Chapter Text
The dining room at Wayne Manor always felt too big for the number of people sitting in it.
Like the table was built for ghosts.
It was one of those stupidly long polished tables that could probably seat twenty people if Bruce ever decided to host some ridiculous billionaire gala, but tonight it was just them— plates scattered down one half, chairs pulled out at odd angles, jackets thrown over the backs like nobody here had ever cared about etiquette.
The thing about Friday dinners at Wayne Manor was that they pretended to be normal.
Like this wasn’t a house where half the people at the table had tried to kill each other at some point.
Like the billionaire at the head of the table didn’t spend most of his nights jumping off rooftops dressed like a bat.
Like this was just… family dinner.
It was early evening, the last bit of sunset bleeding orange through the tall windows of the dining room, painting long stripes of light across the polished floor.
People were still drifting in.
The sink in the hallway bathroom ran for a moment before the water shut off and Duke appeared in the doorway wiping his hands on a towel Alfred had absolutely placed there on purpose.
Bruce was already seated at the head of the table, jacket off, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms.
Duke dropped into the chair two seats down from him.
“So my teacher thinks I cheated on the physics test,” Duke said, leaning back in his chair.
Bruce raised an eyebrow.
“Did you?”
Duke scoffed.
“No. I just finished first.”
Bruce’s mouth twitched slightly.
Across the room Dick leaned over the back of Tim’s chair like an overgrown golden retriever that had discovered caffeine.
“So let me get this straight,” Dick said, poking Tim’s shoulder. “You stayed awake for thirty-six hours because you thought a warehouse in Burnley might be connected to Penguin’s shipping routes?”
Tim didn’t even look up from his phone.
“Thirty-two.”
“That’s worse.”
Tim blinked slowly.
Tim blinked slowly.
“That’s mathematically incorrect.”
Steph was half sprawled across her chair next to Cass, holding her phone between them.
“Look at this one,” Steph whispered.
Cass leaned closer.
On the screen was a video of a raccoon stealing cat food from someone’s porch.
Cass’s eyes lit up immediately.
Steph grinned.
“Right??”
Cass nodded very seriously.
Dick groaned.
“I cannot believe the raccoon is getting more attention than my extremely valid concern about Tim’s health.”
Tim finally looked up.
“I’m fine.”
“You look like a Victorian child with a mysterious illness.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Heavy ones.
Jason.
He walked in like someone who still wasn’t entirely convinced he was supposed to be here. Helmet tucked under one arm, leather jacket creaking slightly as he moved. His shoulders were relaxed but there was that familiar readiness in the way he carried himself—like he might turn around and leave at any second if this got weird.
Which, historically, it did.
Dick immediately straightened.
Then slid into the chair next to Jason before anyone could blink.
Jason looked at him.
“…What.”
Dick smiled brightly.
Dick smiled brightly.
“Hi, little wing.”
“You sat there on purpose.”
“Did I?”
“Yes.”
“Wow,” Dick said, leaning back. “You’re so perceptive.”
Jason rolled his eyes but didn’t move.
Which meant Dick had successfully completed Operation Seat Theft.
Right on cue Damian walked in.
He was still in his training clothes, sleeves pushed to his elbows, dark hair slightly damp like he’d washed up quickly before coming down. His posture was straight as always, chin tilted slightly upward in that very specific Damian Wayne way that said I am judging everyone in this room.
He stopped when he noticed the seating arrangement, His usual chair next to Dick was occupied Dick waved at him.
“Hey Dami.”
Damian stared at him then at Jason. Then back at Dick. There was a long pause, everyone felt it because Damian Wayne did not like disruptions to routine.
Tim leaned back slightly in his chair, watching with quiet interest.
Steph nudged Cass.
“Oh this is gonna be good.”
Damian walked over.
Stopped next to Jason’s chair.
And in a voice that sounded strangely… tired… he said one word.
“Akhi.”
The word was quiet.
Soft.
Jason looked up immediately.
Something in his expression shifted.
Without saying a word—
Without even standing—
Jason reached out, grabbed Damian clean around the waist, lifted him like the kid weighed nothing, and set him down in the empty chair beside him.
The entire room went still. Jason didn’t even look up just adjusted his fork.
Damian settled in his seat like nothing had happened.
Dick’s mouth slowly fell open.
Steph blinked.
“…What.”
Tim straightened in his chair like someone had just broken the laws of physics. Because this?
This was impossible.
Damian Wayne did not tolerate being touched.
Not without warning.
Not without permission.
The last time Tim had accidentally bumped into him in the hallway Damian had tried to stab him with a pencil.
Bruce’s gaze lifted from the table slowly.
Cass tilted her head, studying Damian carefully.
Jason finally noticed the silence.
“…What are you all staring at.”
Steph pointed.
“You just picked him up.”
Jason looked at Damian.
Damian looked back.
Jason shrugged.
“He asked.”
Damian reached for a napkin like nothing about this situation was unusual.
Bruce cleared his throat, “…Dinner should be here shortly.”
As if summoned—
The dining room doors opened, Alfred stepped in pushing a serving cart. The air smelled warm and heavy with spices. Garlic. Lemon. Roasted meat. Something earthy.
Alfred had gone all out tonight.
Kafta and rice, warm flatbread stacked in a cloth-lined basket beside it, with bowls of yogurt sauce and chopped herbs.
Alfred had said it casually while setting it down. "A Lebanese dish Master Jason once took a liking to. Master Damian also seemed fond of it the last time I prepared it."
Which was Alfred-speak for I am emotionally manipulating you all into eating dinner together like a family.
Usually Damian would test his food first.
Carefully.
Suspiciously.
A habit that had taken months for Alfred to even begin softening.
But lately… he’d started trusting Alfred’s cooking.
Not fully.
But enough.
Alfred reached for a plate to serve him.
Jason stopped him.
“Hold up.”
Alfred paused.
Jason grabbed the serving spoon and piled a double portion onto his own plate.
More than he normally took.
Then he slid the plate back in front of himself and started eating like nothing had happened.
Everyone watched.
Damian didn’t reach for the serving dishes, Didn’t ask for a plate. Instead he leaned slightly toward Jason. Jason scooped up a bite of kafta and rice with his fork, held it out without looking.
Damian took it.
Like this was the most normal thing in the world.
Jason took the next bite for himself.
Then another for Damian.
The table went silent again, Tim blinked.
Steph whispered, “What is happening.”
Dick looked like someone had just handed him the greatest gossip of his life.
Bruce stared at Jason.
Jason finally noticed.
“…Why are you all looking at me like that.”
Damian spoke before anyone else could. “Continue eating, Todd.” Jason rolled his eyes, but he scooped up another bite and held it out again anyway. Damian accepted it without hesitation.
Across the table Cass smiled slightly because Damian’s shoulders were relaxed and Jason’s movements were easy.
Like this had happened before. Because it had. And she knew.
The table slowly settled back into the quiet rhythm of dinner.
Forks scraping lightly against plates. The soft clink of glasses. Alfred moving around the table with the smooth, invisible efficiency of someone who had run this house longer than most of the people in it had been alive.
But the room still felt… different because Jason hadn’t stopped. He ate a few bites himself, then another forkful went to Damian, then one for himself then one for Damian again.
Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like this had always been how it worked.
No one said anything.
Not a single comment.
Steph kept her mouth shut for once, though the effort showed in the way her eyebrows kept creeping higher every time Damian leaned slightly closer to Jason without thinking.
Tim had gone very still in his chair, watching with the quiet focus of someone who had just discovered a puzzle he did not yet understand.
Duke glanced between them every few seconds but seemed to decide this was above his pay grade.
Dick tried very hard to act normal. He failed. Badly. Every time Jason lifted his fork Dick’s eyes tracked the movement like a cat watching a laser pointer.
Bruce didn’t stare.
Bruce observed.
Which was worse.
He sat at the head of the table, posture straight, expression carefully neutral as he ate. But every few seconds his gaze flicked down the table toward Jason and Damian before returning to his plate. Because Damian wasn’t resisting.
That alone would have been strange.
But it was more than that.
Damian was leaning.
Just slightly.
His shoulder almost brushing Jason’s arm now.
The kid’s movements were slower too, his usual sharp-edged alertness dulled at the corners. His eyelids drooped a little more with each passing minute. Jason noticed immediately.
He always noticed things like that.
Damian opened his mouth around another bite without even looking.
Chewed slowly.
His head dipped forward just a little.
Jason watched him for a second.
Then lifted his hand and tapped two fingers lightly against Damian’s temple.
Not hard.
Just enough.
“Stay awake a little longer, habibi,” Jason murmured quietly. “You need to eat before you sleep.”
Damian blinked.
Slow.
Heavy.
But he straightened slightly in his chair.
“…I am not sleeping.”
Jason snorted under his breath.
“Sure you’re not.”
Another bite.
Damian accepted it automatically.
Across the table Alfred paused beside Bruce’s chair, watching the interaction with the faintest, most satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Then he continued serving rice like nothing unusual was happening.
Cass had been watching the entire time.
Not the feeding.
Not the food.
Them.
The small movements.
The quiet ease between them.
The way Jason’s posture angled subtly toward Damian without him realizing it and the way Damian leaned into that space like he expected it to be there.
It made perfect sense to her.
Under the table Cass nudged Steph gently with her knee, Steph glanced over. Cass lifted her hands, movements small and quick so the others wouldn’t notice.
Brother.
Steph blinked. Cass signed again. Two fingers pointed from Jason then Damian then linked.
Steph’s eyes widened.
Oh.
That… actually explained a lot.
Steph slowly leaned back in her chair, watching them again with a completely different expression now.
Meanwhile at the head of the table Bruce cut another piece of kafta. Dick leaned slightly toward him, “…Are we just not going to talk about it?” Bruce didn’t look up.
“Talk about what.”
Dick gestured subtly with his fork, Bruce followed the motion despite himself.
Jason was holding out another bite and Damian took it. Dick whispered, “That.” Bruce exhaled quietly through his nose.
“…They appear to have an understanding.”
Dick stared at him. “That is not what I would call that.”
Further down the table Tim finally spoke.
Not to anyone in particular.
Just softly.
“…He called him akhi.” Steph glanced over immediately. “Yeah I heard that too.” Tim frowned slightly at his plate, “That means brother.” Dick slowly turned in his chair.
“…Excuse me.”
Tim rubbed his temple, “It’s Arabic.” Dick looked back at Jason and Damian again. Jason was now eating one-handed while the other hand rested loosely on the back of Damian’s chair.
Damian looked like he was losing a fight with gravity.
Dick whispered slowly.
“…Okay so I have several questions.”
Bruce remained silent.
But his gaze stayed on them a little longer this time.
At the far end of the table Jason sighed quietly.
“C’mon,” he muttered, nudging the fork toward Damian again. “Two more bites.” Damian’s eyes barely opened, “…One.” Jason considered it. “…Fine.”
One bite.
Damian finished it.
Then his head tilted slightly sideways toward Jason’s shoulder.
Jason caught it automatically with his hand before it could actually land, “Not yet,” he said quietly, Damian made a small irritated sound but sat up again. Jason looked down the table noticed everyone staring.
“…What.”
No one answered.
They all just went back to eating.
And Jason, muttering something under his breath, scooped up another bite anyway.
Dinner ended the way Wayne Manor dinners usually did.
Slowly.
Plates emptying one by one, chairs shifting, the low murmur of overlapping conversations replacing the quiet that had settled while everyone ate. Alfred began collecting dishes with the quiet precision of someone who absolutely did not need help but would tolerate it if someone offered.
No one offered.
Jason was still sitting where he had been, Damian slumped heavily against his side now. The kid had lost the fight with sleep somewhere around the last bite. His head had tipped sideways until it rested against Jason’s arm, dark lashes casting faint shadows over his cheeks. His breathing had gone slow and steady, the kind that meant he was out
Jason looked down at him.
“…Kid didn’t even make it to dessert.”
Steph leaned over the table a little.
“He’s twelve.”
“He’s trained by assassins.”
“He’s twelve trained by assassins.”
Jason couldn’t really argue with that.
He shifted carefully in his chair, sliding one arm under Damian’s knees and the other behind his back. Then he stood up, lifting Damian in one smooth motion into a bridal carry like he’d done it a thousand times. Damian barely stirred. Just made a small sleepy sound and instinctively grabbed the front of Jason’s shirt with one hand.
That was when Dick said it.
“Oh no.”
Jason glanced over.
Dick pointed toward the hallway like Jason was about to commit a crime.
“You’re not leaving.”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “Watch me.” He turned toward the hallway anyway, behind him chairs scraped loudly as half the table stood up at once.
“Jason wait—”
“Hold on—”
“Don’t go yet!”
Jason stopped halfway to the doorway and looked back over his shoulder.
“…What.”
Dick clasped his hands together dramatically.
“Movie night.”
Jason stared at him.
“No.”
Steph joined in immediately.
“Come on!”
Tim, who was still sitting but clearly invested in the outcome, added tiredly, “Statistically speaking your attendance would improve group morale.”
Jason blinked at him.
“…Did you just try to guilt-trip me with **math.**”
Tim shrugged, “It’s effective.”
Bruce stood slowly from the head of the table, watching the scene unfold with quiet interest.
Jason shifted Damian slightly higher in his arms. The kid had burrowed into his chest now, face half-hidden against the fabric of Jason’s shirt “…I’m putting him to bed,” Jason said flatly. Dick followed him into the hallway anyway. “Okay! Do that!” Steph and Duke trailed behind them. “Then come back!” Jason walked toward the staircase.
“No.”
“Jason—”
“No.”
Cass moved silently behind them all, watching.
Bruce followed last.
Jason reached the top of the stairs and walked down the long hallway toward the bedrooms. Damian’s door was already cracked open, Titus, the enormous Great Dane, lifted his head from where he’d been lying in front of the door. His tail thumped once against the floor when he saw Jason “Yeah yeah,” Jason muttered. Inside the room Jason set Damian carefully on the bed. The kid didn’t wake.
Jason crouched beside the bed, grabbing a washcloth from the bathroom sink.
Behind him the rest of the family crowded awkwardly into the doorway like a group of nosy siblings who had absolutely no sense of personal space.
Jason glanced back.
“…Why are you all still here.”
Dick pointed at him again.
“Movie night.”
Jason rolled his eyes and turned back to Damian.
He gently wiped the remaining sauce from the kid’s face, brushing a bit of rice off his cheek.
Damian stirred slightly but didn’t wake.
Jason tucked the blanket around him.
Steph tried again.
“Please stay.”
Duke nodded.
“It’s tradition.”
Jason stood up.
“Not my tradition.”
Dick clasped his hands again.
“Jason.”
“No.”
“Jason.”
“No.”
“Jaaason.”
Jason dragged a hand down his face.
“You are twenty years old.”
“I’m charming.”
“You’re ancient.”
Bruce spoke then, voice calm.
“It would mean a great deal to your siblings.”
Jason looked at him.
“…You’re not helping.”
Tim leaned against the wall.
“We’ll let you pick the movie.”
Jason snorted.
“That’s a terrible idea.”
Steph nodded immediately.
“True.”
Cass tilted her head slightly.
Jason sighed.
Then glanced back at the bed.
Damian had shifted in his sleep, one arm flopped loosely across the pillow.
His breathing was still deep and even.
Jason looked back at them.
“…Fine.”
Everyone perked up immediately.
“But,” Jason added quickly, pointing at the bed.
“No loud fight scenes.”
Dick froze.
“No explosions.”
Steph gasped softly.
“No jumpscares.”
Duke blinked.
Jason jerked his head toward Damian.
“You wake him up and I’m leaving.”
Dick nodded immediately.
“Yes sir.”
Steph saluted.
“Understood.”
Tim muttered, “Reasonable condition.” grumbling, Bruce watched quietly as Jason adjusted the blanket one last time before stepping away from the bed.They all moved back downstairs. he living room filled quickly, blankets and pillows appearing from nowhere like some kind of chaotic nest.
Dick grabbed the remote.
Steph sat cross-legged on the floor.
Tim collapsed onto one end of the couch like gravity had finally claimed him.
Cass settled silently beside him.
Jason dropped into the armchair near the couch.
Bruce remained standing for a moment longer.
Because something about the scene upstairs lingered in his mind.
He had watched Jason carry Damian down the hallway.
Watched the way Damian had slept in his arms without flinching.
Without tension.
Without the constant awareness Damian carried around everyone else.
Bruce had never seen Damian that relaxed.
Not with him.
Damian still slept with his door locked.
Every night.
Titus stationed in front of it like a living guard dog.
Bruce had tried knocking once.
Damian had opened the door with a knife in his hand.
But with Jason—
Bruce looked at the armchair.
Jason leaned back in it now, arms crossed, watching Dick scroll through movie options. Like nothing unusual had happened at all. Bruce sat down slowly and wondered, not for the first time tonight,what exactly he didn’t know about his sons.