“Fine!” yelled Damian. “I quit!”
Bruce watched as the boy— his son— ripped the ‘R’ off his uniform, threw it to the ground, and slammed through the bunker door, out into the hallway. It was dramatic, in Bruce’s opinion, but Damian always was. The little time Bruce had spent with the boy had shown him that.
Of course, all that time had been last year, before Darkseid’s Omega Beam sent Bruce back in time. His family thought he was dead. In his absence, Dick became Batman, but Bruce had expected that. He was proud of Dick: of his efforts as Batman and of the man he had become.
He had not, however, expected Dick’s choice of Robin.
Damian’s angry footsteps retreated down the hallway. Damian? Really? He was Bruce’s son, yes, but who was his mother? Who was his grandfather? He was a weapon created by the League of Assassins.
A threat. Dick didn’t seem to think so. He swore the boy had changed, but after one mission together, Bruce wasn’t sure. Damian did not follow orders. He and Bruce did not work well together. He did not respect Bruce, and he made that very obvious.
And when presented with those facts, he stormed off.
Bruce turned with a sigh to Dick, expecting sympathy; surely Dick was used to Damian’s tantrums by now. Instead, he found Dick sitting at the bunker table, hands over his eyes. Dick took a deep breath and dragged his fingers down his face. He finished by staring towards the heavens with his hands steepled under his chin, like he was praying for patience.
“I need you,” he said, slowly, deliberately, “to fix that.”
“Fix it,” Dick repeated, making eye contact. He was furious, Bruce realized— barely keeping his temper. There was fire in his eyes. “Find him. Apologize.”
“For what? He ignored my instructions, and I—”
“Apologize,” Dick ground out, “for treating him like an enemy.”
“You do! And you’re wrong! You don’t know him, and you aren’t trying to! He’s Robin, and you’re going to get used to that, not take it away from him.”
“I don’t plan on taking anything—” Bruce began, but Dick cut him off again.
“I don’t want to hear it.” He stood up from the table, walked across the bunker, and pulled a pair of files from a drawer. He slapped them onto the table, then marched out the door, yelling for Damian as he went.
“What are—?” Bruce tried to ask, but Dick was already gone. “Fine.” He pulled the first file from the stack and examined it for himself.
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2087
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origamiaround
izzy806
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