The Honorary Family Cat
roughly 6.8k words
lee!jason, switch!damian, ler!bruce, ler!dick
damian wayne little brother baby of the family isms. mild hurt comfort, I think I sort of lost the plot at some point but I’ve been working on this for so long and really just wanted it done. ૮꒰っ˕‹̥̥̥ ꒱ა
it’s mostly just mindless fluff and more of my headcanons put to words hbshs this was also not spellchecked very well if at all so um. HNG
I hope you enjoy it. <:)
“Find a place to sit.” Damian stepped back from his place practically riding Jason’s heels. It is the only thing that keeps an older man such as yourself moving at an acceptable pace, Todd.
The kitchen, 20 minutes earlier.
“What could you have possibly done to make Grayson scream like that.”
He was just laughing, but it was also Dick, so sure. Screaming.
“I bumped my head twice in a row, and he laughs at stupid shit, tasteless slapstick.”
“No I dohohon’t! That’s Tim!”
“Two things can be true at once. Todd, you are bleeding.”
“Come with me.”
“…”
Dick’s sudden silence. Oh, that was satisfying.
“Jay, I—“
“No, no. It’s okay, you’re a terrible person, we all understand.”
“Jason!”
“We’re delighted to finally have you. Everyone’s been waiting for a long time, actually. You had a good run, Dickie.”
If it was up to Jason, Dick would never be able to escape this. And as of right now, it did seem like it was up to him. He was the one with the tarnished ego and fucked up head.
The medbay, present.
“Sir, yes sir.” Jason mumbled, seating himself on a cot.
“I am going to try and clean this up so that I know what I am looking at. If it hurts, say something.” Damian was going through the motions. But Jason had no idea where all of this was coming from.
“So… are you just a doctor now? Did Alfie finally come to terms with the fact that he’s sick of our shit and retired?”
“He is teaching me first aid. It… is the least that I can do.” Jason didn’t realize he’d been staring until Damian snapped at him.
“A bat is going to crawl down your throat and make a nest if you keep gaping like a moron. I cannot tend to a wound on the back of your head with you facing me. Turn.”
Jason had to hand it to him, he was growing to be damn scary in his teenage years. Bruce? Jason could deal with. But Talia? She was a whole other story, and Damian had her eyes.
Damian’s remarkable personal growth wasn’t lost on him either. It all just hit him one day. He would tease, and Damian wouldn’t immediately go to draw his katana. Maybe they’d picked on him a little too much back then, but he was a cute kid, and it was funny watching him constantly agonize over proving to them that he was anything but. He was very grown up.
He could act as grown up as he damn well pleased, but he would always be their youngest. Jason knew he and Dick used to never leave Tim alone. They had their fun, and in return, they all had a couple serious attempts made on their lives. No harm, no foul.
There was a quiet sense of maturity about Damian that he never had before. It became especially clear a little over a year ago when Bruce enrolled him in public high school. Jason could be wrong, Damian would definitely tell him he was, but he thought it was one of the better parenting decisions Bruce had made in quite some time. Did Damian need to go to high school to get book smart? No, absolutely not. But shit, if it didn’t set him straight.
He was quieter, less abrasive. Civilians weren’t as afraid of him. He knew how to behave around young children. And apparently he was learning first aid of all things. Jason would be lying if he said he wasn’t extremely proud of his little brother. His baby brother, by casual definition, he guessed. But that felt too cheesy—
“As I suspected, there is nothing to worry about. Wounds on the head bleed profusely. That’s all this is.”
Jason went to stand up.
“You have the survival instincts of a neanderthal. Sit.”
Well then. Jason sat his ass right back down. Damian made quick work of the small puncture in his head, the one he couldn’t even see.
“You’re a real drill sergeant, Dami.” He mused, unsure of whether or not Damian would hear him. If he did, there was also a good chance that he would simply be ignored.
“Tt. Do not kid yourself. You look like Alfred The Cat when I scratch behind his ears, Todd.”
Jason’s head snapped back. What the hell was that supposed to mean?? Damian’s fingers pressed against his temples.
“For Rao’s sake, turn around!” The force with which Jason was swung back into place was almost dizzying.
Jason scoffed. “You can’t just say something like that and expect me not to demand an answer.”
“My hands are in your hair because of the nature of your injury. People seem to like it when you touch their hair. It is unlike you to be tactile in that way. That is all I was implying.” That explanation was too literal for the very obviously playful remark. Jason couldn’t tell if this was Damian just being difficult, as per usual, or if he was playing damage control.
“I am finished. Don’t… do not leave yet. I have been meaning to speak with you.”
“Can I turn around now?”
“Yes, wiseass. You may turn around.” Jason bit back a chuckle.
“So? What is it?” Jason’s jokingly dickish hackles began to fall when he got a good look at Damian. He was nervous. He kept fidgeting, picking at the sleeves of his jacket. This jacket, he wore it all the time now. It was like some sort of safety blanket. If not for Alfred’s various domestic skills, ergo removing stains, sewing, and mending, it would have been wrecked by now.
When Damian wasn’t picking, he was wiping down his sweaty palms on whatever he could get his hands on nearby that would still appear subtle. His face was hot, not in the good, “just a little shy,” way. He did not look well.
“Damian, what?” Jason carefully pressed, guiding him to sit down.
“I have been observing you. And I think that we are the same. Everyone… engages each other physically in some way. Outside of training. Everyone but us.”
“We do not touch. I will not claim that I know all of your reasons. It is… personal. But I have no one else to address this with. Cain was an assassin, but she… her and I, we are not the same. She regretted what she did before the victim’s body could so much as go cold.”
“I was remorseless until father taught me that I had to be. Do… do you feel it too? Nothing can take back what you have done. You are a dangerous, cruel individual. Even if you are not, what could you have possibly done to have earned being taken into someone’s arms? After everything?”
It wasn’t often that someone said something that left Jason at a loss for words. Of course he felt it. What kind of question was that? He wouldn’t wish it on anyone. It felt so wrong. His kid brother? Damian? He didn’t think Damian cared. A cynical part of him thought that he was blindly doing whatever he thought would make Bruce most happy.
But Jason was wrong. Just like him, Damian’s past actions followed him to the present and tainted his view of his future. Just like his big brother, just like his father, Damian punished himself every single day.
“I… know what you mean.” Outstanding. They should just give Jason his Nobel peace prize already.
“It feels like everyone is just standing around and waiting for you to start hurting people again.”
“I keep bumping my head on shit because I came back to Gotham tripled in size. My center of balance is totally out of wack, I never got used to it, I feel like a total dumbass. And it feels like a waste to not fight. There’s literally no other reason for anyone to ever need to be this goddamn BIG.”
Jason cleared his throat. “Long story short, yeah, I dunno… I guess I get it, I’m scary. Even if they aren’t scared of me, I’m scared of myself. I think they should be scared of me.”
“I find it difficult to believe that your current build was a sabotage that could be directly correlated to the Lazarus Pit, but I will forward your grievances to the shadows.”
Jason huffed. “Oh, you got jokes, kid?”
Damian tutted.
“Todd, I have a proposal for you.”
The Fashion District, one week later.
It really was a week ago now, wasn’t it? A week, and neither of them have been able to hold true to the parameters of Damian’s “proposal.”
He suggested that, since he and Jason already are outliers in the family when it comes to being all touchy feely, they should ally themselves, and begin a desensitization process. Damian obviously wasn’t that upfront, Jason had to fill in a lot of blanks where the kid was too prideful or, quite the opposite, embarrassed to say what he meant.
There had been a lot of lingering, awkward stares. Jason didn’t know how Damian felt. He didn’t know if he was having second thoughts or what. He doubted that Damian cared about sparing his feelings, if he wanted out, he would have said so already. But, alas, he’d said nothing, and teenagers are extraordinarily stupid, even if you were one of a kind like Damian was. Get well soon, baby bat.
Today was different, to some extent. It was one of those days where the Wayne Family went out and pretended to be normal during the day rather than the Bat Family going out and striking fear into the hearts of anyone who so much as loitered at night.
They’d gone to the Fashion District. There were a few places where everyone would be in agreement about eating there, the Gotham Art and History Center, and boutiques. A lot of boutiques. They could window shop (point things out and make fun of each other for how ridiculous someone would hypothetically look in the overpriced garment).
He and Damian were dragging behind. Damian kept asking to pet people’s dogs, and sticking with him gave Jason an excuse to get away from the noise.
“You have over two hundred fifty pounds of dog at home. Let’s go.” Damian’s safety jacket was very convenient because it meant Jason always had a sturdy chunk of fabric to scruff the kid by. Damian huffed and tore away once steady on his feet, but didn’t fuss otherwise.
They continued walking, remaining a few paces behind. Damian kept brushing his hand. Thinking it was an accident, Jason would time the swinging of his arms to avoid any further awkwardness. It continued happening, and he was having to come up with some pretty creative reasons to explain away it somehow not being intentional on Damian’s part.
“Is there any particular reason you keep fondling my hand?”
Damian did not look the slightest bit amused. That sucked, Jason thought he was hilarious.
“It is not… fondling.”
“Still doesn’t answer my question.” Jason was sure that Damian just broke his personal, “amount of times fumbled before a sentence,” record.
“I just— I am trying to hold your hand, okay?? If you are forfeiting our agreement, you should have already spoken with me!” Damian expected Jason to duck out. Just like Jason had been expecting him to. It was a good thing it was Dick and Damian Dynamic Duo, not Jason and Damian. They would have crashed and burned in a partnership. And it wasn’t very catchy with their names.
Jason got a much harsher pang in his chest than he was used to when he got a better look at Damian’s expression. He was frustrated, but more than anything, he looked vulnerable, humiliated.
“I wasn’t going to duck out if you weren’t. I’m not afraid to hold your hand. That’s… that’s some pussy shit, so you shouldn’t be afraid either.”
“Okay, well… try to keep up with me, or I’ll have to start dragging you by the hair instead.”
Jason grinned. There was the Damian they all know and love.
* * *
Dick had seen and interpreted the look Jason gave him when they were going to leave Damian home alone. He didn’t like it, he didn’t think they should. It wasn’t like they were purposefully leaving him out. He, Bruce, and Jason had to go undercover. Damian wouldn’t have cared. Nudity didn’t bother him, after more than a decade of combat training and now his interest in medicine, a body was just a body. Regardless, they didn’t feel the most comfortable taking the baby of the family to the Iceberg Lounge, at a time when they knew it would be full of working girls and adult dancers.
So, Damian had to stay home. Tim was working late, Cass was at the Clocktower with Babs. Damian wasn’t entirely alone, Alfred was almost always home, but he might as well have been with the amount of time he spent all by himself in that sprawling, dark home with only the butler and family pets for company.
Dick thought that was one of Bruce’s biggest regrets with Damian, just how alone he felt. It killed him because Damian wouldn’t complain, he wouldn’t ask for Bruce’s time. He didn’t resent him for it, at least not in a way that showed very often. It was one of the very few things he went on to internalize after being hurt. He idolized Bruce, they all used to, some maybe still do. He could only believe that it reflected on himself.
Nobody questioned Dick when he went home early. He didn’t know what Jason was so worried about, if something was bothering Damian, Dick thought that he would have already realized. Maybe he just needed a friend, he already knew it wouldn’t be the first time.
It wasn’t difficult to catch a taxi at this hour. He was dropped off at what would be a roughly fifteen minute walk to the manor. He didn’t trip the manor's security systems when he crawled into the yard. He was Dick Grayson. The sunroom had, foolishly, been left unlocked. He let himself in and knocked on the remaining glass door between himself and the den. Could be a nice surprise.
Damian perked up and spotted him, but didn’t move to let him in. He awkwardly glanced down. Ah. Cat on the lap. Coming up behind his Robin, lo and behold, cat on the lap. Dick smiled. Alfred was all limbs, rolled onto his back, all blissed out-like. He was purring real loud. Damian was the only one who Alfred let rub his belly.
Damian turned off the television, he’d been watching whatever random films were playing on the late night movie station. He stared.
“Gosh, don’t get too excited to see me.” Dick teased, setting his hands on Damian’s shoulders and offering a tentative massage. He was surprised when Damian allowed it, he got very jittery about his back. You never got to walk behind him, you had to be in front or to his side.
“You never let me do this. You sore?”
Damian shrugged. Dick gave the back of his head a funny look. He would hop over the sofa to sit, expel some energy, but he didn’t want to scare Alfred away with the impact. He dragged his feet making his way around the perimeter to sit like a normal person.
He eyed Damian.
“What?”
“Something’s bothering you.” If Dick only asked, Damian would never tell him the truth. This was a shot in the dark, but at least he had a chance.
Damian tensed in a way that told him he was right, his cat stroking hand slowed for a moment. Alfred’s eyes opened for a moment to look up at his obvious favorite.
“I… am having a difficult week.” Damian stated, resuming his belly rubbing to keep the feline happy. He was rewarded with a delighted little “mrr,” noise, and a biiiggg stretch.
“You don’t sound like you wanna talk about it.” Dick gave a small smile.
“I don’t.” Damian confirmed.
He let the dust settle for a minute or two, but was going to keep bugging their little prince. He really did seem lonely.
“He’s so cute…” Dick nodded to Alfred. Talking about the cat was usually a pretty solid bet when it came to Damian.
Damian nodded.
“I can’t tell if he likes me or not, he only ever cuddles up to you, B, and Timmy.”
“You are loud. Cats don’t like loud.”
Dick’s expression shifted to something challenging. Taking a breath in to defend himself, he did find that his immediate instinct was to playfully raise his voice. He momentarily tensed, but thought he may have seen Damian smile.
“You’re loud too sometimes… when we make you mad.” Dick mumbled.
Damian sat tall, prim. “I am not American. My baseline starts at a significantly lower volume.”
“Oh, don’t you start that with me!”
Alfred mewed, leapt from Damian’s lap, and scurried down the hall. Dick stared miserably.
“I’m… more of a dog person anyway.” He leaned back with crossed arms.
“Tt. Evidently.”
Dick leered at his brother. Little shit didn’t get to smirk at him like that, who did he think he was?
“Jerk.” Dick prodded around Damian’s torso with two fingers, hoping against hope. He groaned and tossed himself back against the sofa when Damian only twitched, and wrangled his hands away with ease.
“You’re really gonna make me pull out all the stops?” He threatened.
There was an encouraging err of caution to Damian that hadn’t been there before.
“Tt… You have none, Grayson.” He had to be bluffing.
“Sure I do! I have dirt on everyone.”
Damian gave him a weird look.
“I would argue that there are a plethora of significantly dirtier secrets that you could uncover other than whether or not I am still ticklish.”
“And you already know that I am not…” He didn’t trip over that word, the one that raised the hair on the necks of their other siblings. So, Damian was tough, but Dick was annoying. He was incredibly annoying.
Dick hummed. “It’s a real pity. You used to be, it was the sweetest thing.”
“I was a child.”
“You sure were.”
There was a moment of silence and Damian staring at him awkwardly.
“…Right.” He went to stand. Dick yanked him back by the arm.
“Please, please, no need to be coy.” He sounded so much like one of Bruce’s pompous business partners.
“Don’t you wanna hangout with me?” He added helpfully.
Damian might have meant to speak, but the words got lost in a hissing sound when Dick tossed him onto his front across the sofa.
“Sheesh. Mee-ow.” He made a hissing noise of his own, giggling when Damian’s ears changed color. He loomed overhead, but refrained from holding Damian down, not just yet. It didn’t matter how old he got, these sorts of things needed to begin on his terms because it wasn’t looking like he would ever be able to fully grasp how the family goofed off with each other.
They were far from normal, but they weren’t the League of Assassins either. It wasn’t all work and no play. Damian just couldn’t wrap his head around it, but he’d indulge you if you got lucky.
“I’m about to blow your mind, watch this.” Dick’s whisper was obnoxious. That was more normal for him than whispering for its intended purpose: speaking softly.
He had a theory, and a knack for harassing the people he loves. One obscure little spot, he just knew in his brotherly heart, and from watching Damian closely for what was probably way too long. It wasn’t his fault that getting this grumpy kid to laugh was an entire mission just on its own.
Dick skittered his fingers near where Damian’s ribs met his back, a little to the right and up, and there it was.
He winced, hard. His shoulders attempted to curl in at either side. It was strange because if you actually went for his armpits, Damian didn’t laugh, but apparently the suggestion of it on his back was what did him in. He pawed desperately at the cushions as he tried to push himself up, but every time his stomach lurched as he held back laughter, he’d fall.
Dick skittered his fingers up Damian’s spine, relishing in the prominent shiver it earned him, “Is your mind totally blown?” He beamed. Damian let out a strangled screech and threw back an elbow that his brother dodged.
“Aww…” He collapsed down against Damian, laughing at the loud puffing noise the boy couldn’t hide.
“Am I squishing you?” Dick asked stupidly after a moment of quiet.
“Yes.” Damian seethed. Resting his chin on his shoulder, Dick saw a twitch in Damian’s lips.
“Mm. Bummer.” He hummed. Damian groaned. When Dick blew on his ear, it was only to bug him. It shouldn’t have surprised him when Damian yipped and jolted in place. By now, Dick knew all of those little ways in which he took after Bruce, and why else would Batman’s cowl be so full coverage if not to protect his ticklish ears?
That just may have been the stupidest thought he’d ever thunked.
“I do not understand why you’re so… clingy.” Damian muttered. He was losing the energy to maintain his temper, and hoped that Dick would let that slide. He wouldn’t.
“You’re my Robin, and you aren’t fully grown yet. I’ve gotta, like… sit on you to keep you warm.”
“Tt… If that is not the most ridiculous thing I have ever had the displeasure of hearing—“
“Think fast, baby bat.” The raspberry Dick blew against his neck was cut shorter than what was typical of him. Up until this point, he was too hesitant to try it with Damian at all.
His little brother cried out in laughter, writhing frantically. For someone who didn’t appear to be very ticklish, he may have reacted more strongly than Tim or Jason would, and that was saying something.
“What the hell was that!” Damian was hard at work trying to force his voice into the cadence of a snarl. He spoke in a disgruntled whine.
“A raspberry? I do it to the others all the time, you know?” Dick nestled back in. He would be snuggling this prickly little brat while he had him prisoner.
“I don’t recall.” Damian muttered. Dick stared for a moment. He really meant that.
“At a certain point, it becomes background noise… all the yelling and laughter.”
Something twinged in Dick again. From the beginning, he pushed Damian out of his comfort zone. But never too far. He thought that was the way Damian wanted it, and he didn’t have a timeline for when all of his touchy-feely proclivities would become okay.
“Are you feeling a little left out?” Dick may have not fully thought that one through. Damian didn’t respond with genuine frustration, he got all puffy and pouty. He never stopped resembling a little kitten to Dick, the way he’d hiss, try to make himself seem bigger, and bristle.
“Your stupid games don’t matter to me.” You could almost believe it.
“You mean it?”
“I’ve grown tolerant of you doing what satiates you. Within reason.” Damian grumbled.
“So is that a no?”
“We’re kind of going in circles here, huh?” Dick smiled innocently.
Damian didn’t answer.
“Fine, then. I hope you know that you’ve created a monster, Dami.”
He whined out another peal of laughter and dug his fingers into the couch cushions when Dick blew a longer lasting raspberry against his neck.
He knew he had to say it. He didn’t really want to, but he had to. “A… a tickle mons—“
“If you dare to finish that sentence, I will sever your vocal chords while you sleep.” He stopped laughing real quick. From the first floor, you could often hear the sound of their motorbikes when they pulled back into the cave. Bruce and Jason were home.
Dick was promptly shoved off as Damian sat up with ease. “Father is home. Stop embarrassing me.” He never lost his dry tone of voice.
“When did you get so strong?” Dick continued to fawn over him anyway.
“Goodnight, Richard.”
Dick bit his lip and grinned. He knew he was pushing it by this point. Just one more thing.
“No way, you gotta say, ‘I love you’ first!” He rebuked. Damian peered over his shoulder at the secret bookshelf down the hall, just another front door for the Batfamily, then turned to look back at Dick with tired eyes.
Needless to say, when Bruce and Jason reached the first floor, he gave them a show.
* * *
“B, that’s disgusting.”
Bruce continued stirring his coffee. Black with one packet of artificial sweetener.
“Don’t ignore me!” Dick kicked at his shin.
“I once saw you eat your cereal with vanilla coffee creamer. I thought that was pretty disgusting, but I never said anything to you about it.” Bruce murmured. Dick could interpret his mumbling almost as well as Alfred.
“Well… yeah, you’re our dad, you have to be nice to us.”
“It’s hilarious how being called ‘dad,’ still makes you all shy after all these years.” He gave a sly nudge.
Bruce noncommittally hummed along with Dick’s banter, nursing his disgusting coffee.
“Stop walking away when I’m talking to you!” He grabbed onto the back of Bruce’s shirt to keep up.
“I’m still listening, Dick.” Partially. His attention was divided between his eldest, and the other three boys. Jason, Tim, and Damian had huddled up together on the couch with the morning paper. They were tag teaming a game of sudoku.
Dick followed his gaze and huffed, settling into comfortable silence with a closed mouth smile.
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Tim gestured furiously at the paper.
“Your face doesn’t make any sense.” Jason snarked.
“Your mom didn’t think so…” The retort was entirely absent minded as he continued to examine the puzzle.
“She’s dead.” Jason and Damian spoke in unison. They loved an opportunity to antagonize Tim.
“…Ah. Whoops.”
He took the pen from the coffee table, ripped the paper away from Jason, and began to solve the puzzle by himself. Jason turned to Damian in helpless exasperation.
“He’s so bitchy in the mornings…”
“Tt. You would have never figured it out anyway.”
“Who’s side are you on!” He snapped and they began to wrestle.
“The winning side, always.” The cherubic smile on Damian’s face was simultaneously grating. Jason quickly found leverage in their wrestling and squished Damian’s cheeks between his large hand. That was probably just about Dick’s favorite thing in the world, so he hurried forward with a cackle to peer over the back of the sofa.
Damian’s growling and snarling was growing louder. Bruce was inching closer, ready to break it up, when Jason yelled and tumbled off to the side. Damian exhaled sharply through his nose and dusted himself off, Jason was staring up at him from his awkward pile on the carpet, startled.
Tim glanced up.
“Uh… what happened?” He looked like he knew. Nobody answered, Jason and Damian were engaged in a tense standoff, Bruce was waiting for something to go wrong. Dick was doing the same thing for very different reasons.
The middle child coughed and slunk off down the hallway, it was too early for this. Bruce couldn’t agree more.
When Jason let a fraction of his guard down and stood, Damian pounced. Bruce liked to imagine that his pupils dilated and his shoulders shimmied eagerly before he did so.
He was latched onto his brother’s back like the scarab clung to its host. Jason squirmed, but for whatever reason, he was especially susceptible to these kinds of attacks. Cass liked to jump on him all the time just to be affectionate, Tim usually followed up the moment he finally managed to shake her off to aggravate Jason further.
It could have been his bulk, maybe he was afraid of hurting his smaller siblings. This happened so often because they knew he could support their weight, Jason’s resolve also could have just been wavering.
“G… Get OFF—! gHK— no, no, nohoho!” He stumbled around the den, led by his back arching every which way. You would think Jason had something in his shirt, it was cartoonish.
Bruce let a small smile grace his features. He glanced at Dick, knowing that he had to be overjoyed by this display. It was unlike Damian to tickle, and while it wasn’t exactly unlike Jason to put up with it, Bruce would expect him to be a bit more hesitant or shy because of how standoffish the both of them were.
“You get ‘im, baby bat!” Dick crowed, pumping his fist.
Jason had already been laughing because he was nervous, but when Damian’s hands snuck under his jacket, he folded in half instantaneously with a high pitched, goofy sort of giggle. Dick knelt down nearby, spectating like a sports announcer. The other two’s game had moved to the floor now, Damian clung on tight, big spoon style. Not that he even began to measure up to Jason in size.
When Alfred rounded the corner, Jason slammed a hand against the ground. It was hard to tell if he thought he could reach the butler, or just wanted to grab his attention. Alfred folded his hands in front of him and glanced down.
“In high spirits this morning, I see.”
Jason’s breathless babbling was incoherent to everyone but Alfred. He hummed.
“You don’t think it’s a good thing he’s willing to play with you like this, Master Jason? Is it not indicative of closeness and trust?”
“Torture?” Alfred’s tone was almost playful.
Bruce took in his son’s embarrassed, albeit tolerant and joyful expression. Tragically, he knew what “tortured,” looked like on a person’s face. He wouldn’t call this torture.
“You gotta get ‘im right in the heart!” Dick jabbed around his own ribs and chest, eventually collapsing like he’d been fatally wounded. He popped right back up.
“Like that.” He said with a smile.
“Fucker!” Jason spat, moving to sit himself up. His arms wobbled and fell out from underneath him when Damian wiggled one set of fingers into his ribs, the rest of the fight left his body when the younger’s other hand joined the equation. He assumed one of the many variations of his usual defensive position; one arm wrapped protectively around Jason’s torso, the other tangled in his hair to hide his face and muffle his laughter.
He’d already seen it on Jason, but turning to the baby of their family, there was a ghost of a smile on his face. He was having fun, they both were, and it made Bruce’s throat momentarily swell with emotion.
A familiar high pitched squeal pierced the den.
“That means he’s done, it’s like when the oven beeps.” Dick started to scoot closer, pointing a finger at Jason.
“Or the sound an explosive makes before it detonates.” Bruce didn’t think either of them even saw her pass, but Cass came through at some point and provided her own commentary. Damian released his grip once he heard his sister, lifting his head curiously.
“Literally why??” Jason was already getting all flustered, tugging his jacket against himself tightly in case anyone else got any funny ideas.
Damian crossed his arms, only looking a little proud of himself. “Our bet.”
Jason threw his head back and groaned, but that didn’t clarify anything for anyone else in the room.
“Your bet?”
Damian suddenly looked hesitant. He cautiously glanced over his shoulder. He’d stopped putting so much effort into styling his hair, especially if he was at home. It fell into his eyes in a way that was so quintessentially teenager. Bruce tilted his head. He didn’t doubt there were some things Damian would rather talk with one of his siblings about rather than his father, that was normal. He didn’t press, averting his gaze.
That didn’t mean he missed how Damian deflated in relief.
“I am almost amused. A weakness like this is a bit… frivolous for a crimelord, no?”
“Well… I’m not a crimelord anymore.” Jason sat himself up, roughly adjusting his jacket in the way that always made the collar effortlessly pop.
Damian snickered. “Semantics.”
“I’ll give you something to laugh about you little shit. You’re gonna wanna start sleeping with one eye open, because I swear I—“
“You already make me laugh. I’m not ticklish, Todd.” His “Oh, how quaint,” voice was making a guest appearance.
“What the fuck do you mean you’re not ticklish! You’re younger than me!”
Dick grinned. He knew better by now, but Jason didn’t. He didn’t pay as close attention, he didn’t try to tickle anyone very often at all, even if he always swore he’d have his revenge.
“I said the same thing. It’s awful, isn’t it?” He sighed, loosely throwing his arms over Jason’s shoulders and resting his head where he found space.
Damian sat tall.
“It’s… whatever. It’s stupid. He just caught me off guard.”
Dick hummed a little too sympathetically. Jason shoved him away with and left in a huff, probably to go find Alfred and try to convince him into facilitating his decompression baking.
The phone was ringing, Bruce could tell it was coming from his study. He set a hand on Damian’s head as he passed. “What have I said about lying, Dami?”
He didn’t expect Damian to react so strongly to his teasing. He whipped his head around, already a deep shade of red. Bruce grinned and ruffled his hair up before pushing his head back down. It was going to be hard to go back to being all business after all of that.
* * *
The Batfamily was in agreement that Damian had been feeling down for some time now. Bruce could have told you the main reason why before it even began to make itself known, but he’d been trying to be a bit more respectful of his loved ones’ privacy. This flaw had been pointed out to him enough by now to resign to the fact that maybe the bad did outweigh good.
He would like to say that he did well with subtlety. He was a detective, he was Batman, he kept life threatening secrets.
But when it came down to it, subtlety was something else. When Bruce offered to spend the day with Damian, just the two of them, just because it was a nice thing to do, he was met with skepticism that his son didn’t even bother to hide.
Ow, but fine. Fair enough.
That trust and closeness had to be earned. He didn’t like to think about how absent he’d been, but it was the truth, and the only way to remedy that was presence. He knew how much he cared, he loved Damian to death. Damian must not have. That wasn’t going to work.
“You had to lead a team recently.”
Damian grunted, continuing to scratch away at his sketch pad. He wasn’t super big on movies, TV shows, games, none of it. The ones he did like he always said that Bruce was, “too old to understand.” It had been hard to figure out what exactly they could do together that was entirely separate from their work, a spar wasn’t going to cut it.
Bruce ended up sitting with Damian in his bedroom, as still as he could so that he could create a live portrait.
“And… if I’m not mistaken, you had to work with Superboy on that mission, correct?”
Damian went still. Bruce knew that this would bother him, and he knew what the second generation Justice League would be getting up to before the kids did. So, he’d decided in advance that this conversation was going to be an option. He didn’t know what Damian would think.
It was obvious he grieved. He missed Jonathan, they were close. But with the gap in maturity that caused their falling out to begin with, he didn’t think that being friends again was an option. Superboy was just the one that got away.
When Damian hesitantly nodded, it felt vulnerable.
“Are… you okay?” Bruce followed up, voice hushed.
“It is out of my control.” That didn’t seem like it was everything he had to say.
“I wasn’t alone before because I could still spend time with him when you and the others were always busy…”
“That isn’t the case anymore. I… realize I am not the easiest person to be around, but—“ Coming from Damian, that was exceptionally honest. It felt brave. It wasn’t going to fly either way.
“None of us make it easy, oftentimes that isn’t what loving someone is. Even if that were a problem, it wouldn’t change what I’m about to ask you. Do you need people around more often? Do you need us?”
Damian shrugged.
“It’s okay if you do. It’s more than okay, just say the word.”
He was staring at his lap.
“Yes…”
Bruce gave a small smile and nodded. “We’ll be here.”
“You’ve been reaching out more recently. I’m proud of you. I think Jason has been enjoying your time together, he gets lonely too.”
“You weren’t supposed to know about that.” Damian grumbled.
“I’m your dad. I know everything.”
Someone who didn’t know Damian like he did may think that he wasn’t saying all that he should, but Damian didn’t want an apology or some kind of self pitying declaration, he wanted honest time.
Whether or not the bats had it, they would make time. As much as he needed.
* * *
Bruce was peering over his boy’s shoulder. Damian drew him maybe ten years younger. He’d take it.
“That’s amazing, I don’t know how you do it.”
He squirmed under the praise. “I just do.”
Briefly running his fingertips up the back of Damian’s neck to tangle in his hair, he shivered. He shot Bruce a dirty look. The Batman undeniably looked ridiculous trying to play dumb, but did so anyway.
Damian kept staring him down.
“Yes?” Bruce prompted, amused.
He huffed something to himself in Arabic, rolling his shoulders and sitting up straighter. Bruce raised an eyebrow.
“Yes?” Damian sassed.
“Get over here already.” Crowding Damian into the corner of the window alcove where he’d been sitting, he sporadically fluttered his fingers around to anywhere he could reach, whether he expected it to be ticklish or not.
For whatever reason, where Damian would normally bask in his alleged lack of sensitivity and the devastation it brought to his older siblings, he tittered and sunk down against the wall.
“It’s just like I told you, I’m magic. I can do anything.” One hand found the small of Damian’s back while the other explored the front of his torso aimlessly.
His son’s breathy giggle was, of course, still the slightest bit condescending. “This is a sickening waste of such a gift.”
“Is it?” Bruce squished up Damian’s face in his hand in a similar manner to Jason the other day, he handled the boy more gently. His next words spoke for themselves, “such a pretty smile.”
As pretty as it was, he could feel Damian overheating under his fingertips. With a last affectionate tickle under his chin, Bruce released him.
“I’m going to desecrate your portrait…” As much as that didn’t feel like a threat right now in all of Damian’s uncharacteristic smiley-ness, Bruce didn’t doubt he would. He hesitated before snagging the sketch pad. He knew it was private, but Damian was still in a playful enough mood to go along with him.
“Absolutely not.” He held the drawing up high. Instead of bouncing around beneath him and getting all grabby like most of his children would, Damian immediately deferred to actual combat strategies.
“I’m not fighting you right now.” Setting his portrait down onto the bed behind him with reverence, he swept Damian up in his arms instead, pressing a flurry of kisses to his cheek.
“…You disgust me.” Bruce chose to be merciful and not comment on how he was all but melting. They both knew how Damian really felt. He dangled there as Bruce idly swayed them from side to side, resting his chin on Damian’s head.
“I love you, Dami.” He crooned, staring down expectantly. The honorary family cat shifted in his arms.
“Mmphff…”
Bruce spoke fluent Robin in a variety of dialects by this point in his life. That was close enough.