Danny is in Gotham (yes, that Gotham, different universe, long story) to finish his education before moving on with his life—or afterlife—and eventually ascending to High King status. It’s a good reveal AU. He still has his parents. He still has his friends. Clockwork just strongly suggested that if he wanted to rule the Infinite Realms one day, maybe he should get some cross-dimensional academic experience first.
The problem? Everyone is rich. Not “my dad owns a company” rich. More like “we have generational trauma and private islands” rich. Danny tries being friendly. Smiles. Makes conversation. Offers help with homework. It does absolutely nothing. These people only care about connections.
Which would be funny—if it weren’t so isolating—because they have no idea he is, objectively, the single most powerful networking opportunity in the multiverse.
So yeah. He’s a little lonely.
One of Damian’s brothers (who will not be named but absolutely thinks he’s hilarious) jokes that Damian has never had a normal civilian friendship in his life. That if he had to, he wouldn’t even know where to start. He offhandedly gestures at Danny like, there, that one looks harmless.
Unfortunately, Damian takes it as a challenge.
Not because Danny is a “target.” He isn’t. Damian just fully decides he will prove he can form a normal, healthy, civilian friendship. Out of spite.
There are misunderstandings, but somehow, despite everything, they start… getting along.
And Damian, internally victorious, decides to present Danny to his family as evidence that he can, in fact, maintain a normal friendship.
He charms Alfred. He debates with Tim. He listens to Bruce. He somehow gets Jason to laugh. He and Dick vibe immediately. He treats Damian like an equal without even trying.
For months, the consensus is clear:
Danny is the only normal person at this table.
And then they find his admission essay.
“Why Clowns Are Not to Be Given Human Rights.”
Jason has found his new bible
