down at himself, expecting to find his trousers covered in sick. Instead there was a dark damp cold patch at its centre. Damian shivered. 

He also didn’t want to change out of his clothing with Reynolds present but the man was muttering and hissing out curses as he ripped the device off the chair and dumped tissues onto the sick on the floor. Hastily cleaning up. 

So Damian changed as quickly as his body allowed him to, hiding behind some desks as best as he could. Wrapping up his dirty clothes to save as much of his gym bag as he could when he put them into the sack. 

He stood there hugging his bag and waited for Reynolds to finish up on cleaning. The man had disinfected Damian’s chair and had gotten rid of most of the mess on his own clothes, an expression of anger blatant on his face. 

“Gonna call the cleaner for that mess. I'm not touching that shit.”

Damian was startled that Reynolds, his teacher, had just clearly swore under his breath. Well, it’s not Reynolds’ fault that Damian had thrown up. The man deserved to feel angry. 

“Alright,” Reynolds took a breath, seeming to calm down. “Plan of action. You go off to the nurses and tell them you had been feeling sick, hadn't told anyone and threw up in my class. Let the nurse know I’m calling your home to pick you up early from your tutoring. That’s all that’s happened, right?”

Damian nodded his head. Waiting for Reynolds to walk away to his desk to take that as cue for him to rush out of the classroom. Leaving the sick, the device and Reynolds far behind. 

Reaching the nurse’s office on autopilot he knocked on the door. Damian found himself still shaken and stunned when the nurse turned to him expectantly. He felt quiet. He didn’t want to talk. 

“Yes?”

He forced the words out. “I vomited in Mr Reynold’s class. He’s phoning my Father.”

“Oh, okay. Take a seat, honey. I’ll get you some water.”

Damian followed the demands robotically. trying to ignore the fact that he was being ordered to sit on an uncomfortable seat again. He couldn’t bring himself to think. To talk. To breathe. Everything was still too much. The air from the fan touching his skin was overstimulating. The plastic chair was too cold as he sat and hugged his bag. His body was throbbing. His thighs were throbbing. The private part of his body that he hated was throbbing. He couldn’t bring it within himself to exist while he waited for Father or Pennyworth to come and retrieve him. 

Father. 

 

Reynolds was calling Father. 

 

“Wait!” Damian found himself yelling out of his control, startling the nurse. 

“Excuse me?”

“Do not call my Father! Mr Reynolds does not need to call him!”

Damian was desperate. All his efforts to bear the pain of the tutoring was coming crashing down. He couldn’t phone Father. Father had promised him that if he received another call from the school then Robin was officially benched. He needed Robin. He needed to breathe. 

“Honey, he would’ve already called home.” The nurse tried to calm him. “It’s government procedure, I’m afraid.”

“Please, no. I can put up with a little illness.” He insisted. Despite the call having already gone through. Maybe they could phone back and say they had the wrong number and it was someone else’s child?

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Your Dad will be here soon. Drink some water.”

Why did no one ever listen to him?

Instead of drinking the water he buried his face into his bag as he tried not to cry. He just wanted home. He just wanted Robin. 

He felt the chair shift under him and stiffened due to the sudden flashback of the chair back in Reynolds’ classroom. 

He was going to throw up again. 

Damian managed to hold it in, swallowing down any bout of sickness that came rising up. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there for until he heard a knock on the open door. 

“Ah, you must be here for Damian.” The nurse greeted and stood. “I just need you to sign some papers.”

“Hi, sorry I took so long.” Richard smiled at Damian. 

Damian thinks this is what his subconscious meant when it craved home. 

It was Friday, Damian thought as his brother signed the papers, Richard must have come back to Gotham early. 

Richard approached Damian and knelt down in front of him, whispering to prevent the nurse from hearing him. “Hey, Lil’ D. Let’s get you home, huh?”

Richard laid a hand on top of Damian’s and the younger winced. The touch burning through his skin. But Richard didn’t notice as he took Damian’s bag from him and held onto his hand gently. Leading him out of the office. 

“You look pretty rough, Dami. You must be feeling really bad.” Richard said as they walked out. “Your eyes are all kinds of red and, oh Dami, you’re shaking.”

Damian opened his mouth to respond but the burning in his hand was too much and he still felt so sick. He felt a full shiver run through his body and was well aware that Richard saw it. 

“Not feeling up to talking?” Richard smiled gently at him. Not at all like Reynolds’ small smiles. “That’s okay, D. Want me to carry you to the car?”

Richard made a move as though to pick Damian and he panicked. If holding hands was piercing through his skin so much then he didn’t want to imagine being fully held. So he flinched away, his hand slipping out of Richard’s in the process. 

It made Richard pause. And his gentle smile turned sad, he was hurt. “Really not feeling it today, huh? That’s okay. Let’s just put you to bed and get some meds in you.” 

But Damian knew it wasn’t okay. As they walked to the car slowly he was very aware that Richard was hurt despite him trying to keep up with the one-sided conversation. He had come all the way from Bludhaven early, chose to pick up Damian when the school called and Damian wouldn’t even speak to him. He was a horrible brother. 

A breeze flew by and Damian felt overwhelmed when he felt it on his skin. Everything was still too much. He could still feel the ghost of the device’s buzz on him. 

“I spoke to your teacher on the phone. He’s a pretty cool guy, isn’t he?”

Everything was too much. 

 

---

 

Morning came and Damian couldn’t find it in himself to get up from the many blankets hiding him away from the world. Alfred had come in earlier and proceeded to go through the process of checking his body for illness as he did the night before. Checking Damian for fever, asking him to take vitamins, again questioning if he’d eaten anything that Pennyworth did not know about which made his stomach poorly. Made sure to keep a bin right by Damian’s bed. 

He couldn’t figure out what ailment caused Damian to throw up and why he was so weak and shaken. Damian didn’t tell him that it was because there was no illness. It was purely Damian making it all up in his head. 

He was a stupid kid after all who could apparently throw up at school over something as simple as being overwhelmed. 

Damian still had no idea what truly happened to him. The experience had been so bizzare. A simple buzz from an unknown device had been torturous. It was the morning now, hours had passed and most of the symptoms had faded away. The tremors and the overwhelming feeling had gone in his sleep. But he was still sore. His muscles aches from the tension they were in last night. He hadn’t told Pennyworth. 

His bag was by his bed with his school uniform. He needed to put that in the wash himself. He did not want Pennyworth going through it. 

Richard had gone on patrol last night and Damian had not seen him since. Richard had come to Gotham early and it was nothing more than a waste. Damian was so selfish. 

Damian also hadn’t showered. He had changed into pyjamas under Richard and Pennyworth’s insistence but that was it. He was scared that the spray of the water would hurt his skin. 

How pathetic the son of Batman was to be scared of the touch of shower water. 

Son of Batman. Robin. 

Damian knew Robin was over for the foreseeable future. He didn’t even know what he needed to do to earn it back this time around. He hadn’t met his Father yet. Pennyworth told him that Richard had been with Father when he got the call so Richard volunteered to pick Damian up while Father dealt with some business work. Then when Damian returned Father was still busy and by the time patrol came around Damian had fallen asleep. 

He may have been pretending to be asleep to avoid speaking to Batman but had truly fallen asleep later to suffocating sobs. His body still so overwhelmed and aching. 

But now Damian was curious. He wanted to know what Batman had in mind for him. 

It took much longer than it should have to simply stand up from his bed. His body heavy as lead. He dragged himself to his bathroom. His face was swollen and eyes were red from crying all night. It was pathetic but thankfully his family would assume it was due to the invisible illness. 

After washing his face and getting dressed, not looking down at his body as he changed, Damian slowly walked towards Father’s bedroom door. Positive that he would be there during this hour. 

The entire process from getting out of bed to standing outside of Father’s door took approximately forty five minutes. 

He knocked and waited to be invited in, pushing the door slightly ajar. “Father?”

“Damian.” Father pushed himself off his bed, setting his laptop aside. Damian knew that if Pennyworth caught him then Father would be told off for bringing work to his room. “How are you? Dick said it was pretty bad.”

“I’m feeling better.” Damian said softly. Entering the room fully. “Did the patrol go well?”

“Yes, Dick was a good help. He took a hit to the head though so has a mild concussion. Nothing too serious.”

“Oh,” Damian felt his stomach drop. He hated harm coming to his brother. But he wasn’t about to show it. Especially after Father just reassured him about it. That would be silly. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, Damian? Come sit.” Father encouraged him worriedly.

“I am feeling better than before.” Damian said but still came over to settle on Father’s bed. He felt oddly fatigued. “I thought we might have our discussion regarding Robin now.”

Father frowned, “what about Robin?”

Damian found himself falling silent. Was this a test?

Father leaned forward, “that came out wrong. I only mean that I’m confused. I feel like I’m missing something.”

Damian was reluctant. Wanting to fall silent. But he had already stayed quiet yesterday and he couldn’t spend the rest of today not talking as well. “You told me that if the Academy called you then you would be upset.” Damian explained slowly. “You implied that you would reconsider Robin.”

Father watched him blankly for a moment too long that had Damian steeling himself as he prepared for the worst possible outcome. Just for Father to groan and dig the heel of his hands into his eyes. 

“I don’t think there’s a worse parent in the world.” Father muttered to himself. 

“Untrue,” Damian immediately corrected. “Just take David Cain for example.”

Father raised a finger to make a point. “A worse non-villain parent.”

“Still untrue.”

“Well,” Father finally looked up. “Your reassurance is noted. And Damian, you misunderstood. Actually no, that came out wrong too. I communicated badly.”

Damian blinked up at Father in concern. Was this good or bad?

“I didn’t mean any phone call. I meant the ones that were about your behaviour. Or your attitude to school or homework. And even then the consequences won’t be immediately benching you without exploring any alternatives first. That’s what I meant. Not if the Academy calls saying that you’re sick or anything else about you. Does that make sense?”

It did, but also it didn’t. “So what does that mean about Robin?”

“It means that only if you are well enough by this evening, you can join me on patrol.” Father promised. 

“Oh,” Damian allowed himself the smallest of smiles. The relief hitting him like a falling asteroid. “That is satisfactory.”

“Great.” Father looked unsure. Guilty. “Damian, you haven’t been hiding your poor health from me or your teachers, have you? Just because you were concerned about Robin?”

“No, Father. This is the first time I have been unwell since our previous conversation.” Damian said truthfully and watched as Father relaxed at his words. Damian almost didn’t want to continue talking, acknowledging that everytime he brought it up in the past it had led to an argument. But if he had misunderstood Father once then what’s stopping it from happening again? 

“Although, um.”

“Yes?” Father encouraged and leaned back against the headboard. 

Damian breathed deeply and took the risk. “I find myself feeling a lot of discomfort during Mr Reynolds’ tutoring sessions.”

“This again.” Father’s relaxed state started to shift. “Damian, we’ve talke—“

“I don’t like it.” Damian interrupted quickly. “I sincerely do not like it, Father.”

“Damian, hardly anyone likes extra tutoring.” Father said plainly. “But it is nothing to get this upset over. You’re more than mature enough to handle an extra class. And you’re showing improvement, Mr Reynolds says so himself.”

Damian could feel himself losing. “But the way he corrects me when I make a mistake… I don’t like it.”

“What don’t you like about it?” Father sighed. 

But Damian already felt dismissed. Unheard. Father’s attention subtly drifting towards his closed laptop. And Damian couldn’t bring the words to form. He opened his mouth and tried. Truly attempted to say it but it got caught in his throat. The words got stuck. 

But if Father already knew what Damian was going through, if he and Reynolds discussed his tutoring every other week, then there was nothing more for Damian to share. 

So stupidly, in a tired voice, he could only manage the words: “I just don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry, Damian.” Father said. “Really, I am. But this is just one of the things about growing up. And it’s what you need. I’ve seen the grades myself. Mr Reynolds’ strategies are working for you. And honestly?” Father leaned forward and smiled at Damian. “I am proud of the work you’re doing. And it is a direct cause of the tutoring. So please, a few more weeks and then we’ll see where we stand. Okay?”

As if Damian was allowed to say no. 

“Okay, Father.”

 

---

 

“Are you warm enough?”

Damian startled at the odd question said in the famous Batman growl. The weather was definitely colder than usual but Father should know the Robin armour held more than enough insulation to keep him efficient.

Nightwing was benched while his concussion healed, so Robin had to spend the entire patrol with Batman tonight. 

“Yes, Batman.”

Batman grunted in response and allowed a moment to pass. He inched closer towards Robin who watched him through his peripheral vision. “It’s just that… when the others were Robin. When it was even less cold than this then I’d find them under the cape.”

Robin eyed the said cape spread around Batman in slight disdain. Was his Batman subtly asking Robin to tuck himself under his cape? Damian hid a quiet shudder. He was conflicted. On one hand there was nothing he desired more than to finally bond with his Father, to grow closer as the others had done before him. However, even simply the thought of physical contact was less than comforting. 

“I imagine that might be due to their lack of clothing on their legs.” Robin dismissed swiftly, turning away from his Batman to pretend as though he had not caught sight of the inch that Batman’s shoulders fell.

“Red Robin was covered.”

“Do you really expect me to follow in Red Robin’s footsteps out of them all?”

Batman sighed, turning away himself. Damian tried not to shrink from the feeling of having disappointed his Father yet again. He couldn’t understand. He yearned for his Father’s comfort but he also could not bear to be subjected to it.

The moment was thankfully short lived when a shriek rang through the air. Wordlessly, the duo raced towards the sound, grappling between the tall Gotham buildings. They reached the scene of the crime and held back momentarily to assess the situation.

 

Robin suddenly grew dizzy. 

 

It was a lady, her blue dress in shreds. Her hair in a mess. She was facing a dirty brick wall. Forcefully pressed painfully against it. A large hand around her head covering her mouth. Silencing her. Another large hand groping. Touching where it shouldn’t. Touching what was not his to touch.

“Robin, let me deal-”

Robin flew forward, too dazed to recall that protocol demanded he stay away from such cases when he could. Deemed too young by his family to handle sexual assault matters. He respected those rules once.

 

There was no point now.

 

He grabbed the man by the hair and pulled him away, unapologetically ripping strands straight from his scalp. Robin released his grip and twisted, sending a well aimed kick straight onto the man’s right knee. He felt more than heard the crack of the bone. With his feet swept from beneath him the man flew forward, barely catching himself from bashing his nose against the cement. Robin swiftly rolled him over so he was laying on his back. Robin ignored his screams. His pleads for Robin to stop. The man didn’t stop when the lady screamed the same. He deserved no mercy.

With that in his mind, Robin lifted his fist and threw it down, crushing the bones in the man’s face. And he did so again. And again. And again.

This form of fight was unlike him, more like Red Hood’s brute way. Maybe even like Nightwing on occasion. But Robin’s mind was blank. League and Bat training escaping him. Preventing the elegant and proud pointed methods of attack. Nothing about this was planned. It was all pain.

 

Robin wanted him to feel pain.

 

Damian wanted him to feel pain.

 

So he will feel pain.

 

“-obin!” Robin heard as a hand came to grip his raised fist.

He whirled around and raised his other fist to fight back but a hand came to grab that one as well. Teeth bared, he looked up and snarled. He needed to fight. That was when his mind finally registered that it was Batman calling his name. That it was Father holding his fists.

Damian felt himself relax subconsciously. Batman keeps people safe. Batman keeps criminals away. Father would keep him safe.

“I said stand down.” Batman grunted in a guttural command.

Damian blinked, still trying to understand despite the haze fogging his mind. The hold on his wrists were still a bit too tight despite Damian having relaxed. 

“You are using too much force. This isn’t the League. You listen to my orders. You follow my rules. You do not use unnecessary force.” 

The hold on his slack wrists were really a bit too tight. Damian found himself feeling uncomfortable. He felt his skin beginning to burn from where the fingers held him through his gloves. Coming to a realisation that the man was right behind him. That the man could get up any moment. He needed Batman to be in between the man and Damian. Not the other way around.

His heart began to feel more prominent with each beat it took. It started to get heavier and it was getting harder to breathe. Damian needed to get away from the man. Get away now. He started to struggle away. The hold on his wrists were still too tight. Why were they so tight? Were they tightening?

“Batman-” he started weakly.

“You could have killed him!”

Startled, Damian stopped struggling. He wasn’t going to. Didn’t Father know that? He was just protecting the lady. The lady. 

Damian glanced behind Father. The lady was curled up and crying, holding onto the shredded clothes and covering herself up the best she could. Her nose was bleeding down her face and she was shaking.

Why was Father yelling at Damian? What had he done wrong? He was just defending himse- the lady. Was Father truly choosing the man over Damian? The… the rapist over Damian?

 

He chose Mr Reynolds over Damian.

 

Father wasn’t safe. Damian looked up at his face. The protective Batman gaze morphed into a shadow of Batman’s glare. Damian was in trouble. He was stupid. So stupid. He needed to get out. He resumed his struggle, the grip on his wrists now painful.

“Let me go!” But when has Father ever listened to Damian? When has anyone listened?

“Robin! Calm down. Take a breath. This is unacceptable behav-”

“No!” He cried out. “No! No! Batman, let me go now!”

No one ever respects his no.

“Robin, it’s alright. You need to breathe. You’re frightening the civilian.”

“Please, Father!”

The grip on his wrists was suddenly released. 

Heart beating fast and heavy, Damian turned away, climbed onto the nearest rooftop and ran. Ran away from the lady, ran away from the man. Ran away from Father. 

He was not aware of how long he had been running over buildings for. He was uncharacteristically blind to his surroundings, unaware of the area around him. He just kept running. Until he finally tripped over his own feet and fell crashing down on some random rooftop, his armour protecting him from skidding across the cement.

Damian found himself curling within himself, his cape covering most of him. His hands formed tight fists and he gripped the clothing on his chest, tugging it away from his skin. His heart painfully trying to tear itself through his ribs with rapid beats. His toes shook inside his steeled boots. Eyes clenched shut is distress. His breaths, usually trained and silent, were loud and painful as he tried to inhale pointlessly. He couldn’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He can't breathe. He was in danger and he couldn't breathe. He can't. He can't. Help me. Help me. Please, someone listen to me. Something’s wrong with me. Help me please. Help me. Why won’t anyone listen. Please. I can’t breathe. I can’t brea-

 

“Shhh,” a bodiless hand ran through his hair. But Damian flinched away. He couldn’t do it. Not now. He couldn’t compartmentalise. Please, for once just listen and don’t force him. Not now, Reynolds. Please not right now.

The burning hand laid itself weightlessly onto his shoulder but again Damian desperately wrenched himself away.

“Don’t touch,” he wheezed out. “Don’t. Don’t touch. Don’t-”

“Alright, son.” 

Father?

“I’m not touching you. You need to regulate your breathing. You’re alright, son. You’re safe. I’m standing guard by you. No enemies, no Shadows, no Rogues. Just me and you. No one is getting past me. I have you. I’ll protect you. You’re going to be okay, son. Just breathe. You can do it. I’m right here with you.”

Damian barely registered the words being repeated to him. His foggy head growing dizzy from the lack of air. His skin growing cold despite the suit’s insulation. His body uncontrollably shaking. 

“Breathe in,” he heard an exaggerated inhale. “Breathe out.” he felt the air exhale on his cheek.

He heard it repeated over and over. He should listen. He needs air. He tried and his breath hitched stupidly. He attempted an inhale again just for another pathetic hitch.

“Brilliant. Well done, son. Now again. Inhale-”

Brilliant? No, pathetic. He couldn’t even breathe. He didn’t deserve Robin. He deserved Reynolds. 

“You’re doing such a good job. Let’s give it another go.”

But he wasn’t. Yet, he listened to the voice.

“Amazing, Robin. Again.”

His breaths were fractured. Broken here and there. Yet, Damian himself could feel the improvement. He was breathing better than he had been in what felt like ages ago but could not have been more than approximately a handful of minutes. Oh, he forgot about Father.

Damian forced his clenched eyes to loosen. He opened them carefully into a squint, shocked to find his view blurry. How embarrassing. He blinked away the stinging tears and pointed his hazy gaze up to the figure in front of him. His Father. Sitting an inch away from Damian, as close as he could get without touching him. His legs crossed and hands in his lap, clenched and distressed. His cowl was of course on as they were still on the rooftop but oddly enough when their eyes met, Damian saw a faint smile gracing Batman’s face as he greeted Damian. He hadn’t seen Batman smile since Richard wore the cowl. 

“Hello, Robin.”

“B-Batman.” Damian cursed himself for the stammer. He refused to continue this stupidity. His breaths still stuttering, he forced his shaking arms to lift himself up. He nearly found himself slipping back onto the roof’s floor. His body suddenly screeching at him with fatigue and his head throbbing mercilessly. “Forgive me.”

That smile on Batman’s face fell away and Damian irritatingly enough found himself saddened by it.

“Never apologise for a panic attack, son. It happens to the best of us.” He said, his voice still holding the gentle tone.

Damian tutted. “That was not an attack. I am not like the others.” He had seen the others fall into panic attacks occasionally before he was ushered away by some adult. He was not as weak.

His Father sighed but Damian did not have the energy to curse himself for causing his Father obvious disappointment. Instead he watched lazily as his Father met his eyes again and the small smile slowly formed itself once more.

Was Father truly smiling at Damian? 

Father raised a hand, letting it hover in between them. “May I touch you, son?”

 

What?

 

Was he… was he asking Damian? He was asking Damian for permission to touch him? But he was Father. Batman. The highest authority figure in Damian’s life who mattered. He never needed to ask someone like Damian for something as trivial as permission. Damian was Damian and Father was Batman.

At the same time, Damian’s heart that was still aching and calming down felt heavy again, but in a different manner. It was up to Damian. Damian had the power to say yes or no. Unless this was a test. Unless he had to give up his power to Father. Say yes, of course. But then again, although it was a haze, Damian recalled Father listening earlier. Damian had asked him not to touch and Father had withdrawn his hand. He truly listened.

Father’s hand still remained floating in between them but the atmosphere was not awkward. He was waiting. Analysing carefully. Allowing Damian’s word to be the next one.

And… he wanted it. Damian wanted it. He had seen Father’s large arms wrap themselves around Richard, had seen his eldest adopted brother burrow himself into the nook of Father’s neck. Damian had witnessed Drake’s entire figure being hidden underneath Father’s hug. The teenager standing still with his eyes closed as he lived in the moment. He had even seen Todd once being encased in Father’s arms. A bullet had been shot by Todd’s head and had barely missed, Father had promptly knocked the criminal unconscious and had thrown away the gun before grabbing Todd in a tight overwhelming hug. Both men had stood still for a minute, Father suffocating Todd in his grasp whilst Todd, in a moment of kindness, allowed his Father to have this. Even the gentle way in which Father ran his hand through Titus’ fur or crouched down to pet Alfred the Cat. Damian wanted it. He’s been in Gotham for nearly two years and this is perhaps the first time Father had treated him the same as the others.

The things he had said earlier when he was helping Damian to breathe. The hushed promises he had whispered. Did Father mean them? Damian had never heard those words said to him from… from anyone truly. Other than the occasional moments from Richard. It was the first time he had encountered such treatment from a parent. The smile on Father’s face was so sincere and genuine. Damian had never had this before. If this was a night of firsts then perhaps. Perhaps Damian could receive his first true hug from Father. If he was lucky then maybe his skin wouldn’t burn under the touch.

So Damian risked it. He leaned forward. His body still unstable. He reached past Father’s stretched out hand. He could sense the stillness of his Father, as though the man was wary of moving an inch and shattering this moment the same as Damian was. But Damian continued to lean forward until his forehead rested against his Father’s large solid shoulder.

 

A second passed.

 

Damian closed his eyes in suspense before he felt his Father finally move. His arms slowly and carefully wrapped around Damian’s small body. His cape consequently falling over Damian’s form. Damian’s breath hitched. 

 

Father was hugging him.

 

His skin wasn’t burning.

 

Damian suddenly found himself hit with a rush of exhaustion as he let go, leaning completely on Father and allowing the man to carry him up. They stayed like that for a few minutes. Listening to Gotham’s traffic and each other’s breaths.

Father’s arms shifted and Damian’s heart sank, not ready for the moment to be over. But instead of letting go, Father’s grip only travelled underneath Damian as he stood and carried Damian up with him.

“Let’s go home now, son.” he whispered softly as wandered towards the edge of the building, getting his grapple out.

 

He liked being called ‘son’.

 

“You should not call me son in the field. It breaks the no names rule.” Damian reminded tiredly.

“You called me Father first.” He reminded him playfully before grappling them both down to the Batmobile which Father must have called. 

Damian did not feel a second of panic as the wind blew in his hair when they glided down. Uncharacteristically trusting his Father. The Batman cape briefly flew off him but came back to lay itself around the boy. Damian loved it, the feeling of the fabric covering the entirety of his small body. No one could see him. He was hidden from the world like this. From certain eyes. From wandering hands. Father’s warmth as well as his own created a cocoon within the cape. It was peaceful.

Before Father had a chance to unlock the Batmobile, Damian was already asleep.

 

In a daze he could hear Father speaking…

“I’m going to put him to bed.”

“Is Master Damian alright?”

“A sexual assualt case seemed to overwhelm him. This is exactly why I tell him to stay away from these cases. He’s too young.”

“Your children are always determined to prove you wrong.”

“Proved me right tonight.”

“I hope you’re not expecting to tell young Master Damian off when he awakens?”

“No, he had enough tonight. Hopefully he’ll get that protocols are there for a reason now.”

“You’re certain he was just overwhelmed?”

“Why else would he have a panic attack? I doubt he even knows what that man was doing to the lady. He’s only eleven. It was his first time in that type of situation.”

“That is true. Perhaps now he’ll know to wait until he is older.”

”Unless… Alfred, you don’t think anything’s wrong, do you? Like… like it had been with…”

”I do hope not, Sir. We can only wait and see if he approaches us as his brothers did.”

Damian felt warmth encircling him as he was laid on a soft bed, a blanket brought to cover him. He sighed and snuggled into the sheet. He felt a hand run through his hair, the same hand that had cared for him all throughout the last hour. Before he drifted back off, Damian felt a breath exhale softly on his hairline with a whispered “goodnight, son” and the brush of a kiss on his skin before the door shut.

 

He remembered none of it when he woke up the next morning.

Notes:

Bruce: my Dad sense is tingling
Also Bruce: I’m sure he’ll come to me when he’s ready
Damian: this is me coming to you
Bruce: nah that don’t sound right try again later

Also, the thing with the kittens actually happened to me, I miss those cats.

You guys have so many theories about the burning! I love reading all your thoughts, they’re so lovely!

Chapter 7: Chapter Seven

Summary:

Richard met Damian’s eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

He nodded, trying not to look frantic.

“Has he said or done anything to hurt you?”

Notes:

Trigger warning apply.

Also this one is gonna frustrate you haha

“You’re answering it wrong.”

Damian withheld his flinch. He was aware of the man’s looming shadow behind him, watching Damian flawlessly scribble away the answer to an American Civil War question. For a moment, he sincerely did doubt himself but a double check made him realise that it was correct. It was an answer beyond his level. He didn’t deserve punishment for this of all things. He was more than aware that Reynolds was finding excuses for mistakes where there was none.

“Will you tell me where?” Damian gritted out. The whole purpose of this ridiculous tutoring lesson.

“I already went through it with you in class. Were you not listening again?”

He was, ever since the first punishment he always was. “The Southern states were worried that as the United States expanded, they would gain less power. They wanted the states to have more power.”

“I never said which class. There is no need to be rude.”

He was not.

Damian felt as Reynolds leaned further down over him, placing one arm on the right of Damian’s desk to balance himself and his other arm over Damian’s left side to trace the words on the page. Trapping Damian.

Not really trapping him. One swift movement would have Reynolds unconscious, or at the very least stunned on the ground.

But he was trapped. In this reality he was trapped.

Damian forced his breathing to calm and his heart to slow, practice demanded from both the League and Batman. The League for underwater training and The Batman for in case of exposure to a villain’s gas or if to hide from super-hearing. 

Reynolds’ breath blew over the side of Damian’s cheek as the man read out the question slowly. “We mentioned this in detail two weeks ago. Can you not remember, boy? Tell me about the South and the president.”

“Lincoln wanted a stronger federal government and was against-” Damian froze at the heavy hand leaving the desk and resting on the base of his leg. 

“Have you forgotten?”

“No. Lincoln was against slavery-” Damian took a sharp breath as the thumb began to rub against his thigh.

“It sounds like you’ve forgotten. How disappointing that you can’t remember something so basic.”

“I have not forgotten.” Damian practically pleaded. His brain felt as though it had frozen. The training of slowing his heart completely thrown away as it tried to rip itself through his ribcage. He just couldn’t think in this moment of paralysis. Focus. “I do remember. His election triggered Southern States to lea— stop.” His last word released in the form of a caught breath as his words got stuck in his throat.

“You don’t think you deserve to be punished for forgetting? You want to stop? Call your dad?” Reynolds taunted easily as his hand moved up and down, rubbing him relentlessly.

Damian clenched his jaw as his head dipped down, forcing down his cries as Reynolds’ hand continued. “I’m sorry. Please, I have not forgotten.”

“Are you telling me I’m lying, boy?”

Damian bit back his whine as the fondling got worse, “No, no I’m not, just please stop—”

“And now you’re telling me what to do?”

“I know the answer. Please.”

“I decide how and when you get punished.”

“I understand but please-”

“If you were good enough then this wouldn’t be happening in the first place.”

 

Minutes later - Damian had curled into himself, his forehead rested on the edge of his desk with his eyes clenched shut, heaving heavy breaths and finding what little calmness he could in wrapping his arms around himself, listening to Mr Reynolds sitting down in his main chair at the front of the classroom and rubbing in hand sanitiser. 

“Cross it all out and rewrite your entire answer, you’ve still got forty minutes left.”

Somehow finding the strength to do so, Damian shakily uncurled himself and found his pen on his desk. Not hesitating to do as he was told, not waiting to catch his breath properly. Ignoring the cooling damp patch in his underwear. Too scared to do anything but listen. “Yes, Mr Reynolds.”

He couldn’t complain. He would not be in this position had it not been for his own mistakes. This was his own fault. He should have been good enough.

 

He was trapped.

 

---

 

“C’mon, you’re not even listening.”

“You have been rambling on about the same thing in different ways.”

“Because it's important!”

“It's ice cream.” Damian said bluntly and took another spoonful of his vanilla ice cream. He still didn’t enjoy ice cream that much but he didn’t hate it enough to refuse spending time with Richard.

“Cone is better than a tub. There’s no two ways about it.” Richard stated firmly. He was speaking more seriously than he did in the majority of his cases as Nightwing.

“And I did nothing to make you think that I believed otherwise.” 

“You’re eating out of a tub when there was a perfectly good cone option.”

“In a cone, one must consume both the ice cream itself as well as the cone. I was simply not hungry enough for that.” Damian took another bite. “Your cone is melting.”

“Oh shit,” Richard started to frantically lick the dripping strawberry ice cream. 

The two were sat on a bench in a Bludhaven park. Richard had insisted on borrowing Damian for the weekend, apparently feeling guilty for not being able to spend time with him on the last one due to his injury and Damian’s ‘illness’. Damian didn’t put up any fight at all. More than happy to spend the two days with his brother.

Even though Damian had to put up with his skin burning from Richard’s multiple insistent touches. 

“Ew, I’m all sticky.” Richard whined.

“You are merely providing more points as to why a tub is superior to a cone.”

“Aw, it's a part of the experience!”

“It’s ice cream.”

A child, much younger than Damian, sprinted past the two to jump onto a swing. Damian watched her indifferently. The girl stood on the swing instead of sitting, using whatever core strength she had to push the swing up and she shrieked in joy. When Damian was her age, he also enjoyed swinging. Although he was learning to swing off of high ledges.

“Do you want to go play?” Richard asked quietly, misinterpreting Damian’s intentions. Damian tried to ignore the obvious hope in Richard’s voice.

“Of course not, I’m much too old for such things.”

“Right,” Damian tried not to cringe at the disappointment Richard was failing to hide as his shoulders drooped. “You’re not a kid, blah blah.”

Damian felt his own shoulders rise up, he tried to relax his body language to keep Richard from noticing how uncomfortable that sentence had made him. The only other person to insist that Damian was older than he actually was, constantly uses it as an excuse to do painful things to him.

“I am a child.” Damian found himself blurting out. He realised that he had said it as a defence. In a fear of being hurt. He wanted to let Richard know that he wasn’t ready for some things just yet. But he was being too stupid about how he said it, too desperate. With regrettable eyes, Damian turned to face Richard directly. “I mean…”

He trailed off when he noticed how Richard’s own eyes had widened in surprise. In Richard’s defence, it wasn’t often that Damian ever stated such a thing.

“...I mean, I am not a child in the sense that I am more mature, more experienced.” He lowered his voice in case anyone overheard, “but I swing off of buildings. I do not need to play on dirty public child-friendly equipment. But according to legal laws, I am a child.” According to the country’s legal laws no one should be touching him. Although, he was an illegal vigilante. So did those laws even count for him anmore?

Richard was still watching him in surprise, “that’s a good insight. Yeah, you were raised differently so I get it. Between the circus and Bruce’s gym equipment, I never found much point in parks either since I had access to the real thing.” 

Richard grinned, probably stupidly estatic by Damian’s ‘I am a child’ statement. As usual, Richard laid a hand on Damian’s shoulder and gave it a little shake. “What a mature kiddo, huh?”

The burn grew steadily as Damian had expected but this time around it felt worse, most likely due to how he was already uncomfortable, taunted by the memories of Reynolds. The hand on his shoulder felt much more painful than it should have done. So with a grimace, Damian pulled away slightly. “Unhand me.”

He already knew that it was in vain though. He realised his mistake, if he hadn’t acknowledged it then Richard would have let it go, now he had drawn his attention to it and sealed his fate.

Richard’s grin just grew and immediately he threw his entire arm around Damian’s shoulder, grabbing on tight and pulling the boy close to him. Every area that Richard was touching burned. He was grateful that Richard’s other hand was occupied with the ice cream.

“Awww, come here!” Richard cooed loudly. “You’re so cute with your mock anger. You know you love my hugs!”

The burn grew exceedingly worse with the words. Damian recalled Reynolds insisting that Damian was enjoying it.

Damian squirmed and tried to push away, only for Richard to hold on tighter and spill out more falsehoods. Damian even caught a mother in the park glancing over at the chaos and smiling softly to herself at the sight.

But Damian was burning. 

“Stop this,” Damian pushed harder.

“So cute!” Richard mocked.

Why did no one ever listen to Damian? Why did no one hear him when he said no?

With a huff, Damian pushed harder, more aggressively. Of course, it didn’t affect his older, stronger brother. But Richard did finally let go, using that same arm to hold his stomach as he laughed hysterically. Apparently finding Damian’s ‘mock’ anger amusing.

Damian’s skin was burning still, despite the arm having gone away. He felt himself flushing in the humiliation and frustration. Richard noticed and grinned, continuing to call him cute.

Damian just subtly curled into himself and looked away. 

 

The first half of patrol in Bludhaven had gone exceptionally well. Criminals were always taken aback by the sight of Robin outside of Gotham and the element of surprise would fall into Damian’s favour. Nightwing and Robin worked together brilliantly, years of training returning in the form of muscle memory.

Nightwing's escrima brightened up the dark alley when he turned it on to disarm a thug, laughing as he did so. “We should do this more often!”

Robin silently agreed, kicking a random in the gut and watching him crumple against the wall behind him. Robin turned to face another opponent. This one snarled, his knuckles armed with spikes and ready to punch. 

“I ain’t losin’ to a kid.” He snarled.

Robin shrugged, “then don’t.”

The man took it as a cue to charge forward with a roar. Robin merely stepped out of the way at the last moment, allowing the man to run past him. As the criminal did so, Robin aimed a swift kick to the back of his leg, hitting the pressure point that made the man, in fact, lose to a kid.

It was one of the many victories of the night. Small but rewardable, perhaps with another ice cream if Richard got his way.

It was proof of how exhausted Robin’s distracted mind was when he heard a gun cock to life. He tensed at the sound that came from behind him, way too close to his head. Nightwing was at the other side of the alleyway, dealing with four men at once; they had both assumed that they had spotted every man in the alley. Evidently, they missed one. If anyone ever found out that a common thug had tricked them both then they would never hear the end of it.

“Don’t try nothing,” a voice hissed. “Don’t ya dare. No party tricks.”

“Put the weapon down,” Robin said calmly.

“The fuck do you take me for? Turn around. Slowly.”

Withholding a sigh, Robin obeyed and turned, allowing the overly skittish and foolish man to press the pistol against his forehead. 

If Robin was to time it just right he could probably knock the gun away without any casualties. Perhaps a bullet wound but that was about it. Nightwing would not be happy if Robin got hurt though, he’d learned that the hard way.

So, with a trained calm of a Robin, he said “it is alright, what do you want? I can help you.”

The man was skinny and malnourished, he smelt to the point where Robin thought he didn’t need a shower but to be bathed in bleach. He didn’t need to be a detective to know what this man wanted.

“I don’t want no funny business, aright?” The man kept glancing around anxiously, Robin thought that he seemed drugged.

“Okay.” Robin forced himself to say placatingly.

“I want no cops.”

“That can be arranged.” At least until he knocked this guy out.

“You don’t got cash?”

“No, I do not.”

“How come?”

Robin wanted to roll his eyes at the twenty questions game. Nightwing better hurry up. “I do not exactly go grocery shopping whilst I am out on patrol.”

The man actually seemed to be taking that into consideration. “Right, right. What you got then? Give me that boomerang thing–”

“Batarang.”

“–give me something to sell.”

“Alright.” Robin agreed and slowly reached for a batarang, a plan to use it to disarm the man. The thug was shaking violently, the gun which was on Robin's forehead kept darting around his face. He almost wondered if the man might accidentally press the trigger.

Apparently, Robin had not been slow enough for this man’s anxiety. As soon as he reached for the correct compartment the man yelled out a panicked “Hey!”

And he pulled the trigger. 

Robin ducked out of the way in alarm as soon as he heard the shout. The hand holding the gun had been shaking so wildly that it thankfully hadn't even been on Robin’s forehead anymore. He felt a brush of sharp wind, the bullet, blow over his head. The bang of the blast so loud that his ears rang with the sound similar to a tuning fork. 

“ Robin! ” 

He heard Nightwing’s raged voice break through the ringing of his ears. He didn’t have a chance to look towards his brother though. Despite having stumbled back from the effect of the blast, the man had regained his step and held the gun back at Robin’s face.

Robin tried not to wince from the heat radiating from the weapon. His training refused to allow him to be stunned from the attempted attack and he stood still and vigilant, glaring down at the man in front of him.

“Don’t move!” the man screamed, spit hitting Robin’s face. “I said you don’t get to move or Im’a shoot you in th–”

The gun clattered on the floor in the next second. Robin felt with the brush of wind as Nightwing slammed the man against the dirty alley wall, allowing the thug’s head to bash against the brick. Nightwing had one arm holding him against the wall, crushing his ribs mercilessly, the other held an escrima stick that was sparking dangerously and held near the man’s throat. 

“Don’t you dare try touching him.” Nightwing near growled. He stood in between the coward and Robin protectively, hiding Robin from his sight as he threatened to maim the man. “You try that again and you drop dead.”

The shaking criminal still had a bit of will left in him, “Bats don’t kill.” He spat.

Nightwing leaned closer. “Hurt him and we’ll see. Remember that.”

With that said, Nightwing bashed the powered off escrima into the man’s head, uncaringly allowing for the body to fold in on itself and fall into the grime of the alley’s ground.

Robin looked at the lifeless figure wheezing on the floor. “I do not believe that he will be remembering much of anything.” He joked.

With feverish urgency, Nightwing kicked the gun by Robin’s feet away from them and knelt in its place. His hands came up to Robin’s face, cupping his cheeks with a fluttering touch. 

“Are you hurt?” He gasped, eyes darting all around looking for injuries.

“No,” Robin reassured. He was unsure whether it was because of the adrenaline or because of Nightwing’s unnatural fear but the touch did not burn. Not one to waste this rare opportunity of actually finding comfort in the same way Richard’s touch once felt, Damian leaned into it. “No, I’m alright Nightwing. It shot past me.”

Nightwing's eyes glanced all over Robin to confirm his statement. Finding Robin to be telling the truth, Nightwing released a stuttered exhale of relief. He closed his eyes in an attempt to calm himself and moved his hands to hold onto Robin’s arms, leaning his head forward to rest it against Robin’s chest plate. 

Robin allowed it, standing still as he recognised that Nightwing was resting his head against his beating heart. He brought his own hands up to place them on top of Nightwing's shoulders as an attempt to comfort him. “Nightwing, I am unharmed.”

“I know,” Richard choked out softly, leaning back with a sniff. He smiled at Damian despite the tremors running through his body. “I know.”

 

Once they returned to Richard’s apartment, the older one ordered Damian to shower and change, preparing a sandwich for him to eat before sending him off to bed.

Damian didn’t resist, following Richard’s commands. He was too tired to do anything else. Damian went to lie on the bed in the guest room. The room that Richard actually insists belongs to Damian, it’s only Damian who refuses to call it such, despite Richard putting things in it to match Damian’s personality (it even had a dog bed).

The issue with Richard’s apartment is that it is aged and fairly cheap. The walls are weak and thin, unlike that manor’s centuries old foundation. 

So when Damian wakes up with a jolt from one of his regular nightmares, Richard is there in his room, having heard Damian’s distress all the way from his own.

Damian gasped in air, his fists clutching the tangled sheets, his hair stuck to his skin and glued down with sweat. 

Richard was stood by the bed, crouched and vulnerable, hands held in front of him, a worried smile gracing his face. 

“You’re okay.” Richard whispered placatingly. “You’re in my apartment, you’re with me. In Blüdhaven. Nothing can get to you here.”

That was a blatant lie. There was a weak window right by the cupboard. A simple brick could smash through it.

But it was hard to imagine any criminal being able to leave a single mark on him when Richard was right by his side.

“Hey,” Richard lowered himself to a kneel. “Are you with me, Dami?”

Damian wondered how long he had been audibly sharing his distress with how shaken Richard seemed.

He opened his mouth to respond but a choked noise came out instead. Damian felt his face crumble at the moment. He hated when his mind betrayed him and stole his voice away. It felt like the final straw.

His despair had started with the nightmare full of unwelcome wandering hands, through the panic involving his heart trying to rip itself out through his ribcage when he was trapped in his mind, to the sudden awakening, to seeing Richard and knowing that his hugs don’t feel the same anymore.

“Oh, Dami.” Richard breathed out as the tears pooled in Damian’s eyes. “It’s alright. You don’t need to talk, sweetheart. I’ll always understand.”

But he doesn’t. The one person whom Damian would have ensured understood his pain and help him, allowed Damian to return to school every Friday. Damian dug the heel of his palms into his eyes and folded himself in half, hiding away from his real Batman.

“Sweetheart,” Damian heard Richard inch closer. “I’m going to put my hand on your head.”

Damian flinched away when he felt air shift, digging the palms into his eyes harder and shaking his head.

“Okay, that’s okay too. Whatever you want.”

Why couldn’t Richard always be this way? So careful and asking permission. He only got this way when Damian panicked.

With his eyes shut, a traumatising image flashed through his mind. A memory.

Damian pulled his hands away and widened his eyes quickly, searching around his room, documenting his surroundings in an attempt to ground himself.

“I love you, Damian.” Damian’s eyes settled on Richard sitting on the floor, his hands resting on his knees and that damn worried smile on his face. “I’m right here with you, sweetheart.”

All Damian could manage was a shake of his head.

Richard’s smile dropped minutely and he nodded in understanding. “Let’s go watch a movie? I’ve been looking for an excuse to rewatch ‘Dr Dolittle’ anyways.”

Damian couldn’t help but embarrassingly relax at the mention of one of his, dare he say, ‘comfort’ movies. He knew Richard well enough to know that he wasn’t the biggest fan of the movie, but had watched it several times in the many nights that Damian had spent at his apartment.

It dawned on Damian that Richard was possibly assuming that Damian was panicking over the altercation at the alley today. Especially considering that Richard was probably dealing with the trauma from that moment as well. Well, Damian wasn’t about to correct him, not that he could anyways.

Without any show of words, Damian picked himself up from the bed shakily. Richard took that as cue to get up off the floor and lead Damian slowly back into the living room. The man set up the movie while Damian sat down tensely on the couch. He allowed Richard to grab a ridiculously soft throw blanket and drape it around Damian, carefully avoiding contact. A cup of tea was soon placed in front of him but Damian ignored it, focusing on the characters on the TV.

“You know,” Richard whispered in one of the movie’s calmer moments. “I’ll do anything to keep you safe, right?”

It was a lie, Damian has been unsafe for a long time now.

So why did he feel safer with Richard right next to him?

Unable to reply, Damian merely shrugged and buried deeper into the blanket. Without meaning to, he fell asleep to the sounds of the film, hating how the reason he was able to fall back asleep was only because of Richard’s protective presence.

 

Overall, the stay at Richard’s apartment had not been out of the ordinary. Things always seem to go wrong in one way or the other whenever Damian visited, whether that be through patrol, nightmares or good old panic attacks. 

Damian scowled as the clothed chick from ‘Chicken Little’ ran around screaming that the sky was falling. If people had just stopped and listened to him then maybe they wouldn’t be in such a situation. Damian could relate to that in many situations. 

Dick made a whining noise from behind the counter of his open kitchen.”I can’t get this to work.”

“Air frying?”

“There’s so many options!”

“You will overcome your dilemma, Richard. I refuse to give in and be force fed take-out another night.”

“You love McDonalds’ new McPlant thingy.” 

Damian frowned. “Simply because it is the lesser evil of the very few vegan alternatives.”

“Their fries though.”

“Use the blasted machine.”

“Spoil sport.”

Damian pulled his knees close as he left Richard to fall apart in the kitchen. Trying not to think about how the night was nearly over and after this meal he’d be driven back to the manor. 

Also, this damn chicken needed to grow a backbone.

“Alright,” Richard slumped down onto the couch next to Damian. “It’s on and in nine minutes we’ll see if it's burned or not.”

“How did Pennyworth allow you to get away with such a lack of skill?”

“Gosh, you sound like Jay.” 

They watched the rest of the movie and miraculously the food hadn’t burnt. Was crispy, but not burnt. In Richard’s book that was equal to five stars. Considering the movie was showing on cable, advertisements started to play before revealing that the next film was ‘Cinderella 3’. Damian had already seen that one. It was in Richard’s long list of ‘Must Sees In Order To Make Up For Lost Childhood Experiences’.

That list had a lot of movies.

“Dami,” Richard said and his tone was such that Damian immediately tensed up. It was too carefree and cautious. “How’s life nowadays?”

Damian took a moment to magnify the question, to think about why Richard was being so careful. “It is suitable. Why do you ask?”

“Well, don’t take this the wrong way. But Bruce was just saying how you seem a little bit different from usual.” Richard said, eyes not leaving the screen.

Damian scowled, “Is that bad? Isn’t that what everyone wanted?”

Richard finally muted the TV and turned to Damian. “No one wants you to be different, let's get that clear first. Initially, we might have wanted you to curb your learned violent tendencies and you did and that’s great. I’m proud of you.”

Ew.

“What Bruce means is that you seem to be spending more time alone and you seem a bit sad. We just wanted you to know that we’re both here to talk if you want to share anything.”

Damian couldn’t help but stare. Talk? He had talked! He had told every single member of his family what was the matter. He told them what was wrong and how he hated it. He felt himself growing angry.

“I already told you.” He heard himself admit before he registered what he was saying.

“Oh,” Richard suddenly looked worried, obviously trying to remember.

“The tutoring,” Damian reminded. “I do not like my tutor.”

“Oh!” Richard nodded in realisation before frowning. “You don’t like him that much?”

Damian found himself growing anxious. Was this his chance? Was he finally getting through to someone? He turned to completely face Richard on the couch. “I sincerely do not like him.”

“Huh,” Richard leaned back, a thoughtful frown. “Okay. I’m hearing you. Why?”

Damian felt himself sit back. Why? Because of… “I do not appreciate his teaching strategies.” He decided on, not knowing how else to communicate the rest.

“Right,” Richard met Damian’s eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

He nodded, trying not to look frantic.

“Has he said or done anything to hurt you?”

Damian opened his mouth to answer but caught himself unsure. He wasn’t sure how to answer. But this was it. This was his chance! But he found himself lost for words. He couldn't even make himself nod. Because that was a lie. Reynolds touched him. He didn’t inflict pain. 

It was directly Damian’s fault everytime. He held the blame. If Damian hadn’t gotten the answers wrong then…

He was silent for too long, his face displaying his confusion clearly. 

So he settled on, “I don’t understand.” 

Because he never did.

Richard exhaled, as though he had been holding his breath. He shifted, “Well, when I was a kid I had this teacher at the Academy. She was really horrible.”

Damian watched him with wide eyes, hanging onto every word Richard was telling him. Because what was he saying?

“She’d yell at me. A lot. She was my English teacher and you know how that’s not my first language. She’d use slurs too.” Richard admitted, his eyes staring off to the side as he remembered.

“How dare she.” Damian glared. A rage of protective justice arising inside of him.

Richard just chuckled and shook his head, smiling at Damian. “It was a long time ago, don’t worry about it. Basically, one time, I answered a question wrong and she yelled at me so bad that I burst into tears. I couldn’t stop and I got sent to the office. They had to call home. I still remember when Bruce walked in. I’d never seen him so angry.”

Damian’s eyes widened. Of course, Father would be furious. Mother would have done him so much rightful harm if Damian had embarrassed her like that.

“The way he tore the principal into shreds and demanded that my English teacher be fired or he’d remove all his funding. I’d never seen him yell like that as Bruce Wayne. It was something.” Richard smiled fondly.

Damian blinked. Ah. Father had been angry for Richard, not at him. That did sound more like Father. He loved the adoptive children a lot. It made Damian wonder why Father made sure that he attended all of these tutoring classes. Maybe being the biological child made him different? Father insisted there was no difference between him and his siblings but then why? Maybe he just thought that Damian deserved it.

“So what I’m trying to say is, if there is anything similar happening at school, we’re all here to help you, Dami.”

But Damian shook his head. “No one hurts me at school.”

And it was true. Reynolds never yelled at him, except for when Damian threw up all over him and that was rightly warranted. Reynolds never called him slurs. Never hit him. In all manner of speaking, Damian was unharmed. 

It was a clever tactic. Father and Reynolds were smart. No marks could be left in this way. Not how it would be if there was some form of a beating involved. 

But in his chest, in his very being, it did hurt.

“Does anyone hurt you anywhere else other than in school?”

“No, I just don’t want to go to school.” Damian looked up at Richard hopefully. “Maybe I can come here on Fridays and spend the weekend?”

“Friday is the one day you have to go to school,” Richard chuckled softly. “You know you’re always welcome here, Dami. I really want you to consider my place a second home to you. Because this is your home. I’ll always have a room ready for you wherever I stay. And if you really want then I can pick you up after tutoring. But if you just don’t like your tutor then there’s not much I can do, buddy. Think of it this way, he’s only your history teacher till the end of the year.”

Damian scowled, all hope diminishing in an instant. He turned away from Richard and back towards the TV where ‘Cinderella 3’ was playing. Another film where if they just believed the main character then so much could be saved. 

“Damian?”

He just huffed and crossed his arms, sinking back into the couch and waiting for the air fryer to beep so that they could eat before the drive back to the manor. No one was going to listen to him anyways. There was little point in trying.  

 

---

 

Friday came. Reynolds told him that today was a special day.

Damian didn’t understand.

He had gotten every single test answer right.

Why was he being punished?

That day was different.

Reynolds took Damian’s clothes off.

Damian struggled.

He wasn’t sure what was happening.

Reynolds removed his own clothes.

Damian tried to run.

Reynolds grabbed him.

Damian was pinned down.

Something happened that day. 

Reynolds said it was special. Damian cried.

He went home that Friday. Something was different. 

Something hurt in a way it never had.

There was blood.

Why was there blood?

“Has he said or done anything to hurt you?”

Did this count?

Damian didn’t understand.

Why was Father okay with this?

He laid in his bed. He didn’t go to patrol. 

He bled onto his sheets.

He focused on trying to breathe.

 

He just wanted to understand.

 

Notes:

Poor Dami. He just needed to say the words.

It’s gotta get worse before it gets better guys!!

Fun fact - What we aren’t seeing here because this is Damian’s pov is how Bruce got real scared the other night when Damian had his anxiety attack. He’s thinking of the connotations behind it and specifically why the SA attack bother Dami so much. He decided that Damian might feel more comfortable telling Dick so happily arranged for Dami to spend the weekend in bludhaven. Didn’t work out tho, sad times

Also “I am unharmed” aright Bridgerton calm down

Thank you for reading! I’m so excited for the next chapter!

Chapter 8: Chapter Eight

Summary:

His bleeding had stopped overnight but the soreness would not go away…

…and tonight was family patrol night.

Notes:

Warnings apply.

It was a challenging morning.

The morning birds woke Damian up and the universe allowed him for a single blissful moment of ease before it brutally crashed down on him.

He ached. He hurt in a way he never had before. He laid in bed for as long as he felt he could get away with before Pennyworth came searching for him.

Damian inched off the bed. As soon as his feet touched the floor, he groaned and caught himself from stumbling. 

He ached.

A glance at his sheets made his heart jump. There were red spots. He cursed his foolishness. He hadn’t realised he would bleed onto his bed.

Damian had managed to shove his uniform in the wash last night which was regular behaviour at the end of the school week. But how was he going to explain washing his sheets to Pennyworth? 

His breath hitched and he looked down in the realisation that his pajama clothes would be ruined. He couldn’t help it when his lip began to quiver. This was too much to deal with so soon. 

His mind made up after some controlled breaths, he made his way to his ensuite bathroom. He would wash and change, make sure the bleeding had stopped, strip his bed and shove everything into the washing machine. Hoping that Pennyworth would just not bother with him. Maybe he’ll make the excuse of throwing up.

As Damian loaded and turned on the washing machine, he tried to not to lose control of his emotions. The clothes he could dispose of but he hoped that the blood would come out of the sheets. There is more chance that Pennyworth would notice if bedsheets were thrown in the garbage.

His bleeding had stopped overnight but the soreness would not go away…

…and tonight was family patrol night.

 

---

“Family patrol night~” Richard sang in a tune and spun around the Batcomputer chair. 

“The one night that will forever end up horribly wrong.” Drake quipped from where he was slipping on his armour. 

“That’s just cause we all get too comfortable.” Richard said. 

Damian already wanted the night to be over. Having to bear through acting as though he was alright in front of everyone on the day after Reynolds punished him was torturous. He aches below and the tightness of the Robin suit was not helping. Not for the first time, he was grateful for being allowed to add the hood to the suit. 

The pulsating aches from the morning had thankfully soothed into a dull annoyance, but Damian was still uncomfortable.

Father’s cowl was still down as he looked through the computer. Standing due to Richard’s insistence of playing with the chair. Father didn’t seem to care though. Damian imagined having the courage to do what Richard was doing without the fear of at the very least being told off. Richard simply got an eye roll for his antics. 

The sound of Todd’s motorcycle grew louder as he got closer. Eventually, he drove through the opening of the Cave. A hand raised as a greeting. 

“Hey, Jay.” Richard was much too excited. Damian wondered why he always became so hyper during these group patrols. 

“Shut up, Goldie.” Todd replied distractedly. The first thing he did was routine at this point. Heading straight to a locker and emptying his guns into it. It was one of the compromises between him and Father and it seemed to be second nature in Todd now to dispose of his guns whenever Father was near. 

“Now that we’re all here,” Father gained everyone’s attention. “Let’s discuss the night’s plan of action.”

“Go out, take names, kick butt.” Richard grinned.

“I want to pay this ex-gang member a visit. He has some information he may be willing to share for some money.” Drake replied sensibly.

Father nodded, taking mental note. “And I have a contact waiting at the harbour. So we can begin the night split up in teams and join up near the end. Unless anyone has something that will take more time.”

Todd spoke up from where he leaned against some exercising equipment. “I have a sensitive long-term case that’s not gonna be completed anytime soon, so I’m not gonna bother spending all night over it. But I wanna kick some heads in for some info before the sun rises.”

“Right,” Father gave him a look to communicate how violence was a last of course which Todd responded to with rolling his eyes at his obvious joke. “Sensitive how?”

“Sensitive as in I’m gonna have to team up with you or Dickie for a while.”

To that, Damian had something to say. “I am more than capable of handling any case you are, Todd.”

“Its a child sex trafficking case. You know the rules, squirt.” Todd said in a final tone, as though that was enough to shut Damian up.

Damian felt a chill run up his spine and swallowed down nausea. He felt the echo of a touch run over his inner thigh and had to subtly shift uncomfortably to shake it off. The movement only led to the soreness from yesterday tauntingly reminding Damian that it existed. The last thing he wanted to do was to be around anymore sexual situations. But, Damian was hardly about to obey any rules about steering away from sex when Father sent him for an hour of every week of tutoring.

And again, Damian found himself confused. There was a protectiveness behind Todd’s gaze. This case was obviously troubling him, he felt the need to strike justice on the criminals responsible for the trafficking. But why? Why did it matter if those children were being used and abused? Why did it matter if it was okay for Damian to experience the same things? Why was Todd, and the rest of the family in fact, dismissive of Damian being touched and abused for an hour a week, but whenever someone else was even at risk of undergoing the same thing then punches were immediately thrown?

Was it because he was Damian Wayne? Damian Al-Ghul? Robin? Did one of these names mean that it was okay for him? That he was expected to be strong enough? That he was supposed to be good enough to undergo these situations without complaint because of his strength? That the son of Batman could bear more than the average child?

But they always called Damian a child. And Damian was a child. A child was not supposed to be touched like that. A child was not meant to be blackmailed the way that he was. This is what he had learned in his training as Robin. So why were the rules different for him? Why did he count as a child in all ways but this one? It must be because of Robin. If he was expected to be able to take a punch from a criminal in a way that a normal child could not; then it must mean that Damian was able to bear a few touches here and there.

Still, Damian didn’t understand why so much importance was given to the other children in this case. Damian felt some form of jealousy swirl inside of him. It was in no way an urgent matter. They could manage this pain a little longer if Damian had to handle it for such an extended period of time.

“Why is it so urgent?” He found himself asking.

Todd’s expression turned into a glare directed towards him. Fantastic, what did Damian do wrong now?

“What was that?” Todd spat out.

“Dami,” Richard said and Damian turned to him. Why was Richard looking upset at his question? “That’s not kind. Of course it’s urgent. Those people are hurting those kids in a horrible way. We have to be quick to save them.”

“But… why?” Perhaps he should not have asked that because it seemed to have made things worse.

Richard got up to walk closer to Damian, “Lil D, they’re being sexually abused. That’s horrible.”

Todd scoffed, “you’d think that was obvious. Those girls are going through what is probably the most traumatic experience anyone can undergo but Demon Brat is here asking why it’s a big deal.”

“Don’t call him that,” Richard was quick to say.

“How’re you actually on his side right now?”

“He’s a kid. He’s allowed to ask questions on these things.”

“He’s Robin. Has been for a while. By this point he should have no questions about these things.”

“Damian.” Father’s voice stopped all argument. “Why do you think that this is not an urgent situation when your training has taught you that this is a priority case?”

“Because,” Damian could feel everyone’s eyes on him and felt like he was about to say something very wrong. “It’s not a priority case? Sexual abuse is not the worst situation a person can go through.”

Todd laughed loud and fake and Damian tried not to shy away. He was very confused. “Wow. Oh, wow. The Palace Kid thinks it’s not that big a deal. Properly spoilt him, huh? An amazing Robin you chose there, Dick.”

Richard started to look more disappointed than sad, “Calm down, Jay. Damian you can’t mean that.”

Damian could feel anxiety starting to rise. Todd had just brought up Robin twice to Richard of all people, not even Father but Richard. The man who knighted him as Robin. Could he lose Robin over questioning?

He couldn’t remember the last time he had disappointed Richard in such a way, but the man’s gaze was definitely burdened with the feeling.

“I just don’t understand.”

“That rape is wrong?” Drake finally said, he seemed just as annoyed as Todd but was hiding it better as usual. “Not exactly rocket science, Robin.”

Damian gritted his teeth. Again, Robin was brought up. “I just don’t understand why it’s the worst thing those girls can go through! Why is it so terrible for some but manageable for others?”

“What are you trying to say?” Father asked. And the flat expressionless tone in which he asked made Damian take a small step back. Why was everyone so frustrated at him? Was he expected to just know and accept that it was okay for him to experience abuse because he was supposed to be better and stronger? Can’t he just confirm it?

Damian would never wish what he experienced over anyone. It was truly mortifying. He’d save his worse enemy from such a fate in a heartbeat. But why did those kids get his family’s concern and not him? It wasn’t fair.

He despised how he had ruined the atmosphere. Not even five minutes ago, everyone was at the very least content. Now he had caused them all to feel angry. Why did he always do this?

“Is it because they’re girls that it’s urgent? Or because they’re children? Are they younger than me?” That might be the factor. Perhaps these girls were much younger, like toddlers. That might make this situation more serious.

“What?” Todd snapped. He looked disgusted. “Are you actually insane? Firstly, who cares whatever age they are? The situation is still urgent because there are children - there are people - being sexually abused!”

Damian tried to monitor his breathing. He felt uncomfortable and did not know how to frame his questions. Why was it okay if it was Damian? What made Damian different? Because he was the son of Batman? Was this the price he was expected to pay for that privilege?

He could not bring himself to say it.

His soreness mocked him again.

But Todd was glaring at him, as though he wanted to throw a punch or two. Richard was saddened, as if he didn’t understand the situation the same as Damian did. Drake was looking elsewhere, obviously done with this conversation and with Damian. Upset at how Damian was asking such ridiculous questions and how he had ruined the mood. 

Father was still expressionless. He always seemed annoyed at Damian these days.

So Damian wanted to wrap up the conversation, and he wasn’t getting out of this without being honest with his questions. He still didn’t want to say it but Todd looked ready to pounce on him. And Damian genuinely did not understand.

It kept him up every night. He laid in bed, depressed as he continuously wondered what made him deserve Reynolds’ abuse and what he can do to correct it and stop it.

Unless it was because he was Robin. He would put up with the touches if it meant keeping Robin.

But if it was something he could correct? Then he had to find out and now was his chance.

So feeling as though he was about to throw up, he clenched his fists, took a controlled breath and finally asked.

“I just mean to ask that is it because I’m Robin, it’s okay? Or because I’m Father’s son that I have to be stronger or… I just do not understand.”

He was met with silence. Damian glanced at each member of his family as they tried to comprehend his question. But they were starting to look just as confused as he felt.

“I don’t get it, how does you being Robin have anything to do with this?” Richard asked.

How did it not? “I only mean to ask why it’s so wrong that those girls are undergoing trafficking and abuse but if it was someone else then it is not as wrong? Is it status? Do those girls require urgent assistance because they were not as strong? The same way in which we stop civilians from being injured, but are expected to maintain injuries ourselves?”

“I’m about to kick off, brat. What are you trying to say?” Todd asked, frustrated.

Damian felt himself growing warm and looked down at his suit’s boots, allowing his hood to hide his face. How could he be any clearer? He did not want to outright blurt it. Why didn’t they understand what he meant? They already knew about Reynolds. Damian did not want to say it out loud.

But as usual, when did anyone listen to him?

“I mean why is it an urgent and serious matter when others are experiencing those things but not when it's me being… being, as in, like—” Damian couldn't bring himself to speak it into existence. He’s never admitted it outloud before, and to do so for the first time with his family’s eyes staring down at him was overwhelming.

But now was the time to say it. 

“When it's me being like… li—like those girls.”

 

There.

He had finally said it.

They had to understand now. He desperately hoped they would not force him to say it even clearer.

His heart was hammering in his chest. He wanted to run. To fade away. To not exist. To just… not be.

He looked up expectantly when he was met with further silence. But there was a difference in his family’s faces. Their angered and annoyed expressions were gone and replaced with something else. Something akin to… horror? That couldn’t be right.

At the end, in a childish act of desperation, he turned to meet Richard’s wide eyes. A question on his face begging for the older one to say something.

“Dami,” Richard breathed out and Damian felt some relief. Would Damian finally understand? Would Richard explain Damian’s unanswered questions? “What do you mean you experienced things like those girls?”

Damian felt crushed. More questions? Had he not been clear? Why was Richard of all people making him say it?

 

“You know,” Damian felt humiliated by how small his voice sounded. “You know. Like those girls.”

 

“What the fuck,” Todd said. But his rage was gone. His voice was softer. His shoulders slumped and his hands had unclenched. Todd took a shaky step back. “What the actual fuck.”

Damian looked around helplessly, how did he keep managing to disrupt the mood so quickly? 

Drake had also changed his stance, he was now watching Damian, his jaw open slightly in a state of shock. A sight of regret. Some form of understanding building. Overwhelmed by his gaze, Damian had to look away.

“Damian.”

Damian’s head whipped up. Father. 

Father’s gaze was no longer expressionless. It had hardened. A shadow over it. His eyes narrowed. Jaw tight. Breathing heavy.

Damian felt his own eyes widen in quick shock at his father looking at him so viciously out of nowhere. And Father of course noticed, because once again his expression shifted. It softened. Eyes blinking and jaw loosening but his breathing stayed heavy, his body tensed but trying to attempt a gentle and non-threatening stance.

The way Batman approached victims.

“Damian.” Father said. Straightforward. “Damian, did someone sexually touch you in a way that you didn’t want them to?”

Damian felt all the eyes on him. The sharp and tensed silence. He felt like lying, like taking it back, fixing this atmosphere. But it was too late now.

 

But… why was Father asking him?

Why was Father asking him?

When he knew?

 

And Damian also did not wish to speak such a thing into existence. He did not want to say it. But Father had asked him a question. And Damian had to answer.

 

“Yes, Father.”

 

“Oh my God,” Richard’s hand flew up to his face, eyes wide in horror. “Oh my God, no. No, no.”

“That can’t be right,” Drake said. He wrapped his arms around himself. He looked ill. 

“I’m…” Todd started. Damian noticed that he looked pale. “I’m sorry, kid. Jesus. I’m sorry.”

Damian felt helpless. He felt wrong.  

Everyone looked horrified. Father appeared completely shaken. Batman was not meant to look like that. Father was not meant to look so broken. So… scared?

“I don’t understand,” Damian said softly. Immediately, everyone turned their individual attention on him again. It was overbearing. “I thought…” Father was staring at him, evidently compromised. It made no sense. “Father, I thought you knew?”

It had been the wrongest thing to say because whatever horrified silence there was initially then shattered into something much worse.

 

“What does he mean?” In a flash, Todd was in Father’s face. Shaking in fury, one fist clenched and ready for a punch while the other reached for an empty holster. “Bruce, I swear, tell me what the hell he means right now.”

Father met his glare, his gaze steady but faded. “Jason, if I even had an inkling that this was happening and I had continued to allow it, then I would steal your gun from your hands and shoot myself in the face before the thought had even crossed your mind.” Father paused, breathless. “And if it turns out that I hesitate then I give you the permission, I beg you, to make me suffer.” 

Damian was stunned. Not only from the words his Father had just spoken in the confidence of a promise, but from the lack of resistance from anyone in the room. In fact, they seemed to agree.

Todd stared him down, his eye holding an aggression that Damian had never witnessed despite being raised in the League. A rage of fury like no other. And not a hint of Lazarus green. It was all Jason. His own inner anger. 

Then Todd finally stepped back, his hand falling back to his side and away from the empty holster. Although his finger still twitched for an invisible trigger uncontrollably. 

Damian looked around helplessly. Father’s gaze had not left Damian. An expression that Damian could not decipher. Whatever it was, it certainly had never been directed at Damian before and Damian wanted to fix it. But he had no idea how. However, he knew that Richard could always make Father feel better. 

So he turned to the eldest son. The most reliable. But Richard’s eyes had also not left Damian, although instead of meeting his eyes, he stared at Damian’s shoes. As though he could not bear to look up. To Damian’s horror, his brother’s eyes were suspiciously wet.

Drake proved to be no help either. He was staring blankly at the Batcomputer's screen. The cursor blinking silently at the centre. Watching it as though some sort of answer or support would pop up on it.

Damian couldn’t handle this. He's accomplished something he’s never wanted to achieve. He said something unforgivable and now his family stood in a circle in quiet horror. The atmosphere heavy and suffocating. Father was lost for words, he made Richard cry, Todd was anxious and Drake seemed defeated.

“I have upset you.” he said, looking at each of them. His words seemed to have restarted Father.

“No. No, Damian. You…” 

“You did nothing wrong.” Drake quietly finished where Father trailed off.

“I did something.” Damian insisted helplessly, the thundering of his heart returning with a vengeance. “I have hurt you all. Again.” A painful ball of guilt tightened his throat and those damn tears stung in his eyes. “I just don’t understand. I never understand!”

“Let me help you,” Father tried. “Damian. My son.”

Why did he want to help now?

Father kept his voice soft. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you experienced that. I’m sorry that I failed to teach you what is and is not okay. Whatever happened to you was not okay—”

“—and it was not your fault.” Drake interrupted again.

“And it was not your fault.” Father agreed. “Whoever hurt you, son, is vile. It’s one of the most evil things someone can do. I am so deeply sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

Damian shook where he stood, manually breathing as he tried to understand. “But yo— you said it. You said I was bad to disrespect my teachers. Richard agreed!” Damian stopped himself short when he saw Richard react. Startled by his name, Richard’s head shot up and he finally met Damian’s eyes.

Damian saw his big brother’s eyes were red, tears freely slipping down his cheeks. A grief shadowing his face like no other.

All because of Damian.

Damian choked on a sob. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I just don’t understand. I just didn’t want anyone to take away Robin. I didn’t mind if it meant I could keep Robin.”

“Your teacher?” Todd questioned, voice rough.

“Damian,” Father said. “It’s going to be alright.”

No, it couldn’t. Everyone was staring at him. Everyone was saddened by him. All because he was weak and broke and admitted his secret. A secret that he had believed was common knowledge to some extent. Even if subconsciously he was aware on some level that it was wrong.

This was all because of Damian.

And it was too much.

He turned and ran, heading for the stairs. He needed to get away from this overwhelming feeling. From the tension that was threatening to drown him. From his head pounding and anxiety rising because he just didn’t understand.

“Damian!”

“He needs space, Dick.”

He had done something unforgivable and he may not be able to rise up from it. Robin might not all be what he loses. He needed stability. He needed someone who didn’t know.

So he darted into the kitchen and for the first time ever he ran up to Pennyworth and grabbed him around the middle, burying his face into the man’s shirt.

“Oh!” Pennyworth startled. But years of raising children resulted in his arms wrapping around Damian’s shoulders instantly. Holding the child together as sobs tore out of his throat helplessly. “Oh, my dear child.”

Distantly, Damian acknowledged the lack of burning he felt in the hug. But he never seemed to burn from Pennyworth’s touch as it was. The butler was currently a solid presence, his arms tight around Damian’s shoulders. Yet, Damian was aware that those arms were the only things keeping him together and all he had to do was to pull away if he wanted to remove himself from the hug.

But he didn’t want to. Instead, he tightened his grip and tried to breathe through the sobs, eyes clenched and face aflame. He had no way of figuring out what he had done but at the same time he knew.

He had made many excuses. But underneath it all, in his subconscious, he knew. 

He knew Reynolds was wrong. He knew Father could not have known. He knew his brothers must not have understood him. He knew his new found family would not betray him and allow the crimes to continue. He knew this family was not like his last family.

And yet he still allowed it to happen.

Why had he not been clear? Why had he not fully explained to someone what was happening? Why did he not just say the handful of words that he needed to say? To just say “My teacher is touching me.”? 

How could it not be his fault?

“I’m sorry,” he choked out to Pennyworth. “Please, I’m sorry.”

“Hush, my sweet child.” Pennyworth comforted. Damian distantly realised that it was in the same manner as Pennyworth spoke to the kittens they saved.

It made Damian realise how out of character he was behaving. Of how much Pennyworth must be horrified and disturbed by Damian’s lack of dignity and honour.

Then he remembered that this was Pennyworth. If there was anyone Damian could depend on, it was Pennyworth. And from the way in which Pennyworth’s grip was tight and unmoving around Damian’s shoulders, proved to remind him of the older man’s affection for Damian.

“Pennyworth,” he tried again.

“Yes, my dear?” Pennyworth questioned quietly, treating Damian carefully.

“I made them all upset. I ruined everything. I am sorry.” Damian admitted. Pennyworth would know soon enough. He might as well tell him.

But before he could continue, Pennyworth placed a light hand on Damian’s wet cheek and smiled down at him. “Let me prepare you some masala chai and we will go find your feline friends. How does that sound, Master Damian?”

Damian hiccuped in his stunned state. He clenched his jaw as his lips trembled and it took a lot more energy than it should have to perform a single nod. 

Damian wondered if Pennyworth had yet noticed the bag of wet sheets in the large garbage bin in the garage. The blood never came out.

Pennyworth took Damian by his hand and led him to sit shakily at the island table of the kitchen as he prepared the stove and small sieve for the tea. Damian found himself dazed and only had to blink for Pennyworth to be in front of him with a tray in his hands. Two cups of tea, one masala and one earl grey. With a small plate of a variety of biscuits, the majority of the biscuits being the type that Damian preferred the most.

Pennyworth really knew a lot about Damian, didn’t he? 

With his heart swollen with conflicted affection, Damian slowly took Pennyworth’s extended hand and they walked together to the barn under the garden lights. He couldn’t help himself as he hiccuped and shivered, his head throbbing from his breakdown. His deep soreness becoming more prominent after having ran.

Pennyworth, the well-dressed and posh old man that he is, surprisingly sat straight onto the dirty, hay-covered barn floor. He placed the tray on the floor in front of him and looked up at Damian expectantly while the boy blinked down at him in shock. 

“Come sit with me, Master Damian. I believe your friends heard us come in.”

Sure enough, mews started to echo in the barn as Damian brought himself to sit beside Pennyworth. Pulling out a large storage box from beside him, Pennyworth scooped out a handful of kitten biscuits, emptying it out in a bowl. Batcow was lazily eating some left out food, undisturbed by the intrusion. It was then Damian noticed the two painkiller pills on the plate of biscuits. Next thing he knew, Pennyworth was placing those pills in this hand and holding up Damian’s tea, gesturing for him to take them. 

With his head throbbing and his body sore, Damian wanted to start crying again over Pennyworth’s observations. 

A dirty toxic part of his mind wondered why Pennyworth never realised what Reynolds was doing to him. 

But Damian shook the thought away immediately. How in the world would Pennyworth have even the faintest idea.

Why did Damian assume that anyone had the faintest idea?

“Ah, here comes one now.” Pennyworth commented as a kitten timidly peaked a little head from behind some planks of forgotten wood. The kitten watched carefully before making tiny steps towards them, eyes switching between the two people as she made her way to the bowl.

“Nala.” Damian helpfully supplied quietly. 

“Nala?” Pennyworth asked as they both watched the kitten. 

“Nala because she’s the most confident of the kittens. There’s Nala, Simba, Scar, Kiara, Kion and their mother is Sarabi. It’s a reference to The Lion King. Grayson thought I would enjoy it and I did.”

“I see,” Pennyworth handed Damian a biscuit. “Eat, sweetheart.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, Damian took the offered biscuit and nibbled on it. He couldn’t handle the unanswered questions in his head. They watched as the kitten timidly sniffed Damian’s shoe. 

“I really upset them all.” He admitted, breaking the tension. 

“I understand. But if this family is anything then it is quick to forgive.” Pennyworth reassured and took a sip of his tea. 

“I think this time it’s unforgivable.” Damian whispered. The kitten rubbed her head against Damian’s shoe. A second kitten started to approach them to join his sister. 

Pennyworth stayed quiet for a moment. “Dear child. Whatever the case, I wish to remind you what Master Dick used to tell you at the beginning of your stay here.” Damian ducked his head low to hide his eyes under his hood, still wearing the damn Robin suit. “No sin you can commit will ever decrease this family’s love for you.”

Damian shook his head, “that’s not true.”

“Master Damian. You could do the worst thing one can imagine and I’ll still be here for you.”

“That’s wrong!” Damian threw his head back up to yell at Pennyworth. The two kittens scuttled away back to the piece of loose wood, hiding behind it with their siblings. “That doesn’t make sense! I’m not talking about not doing a household chore. I mean that I- I could kill an innocent person and then you would hate me! That makes sense!”

Pennyworth’s tone contradicted Damian’s as he spoke in a calmer manner. “We might have a few words to say regarding the matter but we would not stop loving you, Master Damian.”

“Then you are a fool.”

“And what of Master Jason? We all cherish him no matter his crimes.” Pennyworth pointed out, placing his cup back onto the tray. 

Damian floundered, realising that Pennyworth had a point. “He’s, uh, he’s getting better. Plus the people weren’t innocents. And also, he’s not killed in ages.”

“Innocent or not he took lives. And when he did take lives we never stopped reaching out to him. And may I add, you have ‘not killed in ages’ either.”

Damian sighed, shutting his eyes to block this all out. “That doesn’t matter.”

“I’m assuming this conversation on murder is not entirely related to your situation?”

“I made Richard cry, Pennyworth.” Damian revealed, drawing up his knees to wrap his arms around them. 

Pennyworth frowned and placed an unexpected hand on Damian’s shoulder. “You must be in a great deal of pain for him to have been crying.”

“What?” Damian looked up. “How is that relevant?”

“When is the last time you have witnessed your brother publicly shed a tear over himself?”

It was true. But it still meant the same thing. “I hurt him.”

“Unintentionally, I am sure.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. It was unspoken and everyone was fine with it being unspoken.” Damian couldn’t help the hiccup of a sob as he remembered. 

Pennyworth removed the hand from Damian’s shoulder and instead wrapped his arm around the boy, pulling him close and flushed to his side. “It’s alright, child.”

“No, it’s not!” The feeling of Pennyworth’s physical comfort was forcing a wave of grief to show itself. It had been so long since he’s felt a kind touch that didn't burn. Damian started to cry, his chest jumping as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Shh, but it will be. It will be alright.” Pennyworth comforted him. 

“I hurt them. I hurt them! It’s all because of me. I shouldn’t have said anything! I just didn’t understand. I don’t understand!”

“My child, you do not need to bear this burden on your own. Not everything needs to be a secret. The Lord knows you already carry so many.”

“But I don’t understand!” Damian shrieked, his pitch rising. 

In response, Pennyworth pulled Damian even closer, Damian’s head now resting on Pennyworth’s chest where they sat against the wall of the barn floor, the tray forgotten and the kittens hidden. 

He allowed Damian to cry, hushing him softly when appropriate. This was a new territory for the both of them. Neither knew which tactic worked or which did not.

Damian wasn’t aware of Pennyworth’s thoughts. How he was thinking that so far, the method of comfort he used to give Bruce as a child seemed to be working somewhat. Like father, like son. 

With Damian uncharacteristically curled up into Pennyworth’s chest, the man started to run his hand through Damian’s hair. Damian suddenly felt guilty for Pennyworth touching him. The man was unaware that he was touching the same hair that Reynolds had pulled.

Half an hour ago he needed a member of the family who was unaware of the situation and now he felt the need to tell him. But he simultaneously could not bear the consequence of losing the only person he had yet to upset. 

“Drake says it was not my fault.” Damian said instead. “Father agreed. But it feels like it is.”

Pennyworth hummed, continuing to stroke through Damian’s hair. “There are many things that have occurred during your life that are not your fault but many people, including yourself, have blamed you for it. I believe you have become accustomed to immediately blaming yourself.”

“It was a punishment. I thought I was being corrected for my faults. He said I deserved it. That had I been good enough then it would not be happening.” Damian whispered. 

“I respect your wishes to keep this matter a secret, especially if your Father is already aware of it. But I want to insist, Master Damian, that you are more than just ‘good enough’”. Pennyworth was quick to correct. “No matter what happened, please keep in mind that you are very valued and loved in this family and deserve the best, darling child.”

Damian hiccuped, listening to Pennyworth’s heart in the comfort of the little barn. The mews of the kittens echoing and Batcow idly eating away. “Why haven’t you said this before?” He had to ask. 

Pennyworth sighed, “an oversight on my part. Do forgive me. I tend to forget that not everyone is aware of the affection my heart holds for them. I suppose this is a trait that your Father had to learn from someone.”

“It’s okay.” Damian said under his breath. He stared at a single spot on the hay-covered floor. “I also hold affection for you.” He admitted. 

“I am glad to hear it.” Pennyworth smiled softly. 

They sat in silence for some time, Damian exercising his breathing and Pennyworth helping him with one arm wrapped firmly around the boy’s torso and the other hand running through Damian’s hair. Damian mulled over their conversation and made a decision. 

“Pennyworth?” Damian brought his attention back. 

“Yes, Master Damian?”

Damian took a deep breath and found more courage within himself than he ever thought he had. 

“You are familiar of my teacher, Mr Reynolds?” Damian forced out. 

“The one who tutors you in history?” He confirmed. 

“Yes. He— well, he… he is unkind to me.”

Pennyworth stayed quiet but Damian could imagine the furrow on his face as he tried to understand.

“He touches me. Inappropriately. A lot. No matter how much I tell him no.”

The hand in Damian’s hair finally stilled and Damian held his breath. 

The silence stretched on. He had done it again. Had upset him. 

“I’m sorry, Pennyw—“

“Do not apologise.” Pennyworth choked out. In horror, Damian finally drew his head back to look into Pennyworth’s face. Thankfully, the man’s eyes were dry but his expression was shadowed. “Your family was correct. It is not your fault. You have always been good enough and it was not your fault. Nothing that filth has ever told you is true.”

Pennyworth repeated everything he had just discussed but in a new light. “You are loved. By Lord, I swear, you are so loved, Master Damian. No one is upset by you. Never you. It does not matter if you had not said a word while it happened. You were taken adva—“ he choked off and closed his eyes, taking in a needed breath before opening his eyes to stare into Damian’s wide ones and continuing. 

“You were taken advantage of. Manipulated. It was not your fault that you did not say anything. We should have protected you. I should have noticed. Your behaviour was different and I never stopped to think or ask why.”

Pennyworth took one of Damian’s smaller hands into his own. “I am sorry, my dear child. What has happened is horrific and not your fault. Whatever you do not understand on the matter, I will do my best to help you. We all will, for that I am sure.”

Damian stared into Pennyworth’s devastated gaze. He was filled with feelings of comfort like never before. He still didn’t understand entirely but he could bear it a little more. Perhaps it truly was not all Damian’s fault but still. “It is not your fault, either.”

Pennyworth sighed deeply at that and turned his gaze to Damian’s hand in his. “Perhaps not. Nevertheless, I am sorry you experienced this. And as one of your many carers, I should have tried more to prevent such a thing.” Pennyworth looked back up at his face. “I should have thought to teach you what is right and wrong. Of what you deserve and how your body should be treated. You have always been so sure of yourself, so confident and bold, that I forget you still need lessons like that.”

Damian found himself starting to grow uncomfortable with the multiple apologies. He was feeling uneasy, especially by the topic and how close he was to Pennyworth, practically on the man’s lap. 

As timid as the kitten from earlier, he carefully drew his hand back and away from Pennyworth’s. Immediately, without a moment of hesitation, Pennyworth let go. 

That simple gesture caused relief and love to explode in his chest. 

Shifting away from Pennyworth a little more to leave some space, he asked “but I have upset you?”

“The feelings I am experiencing, and the feelings I am sure your father and brothers were experiencing, are not directed towards you.” Pennyworth explained. “I am upset. Not because of you and certainly not at you. I am sad for you. I am angry for you. Not at you. The person I am enraged at is that disgusting excuse of a man .” Pennyworth’s face soured as he spat Reynolds’ description out. The distaste surprised Damian, too used to Pennyworth’s calm nature. “I much wish to retrieve my shotgun in a way I have not for a long time. But not because of you, rather for you.”

Damian’s jaw fell open. His mixed feelings stirring inside of him momentarily pausing at the news. “You have a shotgun?”

“Master Damian, you knew I was in the English military.” 

“Of course, but I never imagined that you used a gun, much less still have it.” Damian was still shocked. “Where is it? How has Father not thrown it away?”

“In my room. And you would do well to remember that your Father cannot tell me what to do and if he dares tries to even lay a hand on my belongings, much less discard of them, he will regret it.” Pennyworth said, a smile on his face to show his amusement. “I’ve spent many years putting him in his place.”

Damian returned a small smile back. He then thought of something and seemed slightly unsure. “You were a father to him.”

“I was, and I still am. Even though our dynamics are unusual and formal, Master Bruce is my son in every way that matters.” Pennyworth allowed the change of topic. 

“And so,” Damian’s gaze darted away and back, seeming even more unsure than he had this entire conversation. “I never thought of this, because when I first met you, Father introduced you as his help, a friend, but… would that mean you might consider me as your grandson?”

Pennyworth’s smile grew fonder. “Yes, my dear child. Ever since I learned of your existence, I have seen you as my grandchild. Not just you but all of you children.”

“But the others refer to you by name?”

“The same way they refer to Master Bruce by name, and yet they all view him as their father.”

“True,” Damian drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around his legs and looking down at his Robin boots as he once again tried his best to have courage. “It has been a long time since I have referred to Ra’s as my grandfather, I had believed that he did not deserve the title any longer. So… would it be acceptable if… if I could call you my… my grandfather?”

At Pennyworth’s silence, Damian looked up, expecting the worst and for the first time during this conversation he caught sight of wet eyes. He opened his mouth quickly to retract his statement and apologise before Pennyworth spoke. 

“My darling child, I would be honoured.” Pen— Grandfather choked out. “May I hug you?”

Damian startled at being asked. Too used to people ignoring what he wanted. He did not particularly want to hug Pe— Grandfather but at the same time a quick one might be sufficient. 

So he nodded and his Grandfather shifted away from the wall and lightly wrapped his arms around Damian. He felt enveloped in such love and feeling that he could only hope Grandfather felt the same as him. He decided he wanted to stay in the hug for longer and leaned into it. Within Grandfather’s arms, a relationship he never saw forming, he felt as though things would truly be okay. Not now and not soon, but eventually it will be. He felt supported enough to go back into the Manor and face the rest of his family again. Maybe with the time they had to process the news, they would now react similarly to Grandfather?

With the tea cold on the tray, Damian felt himself tiring. His eyes swollen from crying and while the painkillers had eased his headache slightly, it was still lingering in the background. Grandfather must have felt Damian becoming heavy as he gave the boy a quick squeeze and pulled away.

“Let’s make our way back. It’s late, let’s get to bed.”

“I haven’t gone on patrol yet.” Damian said, despite patrol being the last thing he wanted. 

“You require rest. Unless you honestly wish to go on patrol, then I can compromise with an hour.” 

Damian hesitated, since when did it matter what he wanted? But the prospect of going out on patrol when his body felt this weak, and also facing his family right that minute when it felt as though his very being was shattering, was terrifying. He settled on “I am not sure.”

“Well, I am. I wish you to rest and if you agree to it then let us go. If anyone says otherwise then I will speak with them directly.” Grandfather reassured and Damian found himself comforted with the fact that someone might speak up for him and what he wanted. Unlike when Father or his brothers would take the side of the Academy. 

Grandfather picked up the tray, bones cracking as he stood up. Damian felt guilty, the hard barn floor must have caused Grandfather grief. And all because of Damian. Once again, it was Damian’s fau—

Grandfather smiled down at him, waiting for Damian to lead the way back. And suddenly, Damian felt as though it was all alright. 

He followed Grandfather back to the Manor, offering to take the tray but being denied. Then he opened the back door to the kitchen, ready to go to bed, and was stopped by the sight inside. 

Father and Richard were sat at the table, both haggard and worn out. Richard’s eyes were red and swollen, his cheeks wet and flushed. Father was slumped into himself, one hand resting on Richard’s on top of the table. They both looked up at Damian walking in. Todd and Drake were nowhere to be seen. 

“Dami,” Richard said, his voice cracking. He stood up. Damian stepped back. “Can we talk?”

No. He didn’t want to. But how could he say no? Would it even matter if he said no? Why weren’t they on patrol like they should be? Damian felt his heart picking up it’s pace again. 

“I… uh, I—“

“Master Damian is tired after a long day and requires several hours of rest alone in his bed.” Grandfather appeared behind him, tray in hand as he closed the door. His presence stronger than ever. 

Father’s gaze stayed on Damian. His expression unreadable again. Richard looked reluctant to allow Damian to leave. Richard was obviously desperate to speak.

Damian felt bad. He owed them a discussion. He should sit at the table and force himself to speak. 

“I can do it.” He said, ashamed of his meekness but nevertheless staying strong. 

Grandfather looked down at him, “but do you want to?”

Why did that matter? “Father and Richard do.”

“But do you want to?” He repeated. 

Damian was feeling irritation rise in him. What did that matter? It never had before. No matter how exhausted Damian felt, either emotionally or physically; he was always made to sit and listen to what his elders said. Always. 

“Dami,” Richard tried and failed to smile. “It’s okay. Alfie’s right. You can go rest.”

Father had still not spoken, his stare not leaving Damian. 

Defeated and emotional, Damian could only nod.

Grandfather gave him a comforting smile, Damian noticed that he did not rest his hand on Damian’s shoulder like he usually would have done. “Head up to your room, Master Damian. I will fetch you some fresh calming tea to help you rest.”

Deciding he would not wait a moment longer in this tension, Damian tried not to drag his feet as he left. 

As soon as he was out of sight he finally heard Father speak. “Do you know?”

Not wanting to listen to the adults speak about him and his failures, he rushed away and up the stairs towards his room. 

Once in the bathroom, Damian was ashamed as he looked at his reflection. His face was flushed and puffy. It was a face for the weak. It was a face he never had before he came to Gotham and Richard taught him how to cry. That crying was not only acceptable without punishment but in fact viewed as good. And it was only sometimes, but it always left Damian feeling exhausted and bad during his moments of weakness, wondering how the League would punish him if they could see him now. 

For now, he just turned on the cold water and washed his face, forcing himself if only for a single second - to not think. 

Washed and dressed he laid in his bed, his Robin suit crumpled in a pile in a corner. As tired as he felt, he couldn’t sleep. Couldn't help but wonder what his family were saying in the kitchen. Wonder where Todd and Drake were. Remembering the events in the Cave. Realising he had found a Grandfather in Alfred Pennyworth. 

Twenty minutes later he was still wide awake when someone knocked on the door. Tensing, Damian held his breath. 

“May I enter, Master Damian?”

Relaxing, Damian called out a yes. Grandfather came in with another tray of just tea. He placed the cup on a coaster and set it on Damian’s bedside, tucking the tray away under his arm. He didn’t mention the mess of new wrinkly sheets unprofessionally stretched out on the bed. Instead, he fondly smiled at Damian, once again overwhelming the child with the affection he was unaware Grandfather held for him until that evening. 

“Is there anything else I can help you with, my child?”

Damian was intrigued as to how Grandfather used different names for him depending on whether they were alone or in public. It was nice to know that Grandfather was just as stoic as him in front of others. 

“No. Thank you, Grandfather. For everything.”

Damian never imagined he would see how bright Grandfather shone when Damian referred to him by his new title. He still held his stiff position and small smile but in a manner that Damian could not explain, he simply glowed. 

“Then rest up, my dear Grandson. I will see you tomorrow.”

Or maybe Damian could describe the happiness Grandfather had felt, because he was feeling something similar at being called ‘Grandson’ with such love. So different from Ra’s.

Soothed by Grandfather’s strong presence, Damian finally felt his body fully relax. 

When Grandfather left, Damian tried to quickly drink through his tea, his eyes heavy with sleep. Before he knew it, he drifted off. His dreams quiet as he took comfort in Grandfather’s reassurance. 

 

Tomorrow would be equally as taxing, if not more. But right here, right now. He knew Grandfather would stand by his side, preventing anyone from bothering Damian until he was ready. And if anyone tried to challenge him, he had a shotgun in his room to use if need be.

Notes:

OH MY GOD OKAY ITS HAPPENING EVERYBODY STAY CALM WHATS THE PROCEDURE EVERYBODY STAY CALM WHATS THE PROCEDURE STAY FUCKING CALM

It’s out there! He told them!!

I knowww a lot of you wanted someone to figure it out and confront Damian and I LOVED reading all the theories, but I just felt like Damian being like “um this is happening?? Didn’t you know??” Fit in a bit better

And Alfred coming throughhhhh! I will be alternating between Alfred and Grandfather only cause it feels awks to write Grandfather so much lol

Don’t worry, everyone will get their fair share of loving Dami, if not in this story then the next!!

And happy birthday to Sarah, one of the lovely readers!!

Chapter 9: Chapter Nine

Notes:

Here’s a lil Christmas gift for yall! Enjoy the start to Damian’s road to recovery. The only way now is up!

Keep tag warnings in mind!

Damian woke up slowly, his mind unravelling itself from its deep sleep.

His eyes were heavy and his body begged him not to get up. Achingly, he lifted a fist to rub at his tired eyes, yawning loudly and wondering why he felt so miserable.

Lazily, he turned his head to the side and caught sight of an empty cup of tea sitting on his bedside table.

With a striking jump Damian’s heart roared as sudden memories were thrust at him. He jerked up, pushing himself upright in horror as he stared wide eyed at the empty cup.

He told them.

He told them.

Damian had finally questioned his family on why they allowed his abuse to take place. Only for them to respond in pure terror as they realised what he was saying. Damian felt his cheeks flush when he recalled their reactions and how horrified they had been.

He had made Richard cry.

All because he hadn’t spoken up the first time it had happened.

Damian laid back down and covered himself with his duvet. Hiding. It was only an hour later than he usually awoke, his internal clock ringing its alarm. He must have been left to rest. Gain his strength before confronting the others.

God, the others. Damian felt embarrassed at the prospect that he would have to face them. Would have to tell them details on what he had experienced. Tell them the name of his teacher. Unless they had already deduced it.

It was humiliating.

He wondered how much trouble he would be in for allowing it to happen. For not telling someone the moment he felt uncomfortable. For allowing Mr Reynolds’ hand to wander around his body.

He wondered if they would assume he’d enjoyed it of it at all. Not only had he kept the relationship secret but his body had reacted positively each time. They had no reason to believe him.

He must have laid there for much longer than he’d thought because a knock came from his door.

Damian scrunched himself further into the little ball he had made of himself.

“Master Damian?” He heard and relaxed minutely. 

He had told Alfred everything. Back in the barn surrounded by his animals. Alfred had listened and reacted strongly. He had held Damian. He had held him tight as Damian broke and cried and screamed in his arms pathetically.

 

He had called Damian his grandson.

 

“May I come in, Master Damian?”

Damian idly wondered why he was being asked permission when Alfred would usually just enter the room when Damian didn’t respond. But he cleared his throat and softly croaked out, “come in.”

Still buried under the duvet, Damian heard Alfred enter quietly and place something on his bedside table.

“Good morning, young Master.”

“Good morning, Penn– Grandfather.” Damian remembered.

He peaked out from under the blanket, only to see Grandfather’s radiating gentle smile.

“How do you feel, my Grandson?”

Damian could suddenly relate to Grandfather’s smile from being called the new honorary title and shared his own smile. It felt different compared to when Ra’s called him ‘grandson’. With Ra’s it had felt an honour. With Alfred, it feels like a privilege.

Then his body reminded him of how heavy he felt when he realised Pennyworth’s question.

Silently, he shrugged. Unsure how to accurately respond.

“Quite alright,” Alfred said and went to retrieve something from the tray he had set on the table. Using a fork, Alfred cut a bite of buttered toast and lifted it to Damian, a hand under the fork to save the bed from crumbs. “Will you eat, Master Damian?”

So pathetically that Damian hated himself, he winced away from the fork.

Grandfather pulled away a little, evidently conflicted and thinking, before pushing it back forward slightly. “I will not force you, my dear child. But you will feel much better if you were to take a few bites, please.”

What an odd statement. ‘I will not force you’. A strange thing to say. Eitherway, it was annoying how Damian was aware that Alfred was correct. So with a sigh he opened his mouth and allowed Alfred to feed him. It wasn’t as embarrassing as he had thought it would be. And of course Alfred had been correct and the single bite activated Damian’s appetite. The child lifted himself up to sit in his bed, taking the plate from the tray onto his lap.

Quietly, he finished the two slices of toast and drank the orange juice also left on the side. Alfred had occupied the ten minutes that it took for him to eat to tidy up Damian’s room. Not that there had been much mess anyways but the older man seemed to be trying to look busy. Damian appreciated it, whilst the presence of his Grandfather was comforting he didn’t particularly feel like being watched.

He still felt heavy after he finished his breakfast and Grandfather removed the tray from his lap. 

“How are you feeling now, Master Damian?”

Damian shifted uncomfortably and again shrugged. But after a moment he said, “I am just delaying the inevitable.”

“And what might that be?”

“You know,” Damian muttered. “Telling everyone everything.”

There was a little bit of silence where Damian feared that Alfred would try to play dumb and make Damian spell it out for him again. Thankfully, he was wrong when Grandfather responded, “I do advise you to get out of bed and continue with your daily tasks, however, I hope you realise that there is no compulsion whatsoever to go and tell the rest of your family anything you do not want to.”

Damian frowned. “Of course I do. Father will demand it.”

“Your Father will do no such thing.” Grandfather disagreed. “And once again, if he does, I will be there to tell him off for it.”

Damian leaned back against the pillows and crossed his arms. “After such a reaction yesterday, I doubt anyone will leave it be.”

“As long as you are safe,” Grandfather said delicately. “You do not have to do anything you do not wish to. Your Father is a good enough detective to work out who mistreated you. And if you truly wish then I can fill in some blanks with the information you provided me.”

Damian gaped owlishly, “you didn’t already inform Father and Richard last night?”

Now Grandfather frowned, “you entrusted me with your secrets. As long as keeping it will not do you harm, not even a knife to the throat will make me reveal such information.”

Overwhelmed, Damian clenched onto his duvet. “So what did you discuss last night?”

“We all simply came to the conclusion that you had revealed that someone unfortunately mistreated you.” Grandfather said softly. “I did not say who. Unless you ask me to, I will not say it, the only condition being that Master Bruce is made aware before your next school day.”

Damian swallowed the ball of feeling lodged in his throat. “Why?”

“I only want you to be safe. And happy. I will do what it takes to ensure this, my child.”

“But why?”

He smiled at Damian’s sad expression. “Because you are my grandchild. And I love you more than I can express. And I am sorry I failed to help you before and I will do whatever I can to make up what little I am able.”

“That makes it sound like it’s your fault and it’s not—“

“Tsk, let us not rehash last night's entire dialogue.” Grandfather joked. “Now, what do you wish to do?”

“I don’t,” Damian fidgeted and looked down. “I don’t know.”

“That’s alright, child.” Grandfather said gently. “What if I suggested getting dressed and then following me into the kitchen?”

Damian shrugged, “okay.”

He tried to be somewhat quicker than it usually takes him to get ready for the day. He felt bad about Alfred wasting his time. It was then he noticed the clock. It was nearly afternoon and he was still in his pyjamas. Absolutely humiliating.

Alfred had busied himself in making Damian’s bed. The sheets that Damian had hastily thrown on were now neatened. He wondered why Alfred didn’t ask but was also grateful.

With a tight lip he grabbed his phone and presented himself ready for Alfred who led him out of the room with a smile. Damian had to take a forced deep breath as he stepped out of the room, preparing himself for the day of hardship to come.

He entered the kitchen behind Alfred. To his surprise Drake was sat at the island counter, his head resting on top of his folded arms, a mug of coffee next to him. 

Damian stood frozen at the doorway when Drake looked up to see him. For a tiny second, Drake’s eyes widened with something but then it was gone. He had gone back to looking tired and bored. 

“Hey, Alfred. Damian.” He yawned. 

“Master Timothy,” Grandfather responded, “can I interest you in some breakfast?”

Damian felt unsure of himself as he stood at the doorway and the other two conversed with themselves. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable and dizzy. It won’t be long before Drake questions him about his statements yesterday. Asking why Damian just allowed such things to occur. Claim that Damian let it happen because he secretly liked it. It was only a matter of time before—

“Damian?”

His head snapped up, his rapid thoughts shattered suddenly when Drake called his name. 

Drake was just looking at Damian indifferently, “Alfred asked if you’d like some tea?”

Damian turned to Grandfather who was certainly watching him, kettle in hand. But Damian could already feel his breakfast turning in his stomach. 

“No, thank you.” He said quietly and forced himself to move over to the island counter, choosing a seat as far away from Drake as possible. 

It was thoughtful, if Damian was honest. Drake was acting as though everything was normal. Whether that be due to Alfred’s protective presence or from his own consideration. 

Or he just didn’t care. 

That wasn’t true. Despite his calm nature, Drake’s knee was bouncing uncontrollably. He was thinking about it. Everyone was thinking about it. 

Damian’s attention was diverted when Todd walked in tiredly. That on its own was startling enough. Todd had spent the night at the Manor? 

“Am I cursed with every member of this family awakening past noon?” Alfred muttered playfully from the stove as he added more eggs for Todd. 

“Hey, I don’t always wake up this late.” Todd defended himself. 

Without meaning to, Damian realised that he had shrunk in on himself when Todd entered. But Todd did nothing to acknowledge him more than a little nod. He had forgone sitting with the two brothers and started pottering around the kitchen to help Alfred. 

“Neither does Damian,” Drake said with a sip of his coffee. 

“I’ve been up for awhile,” Damian automatically defended himself. That was before he clammed up as soon as he realised that he had just admitted to weakly hiding in his room all morning. 

No one else seemed to pick up on that. Drake had hummed lazily and Todd placed an empty plate in front of both boys and one on an empty seat for himself. 

“I’ve already eaten.” Damian protested. 

“Tough.” Is all Todd said. 

“Let Jason have this,” Drake said jokingly, a grin widening on his face. “It’s the only way he knows how to show love when he can’t bash heads.”

“You’re seriously mocking me when I’ve got a knife in my hand?”

“Master Jason.”

“Sorry, Alfie.”

Damian was lost as he stared at his yet to be filled plate. Todd had never made him anything to eat before. Why was he starting now?

Because he pitied Damian? Because all Todd could think about was what had been said last night?

Damian knew they were all thinking it and while he was grateful for the fake sense of privacy he also wished they would all just be upfront with how Damian ruined the entire evening. 

Damian’s thoughts were broken by an egg and toast being placed on Drake’s plate while two pancakes were dropped on his with a bowl of different berries. He wondered how long he dissociated for Todd to have had enough time to make pancakes. 

“How come he gets pancakes?” Drake asked. 

“Go vegan and you can get tofu pancakes.” Was Todd’s reply. 

Todd remembered Damian was vegan?

He thinks about Grandfather’s words. About how this family loved Damian despite not being good at showing it. 

And the worst part of all of this is that the pancakes actually tasted good. Not that he was ever going to admit that to Todd. 

Again, another figure entered the kitchen clumsily. 

Damian wanted to run. 

Richard sat on the chair with Todd’s plate in front of it. Ignoring Todd’s indignant “Oi!” he blindly started to eat the pancake Todd had made for himself as he ignored his brother’s shouts and whined, “someone pass me the Advil.”

Richard’s face was slightly swollen, his eyes still red around the edges. He looked as though he had not slept or washed his face. He looked tired. He looked pained. 

This was all Damian’s fault. 

Pancake forgotten, Damian placed the fork in his hand back down when he felt himself begin to shake. He couldn’t recall the last time Richard had looked this hurt other than when close friends had died. Surely what had happened did not warrant near the same level of grief?

The sound of the fork touching the plate hadn’t been loud but it had made enough noise that Richard’s head whipped up to look at him. 

Him and Damian stared at each other for a good moment. It was obvious that Richard hadn’t expected him to be here. Richard closed his open jaw and blinked away whatever hard emotion he was feeling and covered it with a fake ineffective smile. 

But Damian could not respond in kind. He chose to sit on his hands when he couldn’t stop the shaking. 

Todd passed by Richard to take a new chair, a new plate in hand. On his way he subtly nudged Richard’s shoulder and it caused Richard to finally look down at his plate nonchalantly. 

They had discussed this. They had talked about him. And of course they had but to see it so obviously evident was very different to suspecting it. 

They had together decided that they would ignore the elephant in the room. That they would pretend as though nothing had happened. Like everything was okay when it wasn’t. 

Richard’s clear migraine and open feelings probably made him fail the task. Especially considering that he had been unprepared for Damian to be present at all. 

They had sat down at one point last night and talked about him being molested. 

It was suddenly getting hard to breathe. His heart was jackrabbiting in the painful way it kept doing these days. Damian looked down at his own plate and the half eaten pancakes. 

He suddenly felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and with a shaky hand took it out, desperate to ground himself in some form. 

It was a text from Drake of all people. 

Drake: hey, it’s okay. You can go if you need to 

Damian whipped up to see Drake staring at nothing and chewing on his eggs. His phone on the table. 

Everyone was aware of Damian’s panic. 

In a childish burst, Damian’s gaze looked for Grandfather. And Grandfather looked back as he wiped the counter. An encouraging smile. A single silent question of “do you want to leave?” written on his face. 

But Damian shook his head. He didn’t want to be weak. He didn’t want to run away and hide under the covers no matter how much he felt the need to. He needed to be better. To be stronger. To be…

He nodded his head. And quickly stood up and left the kitchen. No one followed him. Giving him space. Although a feeling in his heart made him believe that Grandfather would search for him soon.

He left them behind in the kitchen where they were no doubt going to talk about Damian behind his back. But Damian couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t sit there and just—

A little bark startled Damian and he whipped around. Titus was trotting after him, his tongue out of his mouth excitedly. He barked again and nuzzled his head under Damian’s chin. 

Damian chose to hide in the library, the closest room to him, and took Titus with him to cry into his friend’s fur. 

He wished he didn’t wake up this morning. 

 

---

 

Titus had fallen asleep in the library when Damian thought to go back to his room. He passed Father’s office en route and could see the light sneaking passed beneath the door. He hesitated, but thought he should bite the bullet before he locked himself up in his room again. At least to apologise.

He creaked open the door to see Father sat at his desk, slumped down and haggard. Similar to Richard, he looked like he hadn’t slept at all last night. His hair was messy and his eyebags were deeper than usual. Three empty coffee mugs were left dirty on the side. He had a stack of papers in front of him that he was reading through feverishly.

Damian took a breath when he realised that Father had not noticed him. Father, Batman, was so preoccupied with something that Damian could sneak up on him.

“Father?”

It was near comical, the way Father was unable to hide the way he jumped and widened his eyes when he noticed Damian’s arrival.

“Damian.” Father said. “Damian, you’re awake.”

“It is past afternoon, Father.” he said quietly.

“Is it?” He checked his watch in surprise. “Oh. Oops.”

“What are you doing?” Damian asked as he came in and closed the door behind him.

“This is, well,” Father started to seem on edge. “Just some work that needs to be done ASAP. How was your breakfast?”

Damian gritted his teeth. How was his breakfast? Since when has Father ever asked that? He was also putting on the ruse that his brothers were. Acting as though Damian was fragile. Stupid. As though they had to hide the obvious topic of discussion that everyone wanted to have.

“It was decent.”

“Good. Good. You know, it's really nice weather. We should go spend some time in the gardens at some point today.” Father said, looking out the window.

Damian stared, “the gardens?”

“Well, yes. It’s nice weather and all.”

“You are suggesting to go on a stroll?”

“I mean, that’s what people usually do, right?” Father’s face scrunched up at the question, genuinely unsure. “What else do people do in nice weather? Swimming? We have a pool. Wait, that’s indoors. Beach? The private beach is a bit far but I guess—”

“Father,” Damian saved him from his ramblings. He did not want to be pitied. He did not want to be babied.

Damian was a child. He knew that now. But he was still stronger than his family were giving him credit for.

“Yes? Is there something you had in mind to do? Beach isn’t really your thing, is it? Wildlife Centre? Museum?”

They had to have the conversation. But they were all waiting on Damian to start it. 

So he will.

“I didn’t…” He tried to start but he could feel his throat already tightening. His words getting caught in his throat before even starting. But he had to force through. He could say the words. He said them just last night. “I didn’t know it was wrong.” He managed in a whisper.

Father’s mood changed abruptly. The act of nonchalance falling back and an honest solemn expression more appropriate for the conversation taking its place. 

Matching Damian’s tone, Father whispered, “even if you had, it was in no way or form your fault.”

Then why did you let it happen? Was Damian’s first betraying thought. But he scolded himself for it. Father didn’t even know in the first place.

And isn’t that crazy? All this time and Father didn’t even know.

“I didn’t tell you.”

“That is also not your fault.”

Damian felt the irritation begin already. “How is not speaking not my fault?”

“Damian, if you didn’t come to me when it happened then that reflects on me. Why wasn’t I approachable enough for you to come to me? Why didn’t I give you the impression that telling me about this was okay? It’s on me, Damian.”

“That’s stupid.” Damian spat.

Father stood slowly from his chair and for a split moment Damian had believed that he had angered him. But Father’s slumped body translated otherwise as he went over to the three-seater couch, gesturing for Damian to sit as well. Reluctantly, he did, but chose to sit pressed against the opposite arm of the couch as far away as possible.

“Last night,” Father said once they got comfortable. “You said that you didn’t want to tell me in fear that I would take Robin away.” Father’s voice started to grow thick. “I had threatened something you loved and treasured so much that you would suffer abuse in silence in order to keep it. I scared you. You can’t deny that.”

Damian had to swallow thickly as he processed those words. Because like it or not, they were true. “Robin is a privilege I have to earn.”

Father shook his head, “I’ve made this mistake with each son and I am fixing it now. I don’t want you all worrying about whether or not your mantles are yours. From now on, Robin will be yours and yours only until the day you want to give it up. Nothing can make me take it away. I will never take it away as a punishment or threaten it or anything. It's yours. I’ve threatened Robin and even taken it away from all of you and I never learn.” A shadow passed over Father. “And now I’ve learned far too late.”

Damian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Ever since he had gained Robin there’s always been a chance of losing it, but this promise? It was a fantasy.

“Damian, I am so sorry.”

Damian blinked awake at that. “No, Father. You do not need to be. It is not your fault.”

“Damian, you didn’t tell me for a reason.”

He felt his mouth dry, “I was given the impression that you knew.”

“And I had done something to make you believe that I would ever have allowed that to happen to not just anyone but to you.”

Damian shook his head, his Father’s voice was growing thicker and it was all starting to feel overwhelming. “I thought it was because I was supposed to be different, to be better. That it was expected of me.”

“I only expect you to be safe.” Father ran a hand through his own hair and Damian could see now why it was so messy. “I just want to keep you safe.”

Damian’s father was feeling so bad all because of him. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” Father groaned and with his elbows on his knees he buried his face in his hands. Damian was sure it was not Father’s intention but it made him feel so much more worse. “Damian, please, it’s not your fault.”

Damian stayed quiet and allowed Father to process whatever emotion he seemed to be feeling. When Father spoke next, his words were heavy and tight, as if he couldn't bear the answer. As if he was too scared to look up from his hands and at Damian.

“You don’t need to tell me. But I think I know who hurt you.” Father said in a shaky tone and Damian felt his throat start to close up. “Was it… God, please, tell me I’m wrong but was it… Damian, was it Mr Reynolds?”

Damian stayed silent.

 

Father pressed his hands painfully deeper into his face and to Damian’s shock Father’s body shook for a moment before he took his hands off to look at Damian. 

His eyes had tears in them.

Father’s eyes had tears in them.

“Son,” Father’s voice shook. “I’m sorry.”

Damian momentarily found his voice. “I never told you.”

“You did.” Father hissed sharply, stunning Damian. “You told me. You told me every week. Every Friday you would say how—” his voice cut off and Father had to look away before continuing. His hands were clenched shut tight and shaking in anger. And for the first time in a long time, Damian felt as though this anger was not directed at him. “You would say you hated him. You would say he caused you discomfort and I ignored you.”

Damian felt the need to comfort his Father. “It sounded childish.”

“I should have done something!” Father didn’t notice Damian’s flinch at his outburst. “I never asked! I never brought it up with that bastard! If you didn’t like him then I should have removed you from the classes! Goddamn it, I should have done something!”

Father finally looked up to see Damian sat rigid, sitting on his hands and staring at Father in wide eyes.

“Son…” Father’s tone lowered significantly. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

Damian dug his nails into his palms and hoped they bled as a result of his foolishness. “I can take you yelling.” he hissed.

“You can take a lot of things, but you shouldn’t have to. Because you’re safe here. I promised you before and I’m promising you again that in this Manor, in this family, you are safe from harm.”

“Until last night I wasn’t.” Damian spat and then his hand flew at his mouth in regret, eyes wide that his tongue betrayed him.

Father could not hide the expression of pure pain from the statement.

“You’re right.” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry!”

“It was not your—”

“Stop saying that!” Damian could feel himself breaking. He could feel the tears familiarly stinging in his eyes. “It was my fault! Stop saying sorry!”

“Son—”

“No!”

A sudden fear struck him. A fear that he had just yelled at his Father. That he had lost Robin.

But Father said that he wouldn’t take Robin away now. But then what would be Damian’s punishment? Something worse?

An irrational part of his mind couldn’t help but ask if it could be Reynolds? 

“Okay.”

Damian breathed heavily, out of breath from his outburst as he stared at Father. “Okay? What?”

“We can pause this conversation if you would like. Is that what you want?” His tone was softer. Quieter.

“Why would I want that?” Damian folded his arms defensively.

“You said no.”

Damian was starting to feel suspicious. Since when has Father, since when has anyone, cared if he said no?

“And so what?”

“Well, what did you say no to?” Father asked gently but it only confused Damian more.

“I— I do not know. I just said it. It meant nothing.”

“Your no means something, Damian.”

Damian gaped, his jaw opening and closing at a loss for words. “I do not understand.”

“I’m listening to you now, son. If you say no then that means no. It's something to be respected.” Father said.

Damian just tightened the arms wrapped around him and with a cold voice replied. “It never was before.”

Father winced, “I know. Dick… him and I were talking last night.” Father admitted and Damian’s mind flashed back to when he saw them at the table. He flushed at the thought of them talking about him. “I asked him why… we were wondering why you might have let it go on and, well, he has a theory that it's maybe because no one really listened to you when you tried to tell us. That we, I, ignored you when you said no.” Father held Damian’s gaze. “Dick and I want to teach you that your ‘no’ has worth. Much more than we’ve given it.”

Damian looked away, breaking eye contact and sinking into the couch defiantly.

“If you want to say no, to anything that isn’t a threat to your safety, then I’m listening.” Father started to sound unsure. Out of his depth. “If you want to stop then we stop.”

Damian sunk in deeper. He was hating this conversation. He was feeling overwhelmed. He wanted it to stop. But he refused to. He wasn’t a victim. He wasn’t going to admit to something so pathetic.

“This is stupid.” He only muttered.

“Not to me.” Father replied strongly.

“I am Robin.”

“You are my son.”

“Which is why I should be better.”

“You already are, Damian.”

Damian paused, glancing up at Father at those words. It was the encouragement needed for Father to press on. 

“You already are more than good enough, my son. I’m not talking about your mantle, your title as heir or whatever. I’m talking about you as just yourself. About the… the boy who loves animals. The boy who likes to draw and is so very talented at it. The boy who is always so curious and is constantly striving for more knowledge. The boy who loves more than he knows what to do with. Who loves more than he was taught what to do with.”

Damian was feeling himself hollow out. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I love you. Despite everything, I love you. This love is unconditional. It means that there is nothing in this life that you, or anyone else, can do that might even slightly convince me otherwise.”

“There is no such thing as unconditional love.”

“I should have made it clear the moment I met you but Damian I do love you.”

Even though Father’s posture was rigid and forced and uncomfortable, there was a sincerity in his gaze which swore that his words were in earnest. But Damian had more emotion in his body than he knew what to do with and it was coming out in the wrong ways.

“I was a murderer.”

But even though they were coming out in the wrong ways, Father took it in stride. 

“Even so. I love you, Damian.”

The damn tears that Damian had just managed to blink away returned with a vengeance. 

“I threatened your family.”

He was searching for the conditional line. 

“Our family. And haven’t we all? Also, you were misguided. You learned. I love you, Damian.”

It felt like a lie. A wretched tear managed to slip away from Damian’s control. It was all too much. 

“Reynolds touched me.”

All that punishment. He wasn’t good enough. 

“And I’m so sorry. But Damian, I love you, my son.”

A sob choked itself out of Damian’s throat. His tightly tensed arms wrapped around himself squeezed as he drew his knees up and curled into his body. His body that shook and trembled painfully, screamed at him as echoes of touches burned against his skin. His lungs collapsed as he gasped for air while his cries uncontrollably forced their ways out of his sore throat. 

“Damian, can I hold you?”

It all felt too much. He wanted it to turn off. He wanted his mind. His body. His breaths. To just turn off. He was done. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. 

“Sweetheart, Damian, can you hear me?”

If only he hadn’t spoken last night. What a difference it would’ve made. No one would know. He wouldn’t have felt like this. 

“Damian, please? Can I hold you, son?”

But he would have to go back on Friday. Sit on the same chair while Reynolds locked the door. Sit there like a fool and allow Reynolds’ hand to touch a body that didn’t feel as though it belonged to him anymore. 

“Damia—“

“ No! ” Ripped itself out of his lungs. 

The bodiless voice paused there. It stopped talking but Damian’s mind still roared blankless words at him.

And he screamed and he screamed. His hands moving to clench his hair. To grip and to pull. To hurt and to ground. 

“What’s going on?”

“He doesn’t need more people right now.”

“Bruce, what the hell did you say?”

“Just go—“

“No!” Damian screamed involuntarily and shook his head. He didn’t know what he was saying no to. “No! No!”

“Damian,” a new voice. He didn’t want anyone else to see him like this. Where did Father go? He didn’t want Father to see him either. “Damian, you’re safe. You’re so safe and you’re okay. You’re going to be okay. You’re—“

“No!” He screamed again. For once in his life it seemed to be the only word he knew. 

“No what?”

“No!”

“You need to leave. All of you. Let him calm down.”

“I’m not going to just leave him alone! He needs me!”

“Dick, please.”

“Look at him and tell me how I can leave him!”

“Master Dick. Follow me out. Now.”

Damian never felt this way so intensely in the presence of his family. The ghosts of Renyolds’ touches hadn't been so strong with his Father sitting in the same room. But it was as though he wasn’t in the office, in the Manor. It was as though he was in class. Sitting on that buzzing chair. A larger body holding him down. A hand.

A hand.

And he drifted off. Damian did as he would do and allowed himself to shut his mind away. To run away as far as possible from the hand. Somewhere no one would ever find him. He purposely dissociated himself away.

.

.

.

“…the circumference of our dominions by a computation of his own paces round the coast. Lastly, that upon his solemn oath to observe all the above articles, the said Man-Mountain shall have a daily allowance of meat and drink…”

Gulliver’s Travels. Damian noted. A story he had read as a child. He didn’t really care for it. The Manor had a copy of the book. The last he had seen of it was when it was left haphazardly on Father’s office shelf.

His mind was explaining to him that he must be in the office. He was laying on something soft. On the couch. His hands were clenched in his hair tightly despite his body’s painful fatigue.

Father was reading Gulliver’s Travels.

Damian opened his swollen eyes slowly. Father didn’t pause in his story but spared Damian a small smile as he continued.

He was embarrassed. He wanted to sleep. Run away from the humiliation. He wanted to not wake up.

How he prayed each time he slept that he would not wake up.

The clock gave a little chime and Damian saw that he had been in this office for nearly two hours. Wasting everyone’s time. Looking pathetic.

Even though his body was as heavy as iron, Damian forced himself to sit up. To bring his hands away from his hair, some hair came away in his fingers that he had pulled out in his panic. 

Father smiled at him again, finally reaching to a close of the passage he was reciting. He was kind enough not to mention Damian’s dumb meltdown. 

“Would you like a snack? I can sneak an ice cream from the freezer if you’d like?” Father offered.

Distantly, Damian wondered about the paperwork on Father’s desk that had to be apparently completed ASAP. He opened his mouth to reply but the words were trapped and locked away. They fought him when he tried to bring them out.

Father watched and understood, “would you like to sign?”

He would like Father to stop babying him. He would like to not be here. He would like to hide away.

A hiccuping sob of betrayal coughed its way up his throat.

Oh, so he couldn’t speak but he could still cry?

But Father didn’t push him, only watched with a small smile.

It reminded Damian of the rooftop all those weeks ago. When Damian had run and hid away only for Father to find him not long after. How Father had wrapped his arms around him. How Batman’s cape covered his small body. How the touch hadn’t burned. How for the first time in a long time, Damian felt okay.

He wanted that again. He wanted the echoes of bad touches to leave him alone. He thought about Reynolds and Father in the same room. He couldn’t imagine Reynolds’ coming near him with Father in the same room. In the same building. At least not anymore. 

He wanted a repeat of the hug on that roof. Even if it was pathetic. Even if it was embarrassing. It was only him and Father in this office. Father hadn’t mocked him for his childish behaviour back then and maybe he wouldn’t now.

Besides, Damian was a child.

It took less courage than Damian had imagined it would, but he lifted his trembling arms up and reached out, his hands stretched towards his Father.

Father instinctively moved to get up before he paused, staring carefully at his son. “Would you like me to carry you?”

A sob choked out of Damian as he nodded in desperation.

Slowly, Father reached under Damian’s arms to lift him up. Damian felt weightless as Father effortlessly picked him up and sat back down, placing Damian gently on his lap. Instantly, Damian bent his head down to bury his face into Father’s chest. Bringing his hands up to his head to both press them against his ears and clutch Father’s shirt at the same time. 

Father wrapped his large arms around Damain’s shaking frame. One hand came around to hold the back of his head, soothing the scalp that stung from where Damian had ripped hair from it earlier. The other laid around Damian’s middle, holding together the little child breaking apart. His chin rested on the top of Damian’s head. Damian was completely cocooned even with no cape. He was secure. And hidden. And no one could lay their hands on him when he was in Father’s protective arms.

The touch didn’t burn.

The touch was safe.

Without his permission, a whimper escaped his lips and Father shushed him lovingly and began rocking him side to side in his arms.

“I’ve got you, Damian.” he promised. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

A harsher sob ripped out of him. And again, he broke down.

Father only held him tighter.

 

---

 

Father had allowed Damian to stay as long as he wanted which was much longer than Damian had realised. Once it dawned on Damian that he was not about to be dismissed by Father, he had clumsily removed himself from his lap and left the office. Forcing Father to reluctantly let him go. 

Forgoing the desire to drag his feet, Damian made his way robotically to his bedroom, determined to hide in there for the rest of the evening. It was a school night so there wouldn’t be any sort of patrolling for him that evening. He couldn’t even fathom eating a meal. There was no need for Damian to meet with any of his family for the rest of the day. 

As expected, Damian had found that Titus had relocated himself from the library and was snoring away at the centre of his bed. Alfred the Cat had also snuggled up next to him. 

Unprepared to rest, he took out his sketchbook from his school bag and opened a fresh page. 

His mind fell blank. His hand fell still. He didn’t know what to draw. 

He didn’t feel anything. 

He allowed the book and pencil to drop onto the carpeted floor and laid down on the bed. He was careful to avoid waking his pets up, especially Titus. He had bothered his friend too much today. 

Damian simply laid there. Staring distantly at a wall. The sounds of his cat and dog snoring echoing. His heart in his chest was the only thing he could feel. 

His room fell into darkness eventually. Someone had knocked at his door but he refused to speak and they left. Before yesterday, they would have come in anyways. Now they were treating him like glass. 

It’s no wonder. He never cried in front of others. He had publicly cried more in the last twenty four hours than he had done so his entire stay in Gotham. 

He gradually came to terms as to why he couldn’t calm. Why his skin was prickling in imaginary restlessness. 

It was the bodiless voice from earlier. When he was screaming. The voice who barged into the office and refused to leave Damian’s side until forced. And even then fought to stay. 

It was late. But Damian made his soulless body get up and out of bed. Before he could change his mind, he opened his door and wandered out into the corridor. The dim lit bulbs were on above, giving light to anyone awake in the dark. Which was typically everyone. 

Damian trekked down the empty hall bare footed, stopping by the bedroom door he entered in the most after his own room. 

Before his consciousness came back and stopped him, Damian lifted a hand to turn the door knob and silently shuffled into the dark room, a warm lamp brightening his way. 

As he had done so many times in the past, he approached the bed and stood by the head of it, waiting patiently for permission. 

“Dami,” Richard whispered, wide awake. “Hey, kiddo. Come on.” He shuffled to one side on the bed. 

As he had done many times before, Damian climbed up the bed and laid down next to his brother. He shuffled down so that he was face to face with Richard’s chest. As always, Richard brought his hand up to rest it on top of Damian’s hair but it stopped right before it could, floating hesitantly over his head. Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Damian reached to grab Richard’s wrist and brought it down on top of his head before returning to the comfortable curled up position.

Using that as permission, Richard began to run his hand through Damian’s hair. In response to the gentle action, Damian sighed and closed his eyes, finally feeling calmness wash over him.

Richard huffed a quiet laugh, “like a cat.”

Damian replied by curling up into a tighter ball.

They stayed still in the rare bubble of peace. As they used to do often once upon a time.

Richard started to sing under his breath, a Romani lullaby he saved just for nights like these, a melody that Damian had come to learn from memory from how many times Richard had sung it to him. 

The song ended and Damian felt himself drifting off. In his moment of weakness he shifted forward so that his forehead rested on Richard’s strong heart.

“I swear,” Richard said under his breath. “Whoever it was, will never hurt you again. I’ll make sure of it.”

Damian only closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep in his big brother’s presence.

 

---

 

Morning came and Damian’s internal alarm alerted him awake. It was a good thing too considering that he had forgotten to set his actual alarm.

With refined training, Damian managed to ease himself out from under Richard’s arm. The man hadn’t slept in over twenty four hours and his evident exhaustion took over when he didn’t wake up from Damian’s meddling.

Tiptoeing out of the room, Damian made his way back to his bedroom where he promptly started to change into his school uniform. He had spent the entire weekend pathetically crying, it was time to face reality.

Once ready, after spending ten minutes trying to bring the embarrassing swelling of his face down with cold water, Damian made his way downstairs for breakfast.

Just like deja vu, Damian entered the kitchen to see Drake half asleep and nursing a mug of coffee, this time his laptop open on the counter in front of him.

Drake looked up at Damian’s presence, “hey, Damian.” he greeted with a nod before turning back to his laptop. Precisely fourteen seconds later when Damian sat down, Drake’s head suddenly whipped up and stared at him with widened eyes. “Damian?”

Damian raised a brow in response to Drake’s shock as a question.

“You’re not supposed to… you’re dressed for school. Why’re you dressed for school?” Drake asked stupidly, shaking his head in confusion. “Do you want to sign if–”

“I can speak,” Damian interrupted abruptly, offended by Drake thinking otherwise. “What is the matter with you? It is Monday morning.”

“Right,” Drake nodded slowly. “You’re joking if you think you’re going to school though.”

Damian frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not letting you go back to school today. You know why.” Drake stood his ground, seemingly more awake now.

“I am not to be pitied, Drake.” Damian hissed. “You have no authority over me.”

Drake just watched him blankly before picking up his phone. Damian leaned back in confusion. Was it that easy?

Apparently not since Drake then put the phone down and crossed his arms. “There. Bruce is on his way.”

“You insolent—”

“I am not letting you go back to that school right now, Damian. It’s not safe.”

“It didn’t matter before!”

“I didn’t know before!” Drake leaned in with narrowed eyes. “If I knew before, do you think I’d have let it happen? Do you really think I would have freaking laughed and mocked you when you didn’t want to go? I am not letting you go back to the school where you’ll be with a child ra–”

“Tim.” 

Drake shut his mouth quick with a click at Father’s sharp rebuttal. He looked down at his lap and looked oddly ashamed as his face flushed. “I’m sorry.” He gritted out. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Master Tim,” Alfred said from where he stood behind Father. “It is all alright.”

Damian felt his own face flush. To his annoyance he felt his eyes sting for the countless time. He used his sleeve to roughly rub them away, ignoring the fact that he had just been trying to reduce the swelling. Instead, he turned to Father. “I am going to school.”

Father looked openly uncomfortable from where he stood in the doorway. “Damian—”

“Nothing has changed!” He snapped, knowing what Father was going to say. “I am not to be babied. I am going to school!”

Father raised his hands up in a show of peace. “Okay. Okay, but listen. I’ve been getting some work done. For anonymous mysterious reasons, that man—” Father cut himself off with a shake of his head. “That bastard—” Damian blinked in surprise. “—will not be at the school today because of some sudden ‘landlord issues’. So yes, you are allowed to go to school if that’s really what you want to do but I really suggest you reconsider. I’m not babying you. I’m just trying to make you comfortable.”

Landlord issues? Damian thought back to the random work that Father had to finish ASAP. Were those related?

But Drake wasn’t satisfied. “You can't seriously be letting him go, Bruce.”

“It’s up to him, Tim. The school is safe.”

“Obviously not, since it happened there!”

Damian felt himself snap. “It happened on Fridays. Today is Monday. It is fine.”

But apparently that did not help his case when Drake grimaced painfully. “Oh, so you never saw this guy in the hallways or anything?”

Damian couldn’t help the violent flinch from an intrusive memory of Reynolds’ hair ruffles from when they passed by each other in the hallways. Of running the other direction whenever he caught sight of the man at the end of the corridor.

Drake was staring at him. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I don’t care.” Damian clenched his fists and stood. He turned to Father. “Just tell me what to do.”

Father looked pained. “What are you comfortable with?”

“Just tell me what to do.”

“What sounds right for you?” Father tried again.

Damian couldn’t help the groan. “Grandfather tells me what to do when I ask him!”

“Ra’s?” Drake asked, confused.

“Me.” Alfred corrected firmly from where he was observing.

A flash of emotion passed through Father’s face at the revelation of Alfred being called a grandfather. But it was gone in a moment.

Reluctantly, Father stepped forward, having made a decision. “What if we went on patrol tonight?”

Damian’s mind short circuited and he gaped at Father. “On a Monday night?”

“I mean, if you don’t go to school for a few days then you have time and energy to go on patrolling?” Father asked, unsure of himself. Especially when Alfred sighed loudly behind him in disapproval.

Damian folded his arms where he sat and glared at the floor. He knew he was being ridiculous but he couldn’t help himself. “You’re bribing me.”

“I’m giving you an alternative,” Father said. “Until matters are dealt with, none of us are comfortable with your returning to the Academy. And I think that includes you too. But I’m not about to keep you under house arrest for no good reason, so why not dedicate the next few nights to patrol? Like how we do on school holidays?”

“Because you’re babying me.”

“Because you’re my son.” Father said. “Because I want you safe.”

Damian ducked his head lower to hide his flushed face. Father kept saying that.

Suddenly, Richard stumbled into the doorway, rubbing his sleep out of his eyes and yawning. “Hey, has anyone seen—” he cut himself off when he took note of Damian’s uniform. “There is no way you’re gonna let him—”

Before he could finish, Damian grumbled and marched out of the kitchen to change, not about to have the same conversation all over again.

Notes:

Our first proper Bruce comfort sceneeeee (more to come)

Also there was very little rhyme or reason for when I used Alfred or Grandfather. I tried so that when he spoke he was Grandfather but when he was being described he was Alfred but it was hard to stick to that lmao

We will be wrapping up in the next chapter guys, BUT if you wanted to follow Damian through his road of recovery where he will be getting love from Bruce, Dick, Jason and Tim separately on different occasions and different situations. As well as their POVs and thoughts, or even scenes from this story but from someone else’s POV…

Then join me in the next story of this series! I’ll have the first chapter out SO QUICK after the last chapter of this current story. So it’s not the end!!

There will be even a third story in this series buuuut spoiler alert! I’ll talk more about that in the next chapter.

Happy Christmas!!

Damian is getting all the fluff now!!

Chapter 10: Chapter Ten

Summary:

“I just said,” Damian hissed tightly. “I do not need to be coddled. I am not a victim.”

Father moved to say something but Richard spoke first. “Because you’re Robin?”

“Precisely.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Richard shared a quiet small smile with Damian. “I felt the same way when it was me. That I was Nightwing, a hero, I wasn’t a victim.”

Notes:

It is not the end! I will add to the series tomorrow or the day after!

The air was stiff and forced as Damian stepped out of the Batmobile. 

Father was already on his way up to the roofs, expecting Robin to follow behind him. Nightwing and Red Robin had gone their own routes earlier. Tonight Batman and Robin would patrol together.

Damian hadn’t missed the glances they had all given him as they prepared to go out. All of them nervous. All of them wanting to keep him in his sights. Like he was a child.

And, well, he was. But he also wasn’t.

It had taken him hell to admit that he was a child who should not be allowed to experience certain things. But he was still a trained assassin. A Robin.

And he was going to give his all to prove it tonight.

To remind them of who Damian Al Ghul was. The power that Damian Wayne held. To show how Robin was a force to be reckoned with.

He was not a quivering victim. A scared little boy who needed cuddles and kisses. Who cried for the entirety of the day. Who hid from scary monsters. Who needed his family to protect him.

Okay, so maybe that was how his entire weekend had been spent.

But that didn’t mean anything. That had been only for a moment, and now all that weakness was gone and he was back to being Robin.

The second the duo came across muggers and Batman made the signal to approach, Robin made his move. With precision and accuracy, his refined movements brought the muggers down to their knees. The skill of hitting hard enough to knock them out but holding back to not kill, was shining through with each specific planned motion.

Then this repeated later in the night again. And again.

Damian, Robin, was victorious the entire night.

He even received a “well done” from Batman.

 

The ease of the night as usual didn’t last. Near the end of the night, his comms crackled to life. “Anyone laugh and I shoot them.”

“Red Hood,” Batman paused and held a hand to his comm. “Report.”

“No gloating.”

“No promises from me, Hood.”

“I will punch you, Dickhead.”

“I’m shivering in my boots.”

“I will thrash you with your boots.”

“Touch my boots and I post Tuesday’s pictures.”

“Nightwing. Enough. Red Hood. Report.”

“Well no one’s dead–”

“Great start.”

“Car chase gone bad. Pretty stuck. Leg’s caught under truck and I can’t get it out.” Hood groaned into the comm, “blood loss. Can’t tell from where. Leg, maybe.”

“Oracle.”

“Sending location now, Batman.”

“You know,” Nightwing joked but the tension in his voice was evident. “Maybe next time get straight to the point.”

“Maybe next time you piss off.”

“We’re closest.” Batman said, already running. Robin followed.

“Red Robin here, on my way.”

“Ditto,” Nightwing quipped.

“Not to be an asshole,” Red Hood said. “But we finally got the family patrol night this month.”

Robin rolled his eyes as he ran.

The flaming cars were a terrific landmark that showed where Red Hood would be stuck. Father rushed straight towards a turned truck and hurried over to Todd. 

“Took your time, old man.” Todd said, looking at them through his helmet. “Hey, brat. Isn’t it Monday?”

“Don’t ask.” Damian said as he assessed the situation. Batman already got a laser out, cutting the metal around Todd’s leg. They didn’t need to try to know that they were not going to be able to lift the truck.

“Just making sure I don’t got a concussion and it actually is Saturday.” Todd’s head lolled to the side lazily.

“Did you hit your head?” Batman asked sharply.

“Yeah, but helmet.”

“Stay awake.” Batman ordered, nearly done.

The blood loss obviously was coming from Todd’s stuck leg and Damian readied the first aid equipment, prepared for the moment the leg was released.

“I ain’t staying the entire recovery period at the Cave. Just so ya know.”

“Take it up with Agent A.” Batman said, distractedly.

Todd took a moment to think. “I choose life.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.” Red Robin joked, swinging down.

Batman grunted. A clear message to not joke about death, which as usual, no one took seriously. 

“Is Hood okay?” Nightwing’s voice came through the comms. 

“Working on it.” Red Robin informed. 

“Lemme know if I’m needed. Dealing with a situation right now and I’ll see you in the Cave.”

“You gonna leave me to die again, Wing?” Todd joked. 

“Hood.” Batman hissed.

“I can come. I’ll be there. Let me just—“

“Take a damn joke, Dickwing.” Hood said. A hint of regret that Damian might be imagining slipping through. “See you in the Cave.”

“Leg’s nearly free.” Red Robin said to Robin. “Get ready.”

Together they managed to superficially stop the bleeding and shift Todd into the Batmobile. Quick diagnosis found a possible small fracture in his femur and injured muscle. Patrol was cut short once again. 

Todd finally took the helmet off, revealing a black eye peaking around his mask. “I’m telling you. Family patrol night always ends shit.” 

 

Alfred was there as soon as the Batmobile parked, medical gloves on and ready to tend to Todd. 

Damian, as usual, held back while everyone scattered to help the injured. 

“How the hell did you get here before us?” Todd asked Richard who was already present. His mask was off and he smelt of disinfectant, also ready to help.

“I was rushing,” Richard said with a shrug. 

“Dumbass,” Todd tsked as his cot was wheeled through the Cave towards the X-ray equipment. “I was obviously joking. It’s just a damn leg injury, Jesus.”

Richard gave a forced smile, “can never be too careful.” 

“No one in this family can take a joke. One of these days yo– ow! Alfie!”

“Forgive me, Master Jason. I was attempting one of your so called jokes.”

Damian moved to the Batcomputer, acknowledging his lack of use and beginning the report of his events of the night.

“I might go back out,” Drake said, having observed the same thing.

“You’ve had a long day, you should rest.” Father said. Damian noticed him move to hold Todd’s hand only for Todd to bat it away.

“Steph’s still out there and I didn’t tell her I wasn’t coming back.”

“It makes no sense to go out for just an hour. Let her know you’re here and she can finish off.” Father ordered.

Drake must have been more tired than he had let on since he decided to follow Father’s instructions. Damian continued to type as Drake slipped in beside him, using the comms system on the computer to call Brown.

Damian decided to simply be a wallflower and observe. It was nearly two in the morning and they had all just returned from patrol. Alfred and Richard were stitching up Todd’s leg while Father hovered, monitoring Todd’s head injury and had given him an ice pack to bring down the swelling of his face. Drake was alerting Spoiler of his whereabouts as Damian typed out his report.

Spoiler answered after some moments, immediately bantering with Drake. Damian tuned them out. He picked up on his name though.

“–atman, Robin and I have all come back to the Cave. If you need me I can be there in five minutes.”

 “I’m going home anyways in like forty-ish minutes. No point in you coming out again.”

“I’m still going to be on standby just in case.”

“I’m a big girl, Red. I can take care of myself. You need sleep.”

“I’ll still be hovering till you get home.”

“Barf.” 

Damian agreed.

“What’s Robin doing out? It's a Monday night.”

Damian stopped typing abruptly. Suddenly remembering the reason he was out on patrol in the first place. The whole point of why he was in his Robin suit on a Monday night.

“Oh, uh.” Drake floundered, turning around to find Father. “Can’t remember to be honest. I don’t think he had school today.”

“I saw some Academy kids on my way back from college today.” Brown argued.

“He was sick?” Richard whispered across the Cave as a suggestion.

“And out for patrol?” Todd mocked.

“I’m not sure.” Drake decided on when no coherent excuse was formed. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Yeah, because you need sleep.” Brown said and just like that the topic changed.

Damian stayed still at the computer. Staring at the letters on the keyboard in front of him. His face felt hot. He was embarrassed, having had his family and himself again reminded of his shortcomings. 

“So,” Todd asked as Alfred prepared the cast for his leg and Drake disconnected the call. “Why is the kid not at school?”

“Leave it alone, Jay.” Richard muttered as he washed his hands.

“It is because Father has decided to baby me.” Damian turned the chair around and claimed.

“I am not babying you, Damian.” Father sighed tiredly.

“Then why am I not allowed back at school?”

“It’s not that you’re not allowed. We’re just trying to make you more comfortable.”

“Going to school would have been indifferent.”

“Hold up,” Todd sat up on the cot. “Has this situation not been dealt with?”

Father remained silent.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Jay,” Richard tried.

“You haven’t done anything about the actual pedophile yet?” he hissed maliciously. 

Damian hated the way in which his heart jumped at that.

“That man is not at the school.” Father gritted out through his teeth, he was starting to get angry. “I have the paperwork and lawyers ready. I was waiting for the green light.”

“I get giving the kid time, but it's been an entire day! You said you’d get it sorted.”

“I’m not going to rush him.”

“So a man raped your kid son and you’re just twiddling your thumbs?”

“Master Jason!”

Todd physically flinched back at the unusual loud admonishment. He seemed to have forgotten about the rest of the family and had the decency to look ashamed as Alfred glared at him.

“That is enough out of you. I understand that you have Master Damian’s best interests at heart but so does your father. To speak in such a brash manner is beneath you. Especially when Master Bruce has been working on the situation non-stop this entire weekend.” Alfred’s eyes narrowed. “And especially in the presence of such a wide audience. You know better.”

Todd opened and closed his mouth. He suddenly winced in a realisation and his eyes darted around the room before landing on Damian.

“Shit,” Todd cursed. “I’m sorry, kid. I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

Damian moved to sit on top of his hands, more than aware of their shaking. He knew he was sweating and he knew he was pale but he pretended as though that was not the case. He did not spend the whole night proving himself worthy only to be treated so delicately.

Even if breathing was getting hard.

“I am not a victim.” Damian’s words came out much quieter than he had hoped, but at least they were coming out. “I am not some measly citizen who needs to be cocooned in bubble wrap. You do not have to baby me. I am Robin. I might be a child but I still have experienced more than any of you had at my age! You did not have to even keep Reynolds off from school. I have no issues in returning to the Academy as normal!”

“Reynolds?” Drake whispered from next to him. Damian turned to see that his face was completely pale. “Your history tutor?”

“The guy I spoke to on the phone?” Richard took a step back. “The guy you’ve been complaining about? All this time you were trying to tell us and…” 

Damian was feeling an odd sense of déjà vu from the earlier night when he had first admitted to the abuse. 

“The rooftop.” Todd suddenly said. “When we had burgers. You were going to tell me.”

Damian felt oddly bad about the look of complete horror on Todd’s face. “I chose not to speak.”

“That doesn’t–” Todd cut himself off with a shake of his head. “I’ve got a name now.”

“The deal was that you pay him a visit later.” Father reminded Todd. “Let me handle it first.”

“It's been a damn day.”

“Master Jason.” 

“I’m sorry but we have to deal with this now!”

“Maybe Tim and Dami should go get ready for bed?” Richard suggested weakly.

“I just said,” Damian hissed tightly. “I do not need to be coddled. I am not a victim.”

Father moved to say something but Richard spoke first. “Because you’re Robin?”

“Precisely.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Richard shared a quiet small smile with Damian. He took a long breath, drawing out the silence for a moment. Hesitating to speak, his next words came out in a little stumble. “I felt the same way when it was me. That I was Nightwing, a hero, I wasn’t a victim.”

For a beat, life stopped. Breaths were paused and lights dimmed. Even the bats up above had gone silent. The water in the tunnels hushed and the buzz of electronics stuttered.

And then the beat was over and life cruelly resumed.

 

Damian stood abruptly and the chair wheeled back, he took two clumsy steps forward. “What do you mean?”

Richard shrugged. “Happened to me too, Dami, some years ago.”

Damian looked around the room helplessly. Father was staring blankly at a corner. So he knew. Alfred knew too. Drake was staring at his own shoes. He was shaking. Todd’s eyes flickered green.

“Who was he?” Damian found himself selfishly asking.

“Yeah,” Todd sat up straighter. “Who?”

Richard rolled his eyes with a smile. Clearly acting nonchalant. “She was an old friend of mine.” Richard’s gaze grew more pained as memories forced themselves to pass through his mind. 

“Dick,” Father said quietly. “You don’t have to.”

“No, but I want to. I don’t want anyone to feel alone when they don’t have to.” Richard took a breath. “Oh, Tim, come here.”

Still staring at his shoes, Tim shuffled over to Richard, his head still down and shaking. Richard threw an arm over the younger boy and held him close.

“Are you okay?” Richard whispered.

“Just isn’t fair.” Drake muttered.

Richard faked a laugh, “tell me about it.” He turned to Damian. 

Damian could only imagine what he looked like. What he felt was as though he was a complete ball of glass ready to shatter. He was grateful that no one tried to hug him just then.

“I was in shock over something. I couldn’t move.”

 

Damian knew the feeling. It was the same feeling every time his throat closed up and even though he had the physical ability to do so, he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

 

“I couldn’t do anything but lie there and she took advantage of it. I was Nightwing. I was bigger, stronger, could take down an army if I wanted to. But I just couldn’t make myself move.” Richard glanced over to Father and Alfred. Father wasn’t looking at anyone and Alfred seemed haunted. “I put up a fight every time I felt ‘babied’, which was a lot. I didn’t want the help. I told myself it was my fault.” Richard shrugged. “Sometimes it still feels like it.” A sound of pain escaped Father. “But I have help. I might be Nightwing but I have help to fall back on. I’m not a victim, I don’t like calling myself that. But I accept that I got hurt and sometimes I just need someone to help me deal with it. It took me a long time to accept that I was allowed that.”

Richard smiled at Damian. “No matter how long it takes for you to find that acceptance, we’re still here, Dami.”

Damian floundered, feeling very lost. He hadn’t expected anyone else in the family, let alone his eldest brother, to have experienced anything remotely similar. He felt anger, white hot anger at the excuse of a human who took advantage of his brother in a vulnerable state. He wanted to hurt. He also wanted to comfort. He wanted to do whatever he could to ensure that his brother was alright, that he felt safe. He wanted Richard to know that he would fight for him.

 

Is this blast of emotion what the family felt for Damian?

 

No, why would they? Damian was Damian while Richard was Richard. Richard deserved more.

“Would you like a hug, Dami?” Richard asked softly, still cuddling Drake.

Damian suddenly grew aware of the tears on his cheeks and raised an arm to harshly rub them away. He shook his head. He didn’t need a hug of all things. He needed to go find this woman.

First he needed to stop shaking.

“So this bitch—”

“Master Jason.”

“—she got a name?”

Richard just shrugged a shoulder, “she’s in jail.”

Todd grunted and folded his arms, “least Bruce sorted that out.”

Father winced. “Dick told me some months afterwards. She had gone to jail due to tax fraud before I found out.”

Todd stared at Father before sitting up straighter, “are you for real?”

“Hey, I didn’t tell him.” Richard defended.

“Not your fault.” Drake’s muffled voice said from where his face was buried in Richard’s side.

“I know, kiddo.” Richard reassured and ruffled Drake’s hair. “Besides, Bruce told me that he hacked into the systems to give her life in jail. I won’t be seeing her for a while.”

“I’m sorry. To Dick for not doing better, and to Damian for not learning from my mistakes. And Jay, for not sorting this out as quickly as I should be.” Father apologised quietly.

Richard’s face crushed in on itself, “Dad, no.”

Father shook his head, “I really am, Dick.”

“No,” Todd rubbed at his face. “No, that’s not what I meant or wanted, Bruce. I just… I just want to hit someone. I’m being an ass.”

Todd sighed and glanced up at Damian. Whatever Todd saw in the youngest seemed to prompt him to make a decision because he grew rigid and fiddled with the edge of the cast on his leg, “since we’re all being prissy and opening up here. Y’all know my childhood before Bruce. Most of you know the shit I did.” he gestured to Damian. “Was around the kid’s age, bit younger actually. Had to do shit in exchange for food, had to hang around empty corners.”

Damian felt like a bucket of ice cold water was poured down his head when he realised what his brother was saying.

Todd’s shoulders were hunched up defensively. “It's why I can’t, like, it's why I can’t deal well with pedo shit. I lose my cool easy. But yea, you’re not alone and shit.” Todd glared at the cast on his leg. “I didn’t tell Bruce for the longest time either. But when I gave him a list of names he sorted it out. I haven’t heard from any of them since. Don’t even know where most of them are even though I went looking once I became Red Hood. So yeah, when it comes to this crap, Bruce is actually really efficient in keeping you safe. You won’t need to worry.” Todd muttered the last few sentences, cheeks reddening slightly.

From where he stood next to Todd, Alfred laid a hand facing upwards on the cot. Todd stopped tugging at his cast to clasp tightly onto it.

Damian took a shuddering breath. Both of his eldest brothers. Two of the strongest men that Damian has come to know.

He had to admit. He did feel slightly less weak.

But it also made him feel pained. His poor brothers.

 

No, he didn’t want to pity them. ‘Baby’ them. That’s what they were doing to him and he hated it. Although, he understood it a bit better now. 

Drake let out a wet laugh which startled Damian. Dread suddenly filled him when he wondered whether his last brother would add on. Drake came away from Richard and rubbed his tears away, still laughing sadly. 

“I only had three attempts. Each time was with an adult too. Must be a Robin thing.”

“Timmy.” Richard said with shock, going back to holding him tightly. Then directed towards the self-derogatory comment he muttered, “Don’t say that.”

Damian wondered if Alfred felt pain from how tightly Todd was clutching onto his hand like a lifeline. But his face betrayed nothing.

“Who the hell were they?” Todd demanded thickly.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Like fuck it doesn’t.”

“Tim,” Father had taken a step forward, face pale and ghostly. “I had no idea.”

“You didn’t even know me for the first two. The third one was when you were lost in the timeline.” A painful sound choked its way out of Drake’s throat and he buried his face back into the wet patch on Richard's side. 

“Let me make it right.” Father said just as distressed. “Let me help you.”

Drake shook his head. “It didn’t even fully happen to me.”

“That doesn’t make it any less traumatising,” Richard hissed and protectively wrapped his arms around him tighter. 

Drake’s shoulders were shaking but no sounds were coming out, Damian could only assume that he was trying to reign himself in. Damian wrapped his own arms around himself. He felt cold. He felt dizzy. So all three of his brothers had experienced this trauma then.

“Besides,” Drake choked out when he finally gained more control over himself. “The first person, she disappeared off the earth and randomly ended up in jail. I don’t know why or how. The second guy did too but I’m pretty sure that’s one of the men Jason told you about.”

“What?” Todd hissed. 

“I’d see him at galas. One day, after Bruce took you in, I saw him approach you at a gala and by the next one he was in jail. William Harris?”

To Damian’s utter shock, Todd’s body began to release minor tremors. The memories too much. 

“I broke that one’s cheekbone, collarbone, kneecap and pelvis.” Father said. Both Todd and Drake’s heads snapped towards him in surprise. “I should’ve done worse.”

“He didn’t get too far.” Drake said in a way he must’ve assumed to be reassuring. 

“He went too far the moment he had a single thought about you.” Father nearly growled. 

“The last one?” Richard asked quietly as he held Drake. 

Drake shrugged, “I was at the League. Cass was there. She saved me.”

Richard shut his eyes and Damian prevented himself from audibly gasping when he noticed a tear slip down Richard’s cheek. “I should’ve been there. I’m sorry.”

Drake shook his head, face still hidden by Richard. “Not your fault.”

Richard didn’t say “I know” this time around. 

Damian looked around the room. Richard, Jason and Timothy. His brothers in every way other than blood. All had also been touched. 

 

He felt less alone. 

“Before we wrap this up.” Father spoke with a guttural tone. “I commend all of you for sharing your stories, your pains. And all for the sake of one another. So that none of you feels alone. So that each of you understands that there is someone on your side who knows something about the hurt.”

Father looked at each of his sons, starting at Richard and ending at Damian, his gaze staying on him the longest before swivelling his eyes to the bats up above. 

“I want each and every one of you to live knowing that what happened is not your fault. You will be safe from whoever hurt you. I’ll give my life to make sure of it.”

Father nodded to himself, as though making sure he didn’t miss out on everything he wanted to say. Father glanced down at Alfred and then up again. 

“I don’t want any of you to feel alone. Just like you didn’t want your brothers to feel alone. You were all so brave to share your stories. Even though they hurt. All because you love this family.” Father swallowed. Choosing his words carefully. “It’s hypocritical of me now to say to you boys that you should accept my help, when I refused to take help because just like you I thought it made me, well, weak. I don’t want any of you to feel like I don’t understand at least a little of what you’re going through. I’ve never told anyone this but… but when I was new to Batman, I didn’t notice someone drugging my drink at a gala. Took me almost two days to make it back to the Manor.”

Father finally forced himself to look away from the bats and to his family.

Damian couldn’t process what he had heard. His heart beating in his ears. Father? Father? Of all the people Damian would have thought of enduring this pain, his Father hadn’t even made the list. 

Father was Batman. He was Bruce Wayne. The Dark Knight. Founder of the Justice League. Father was Justice itself. He was strong. Powerful. He was the most respectable man there was. 

Father was Father. 

There was no way, no way whatsoever, that someone touched Father without his permission. That someone took from Father. Had dishonoured him while he was vulnerable. While he laid there helplessly. 

Just like Damian had been. 

Damian couldn’t bring himself to comprehend what he was hearing and he wasn’t alone. Richard’s jaw had dropped. He floundered aimlessly when he couldn’t find the right words. Drake had come away from Richard’s tight grasp. He was still holding onto the elder but had to turn to look at Father, his face wet and blotchy. Todd had simply stilled. Damian wasn’t even sure whether Todd’s mind was currently present. It had seemed as though the man was dissociating. 

“My boy…” Alfred breathed out and now it was his turn to hold onto Todd’s hand like a lifeline.

“Sorry, Alf.” Father said, keeping his gaze off of everyone.

“No, my child. I am sorry.” Alfred said. The man looked torn between running to Father and letting go of Todd’s hand.

Damian recalled how Alfred had felt the need to hold Damian the other night. How Alfred had clung on and whispered comforting promises and reassurances. How Alfred had nearly cried. 

And Damian was only just his grandson while Father was his son. The urge to comfort must be so much more. Damian owed Alfred. He wanted to pay back his grandfather’s kindness. 

But also, Damian remembered how it had felt. Being touched by others and being unable to get away. The fear and courage that came with telling people, his family, that he was assaulted. 

He wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But aside from Alfred, each member of this family had admitted to it in the last ten minutes. 

Damian didn’t want comfort. He wanted to not be touched. To be forgotten in this Cave. So he was content in simply standing in the middle of the room. Richard and Drake were holding each other, comforting one another in the light of their respective news. Todd was using Alfred for stable leverage, using the man to ground him. 

But Father was completely alone. He was stood there. His expression was lost. He had no one to comfort him after admitting to this revelation.  

Alfred had observed similarly because he made one minuscule step towards Father but had to stop and turn to look at the hand Todd was unconsciously, desperately holding onto. 

Damian made the choice to minutely pay back the kindness his family had given him. 

He took his own small step towards Father and softly spoke. “Father?”

“Damian?” Father smiled his gentle tired smile. 

Not knowing what to do, Damian imitated his Grandfather, Father and eldest brother. “Would you like a hug?”

A multitude of emotions that Damian could not decipher flashed through Father’s face. Then Father settled back to a gentle smile and kneeled down slowly onto one knee, opening his arms. “If that’s okay with you.”

Damian would never forget the safety that he had felt the two times Father had encased him with his arms. He wanted nothing more than to return the feeling. He walked across the Cave towards him. Damian was smaller, his cape wouldn’t cover anyone other than himself, his arms wouldn’t fully reach around Father so that his hands could touch. But he was determined to make Father feel better the same way Father did for him. 

So, cautiously ensuring that Father was okay with the touch, Damian walked into his arms. He wrapped his arms around as far as they could go and squeezed warmly, closing his eyes and mustering as much emotion as he could to comfort the man. He felt Father wrap his own arms around Damian carefully, also making sure that his child was comfortable. The two of them stayed like that for a moment. 

Hesitantly, Damian whispered. “It will be okay, Father.”

Father exhaled painfully. “Thank you, sweetheart. It rarely hurts now. It dulls down as you grow. Sometimes I might remember. But it’s okay.”

A horrible thought passed through Damian’s mind. “Did I trigger your memories?”

“No, son.” Father’s grip grew tighter. “You did nothing wrong.”

Another moment passed and Father rested a hand in Damian’s hair. “Thank you, son.” He said gratefully and pulled away to lay a quick soft kiss into Damian’s hair. 

When Damian saw his face he was stunned. Father’s eyes were wet. 

“You’re crying,” he gasped. 

“It’s okay,” Father rubbed away a tear that slipped onto his face. “I just love you all. You deserve so much more than I can give you.”

“Dad,” Richard said, he and Drake had come closer. “You’ve done more than enough.”

Richard’s face was wet as well, but the man had been too focused on wiping away Drake’s tears to notice. 

But Father of course saw and raised an offering hand in question. Richard took it and slowly sat down to cuddle up into Father, bringing a trembling Drake with him. 

Damian noticed Father then look up at Todd. A question in his eyes. But Todd shook his head. He didn’t want to join in the spontaneous group hug. It was too much touch for him right now. 

And Damian understood that. In fact, they all understood that. 

The strongest men Damian had come to know have been sexually abused in the same way that he had been. 

 

It didn’t break them. It didn’t degrade them. They weren’t weak. They were Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood and Red Robin. 

 

The Heroes of Gotham. 

 

And Damian wasn’t alone. Their actions the past few days weren’t from pitying or babying, they were understanding. They knew what he needed. They could relate to the torment in his mind. 

If this didn’t make them weak, then how could it make Damian weak?

 

Damian wasn’t weak. Reynolds didn’t make Damian weak. 

 

He was Robin. 

 

More importantly, he was Damian. 

And he would never be alone. 

Notes:

And there it is.

Im sorry to make this joke but I felt like I pulled an Oprah, “you get a trauma, you get a trauma, you’re all getting traumas!”

Least I left Alfie alone 🫣

And did I break Jason’s leg so that he can’t go after Reynolds so quick? Yes, yes I did.

Also, yes I gave Tim and Bruce new traumas to focus on. I didn’t want to go down the lane of Talia drugging Bruce (too messy here) so Bruce gets a new one. As for Tim, I can’t leave alone the fact that a neglected CHILD was wandering around galas alone soooo… you learn more about that later 👀

I will release a continuation to this tomorrow in a new story. It focuses on Damian’s recovery so each chapter has hurt and comfort (hugs!) It’s not complete, I’ve got like 8 chapters written. It will also time skip randomly but I’ll always mention it. After I finish most of what I want in that story and start running out of ideas, I might start asking for requests 👀

I will also release a third story that focuses on the assaults of the other family members and their comforts. They’re not equal. Dick has 4 chapters while Jason has just 1 (might write more if I feel like it) Im currently writing Bruce’s chapters and then all the individual stories should be complete.

Thank you to every single kudos and comment. I hope you continue to follow me in this series and subscribe to the series so that you get notified. I also never realised how many non-English readers read my stories till you guys commented and it has been so thrilling seeing how many people around the world are seeing my writing. I genuinely appreciate you all 🩷

Why am I emotional haha

Until next time!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of The Batfam’s Love Is Unconditional