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5x’s Someone Used the Mom-Arm on Damian, +1 time He Did

A bit screwy when it comes to following the canonical timeline but you know what? I do what I want!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Some angsty, mostly fluffy, just a bit of batfam fun starring my favorite baby bat! Might be a tad OOC but it’s my first go with all these lovelies and I haven’t gotten the hang of them yet. Give me tiiiiime.

(Really hecking long. Did not mean for it to be so long. I am so, so sorry.)

Jason worked alone. It wasn’t that he was broody and in denial like a certain someone - not mentioning names - he actually had a reason to work alone. He didn’t go on nightly patrols to keep up appearances. He didn’t drive around in a heated, leather interior, Jason mobile. He didn’t even have a butler who knew first aid.

Jason’s missions were dangerous, and often times traumatizing. You can imagine why he would be on edge when a freaking ten-year-old with an attitude showed up on the rooftop of one of his stakeouts.

“Absolutely not.” Jason hissed, grabbing Robin’s shoulder. Damian turned and raised an eyebrow at him. “Tt, please. You have no say in the matter.”

“Like hell I ‘have no say in the matter’. You’re going home right now or, so help me, I’m tying you to that A/C unit. Don’t you have homework? Or normal ten-year-old activities to attend to?”

“This mundane drug-cartel stakeout is an activity fitting for me, my age having nothing to do with my abilities.”

Honestly, would it kill the kid to use some contractions? His full-word responses were giving Jason the impression he was a robot and not his “baby brother”. Speaking of family...

“Where’s Batman? Isn’t he supposed to be looking after you?” Not me? Damian looked away, and it sort-of almost broke the shriveled remainder of Jason’s heart. So Bruce was still a moron. Good to know.

“Alright kid, stay close.” Jason tried not to notice the way Damian visibly brightened, and then did his best to by hyper-focused. He no longer was suspicious of Damian being a robot. He was just a kid.

Suddenly, there was movement. There was movement in the warehouse owned by a notoriously dangerous drug-cartel that wasn’t supposed to be making any moves for a few more weeks. Of course they had to move up their schedule. Of course Damian had to fight with Bruce tonight and warrant Jason’s pity. Of course Jason was an idiot, as Damian was already off like a shot.

Jason sprinted after him, using every curse he knew - he knew enough to keep rambling them until he was close enough to snatch Damian by the scruff of his neck.

Setting the fighting ball of fury back on the ground, Jason assessed the situation - Dick would be so proud. “Alright, we have to go check it out, but be quiet.” Damian geared up to rush off again before Jason even finished his sentence. Without thinking, Jason’s arm lashed out, it would’ve clothes-lined the kid if they weren’t so close together. As it was it caught Damian in the chest and he let out a whoosh of air, both arms wrapping around Jason’s. He looked up at him, almost-glaring.

“Quietly, and together.”

ii.

Dick did not like to admit it, but he’d never been the greatest driver. When he donned the cowl, worrying about learning to drive the batmobile hadn’t been his biggest concern. In fact, it wasn’t even on his list of concerns. It wasn’t even on his list of concerns for another time concerns.

“I’ll drive.” Damian, the adorable little gremlin announced as they put on their costumes. Dick looked up, looked at Alfred’s incredulous expression, and then back at Robin.

“Absolutely not.” It should’ve gone without saying that Damian was far too young to drive a car, not to mention the batmobile. It had missile launchers while most cars had seat warmers.

“I can drive.” Was this a serious argument? Damian was making his way to the vehicle and Dick worried that if he didn’t say something soon the little boy would just hop into the driver’s seat. “No. No! Damian, I will be driving.” Dick rushed to put on his other boot, stumbling to catch up.

Dick was wondering if maybe he should’ve let the kid drive. Damian could barely see over the steering wheel, but he’d probably be a better driver than Dick.

The batmobile unintentionally drifted another corner, nearly going up onto the sidewalk. A white van of gun-toting penguin goons got further away. Dick was white-knuckling the steering wheel, Damian was seething silently.

Dick could do this, he could.

Suddenly, the van lurched to a stop at the edge of the harbor. Dick had been too focused on keeping the car on the road, he hadn’t noticed the asphalt change to wood. He slammed on the brakes, car skidding on damp wood. Why was everything in Gotham always damp?

Dick’s arm shot out protectively, clamping across Damian’s chest. He knew he was wearing a seatbelt, but couldn’t help the need to make sure he was ok and not flying face-first through the wind screen.

When the car finally stopped, the brothers shared a look. Damian shoved Grayson’s arm off him with a glare.

“I think maybe I should drive.”

iii.

Cass looked up from her book only because the noise in the other room had reached a volume where it was impossible to focus on anything else. She didn’t bother hearing the words, just the voices. Ah, Tim had come home. And he was already fighting with everyone’s favorite gremlin, Damian.

Bruce wasn’t home yet, Alfred was as busy as always, and Duke was probably still at school. Wait, it was a Tuesday. Duke had tutoring today - he’d gotten involved in a mentorship program with younger kids at his school. The other boys would not stop teasing him about following in Bruce’s footsteps, or how they wouldn’t be surprised if he brought home his own Robin. Cass was proud of him.

That did not change that two of her other brothers were arguing at the top of their lungs and making it impossible for her to read, or reflect on her other family member’s achievements.

She got up and approached the living room without making a sound, stopping in the doorway. Damian and Tim were yelling, Tim’s arms were in the air, Damian’s cheeks were turning a frustrated shade of pink. She was about to say something diffusing when she saw it. She knew the signs well, was trained to watch out for them. Trained to do them herself.

Damian squared his posture, leaned on his dominant leg, and slid his left foot out no more than an inch. Tim was still in full swing. Cass shot forward faster than Damian could. She could not bear the thought of hurting her baby brother, but her arm shot out instinctively.

Damian, who had been in mid-lunge for Tim, was caught square in the diaphragm by Cass’s unmoving appendage. He let out an oomph and fell back onto the carpet. Tim started in surprise, taking in Cass’s sudden appearance.

“Wow, thanks Cass!” He said, but Cassandra had no use for words. She took in Tim’s casual body language and relieved expression. Then she looked at Damian. He was still on the floor, it had already been five seconds - his average stand-up time. His whole body was tense, controlled, not coiled. He was looking at the floor, his face was still red.

Oh. Oh no.

Cassandra’s stance fell and she crouched in front of Damian. He eyes were welling with tears. Maybe she should’ve listened to what Tim said in that argument.

Tim noticed Cass crouching, staring. “Uh, Cass...?” Too late, she’d already bundled the boy in her arms and stood. Tim took a step back, arms coming up to shield himself from the inevitable next move. He waited for Damian to attempt to break away from Cass, to lash out kicking and screaming, maybe even biting.

To everyone’s surprise - except Cass, she was never surprised - Damian curled into his sister’s shoulder. She nodded at Tim before moving to leave.

“No more fighting.”

iv.

Bruce was finally settling back into normal. Well, nothing in Gotham was normal, especially if you were secretly the most well-known vigilante in the city. But, normal to him.

He was no longer ‘dead’, Dick was no longer ‘dead’ and visitng Gotham regularly, Tim and Duke had settled in to living together with their littlest brother and, oh yeah, he’d gotten Damian back. After months of work and tireless efforts, he could finally hold his baby boy in his arms again. He could ruffle his hair in passing, compare school photos to his own as the boy got older, and bundle him up in a hug when he had nightmares of him being dead.

And Damian was here, with him. He wasn’t going to be another Jason, another loss of a beautiful soul. He was sitting right next to Bruce on the couch, pencil skittering across a page of his sketchbook.

Still, it hadn’t been long enough for Bruce’s fears to dissipate. In fact, he doubted they ever would. He would be over-protective of Damian for the rest of his life - even if the young man didn’t want it.

Breaking the silence, there was a bang at the window. Damian started before setting aside his sketchbook to go check what it was. It was probably Alfred - the cat. Still, images of horrible things went through Bruce’s mind.

Talia, there to steal Damian away permanently.

Assassins, back to finish the job.

Even just a robber taking advantage of a large house smelling like money, who had the element of surprise and a gun.

Bruce was up before his brain knew what his legs were doing. His arm lurched away from his body, stopping Damian in his tracks. The poor boy walked right into it, rubbing his ribcage with a puzzled expression.

“I’ll check.” Bruce offered as explanation for the offending appendage, leaving Damian by the couch and pulling back the curtain. Bruce finally let out the breath he was holding at the sight of the fluffy cat on the windowsill.

“Slow down, don’t rush into things!” Tim hissed, firing his grapple after Damian. He could see the yellow underside of Robin’s cape land on a building ahead of him.

Tim was more experienced at Gotham thugs, he didn’t blame Damian for not noticing it. Damian was young, and probably trying to prove something to Tim. He was obsessed with proving his worth. He didn’t take the time to smell the air.

The standard Gotham smog was thick with the smell of burning gasoline. There were promising tendrils of smoke from the building diagonal to Damian. The building he preparing to grapple too. Oh geez.

Tim ran, he was just fast enough to stick out an arm and block Damian from running forwards and leaping off the edge of the building.

Damian ran right into his arm. Tim had been expecting him to barrel through it for some reason, maybe because he was so good at fighting or had such bravado. Instead, he reacted the way all eleven-year-olds did. He was knocked back with a grunt, nearly falling over.

Tim blinked at the strange display of childish behavior as Damian stuck his arms out to regain his balance. He hadn’t even exerted any force on Tim’s arm. His glare after that display lacked any heat, and it was kind of adorable.

“Damian, pay attention.” Tim gestured at the on-fire building. Suddenly, there were sharp popping and cracking sounds from the smoky warehouse. Tim’s full attention was on it now, and he pulled up the specs of the address.

It was an old office building but had been abandoned after one of Joker’s attacks damaged the structural integrity. There were signs and bars on every doorway marking it for demolition. He looked over and saw Damian was already doing a read for heat signatures.

He was, for once, proud of his brother.

Then Tim noticed something on the specs. The building had an old built-in heating system, attached to a gas-powered generator on the third floor. Hoo boy, it was going to blow.

After a rather loud bang, Tim acted. For once he didn’t plan out every bad thing this next action could cause. He lunged, using the arm that had still been hanging in the air slightly in front of Damian to grab his little brother and pull him against his chest. He then ducked and pulled his cape around them. Before Damian could recover from the surprise, the building exploded.

Tim could feel debris bounce off him, though not much. Heat bit at his ankles. Nothing broke through his cape barrier. One hand braced on Damian’s head, he tucked the boy suffocatingly close. Damian didn’t move until the blast had dissipated.

When it had, Damian shoved hard on his brother’s chest and made a display of brushing himself off. Tim didn’t miss how Damian’s attention was actually on him, quickly assessing him for any injuries. He had none.

Tim was proud of his brother, for a second time.

+ (vi.)

Damian did not get along well with most of his siblings, so when the opportunity arose to spend time with one he had actually grown to respect, he took advantage of it. Alfred’s suggestion had made him excited in a way that Mother would’ve thought shameful. Damian did his best not to think that.

He was nearly bouncing in the backseat of the buick, looking out the window without actually seeing.

Duke and Damian did not get along when they first met. However, Duke made it clear he was not Robin, nor trying to replace Damian. He was useful in a unique way. He fit in at the manor. He respected Bruce, he even seemed to respect Damian.

Damian wasn’t so sure he was liked by Duke, but respect was enough. At least, it used to be.

If respect were enough, would he be listening to Alfred’s show tunes on his way to pick Duke up from school?

They pulled up to Gotham Academy to see Duke walking out, the bell having just gone. Damian nodded at Alfred’s timing. One of his favorite things about the man was how he always managed to have perfect timing.

Damian found himself getting out of the car, dangerously close to waving at Duke. Duke saw him and... was that a smile? Damian let out a breath of relief - he’d momentarily been afraid Duke would not be happy to see him.

When Duke reached him, they were interrupted by a group of teenage boys yelling at them. It took Damian a moment to realize they were yelling at him.

“Duke, I thought you had too much self-respect to get in a car with some spoiled little rich kid!” Yelled one. Rich? Yes. Spoiled? Well, only recently.

“The brat’s probably illiterate since he’s too much of a coward to go to school!” Damian knew several languages and was already 3 grades ahead. Couldn’t they think of any better insults?

“Little arabian bastard, did they actually do a DNA test on this one?” Ok, that one stung a bit. Damian was preparing to get back in the car and bristle, perhaps vent to Grayson later. He was not prepared for a low growl to come from Duke.

“How. Dare. You.” Thomas hissed. Damian turned back to look at him, he was positively seething, fists clenched at his sides.

“Come on Duke, why hang out with the petty little brat?”

Duke lurched forwards and Damian’s eyes widened in surprise. Was he actually preparing to defend him? Damian copied a move he’d learned from the rest of his family to diffuse a situation.

He stuck out his arm, though it only caught Duke in his middle, he looked down. Successfully diffused. Damian was impressed with the immediate effect.

“They are not worth it, Thomas.”

Duke nodded and followed Damian into the car. Then he grinned.

“Back there... you... did you just mom-arm me?”

“What-arm you?!”

Alfred restrained laughter the rest of the way home at Damian’s facial expression while Duke explained the reasoning and use behind the ‘mom-arm’.