another part of the Jason and Damian meeting in the league AUâs is the more subtle parts of raising a child. not just the protectiveness, bodyguard and prince, keeping Damian safe and all that. but the other stuff, the simple stuff that although doesnât seem like much at the time, probably ends up being the most important part of their relationship.
Jason taught Damian how to ride a bike. Damian had been trained to drive cars, pilot helicopters, charter plane courses and sail boats, but the simple fun of a two-wheel bike? Deemed unnecessary and useless by Talia. It was Jason that snuck him out of the compound one afternoon, over to one of the little villages lining the desert and trading stolen league supplies with a small family in exchange for their daughterâs bike that he then dragged over to an abandoned dusty track. Damian had scoffed at the time, thinking the stabilisers to be insults to his very honour.
âMy balance is impeccable, ahki.â Heâd snipped, watching the easy way Jason rolled his eyes, grinning as he bent down to loyally remove the extra wheels. Heâd underestimated the difference between the bike and his other training, trying to set off and instantly slamming his legs down on the ground to stop tipping over, but he hadnât been yelled at or mocked like with his other trainers. Instead, Jason had softly instructed him on how to use the pedals, shift his weight with the handlebars, and work the brakes. Then heâd promised that heâd hold the back of the seat for as long as Damian needed, only letting go when he gave the ok. Damian wouldnât admit it, but one of his fondest memories from childhood had been on that road; dust hitting his legs and sweat beading on his face as the sun bore down on them, wobbly making his way down the track until he gained confidence and then demanded Jason let go. He still remembered the proud cheer Jason had let out behind him as Damian rode off without his help, even years later when he was in Gotham.
That wasnât the only thing, either. Damian hadnât really realised the true extent of what Jason had given him until heâd gotten to Gotham; little connections being made as memories came to the surface and he started realising âoh, Jason had done those things for him.â
There was a day where Dick dragged him and Tim to the park for ice cream, citing that it was sunny and they needed âfresh airâ, a notion that Tim seemed majorly offended by. Still, they both allowed him to corral cones into their hand and lead them on a walk through the Gotham greenery. It was there that Damian had paused, eyes catching on the way a small boy was stood with his father on the grass, a spool of string in hand as they stared up at a colourful device flapping in the wind above.
âSâ called a kite, Dames.â Dick had explained gently, hand coming up to clap him on the shoulder. âI guess there probably wasnât much opportunity to fly those back with Talia, huh? You know stores around here sell them all the time, it would be really fun if we got one and taught you to fly it.â
But Damian had only shook his head, carrying on down the path with a simple, âNo. I have flown one before.â
Because he had; he could remember much clearer now the time that Jason had advocated for Damianâs place on one of his training hikes up the mountain, citing strength and endurance training in the wilderness. The air was flat down by the compound, strong winds more a sign of a sandstorm than any opportunity for fun, but up in the hills and cliffs of their hike the breeze was gentle yet firm, ideal for the activity. He remembered Jason waiting until they were completely secluded from the league before hunkering down and ripping up his camping gear, tearing into his tent and sun protection before cobbling together an at the time pathetic mess of wire, fabric, and bent tent poles. Looking back, Damian could recognise the lovingly crafted homemade kite Jason had made from them, but he only remembered complaining at the time, hissing and spitting about wasting time when Jason dragged him to a cliff edge and plopped him down on the edge, legs dangling as he then bracketed Damian in with his own legs, his hands covering Damianâs own much smaller pair as they clasped the wire connected to the âkiteâ together. Heâd slumped over time, letting himself lean back into Jasonâs form and watching the fabric fly around in front calmly, Jason showing him how to make patterns in the air, and to this day Damian thought of those precious moments as the most relaxed and safe he had ever felt as a child.
He guessed it wasnât until getting to Gotham and finding out what children were supposed to have, freedom and the room to grow rather than harsh training and responsibility, that he realised just how much Jason had given him back then, the experiences heâd prioritised creating, even over his own safety. Jason hadnât had a tent that night, exposed to the elements and unable to fit in Damianâs with him. He hadnât even blinked at the sacrifice, deeming it worth it.
âFather took me to see a pantomime today,â Damian murmured one night, the gentle silence of Jasonâs safe house wrapping him up in that same sense of security and warmth that Jason always gave him. He kept looking out the window even as Jason hummed from the kitchen, cooking up some vegetarian dish from Sicily that Jason claimed he âjust HAD to tryâ. It was often that would happen, Red Hood going on an international mission that demanded no contact with Damian for who knew how long, but every time without fail Jason would return with a new recipe and a tale about some local restaurant with a dish he âneeded to make for you, Dames, honestly itâs a game changerâ. Damian wasnât stupid, he knew Jason didnât normally eat vegetarian, but he could imagine so easily his brother taking time away from his dangerous cases just so he could find something to bring back for Damian, some way to keep them connected even when they were apart.
âOh?â Jason encouraged him to continue, the soft sound of a knife hitting a cutting board backing him. âHow was it?â
ââŠNot nearly as fun as the ones you used to put on.â
Jason laughed easily, Damian smiling slightly at the memories; shadows and nightmares keeping little Damian awake, too afraid to be alone. Jason would sneak past guards to slip into his room to keep him company, making stupid puppets out of old socks and ruined clothes and doing his best rendition of various plays and theatre that he could remember from outside the league. Staying up for hours even with harsh training or missions the next day, willingly sacrificing his own rest just to ensure Damian knew he could rely on him.
âI suppose I never thanked you,â He mumbled eventually, turning away from the window. Jason looked up and over at him with a slightly furrowed brow.
âThanked me? I know Iâm talented, but I donât think my sock puppet rendition of âa streetcar named desireâ was that good.â He snorted. Damian only shook his head.
âFor bothering to give me a childhood when nobody else would. If it were not for you, I am unsure I would have made it out of that compound still human. Thank you, for that.â
Jason went silent, the two staring at each other for a moment. There was a sense of comradery between them, some unknown emotion shining in Jasonâs eyes as Damian bared his soul to the person he owed still having one to. Jason swallowed, one side of his mouth ticking upwards into a genuine soft smile.
âYeah, well, you definitely kept me sane in there too, what with all the Lazarus bullshit. Ditto, or whatever.â He brushed off, snorting when Damian rolled his eyes at the emotional incompetence. âOi,â He laughed slightly. âShut up and drink your tea, foodâs ready in five.â
Damian allowed it, turning back to the window and raising his mug to his lips. âYes, ahki.â
discoholicmusic
origamiaround
kianamaiart
vaporwave
turnnoffyourmind
jacobvanloon
