Chapter 1: Story + ART
Summary:
This chapter has the story in full, plus the art I did !
Notes:
Thank you all for all the support on this fic truly it means the world to me ! So I decided to make some art for this book. I hope you all enjoy the art as well ! For ease of reading I left the og fic as a separate chapter meanwhile on this chapter you have the full story plus the art !
Here's the link to my cara in case the art doesn't show on ao3 at any point in time !
https://cara.app/shyolet/portfolio/pushing-it-down-and-prayingI'm currently working to also get this printed as a physical book so please stay tuned here on ao3 or my instagram or my etsy for updates on that if interested !
I also do have another story in the works rn I just have to finish cleaning it up which is taking longer then Id like cuz inktober is keeping me busy lol
Thank you so much for reading !! Hope you enjoy it !
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Damian was raised to value efficiency.
The League of Assassins has no place for slackers, the mission at hand comes first. Come what may, the mission is always the top priority. It must always be worked towards. No matter the circumstance, no matter the cost.
This mindset is the reason Damian pays no mind to the unpleasant heat that clings to him as he concentrates on his current assignment, a sheet of math problems given to him by his teacher. He pays no mind to the uneasy churn of his stomach, as the acid inside makes its presence known.
Damian was raised an Al Ghul. He was raised to be the heir to all his grandfather and mother had worked for. So he was raised to value not only efficiency, but to behave in a manner that is fitting of his name, to act becoming.
A lesson he does not take for granted now he also carries the weight of his fathers name and the legacy of Robin.
So while Damein cannot find any value to the questions and words, printed across the page before him. Not because he is also ignoring the way the words jumble and blur together, but because despite his best efforts he cannot find any reason for him to be in this classroom. There are far more important matters he could be assisting with, more important tasks to focus on.
After all, the mission comes first.
As long as his father sees value in Damian being here, he shall be here. He has also long since learned ignoring orders never ends well, one of many mistakes he has no desire to repeat. So he shall complete this task as he does all tasks - with the efficiency and grace befitting an al Ghul in honor of the name of Wayne.
He pays no mind to anything, locking all his focus in on answering the questions across the pages on his desk with a flick of his pen, masking the wobbliness of his lines caused by the shake in his hand. With an extra pass to darken them, making them more bold. A stark contrast when compared to the thin crisp cursive script his mother had taught him. He pays that failing no mind as he focuses further, the most important thing his mother has ever taught him echoes though his mind.
Confidence is key, a most powerful tool when accomplishing so many important things. Leave no room for others to question you, his mother would say. Questions lead to wasted breath and words are worthless in the face of action. So Damian didn't dare think to question the slight chill in his spine, the heaviness of his breath over the past few days, and his patience was rewarded this morning. With a thermometer confirming his increase of temperature now sitting at 102.1.
Not that it's relevant, Damian isn't like the weak-willed sheep he sits among as he rechecks his work. He would rather die than cast any shame, before displaying any flaws. The mission is far too important for that, so Damian didn't even blink at the device confirming his weakness,
Just grabs a tylenol from the stash he keeps in his bathroom. As he carries on to breakfast. To complete the tasks at hand, as planned the night before.
Ignoring the temptation to return to his room, to curl back up in his bed. Ignoring the desire to flinch as the smell of the lovely breakfast Alfred prepared this morning does nothing but add to his nausea. He ignores the increased pounding of his head made worse by the blaring of music coming from the speakers as his siblings dropped him off this morning.
It's all child's play, really. An easy task especially when compared to other feats he's learned to accomplish under his grandfather's guiding hands.
He's learned many things from his grandfather and mother. Strived to take each lesson to heart, making sure to remember them well. “Confidence is key” still serves to be the most useful lesson he's learned. Much like a jack of all trades he finds its use in almost everything, his morning and time at school today serve to continue to do just that.
The nightly patrol beneath the moonlit sky of Gotham serves to remind him of the most difficult lesson he's learned: dealing with pain.
Many things become familiar living in the League of Assassins, from the smell of blood to the sharpening and care of blades. Nothing becomes more familiar than pain, a fact he's reminded of as he struggles to keep his breath even. He quickly corrects the sway of his steps as he powers through another dizzy spell, continuing on from rooftop to rooftop.
Above all else, pain is a valuable teacher. It’s the most foul-tasting part of defeat, whether it be a slap on the wrist or the bite of a bullet. Pain becomes a timeless friend when you deal with death, and Damein has long grown used to the feeling of its embrace.
Has long learned how to keep a straight face despite its presence.
Many consider pain a wonderful motivation; Damian cannot help but think differently.
The title of teacher has always felt more fitting, as facing pain head-on helped to teach him how to deal with it. Helped him learn how to remain stoic, befitting his titles, despite pain’s insistent buzzing for attention.
The motivation for said lessons always came from the ghost of a smile that would grace his mothers face at the sight of his triumphs. Making the grueling endeavor worth it.
So yes, rolling with the punches. Dealing with all the cuts and bruises.
Bearing bullet holes with only a grunt. These are things Damian does well, things he does with pride.
The uneasiness of the nausea boiling in his gut that continues to accompany him, on the other hand, is something he's slowly finding harder to swallow.
Perhaps he's grown a bit of a soft sense leaving the League to live in Gotham with his father.
He doesn't remember ever feeling nausea this unsettling.
He continued to move quickly from rooftop to rooftop. Refusing to let the churning unease slow him down.
Typically on nights like these, faced with the sight of the hustle and bustle of Gotham's night life under the blanket of twilight, Grayson is his favorite to follow on patrol.
All the spins and flips the man does from rooftop to rooftop make for quite the show, as Grayson remains a performer despite it being over a decade since the acrobat performed officially in the circus. The talented acrobat continues to shine now, accented by the glowing spotlight of the stars, painting him with all the grace of one.
For once he is thankful he doesn't get to watch, as even the thought of all those flips and spins adds to the unsettling itch crawling under his skin.
He remains mindful of the eyes on his back, belonging to Grayson and Tim respectively. He refuses to let them become privy to the ache buried deep in his bones from the fever. He continues on, following the path set by his father and Todd up ahead.
The only bad side to Grayson being behind is the man can be very perceptive when he wants to be. Being so heavily in view of his gaze, on top of the ever-analytical watch of his youngest, elder brother, certainly adds to the list of disadvantages he faces tonight.
Confidence will remain his key despite that, his greatest weapon in achieving the most important goal to Damian 's own personal objectives. Damian 's personal mission for himself, making sure he's not a burden.
His hands are well stained with blood, a great sin according to his father. But to Damian , no stain could ever be worse than the label of burden. He can already imagine just exactly how it would burn.
Grayson's pity, Jason's mocking comments, Tim's disgust,
and his father’s disappointment.
His mother’s furrowed brow and his grandfather's hateful stare, in response to his shortcomings, already haunt his dreams. He does not need any more fuel for that fire.
It only takes one crack, the smallest hairline fracture to make a kill. Only one small show of weakness to mark him a failure.
He finds it ironic how stains of blood on his hands, something he once wore with pride under the gaze of his mother, are now something he tries his hardest to ignore under the gaze of his father.
Adamant to not give any reason to his family for disapproval, for removal.
So he does as he was taught, and pushes onwards.
Ignoring the urge to stop to catch his breath, ignoring the unsettling churn, the dizzying blur, aches and chills offset by the flush burning across his face. He ignores everything.
Most of all he ignores how he's pretending.
Pretending that the ghost of his mothers faded smile works to quell his ache as well as it did years ago, before he left for Gotham. Pretends it's as warm and encouraging, a better motivation than the smiles he's seen on the faces of his siblings.
The pace of his steps are finally halted, thankfully not by any embarrassing shortcomings or missteps on his part. They’re stopped by a tug on the back of his hood. A tug that also tugs on his instinct, as without a pause he uses the momentum to turn to face the source of the pull with a kick. Only to find it stopped as a tight grip on his leg settles him into place, his eyes locking face with Todd.
“Yo, Earth to demon brat. Patrol is over tonight, time to head back.”
The gruff of Todd's voice breaks the silence as he lets go of his grip on Damian 's leg. The others catch up to the duo, settling around them.
“Something that ignoring orders will not change.”
Batman added in his usual baritone. His cowl may hide his features from sight, yet somehow the slight outline of the pinch in his brow remains barely visible beneath.
“Yeah, love the enthusiasm Baby Bat, but the party's over tonight.”
“Maybe for you, Big Bird - as far as I'm concerned, it's only just begun.
I've got coffee and case files waiting for me, so let's go.”
Tim whines back at Grayson's remark, causing the other man to let out a chuckle as he ruffles the younger's hair.
“Aww that's so cute you think that, Mr. Has Not Slept in 48 hours.”
“Oh, lay off, dick face. If Timbo wants to sleep when he's dead, let him. He can decide for himself.”
“Stop trying to butter me up, I'm not going to play Mario Kart with you tonight Jason, I've got case files to read.”
“All I'm hearing is that we should start calling you chicken, instead of Baby Bird.”
Despite the mask covering Tim's eyes, Damian can picture the eye roll he's surely giving Jason as they quip back and forth.
“Hey, I think it's very brave of him to acknowledge the fact I would wipe the floor with him. You could learn from him in that regard, little wing.”
“Oh that’s it, it’s so on, dick face–”
“Very well, let us return, then.”
Damian cuts through the squabbling chatter of his older brother's banter. He typically enjoys listening to said chatter, but the siren song of his bed back at the manor is most tempting. Especially with the knowledge of school starting back bright and early in the morning.
He once more feels a tug on his hood as he starts the trip back. He turns once again to face Todd only to find a look of confusion on the older man's face this time, instead of his usual bravado.
“You look as if you've seen a ghost, take a glance in a mirror, Red Hood?” Damian snarks as he removes the older man's hand from his hood, only to raise a brow of his own as he notices the look of shock on the others’ faces as well.
In typical fashion, Nightwing breaks the silence
“Could you repeat that, Baby Bat?”
“Very well. Let us return.”
Keeping the confusion out of his voice takes more effort then he would ever like to admit. But even the infamous cowl cannot hide the surprise on his fathers face. It leaves Damian puzzled as to what exactly could be causing this reaction. The nausea only grows, sinking deeper in his stomach, if even his unbreakable father is letting a crack form.
His father fades from view as Tim steps forward, leaning into his face as he asks a bit rushed. The question only made his confusion grow.
“What song did Jay play in the car this morning? When he and I dropped you off at school. ”
“Is the lack of sleep catching up to you? Grayson drove today, an irrelevant fact to your question. Seeing how he let you pick the music. I don't know the name of the song, only that it's from that boy band you play on repeat. BTZ? Or something.”
His response causes some of the tension to leave the air.
As Tim steps back his posture is more relaxed, though the confusion remains. “Alright so definitely not an imposter, wanna queue us in on what's going on Dami.?”
“Queue you in on what exactly?”
Hiding weakness under the every sharp eyes of his family…Damian knew it would be no easy feat. He refuses to face the possibility that he is so weak to have already failed.
“Easy now! I think what Timmie’s trying to say is we’re a little confused by the fact you didn't ask to continue patrol.”
Grayson speaks holding both up his hands, the common sign for surrender, as he tries to keep the tension from rising in the air once more.
“Father has given his orders, I see no reason to question them.”
Damian straightens his posture as he speaks. Moving his arms crossed in front of him, to behind his back falling in line.
“Yeah, gotta call bullshit little bat, normally this is where you throw a tantrum saying we should go for another lap.”
Todd adds, ever so helpful.
“You speak as if I'm a child, I am simply being efficient in my work. Maybe you should try it sometime.”
He bites back, fighting fire with fire always was the way to go with Todd. Much like waving a red flag to a bull.
Before Todd could ignite, follow through with the words on the tip of his tongue that carry his typical heat. Father beats him to the punch, a frosted analytical response befitting a detective, a cool calculated addition to the conversation.
“Interesting switch up, from someone who ignored my call for the end of patrol not even 15 minutes ago.”
“My apologies. I did not hear your call. My focus was elsewhere. It will not happen again.”
Almost the exact opposite response happened this time. When he had answered Tim, they had all relaxed. This answer though it seemed to make all their hackles rise as the look of confusion they shared grew. That felt like a knife in his chest, it always hurts to see a sign of failure after doing so well.
“Are we all going to stand around wasting time or shall we go? I see no reason to waste time out here when there are other objectives to accomplish, ensuring the upkeep of equipment for example.”
He barks, waving a batarang in his hands, hoping it helps to hide his desperation.
It's not the worst excuse he could come up with, certainly not the best either. It's not a lie however, as he has been meaning to sharpen a few so he need not worry of getting caught in fibs so it's good enough to make work.
When confidence fails, anger becomes the next best shield. It's why wounded dogs bite so he squared his shoulders even more. Pushing the churning in his stomach further down as he makes his bluff. Biting his tongue, narrowing in on the copper taste filling his mouth. He uses it as a reminder to stay stoic.
Clenching his jaw to keep a sigh of relief from leaving his lips, he watches the others turn their backs to him. Father repeats his order for patrol to end, the others following foot as they begin the trip back home.
—------------------
Water always tastes most refreshing after a long patrol. The cool refreshing chill washing away the dry rough feeling in his throat, it is unbecoming to chug drinks down, a fact he has tried and failed to teach Tim, who drinks coffee as if it's the air he needs to breathe.
But it's a fact Damian is thankful for. Despite his hopes that the crisp chill refreshing water with a hint of cucumber and basil that Alfred so lovingly made and left in the fridge earlier this afternoon would help settle the queasiness in his stomach; it only grows. Leaving Damian disappointed, but thankful it at least provided some slight relief, from the warmth settled not only in his throat, but on his skin from his nagging fever.
The sound of steps pulls his attention away from the refreshing beverage in his hands. And speak of the devil, Tim marches into the kitchen heading straight for the coffee machine. Damian cannot help but smirk as before Tim can reach it; however, the young caffeine addict is swept off his feet as Dick pulls him back, trapping the younger boy in a hug.
“Yeah I don't think so, Tim.”
“Wow Big Bird, what a kind older brother you are, forcing your poor sweet little sibling to suffer dehydration.”
“If that's the best argument you can come up with, for why you should be allowed to have a 7th cup of coffee today…I'm a bit disappointed.”
“Well, don't see why ‘I have case files’ is not a valid excuse.”
“I don't see how you think you can live off of caffeine and spite.”
“I don’t know man, spite’s a pretty powerful thing, Dickie bird.”
Todd says joining the conversation, as he enters the kitchen. Stopping to mess with Grayson's hair as he passes. Almost like a quick mini noogie on his way towards the fridge.
“Maybe to some of us Jason, we can't all be edge lords now.”
The fondness practically oozes off Grayson's voice as he quips back.
Using one hand to fix his hair back in place, the other still keeping Tim lazily pulls to his side.
“Ha me edge lord oh please, like I could ever compete with our reigning champ here. If anything I'm like the sassy aunt.”
Damimen finds himself the target of the aggressive hair tossing now, as Jason gently uses the motion to guide Damian a few steps to the side, so he can open the fridge.
“You speak as if I'm some rabid beast.”
Damian huffs batting the hand away.
“If the shoe fits the kid.”
Jason gives him a wink over his freshly opened soda.
There's a certain spark in his eyes showing he's itching for an argument. That's always been one of his favorite things about Jason. He treats Damian like an equal in this and gives as good as he gets. Matching him line for line in trading over the top insult after the other.
The fire in Damian 's eyes has long gone cold for the night however. His brain feels like a pile of mush, so he turns his gaze back to his glass as he takes another sip letting silence fill the air. Content to continue to listen in as Jason searches for a more worthy debate partner for the night, probably Tim. Though his responses are definitely dryer than the typical energy Jason and Damian like to bring to the table.
The slice stretches on though, turning to an awkward pause, Damian can feel the weight of eyes on him but he ignores it. After all, give them no room to question you .
“Seriously though kid, everything good?”
Surprisingly Jason beats Grayson to the punch in breaking the silence. That does nothing to change Damein’s response to the question.
“Everything is quite fine, why wouldn't it be?”
“You seemed a little off today, is all.”
Grayson says hesitantly.
“Merely a figment of your imagination Grayson, I performed as always.”
“I wouldn't say that, you definitely were moving a little slower than usual. And it isn't like you to ignore Bruce, ya know if something is wrong we’ll totally listen and stuff.”
Tim trails off as his deduction turns to a ramble.
“I assure you I am perfectly capable and do not require any assistance. I was merely thinking about what I'll need to sharpen soon. I've been meaning to sharpen my katanas,when I noticed tonight some of the batarangs could also need sharpening. I was considering if anything else needed to be added to the list, nothing to male a molehill out of.”
“Ok buddy just keep Timmies words in mind ok?”
“Sure.” His response to Grayson's question earns another hair ruffle, this one gentler.
“Anywho enough sappy shit its Mario Kart time bitches !”Jason shouts.
“For you, maybe I have better things to do.” Tim says, rolling his eyes so hard it's a miracle they didn't get stuck.
“And that attitude is exactly why you're not getting any of this, unless you beat me in rainbow road.”
In typical bat fashion Jason had somehow snuck back to the entrance of the kitchen. Without anyone noticing till he drew their attention by speaking, holding the unplugged coffee machine, much to Tim's horror.
“Hey!”
At the sound of Tim's shout, Jason instantly started running as Tim started chasing him without missing a beat. Jason's laughter fading down the halls followed by the sound of Tim's rage.
“Always something with those two.” Grayson said with a fond sigh.
“You can say that again.” Damian agreed.
“I suppose they’re little game of tag will at least give us a second, to get the tv set up. Without them trying to start a wrestling match on the couch.”
“Us?” Damian raised a brow.
“Yeah ? You're invited to play too ya know.”
Damian did not know as no one has expressly said that to him until this second, the warmth in Grayson's eye becoming infectious as at the invitation, Damian feels a spark of excitement grow in his own. That spark was immediately snuffed out as Damian stiffened, trying hard to choke down the cough trying to claw its way out of his throat.
“You're always invited to play with us ya know, one of the many perks of having siblings. You always have someone to curse out over Mario Kart, Smash Bros, Mario Party or really any co-op with means of sabotage or competition.”
Grayson's voice chattered on mistaking, Damian for needing encouragement - he was sort of right as Damian was a coward. But not in the way of shyness, Grayson mistakenly pinned him with. After all, the real thing choking him wasn't the cough, but the very thing plaguing him all throughout the day. The possibility of them seeing his weakness.
“Something I'll keep in mind for the future. Like I was saying earlier, I really need to sharpen some equipment, the sooner the better.”
Damian said briskly, as he walked towards the exit to the kitchen. Pausing in the doorway as he spoke to look back at Grayson. Ignoring how he has to bite his tongue to still himself, to help ignore the kicked puppy expression on Grayson's face.
“Rain check then?”
“Sure, kick their butts for me.”
Damein responds softly, as he leaves fully. The last thing he needs is to show them this weakness. The last thing he needs is to accidently infect the others with his germs.
The cold dark quiet of his room is a much better place for him right now, to rest and get over this as soon as possible, to pretend this weakness never existed, compared to the warmth and chaotic joy of joining his brothers in cursing each other out over silly games.
The sooner the better indeed.
—-------------------------------------
The disorienting feeling of shooting awake from a deep sleep always takes your breath away. A fact that makes the choking, suffocating feeling of bile leaving his throat all the more violent .
Everything about vomit tends to be violent, from the lack of breath, to fizzing war in his stomach. Only made worse by the foul smell. His racing pulse accompanies it all. Beating like a drum in his ears.
Despite knowing this fit will end soon enough,and couldn't have lasted more than 15, 20 minutes. It feels like utter agony. Agony slightly soothed by the freezing chill of the A/C, as he assesses the damage done.
Thankfully, he finds that didn't get any on himself somehow. The same could not be said for his bedding. He watches how the contents of his stomach soaks further into his sheets and comforter mocking him.
Each passing second serves only to add more weight heavy on his shoulders . Damian represses the recoiling flinch from the calming breath he tries to take, it only serves to fill his taste buds further with the disgusting taste of vile, that almost triggers a round two.
He is not so weak as to let that happen though thankfully, just as he is not so weak as to lay down on the floor and wallow in his misery.
He already has quite the mess to clean up for 3:42 in the morning. It would be a shame to add more to that.
So without further stalling, Damian pulls himself to his feet as he carefully removes the spoiled sheet and blankets from the bed. Folding them over so the mess is trapped inside like a vile dumpling. Keeping the mess contained as he drags the arm full of laundry to his bathroom.
When he first saw the bathroom, attached to his room here at the manor, he couldn't help but scoff at the large tub inside. Despite Grayson's insistence that baths could be relaxing fun, the young vigilante cannot see them as anything but a waste of time.
Showers are much more efficient.
The tub comes in handy tonight though, as he sets about washing the majority of the mess out of his sheets. Focusing on the enjoyable feel of warm water and the pleasant scent of soap, helps to distract from the sight of the vomit, mixing with the water as he washes. Sadly still more enjoyable than the texture of it against his hands as he scrubs.
A texture he's grateful to replace with more soap, as he scrubs his hands raw in the sink. Leaning heavy against the counter, as the dizzying feel returns. He makes easy work of ignoring it for the time being, as he switches to brushing his teeth. Stalling the inevitable trip to the laundry room to wash and dry his bedding properly, now that the bulk of the mess has been taken care of.
The temptation to go curl back in bed despite the work to be done is strong even without his sheets, that mattress and pillows are by far the softest nicest place Damian has ever had the pleasure of sleeping on.
However he only had so much time before the others started to rise for the new day, and he would rather die than let any of them see him in such an unbecoming position. The last thing he needs is for any of them to think he's more of a burden then he is.
Besides, while the sheets are technically clean, it still would be best to get them in the proper cleaning machines. To fully ensure no trace of his weakness be left behind. To stain the sheets his father so kindly bought for his bedding with his wages, and all the work Pennyworth puts into maintaining them, on top of staining his reputation more than the blood on his hands ever could. At least the blood showed he was a survivor, a victor of battles.
He lets those thoughts guide him, as he pulls out the now soaking sheeting from the tub. Shivering despite himself, the cold damp feel of them against his skin. Causing goosebumps as he begins his trip.
Stumbling slightly though the halls as he makes his way, the slight chatter of his teeth from the cold being thankfully, the only noise he makes. Still, a cause for concern in the manor.
When you live with vigilantes, the walls always have ears. So he watches the hall in front of him carefully and meticulously, keeping his ears pinned behind him for noise. It's no wonder, as he takes the staircase down one step at a time, that about half way down his foot snags on his sheets. Despite his efforts, he folds like a house of cards.
The dizziness that has plagued him the past few days, haunting him like a ghost from the ever present nausea, is nothing compared to the dizziness from the tumbling fall he just endured.
Despite the fact his eyes are screwed almost as tightly shut as the grip on his sheets, stars still dance in his vision. Damian couldn't care less about that though, as he focuses solely on his hearing. Holding his breath despite his ragged pulses attempts to place it out of his control.
He focuses solely on any hint that the crash of his fall woke any of the other inhabitants of the manor. Thankfully, as he recalls, the room Jason uses whenever he stays the night is the closest to the stairs. The fact doesn't ease his worries too much. While Jason may be the heaviest sleeper in the family, that doesn't mean much when you're talking about a group famously of nocturnal insomniacs.
Quickly peeling himself off the floor, he drags both himself and his bedding to their destination. Only letting out a sigh of relief as the door to the laundry room shuts behind him.
He makes quick work of getting his sheets into the wash. Efficiency is key after all, and he now has other objectives to attend too. His eyes narrow as he glares at his reflection from the washers door. He checks to find his eyes remain un-dilated. He mentally checks that off his list, as he knocks over a laundry basket nearby.
He’s pleasantly surprised to find he's able to balance on top of the basket, on one foot. He's a little shaky technically, but it's good enough that Damian is confident to write it off any major worries of concussion for the time being.
An embarrassing amount of relief washes over him as he settles in. watching the washer spin his sheets in circles. The relief doesn't last long. How could it? That was too close for comfort, far too close. Any more noise and he surely would have attracted someone's attention. A one way ticket to throwing all his hard work down the drain. A one way ticket to becoming a failure. His heart sinks, feeling like it comes to a painful stop at the thought of being faced with that.
It doesn't take much thought, his nightmares already have done the leg work for that, long ago, to picture how that would play out,
The long cold disappointed stare of his father he knows stings much more than his mother or grandfather’s ever had. Because unlike his mother and grandfather, his father’s stare always held a bit of hope, a small shine that felt as warm as June. His grandfather and mother’s disappointment was a harbinger of tougher training to follow, a promise they would insure he would not make the same mistake again, he ready knows the despair that would make up his being at seeing that spark, that small glimmer, leave his father’s eyes,
The sneering snarl of Jason's mockery would be sure to follow, barely heard over his laughter, a wicked sound that would cut deeper than any knife. It always hurts most to be seen as lame, a mere joke to the people you find coolest.
He knows it's only cold disdain he would find in Tim’s eyes, calm, cold, calculated, already having seen this coming from miles away. A bored disgruntled aggravation of having to deal with the inevitable fall out. He already grows cold thinking of that frost, how he’ll miss the chaotic energy, that electric spark Tim tends to bring
None of their reactions would stop Grayson from trying to save face, insisting on stretching himself even thinner than the man already is, his bleeding heart would lead him to feel as if he needs to protect Damian , to pity him like some stray. The overwhelming guilt of Grayson misplaced undeserved worry for him would only leave him drowning in the abyss.
He's already feasted far too heavily on pity, he's failing the titles he was so graciously allowed to bear .
Far too emotional, needy for an al Ghul.
Too aggressive, blood thirsty for a Wayne.
To be unbecoming for the name of Robin, something undeserved for the amount of weakness he has displayed of late, and yet Damian continues to ignore that. After all, fake it till you make it, confidence is key. He will correct his mistakes and present himself in a way worthy of his titles . He will do right by his family. the haunting thought of their disappointment will not have anything less.
He makes sure to be more careful on his trip back up the stairs very quickly, missing the warmth of the freshly cleaned bed sheets as he tosses them on the bed and heads back to his bathroom. It’s now 5 am thankfully still about an hour early for anyone to rise at thanks to patrol however not really anytime for Damian to sleep especially with a potential concussion so to play it safe as ignoring the growing fever the once more rising churning in his stomach - the aches, the chill in his spine, the heaviness of his eyelids, is sadly harder to ignore, so he focuses on the feeling of the water pouring down from his shower head as he sits beneath it staring at the clock as he waits.
—-------------------------------
The next few hours pass by in a daze, as Damian takes care to not aggravate the sore spot on his head. He fixes his hair resisting the desire to close his blood shot eyes once more, as he looks over his appearance. So many cracks in his appearance, his mother and grandfather would have his head if they were here for the pitiful sight his reflection makes. Damian , despite the trembling of his hands, is meticulous. As he makes himself presentable he is nothing short of pristine. He carefully marches himself down the stairs, following the scent of breakfast making Pennyworth’s work known to the manor.
Damian is collected, as the taste of said cooking enters his palate.
Sitting at the dining table in the kitchen with his brothers, their father had already left for the office and Pennyworth had already moved onto the next task, leaving just his siblings to dine with this morning. For once, their banter washes over him falling on deaf ears as Damian cannot help but ponder.
There are many things that are impossible in this world. One fact Damian had always considered impossible was a disdain for Alfred's cooking. The elder takes great care in his craft that shows in every bite. Cooking with love always seemed like another nonsense saying people like spat. Until Damian tried Alfred's cooking and grew to understand.
Tasting the warmth and care that soothes like Grayson's ramblings. the pure joy and excitement that comes during late night fastfood fun with Todd, and it satisfies like quipping back and forth with Tim debating and mocking films during movie nights. Damian always thought Alfred's cooking did the impossible, being made of love. And yet, the shock of the fact that he has to force himself to down bite after bite. Refusing to let any sign of how it adds to the nausea slowly building in him once more feels even more impossible.
“Oh please, you are such a sore loser dickie bird.”
“Says the world's worst winner, seriously, Jason, enough.”
“Oh, but you were such a chatterbox last night. Talking all this game of how you could out race us on any track only to eat dust, wanna remind dick face the score replacement ?”
“12 -4.”
Tim adds to the chatter, over the click of silver were on plates holding up his coffee cup in a cheer of victory like it was a trophy. A cheer Todd matches as he grabs his own drink and clicks their cups together. The identical shit eating grins never leaving either of their faces. Much to the current disdain of Damian and Grayson, as while Damian can’t see Grayson's current expression from his seat on the dining table bench next to the young assassin. He can feel the exhaustion in his tone as he speaks to the duo sitting across from them.
“More like 7 - 4, I don't recall wrestling and stealing controllers as official Mario Kart strategies.”
“All fair in love and war, Big Bird, besides we never said street rules were off limits.”
“We were playing Mario Kart, not Grand Theft Auto.”
“What more can I say, get good next time. Besides what's wrong with a little creative thinking?”
“The fact you bribed our little brother with coffee, to tackle me off the couch!”
“Oh please, you also bribe me with coffee all the time. You literally bribed me to steal Jason's hoodie for you the other day.”
“Wait, that's where it went ?!”
There's never a dull moment here in this manner. The island of al Ghul is a place many expect to be stained with green, its honorable long tapestry of history building a strong foundation and lasting presence all hallmarked by the sacred lazarus pit, the signature lime green glow being an iconic trademark color of al Ghul to most.
To Damian though the league always felt dull, much more like rusted metal. The sleek grandeur, hiding the cold cool monochrome silver of their precision beneath. That description feels more fitting to the frosted tension that hung heavy like a knife on the island. A sentiment that grows stronger, as he spends more time surrounded by the warm glow of his family. Despite the typically gloom muteness of Gotham's walls that paint a stark contrast.
“I can't believe this, the audacity after all the lectures about how crime is wrong.”
“Hey, I'm gonna give it back .... eventually. Besides, maybe I wouldn't steal your hoodie, if you hung out with me more. Is it such a crime to miss my baby brother Jay? “
“Its absolute horseshit is what it is. We see each other all the time.“
“Yeah, Baby Bat’s the one with a penance for pulling a disappearing act. So much hate, couldn't even be bothered to show up to family game night.” Tim says dryly, dragging Damian into Jason’s and Grayson's bickering.
“Oh yeah how did the sharpening go kiddo?”
The whine in Grayson's voice earlier is completely gone. As he turns to look at Damian , the excitement of an overgrown puppy.
“It went quite well, everything is perfectly prepared for tonight's patrol.”
That lie paid off in the end, as it ended up becoming the truth. Sharpening made a great distraction, to make sure he didn't accidentally fall asleep while watching for signs of concussion.
“That’s great! You'll have to show me tonight then.”
“Oh please, excuses excuses, take a page from Grayson's book, Baby Bat, and come lose with honor.”
“Hey!!”
It's Tim's comment that causes his heart to stop as it sinks in his chest. It's Grayson's shriek at Tim that becomes the final nail in the coffin as Damian 's headache spikes.
“I'm just saying, it's kinda lame that I couldn't stick to my original plans for the night but the brat did, oh well guess some things cant be helped huh?“ Tim pauses for a second letting his words settle in the air, before bringing his hand to his mouth to fake a cough while muttering the word coward in between. Smirking at Damian , white hot shame burst through his chest.
“Taking the proper care of equipment is extremely important, no one wants to use a rusty blade to cut certainly isn't very efficient”
“Sorry, what was that ? I don't speak coward, champ.”
“Oh no I didn't stay up till 5am screaming at a fictitious video game and instead did something productive, sue me. “
Damian mutters hoping to stop this from going much further, he's too tired for the back and forth right now.
“Oh no, hanging with the big kids makes you miss your bed time? Poor thing, ha right, weak excuse Dami. Almost as weak as you.”
His eyes prove to be a thing he is terrible at ignoring. Despite his best efforts he can feel water build in the corner of his eyes.
Confidence is key, his mind echoes for the millionth time as if he doesn't know. It's more a hollow thought really, at this point as he keeps his gaze down. Keeping his body as still as possible, refusing to make any sudden movements that could draw attention to this crack. When you're in a house with vigilantes however, things don't go unnoticed for long.
“Tim fucking apologize now!”
Damian couldn't help but flinch at the tone Todd in which Todd speaks. The slight gruff to his tone was as common and natural as his father's baritone but this was next level. Thankfully the others didn't notice the filch, as they all were locked onto Todd equally as shocked by the tone.
“Chill Jason, i'm just joke—-”
“Not funny Tim, congratulations. You made Damian fucking cry!”
Despite his best efforts to quickly leave, as soon as the words left Todd's mouth everyone's attention was on him like a hawk. The gazes are almost as heavy as Grayson's touch, having been what stopped him from leaving. Dread fills his stomach, as his head is turned to face them.
He's seen shock on their faces before, but not like this. The look of absolute horror on Drake and Todd's face only marked more extreme as the spilt coffee and broken glass of Tim’s cup lying completely ignored on the floor. In favor of staring wide eyed at him his gaze buzzing with a panic undertone, contrasted by the dead eyed stare of Todd.
He can feel the misplaced guilt radiating off the way Grayson's hand shakes on his face.
His tears now steam down his face, on full display for everyone to see. Time stands still for what feels like eternity, as Damian tries to pull himself together to stop this shameful unbecomingness.
“It's fine, really. “ He mutters, trying and failing to suppress the slight hitch in his breath. Which only causes the hand shaking against his cheeks to shake more. Before with a broken whisper, almost a whimper of his name, his face is getting gently shoved into Grayson's chest
“Omg Damian ! I didn't mean – I swear it was only a –! I am so sorry ! I swear I don't actually think — none of us!! ”
Tim's rambling washes over the room, the only noise filling the silence, but it does nothing to lessen the weight of the tension. Despite being firmly pulled into Grayson's lap, head buried, the weight of everyone's eyes still burns. They burn almost as bad as the shame coursing through his veins. Almost as bad the desire, the urge, the need to fix things.
“Enough Tim, your stammering is not necessary.” Demien finally says, voice steady tone cool. As he pushes out of Grayson's hold. Calm, cool and collected.
“I am the one who is sorry for the unsightly display. I apologize for the interruption to the lovely meal Alfred worked so hard to make. We deal with far more important and difficult things than a few teasing remarks. My response is most unbecoming, and I take great shame to the dishonor I bring the Wayne name with this behavior. It will not happen again.” Damian declares, voice steady.
His gaze was perfectly straight ahead. Far softer than he intended, but his breath did not hitch and no more tears are being added to the remnants of the earlier ones. So, all-in-all, a solid recovery.
Damian can take pride in that, when faced with future remarks about this episode. At least things will be back according to schedule, and Damian can go back to being effective, to being becoming. He will apologize once more and play along with Jason's laughs, Tim’s snark and Grayson attempts to save face. He’ll get things back on track.
Only the silence remains. In fact, it grows louder. The whispers of any second now slowly die out. As the only change to the shocked expressions across his brothers faces is the cold hard grief in their eyes along with the tears now also streaming down Grayson's face - a fact Damian only knows as he's once again pulled to Grayson’s chest, the acrobats arms wrapping even tighter round him and practically vibrating, his voice wet with tears.
“Dami, oh Baby Bat, never ever say any of that again, you hear me? Your feelings are way more important then acting “becoming”, that’s fucking garbage.”
Grayson says between his own hitching breath, a borderline sob that Damian cannot believe but doesn't have time to ponder as a third hand comes to rest alongside Dick’s on his back, warm and calloused.
“Big Bird’s right, little b.”
Oh god he’s fucked up, hes really fucked up if Jason is crying. Damian's heart races at the thought brought on by the wetness in Jason's voice, so distracted he almost missed the ex crime lords next sentence:
“I'm not good with emotions or touchy feely shit. Heck, none of us here except Big Bird are, but Dami, honey, you are so so loved by each and every one of us, feelings and all okay? Don't you doubt that for a second.”
Damian has heard a lot of broken men, but man, it is so much more heartbreaking to hear your brother use that tone about you.
“Do you not remember how Jason lost it last time we all played Smash Bros? Last I checked we still keep him around, if that didn't scare us off, your little water works don't have a shot either.”
Tims adds softly, placing a hand on his shoulder as he slides onto the bench taking the spot Damian was sitting at before he was pulled into Grayson's lap.
Tim's addition to the conversation is both a blessing and curse as it serves to help light the mood just a hair. The purr-like vibration from the small chuckle Grayson lets out in response to Tim's comment makes gaining the will to leave his grip even harder.
“Ooh man I forgot about that haha-”
“Oh yeah at least I can watch a horror film without screaming my head off- ”
A tension he didn't realize was in his shoulders falls, as his brother's bickering fills his ears. He's learned many more things since coming to Gotham, he's seen things he never thought he would, he still never understood though, how people could laze about where there's work to do. After all, Damian was raised to value efficiency. Even with a bed made of clouds is no excuse to act like a cat in the sun.
This, however…
The vanilla cologne Jason teases the older for wearing fills his nose warmly and helps him understand. That understanding is made greater by the grip of Grayson's arms wrapped tight, strong, sturdy and stable. The shiver down his spine has nothing to do with the ache and cold but all to do with the shapes and swirls Grayson draws on his back.
Running on no sleep is nothing new. Damian is used to being tired, he's been ignoring all the aches and chills, the nausea that's plagued him without a thought. It's hard to ignore something he never knew existed before, he's been plagued by the insistent heat of fever the past few days, but the warmth that surrounds him makes the fever feel like winter. He's seen Grayson cling to the others, pull them all impossibly close, he's been the target of said clinginess from ruffled hair to an arm draped over his shoulders. And he's never understood the point of it . What goal does it accomplish ? But now , he cannot help but acknowledge it sparks something.
He wonders if this is how it feels, to be loved.
Haha, he's really out of it isn't he?”
“Aww, the little ankle biter has a cute side. Who'd have thought?”
“Shhh, don't wake him, let him sleep.”
The slight jostle as Grayson shifts his weight is what encourages Damian to open his eyes. He did not realize they closed, raising his head from the soft cotton of Grayson's tee blinking in his surroundings.
“Hey sleeping beauty, welcome back to the land of the living.”
That single remark from Todd causes the remnants of sleep to leave as he jolts up more fully. Grayson's grip doesn't let him get far however. He's now back in his own seat on the kitchen table bench squeezed in between Grayson and Tim, the acrobat’s arms staying loosely wrapped around him.
“Easy now buddy, what's the rush?”
“You were only out for like 10 minutes, if that.”
Grayson and Tim in tandem try to calm him. Confusion must be painted quite heavy on his face as Grayson tries to be overly sweet. It's Tim's assessment, a simple statement of truth however that does the trick to ease the panic from his eyes
“Oh good, I still have time to make it to school, then.” Damian’s deduction is only met with bold refusal.
“Yeah, no way in hell we’re letting you out of our sight right now.”
Damian doesn't have to look at Jason to know the way his brows furrow the scoff that heavily laces his tone.
“Father has ordered that I attend, I see no reason to skip.”
“You were just crying, buddy. Heck, you still got tears on your face - and I'm not saying that to be mean! We've seen you handle stuff that would leave most grown men crying like babies without so much as a blink, so we're not going anywhere till you tell us what's wrong.”
Jason's tone starts soft and grows firm, solid as he leaves no room for argument. A stark contrast to the nonchalant breeze that carries Tim's next words:
“Besides, I already called you out of school so there's really no point going, ghost boy’s right you’re stuck with us, Baby Bat!”
His outraged filled cry of Tim's name goes ignored as the other ruffles his hair only for the hand to leave just as quickly like Damian burned him at the pain-filled hiss Damian lets out at the contact. As Damian relaxes from the flinch, he's once again met with the startled faces of his siblings.
It’s Jason this time who’s manhandling him as he pulls Damian to lean against the back of the bench to reach him better from where he stands behind the bench, to examine his skull.
“I’m fine,Jason —-”
Damian muttered trying to pull back
“The hell you are! That's one nasty bump kid, what the hell happened?”
It's no big deal, I already checked last night when it happened for signs of concussion, played it safe by not sleeping, and checked again before coming down here. It's just sore.
“Sounds like a big deal to me if you thought you needed to check for a concussion. Besides you know the rules, you're supposed to report injuries from patrol.” Grayson said, with as stern of a look possible for Grayson.
“How did it happen though? He was in front of us most of the night and not much happened.”, Tim pondered.
“Because it's not from patrol, I fell down the staircase last night.”
“YoU WHAT!”
There's no use in hiding it now, the cracks have long since faded to piles of dust, besides he'd rather them know any tears he's shed has more to do with his current ailments then anything they've said.
“When did that happen and how? You're not known to be clumsy?”
The confusion’s palpable in Tim’s questions.
“I tripped over the edge of my bedding as I was taking it to the laundry room to wash the vomit out of it, I was already lightheaded from my fever so I didn't notice the blanket was dragging on the floor— unhand me, Tim!”
Damian starts to explain only to devolve into cursing out Tim as the boy pulls his head to face him. Once more the curses die on his tongue like a fire in water, as a sigh of relief leaves his lips at the cool sensation against his face
“I thought he looked a little more flushed than normal, he's burning up.” Tim says as he lets go of his face, while the heat sadly stays.
“What the hell!”
“People tend to do that when they have fevers, Jay.”
“And the sass is never ending with you isn't it, replacement, let me go get a thermometer.”
“No need. It was 102 before I came downstairs and it shouldn't change too much as it didn't spike or anything yesterday until last night when I fell but it was nothing a shower couldn't help.”
“Hang on, let me get this straight, you woke up yesterday sick with a high fever. Went to school and patrol while sick, threw up in the middle of the night and cleaned up everything by yourself falling down the stairs during the process possibly gaining a concussion on top of that. And this is the first anyone in this household is hearing of any of this?”
Jason asks as he pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I’ve confirmed by now it's a no on the concussion but the rest would be accurate, yes.”
“Jeez, Dami, you never half-ass things, huh?”
“I have the situation handled. I did not let it hinder my productivity and completed all my assigned work both from school and patrol, and I assure you everything was cleaned correctly. I made sure to wash the vomit out in the bath before taking it to the laundry to be sure of it.”
“Oh no, baby, what Jay is trying to say is… why didn't you come get one of us?” Grayson's tone is almost as soft and warm as the hand he places on Damian 's back as he speaks - a comfort Damian fights to not sink back into.
“I was raised better than to let something as trivial as this affect me.”
“Oh baby, you’re breaking our hearts!”
“I don't follow.”
“What Big Bird’s trying to say is we love you, brat. Think of it like this: remember a few months ago when that guy cut me good on my leg-”
“I recall.”
How could he forget, it may not have been a serious injury per se for Tim but it was bleeding pretty heavily and the knife the guy had definitely was not clean.
“It was a pretty big cut, but it wasn't life threatening or anything, yet you still insisted on bandaging it up.”
“Life threatening or not it would be idiotic to not treat it.”
“And it's just as idiotic to not let us help you, dummy. You bandaged me up because you care and we wanna help you because we also care. The thought you've been dealing with all that, could have gotten more seriously injured, is terrifying.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
“It really isn't necessary to inconvenience you–”
“Are you saying it was an inconvenience to patch me up?”
“No, I-”
“Then this isn't either. You watch our backs, we watch yours buddy. Never thought I'd say this, but you think too much, be more like Jason.”
“Yeah! Hey, wait -”
The kitchen fills with laughter as Jason sputters, catching on to Tim's “compliment”, and Damian has never felt lighter. However, it only makes him more tired, as his laughter soon turns into a yawn. Next thing he knows, Damian finds himself being lifted higher.
“Grayson, put me down!”
“Mm, nope! C’mon guys, think we've had enough excitement for one morning, and you have had enough excitement for a week.”
Grayson punctuates the sentencing by bopping Damian 's nose.
“Jay, be a dear and grab some extra pillows and blankets, will you? And Tim honey go grab the Switch, we’ll meet you in b’s room, okay?”
“Roger that!”
“Aye aye Captain.”
And with that they were all on their way, splitting off towards their objectives, Grayson refusing to put him down along the way.
“This really isn't necessary.”
“Hush,big brother privilege, let me have my fun.”
Grayson's response got a small laugh from the younger along with an eye roll as they continued down the hall in silence.
“Hey now, I’m not a cactus, I'm not gonna poke you.”
Damian 's face once more falls into the crook of Grayson's neck as the acrobat shifts his neck, bringing his hand up to start drawing patterns and shapes on Damian 's back as he continues to walk. It only takes a few steps for Damian to relax, letting out a small sigh at the smell of vanilla again.
“Mmm, there we go baby.”
Grayson practically croons, his voice honey sweet in a soft whisper. The flush on Damian 's face now has nothing to do with fever, and somehow despite the fact his head is buried, it doesn't stop Grayson from noticing.
“Awww, do you like being called pet names?”
“It's an entirely inaccurate way to refer to me.”
“Haha, awww, no need to be shy. Ya know Jason also really likes being called pet names a lot; it’s no big deal, honey.”
Any response to those words Damian might have had died on his tongue. The words might as well have been stolen from his mouth as all his focus is stolen by the lips pressed to his forehead.
“Hmm, that really is a high fever, we’ll grab you a wash cloth when we get you settled, ok?”
The sincerity and care in Grayson's eyes shine as he speaks. Almost like the very depth of his care is reflected in them, giving them the appearance akin to the ocean.
“Okay ….love you, Grayson.”
His muttered response - barely a whisper, really - causes Grayson to pause for only a second. A second kiss is pressed this time to the top of his head as Grayson speaks.
“Love you too baby.”
It doesn't take too much longer for them to reach their father’s room. Grayson sets him on the edge of the bed as he goes to the closet in the corner.
“Why exactly are we in father’s room?”
“Cuz it not only has the biggest bed but the comfiest clothes, too.”
Grayson says as he tosses some of father’s shirts onto the bed as well.
“What, does stolen clothing feel better or something?”
Jason mutters as he steps in arms full of blankets and pillows which he also tosses on the bed, his grumbling doing nothing to stop him from reaching for the pile of shirts already replacing his clothes with the slightly too large black tee shirt he grabbed from the pile. Tim's not far behind Jason in entering the room and he makes quick work of plugging the Switch into the tv as he turns to the bed to also grab one of the shirts, muttering under his breath.
“You seem to think stealing peoples controllers in the middle of Mario Kart is fun, so why not shirts?”
“Touché, replacement. Say, ya know what is also fun… stealing coffee machines! It's also super fun to hide them.”
“Will you stop doing that! I swear one of these days–
“Alright alright, save it for later, we got more important stuff to tend to.”
As Damian finishes changing clothes, pulling his head though the oversized shirt, he finds Grayson has sat down next to him to his right on the bed, holding a small bowl filled with cool water and a rag. He sets the bowl carefully in his lap as he reaches out to cup Damian 's face in his hand, tracing a gentle line beneath his eye as his other hand brings the rag close.
“This should help some-
“Hold it.” Tim cuts Grayson off, stopping him from placing the rag against his face
“I know Dami said he took his temperature not long ago but we should take it again to be sure what exactly we’re working with.”
“Good thing I also grabbed a thermometer then, and grabbed the good meds from the medbox.” Jason adds as he sits down on Damian 's left, turning Damian to face him as he places the thermometer to his forehead.
“Wow, can’t believe I’m saying this, but good thinking, Jay.”
“Someone had to and it certainly wasn't gonna be momma bird over there since all that's on his mind right now is cuddles.”
“Oh, really? Say, I don't recall cradling the back of the head being a required step for taking a temperature, do you, Tim?”
Grayson asks with a raise of his eyebrow, his arms crossed as he draws attention to the hand Jason has tangled in the hair at the base of Damian 's skull, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle.
“I didn't say the kid didn't need a hug, he just needs some meds first.”
Jason says with a wince as he reads the thermometer - a wince that Grayson and Tim mimic, when Jason turns the thermometer for them to read as well.
“I'll grab some water–
“ No need.” Damian interrupts, stopping Tim from turning towards the bathroom as he grabs the bottle of meds from where Jason sat them on the bed, intending to take one dry as the pill falls into his hand. Tim snatches it and the bottle up, taking them with him to the bathroom
“Stop being stubborn.”
As he walks back in, he places a glass of water in Damian 's hand, gabbing his other, he places half a pill.
“It's not good to dry swallow meds, and Jay wasn't kidding about this being the good shit. Unless you wanna get higher than a kite, sticking to half a dose is best for now, especially if you've been nauseous.”
Damian couldn't help but smile as he took the pill with a generous sip of water, before handing the glass back to Tim with a muttered thanks. The warmth may soon leave his head but in his chest it's here to stay. As soon as he is done he finds himself being pulled to the side, an arm wrapped around him.
“My turn now.”
You can hear the grin in Grayson's tone as the arm slung around Damian 's shoulders reaches up to brush the hair off his forehead, the other dabbing the cool rag against his face.
“There we go, baby.” Grayson mutters as Damian melts into the touch
“Ha, careful now the goal is to make him less red, not more. Kid’s gonna turn into a tomato at this pace.”
Damian can't help but shift his gaze towards the floor at Jason's tease.
“Be nice to him Jay, poor babe has been through enough.”
“Yeah yeah. I didn't mean anything by it, I was just teasing sweetheart.”
And now Damian really feels like he’s melting as Jason places a quick kiss to the top of his head before placing his hand on his back.
“Aww, you’re being such a sweet brother right now, great job honey.”
“Shut up before I smack you.”
“Haha see you’re not the only one who likes pet names.”
Grayson whispers to Damian as he looks up to find Jason sporting a matching flush to his cheeks, as well.
“Huh, maybe Stephaine was right about Jason being a tsundere.”
Damian mutters the sentence without thinking, barely a whisper, but that didn't stop Grayson from barking out a loud laugh.
“What's so funny dick face?!”
“Haha nothing, oh nothing, little wing.”
It doesn't take long for the two to start bickering. Damian finds his attention drawn to behind him as he feels a small poke on his back. He turns to see Tim has crawled onto the bed and is sitting behind him. Having his attention, he tugs lightly on Damian 's shirt, nodding his head back and gesturing towards the head of the bed where Tim had placed all the extra pillows and blankets Jason had grabbed. Damian lets him lead him over there, leaving the elder siblings to fight at the foot of the bed as they settle down against pillows.
“It's like watching toddlers pull each other's pigtails on a playground.”
Tim mutters dryly.
“Such is the joy of having siblings.”
“Touché, after all, now that they're thoroughly distracted… I don't have to share.”
Tim mutters, placing a kiss to Damian 's forehead before pulling him tight against his side, snuggling down into the nest of pillows and blankets
“Sounds good to me.” Damian mutters as he shifts to tuck himself a little closer to Tim, content to watch the show before them and see how long it takes them to notice his and Tim's “disappearance”.
After a while of watching them go back and forth with no stopping, Damian feels another poke and looks up at Tim’s face to see the boy holding up the tv remote with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at him in question.
Damian returns the smirk as he realises Tim’s idea, and oh yeah, this is gonna be good.
The bickering is soon replaced as the opening theme to Mario Kart is blasted from the speakers and Jason and Grayson both jump, nearly falling off the bed at the sudden noise, turning their heads so fast at the sound of Damian and Tim's laughter it's a miracle they didn't get whiplash.
“Really, Tim?” Grayson pouts as Tim turns the tv volume down to be a more appropriate level.
“What, did you two really wanna spend the rest of the day fighting like cats and dogs or are we gonna finally have a proper Mario Kart tournament?”
It doesn't take more convincing as they all get settled at the top of the bed, controllers in hand as the charming sound track of Yoshi's Tale starts to play over the speakers as the race begins. It also doesn't take long for the bickering to start back up. Although nothing has truly changed from the ordinary, in a sense it seems softer than normal.
Typically Jason would have started screaming curses by now and Tim would be laughing manically while Grayson would be poking and teasing, however he saw fit in the moment to stir the pot. Today, however, it’s a soft chuckle as Jason knocks Tim off the edge of the map, almost like a purr as Damian leans a little more into Jason's side from where he’s sandwiched between his siblings. It's the soft ramblings as Tim throws in some fun trivia facts about the game in between muttering insults under his breath and it's the sound of Grayson sweetly humming along to the music as he goes out of his way to do all the short cuts and flips he can in the game.
Those are the sounds he hears as his eyes struggle to stay open and he feels the controller get gently pulled from his grip and replaced by cotton material as he's pulled further into the cuddle pile.
At some point the sound of his siblings chatter had all faded to snores. The mess of tangled limbs surrounding him, and the quiet hum of the tv remain a constant present. The drowsiness that clings to him is only made worse by the warmth that surrounds him, making him feel much like a cat lazing in the sun.
The sensation of cool fingers draws his gaze upwards, as he opens his eyes to see his father as the blurriness of sleep fades.
“Father, welcome home.”
“Hey, are you feeling better?”
“I am…. better.”
The urge to deny, to ignore, on the tip of his tongue is a gut reaction. Looking down to see his sibling all wrapped around him, despite all being in the midst of sleep, he cannot find the will to do so; their words weigh heavily on his mind.
The disappointment he expects to find in his fathers eyes is non-existent. In fact, that glimmer of hope shines brighter than before. It feels more like pride.
“I'm glad.”
“I will make up for the missed school.”
“Don't worry about that, just focus on getting better. Dick filled me in on everything, and I just want to say that your siblings are right.
You're far more important than any image.”
Damian ’s heard those words multiple times now, but it still brings a smile to his face.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“That's all I ask. Anything you need, kiddo?”
“Can you hand me the thermometer? I should probably check again.”
The piles of arms are all locked tight around him despite them being asleep, so no way he was getting up like this. Not without assistance. At least, assistance he wasn't expecting to find, much less in the form of his father carefully plucking him up from his underarms like he's a ragdoll.
Lips are pressed once more to his forehead as he's settled into his father’s lap. He cannot help but lean into the hum that runs though the man's chest.
“Hmmm, still high, but definitely has gone down from what Dick was telling me. The bruise from the fall definitely seems to be healing well too, that’s good.”
“Heyyyyy, no fair Bruce, give him back!” Grayson whines, his voice slurred slightly from sleep, laying like dead-weight in the mess of tangled limbs on the bed.
“What isn't fair is that you all have gotten to hog him all day. I want to cuddle my baby too.”
He presses Damian a little closer to his chest as he speaks, his baritone a soothing hum.
“Get on over here then, old man.”Jason adds, ever so elegantly.
Laying at the center of a cuddle pile was not how Damian expected his day would go. It's not very becoming, it's not efficient. But he's surrounded by more warmth than he's even known, from the steady breathing of his father underneath him, the man sitting in the middle of the pile half sitting up against the pillows and letting Damian lay against his chest.
Jason’s to their left and lays his head above, nestled in the crook of Bruce's neck. His body is half-thrown overtop of Damian like a weighted blanket. This doesn't stop Grayson's arm from curling around him from the right, the faint hums of pop songs falling from the acrobats mouth, as he squeezes his head between Damian and Jason’s, resting on Bruce's shoulder. Bruce’s arm is wrapped around him playing with the acrobats hair, an action Dick mimics as his own hands play with Tim's hair. The boy's head falls next to Damian 's chest as he squeezes himself on top of them all, a leg thrown over Damian and Bruce tangling with Jason as he leans against Dick.
As they're all snuggled together, Jason shifts around, moving a tad as he grumbles something Damian cannot hear. Bruce leans down to kiss Jason on the forehead, the grumbling Jason was doing halts almost immediately at the action a flush on his cheeks. Tim’s snickers and Grayson’s coos at Jason's flush are soon shushed as Bruce also turns to press a kiss to the top of their heads as well. And Damian can't help the smile that grows when he receives one.
It's chaotic, it's messy but he wouldn't trade it for the world.
Notes:
Hello ! Thanks A bunch for checking this fic out and reading to the end ! This is my first time ever trying to Write a fic so I really hope you enjoyed it !! Please feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below ! I am open to criticism. Please just keep in mind writing this was totally just for fun so I ask yall to please take it easy on me with any criticism ! I am primarily an Artist. I make fan merch for various fandoms like helluva boss, mxtx, danganronpa ,hermitcraft and many more. You can find my work here !
https://xshyoletx.etsy.com
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https://www.instagram.com/shyolet/
Please feel free to share but please do not repost this or use this for any Ai Bull crap Thank you !!
Also fun fact for yall, the first half of the title to this is loosely inspired by the sone pushing it down and praying by lizzie McAlpine. I say loosely as this fic is about a vastly different subject matter, but they both kinda share themes of bottling up your emotions.
The second half comes from the Steven Universe song of the same title lol !
Chapter 2: Story
Summary:
this chaper has just the story for ease of reading !
Chapter Text
Damian was raised to value efficiency.
The League of Assassins has no place for slackers, the mission at hand comes first. Come what may, the mission is always the top priority. It must always be worked towards. No matter the circumstance, no matter the cost.
This mindset is the reason Damian pays no mind to the unpleasant heat that clings to him as he concentrates on his current assignment, a sheet of math problems given to him by his teacher. He pays no mind to the uneasy churn of his stomach, as the acid inside makes its presence known.
Damian was raised an Al Ghul. He was raised to be the heir to all his grandfather and mother had worked for. So he was raised to value not only efficiency, but to behave in a manner that is fitting of his name, to act becoming.
A lesson he does not take for granted now he also carries the weight of his fathers name and the legacy of Robin.
So while Damein cannot find any value to the questions and words, printed across the page before him. Not because he is also ignoring the way the words jumble and blur together, but because despite his best efforts he cannot find any reason for him to be in this classroom. There are far more important matters he could be assisting with, more important tasks to focus on.
After all, the mission comes first.
As long as his father sees value in Damian being here, he shall be here. He has also long since learned ignoring orders never ends well, one of many mistakes he has no desire to repeat. So he shall complete this task as he does all tasks - with the efficiency and grace befitting an al Ghul in honor of the name of Wayne.
He pays no mind to anything, locking all his focus in on answering the questions across the pages on his desk with a flick of his pen, masking the wobbliness of his lines caused by the shake in his hand. With an extra pass to darken them, making them more bold. A stark contrast when compared to the thin crisp cursive script his mother had taught him. He pays that failing no mind as he focuses further, the most important thing his mother has ever taught him echoes though his mind.
Confidence is key, a most powerful tool when accomplishing so many important things. Leave no room for others to question you, his mother would say. Questions lead to wasted breath and words are worthless in the face of action. So Damian didn't dare think to question the slight chill in his spine, the heaviness of his breath over the past few days, and his patience was rewarded this morning. With a thermometer confirming his increase of temperature now sitting at 102.1.
Not that it's relevant, Damian isn't like the weak-willed sheep he sits among as he rechecks his work. He would rather die than cast any shame, before displaying any flaws. The mission is far too important for that, so Damian didn't even blink at the device confirming his weakness,
Just grabs a tylenol from the stash he keeps in his bathroom. As he carries on to breakfast. To complete the tasks at hand, as planned the night before.
Ignoring the temptation to return to his room, to curl back up in his bed. Ignoring the desire to flinch as the smell of the lovely breakfast Alfred prepared this morning does nothing but add to his nausea. He ignores the increased pounding of his head made worse by the blaring of music coming from the speakers as his siblings dropped him off this morning.
It's all child's play, really. An easy task especially when compared to other feats he's learned to accomplish under his grandfather's guiding hands.
He's learned many things from his grandfather and mother. Strived to take each lesson to heart, making sure to remember them well. “Confidence is key” still serves to be the most useful lesson he's learned. Much like a jack of all trades he finds its use in almost everything, his morning and time at school today serve to continue to do just that.
The nightly patrol beneath the moonlit sky of Gotham serves to remind him of the most difficult lesson he's learned: dealing with pain.
Many things become familiar living in the League of Assassins, from the smell of blood to the sharpening and care of blades. Nothing becomes more familiar than pain, a fact he's reminded of as he struggles to keep his breath even. He quickly corrects the sway of his steps as he powers through another dizzy spell, continuing on from rooftop to rooftop.
Above all else, pain is a valuable teacher. It’s the most foul-tasting part of defeat, whether it be a slap on the wrist or the bite of a bullet. Pain becomes a timeless friend when you deal with death, and Damein has long grown used to the feeling of its embrace.
Has long learned how to keep a straight face despite its presence.
Many consider pain a wonderful motivation; Damian cannot help but think differently.
The title of teacher has always felt more fitting, as facing pain head-on helped to teach him how to deal with it. Helped him learn how to remain stoic, befitting his titles, despite pain’s insistent buzzing for attention.
The motivation for said lessons always came from the ghost of a smile that would grace his mothers face at the sight of his triumphs. Making the grueling endeavor worth it.
So yes, rolling with the punches. Dealing with all the cuts and bruises.
Bearing bullet holes with only a grunt. These are things Damian does well, things he does with pride.
The uneasiness of the nausea boiling in his gut that continues to accompany him, on the other hand, is something he's slowly finding harder to swallow.
Perhaps he's grown a bit of a soft sense leaving the League to live in Gotham with his father.
He doesn't remember ever feeling nausea this unsettling.
He continued to move quickly from rooftop to rooftop. Refusing to let the churning unease slow him down.
Typically on nights like these, faced with the sight of the hustle and bustle of Gotham's night life under the blanket of twilight, Grayson is his favorite to follow on patrol.
All the spins and flips the man does from rooftop to rooftop make for quite the show, as Grayson remains a performer despite it being over a decade since the acrobat performed officially in the circus. The talented acrobat continues to shine now, accented by the glowing spotlight of the stars, painting him with all the grace of one.
For once he is thankful he doesn't get to watch, as even the thought of all those flips and spins adds to the unsettling itch crawling under his skin.
He remains mindful of the eyes on his back, belonging to Grayson and Tim respectively. He refuses to let them become privy to the ache buried deep in his bones from the fever. He continues on, following the path set by his father and Todd up ahead.
The only bad side to Grayson being behind is the man can be very perceptive when he wants to be. Being so heavily in view of his gaze, on top of the ever-analytical watch of his youngest, elder brother, certainly adds to the list of disadvantages he faces tonight.
Confidence will remain his key despite that, his greatest weapon in achieving the most important goal to Damian 's own personal objectives. Damian 's personal mission for himself, making sure he's not a burden.
His hands are well stained with blood, a great sin according to his father. But to Damian , no stain could ever be worse than the label of burden. He can already imagine just exactly how it would burn.
Grayson's pity, Jason's mocking comments, Tim's disgust,
and his father’s disappointment.
His mother’s furrowed brow and his grandfather's hateful stare, in response to his shortcomings, already haunt his dreams. He does not need any more fuel for that fire.
It only takes one crack, the smallest hairline fracture to make a kill. Only one small show of weakness to mark him a failure.
He finds it ironic how stains of blood on his hands, something he once wore with pride under the gaze of his mother, are now something he tries his hardest to ignore under the gaze of his father.
Adamant to not give any reason to his family for disapproval, for removal.
So he does as he was taught, and pushes onwards.
Ignoring the urge to stop to catch his breath, ignoring the unsettling churn, the dizzying blur, aches and chills offset by the flush burning across his face. He ignores everything.
Most of all he ignores how he's pretending.
Pretending that the ghost of his mothers faded smile works to quell his ache as well as it did years ago, before he left for Gotham. Pretends it's as warm and encouraging, a better motivation than the smiles he's seen on the faces of his siblings.
The pace of his steps are finally halted, thankfully not by any embarrassing shortcomings or missteps on his part. They’re stopped by a tug on the back of his hood. A tug that also tugs on his instinct, as without a pause he uses the momentum to turn to face the source of the pull with a kick. Only to find it stopped as a tight grip on his leg settles him into place, his eyes locking face with Todd.
“Yo, Earth to demon brat. Patrol is over tonight, time to head back.”
The gruff of Todd's voice breaks the silence as he lets go of his grip on Damian 's leg. The others catch up to the duo, settling around them.
“Something that ignoring orders will not change.”
Batman added in his usual baritone. His cowl may hide his features from sight, yet somehow the slight outline of the pinch in his brow remains barely visible beneath.
“Yeah, love the enthusiasm Baby Bat, but the party's over tonight.”
“Maybe for you, Big Bird - as far as I'm concerned, it's only just begun.
I've got coffee and case files waiting for me, so let's go.”
Tim whines back at Grayson's remark, causing the other man to let out a chuckle as he ruffles the younger's hair.
“Aww that's so cute you think that, Mr. Has Not Slept in 48 hours.”
“Oh, lay off, dick face. If Timbo wants to sleep when he's dead, let him. He can decide for himself.”
“Stop trying to butter me up, I'm not going to play Mario Kart with you tonight Jason, I've got case files to read.”
“All I'm hearing is that we should start calling you chicken, instead of Baby Bird.”
Despite the mask covering Tim's eyes, Damian can picture the eye roll he's surely giving Jason as they quip back and forth.
“Hey, I think it's very brave of him to acknowledge the fact I would wipe the floor with him. You could learn from him in that regard, little wing.”
“Oh that’s it, it’s so on, dick face–”
“Very well, let us return, then.”
Damian cuts through the squabbling chatter of his older brother's banter. He typically enjoys listening to said chatter, but the siren song of his bed back at the manor is most tempting. Especially with the knowledge of school starting back bright and early in the morning.
He once more feels a tug on his hood as he starts the trip back. He turns once again to face Todd only to find a look of confusion on the older man's face this time, instead of his usual bravado.
“You look as if you've seen a ghost, take a glance in a mirror, Red Hood?” Damian snarks as he removes the older man's hand from his hood, only to raise a brow of his own as he notices the look of shock on the others’ faces as well.
In typical fashion, Nightwing breaks the silence
“Could you repeat that, Baby Bat?”
“Very well. Let us return.”
Keeping the confusion out of his voice takes more effort then he would ever like to admit. But even the infamous cowl cannot hide the surprise on his fathers face. It leaves Damian puzzled as to what exactly could be causing this reaction. The nausea only grows, sinking deeper in his stomach, if even his unbreakable father is letting a crack form.
His father fades from view as Tim steps forward, leaning into his face as he asks a bit rushed. The question only made his confusion grow.
“What song did Jay play in the car this morning? When he and I dropped you off at school. ”
“Is the lack of sleep catching up to you? Grayson drove today, an irrelevant fact to your question. Seeing how he let you pick the music. I don't know the name of the song, only that it's from that boy band you play on repeat. BTZ? Or something.”
His response causes some of the tension to leave the air.
As Tim steps back his posture is more relaxed, though the confusion remains. “Alright so definitely not an imposter, wanna queue us in on what's going on Dami.?”
“Queue you in on what exactly?”
Hiding weakness under the every sharp eyes of his family…Damian knew it would be no easy feat. He refuses to face the possibility that he is so weak to have already failed.
“Easy now! I think what Timmie’s trying to say is we’re a little confused by the fact you didn't ask to continue patrol.”
Grayson speaks holding both up his hands, the common sign for surrender, as he tries to keep the tension from rising in the air once more.
“Father has given his orders, I see no reason to question them.”
Damian straightens his posture as he speaks. Moving his arms crossed in front of him, to behind his back falling in line.
“Yeah, gotta call bullshit little bat, normally this is where you throw a tantrum saying we should go for another lap.”
Todd adds, ever so helpful.
“You speak as if I'm a child, I am simply being efficient in my work. Maybe you should try it sometime.”
He bites back, fighting fire with fire always was the way to go with Todd. Much like waving a red flag to a bull.
Before Todd could ignite, follow through with the words on the tip of his tongue that carry his typical heat. Father beats him to the punch, a frosted analytical response befitting a detective, a cool calculated addition to the conversation.
“Interesting switch up, from someone who ignored my call for the end of patrol not even 15 minutes ago.”
“My apologies. I did not hear your call. My focus was elsewhere. It will not happen again.”
Almost the exact opposite response happened this time. When he had answered Tim, they had all relaxed. This answer though it seemed to make all their hackles rise as the look of confusion they shared grew. That felt like a knife in his chest, it always hurts to see a sign of failure after doing so well.
“Are we all going to stand around wasting time or shall we go? I see no reason to waste time out here when there are other objectives to accomplish, ensuring the upkeep of equipment for example.”
He barks, waving a batarang in his hands, hoping it helps to hide his desperation.
It's not the worst excuse he could come up with, certainly not the best either. It's not a lie however, as he has been meaning to sharpen a few so he need not worry of getting caught in fibs so it's good enough to make work.
When confidence fails, anger becomes the next best shield. It's why wounded dogs bite so he squared his shoulders even more. Pushing the churning in his stomach further down as he makes his bluff. Biting his tongue, narrowing in on the copper taste filling his mouth. He uses it as a reminder to stay stoic.
Clenching his jaw to keep a sigh of relief from leaving his lips, he watches the others turn their backs to him. Father repeats his order for patrol to end, the others following foot as they begin the trip back home.
—------------------
Water always tastes most refreshing after a long patrol. The cool refreshing chill washing away the dry rough feeling in his throat, it is unbecoming to chug drinks down, a fact he has tried and failed to teach Tim, who drinks coffee as if it's the air he needs to breathe.
But it's a fact Damian is thankful for. Despite his hopes that the crisp chill refreshing water with a hint of cucumber and basil that Alfred so lovingly made and left in the fridge earlier this afternoon would help settle the queasiness in his stomach; it only grows. Leaving Damian disappointed, but thankful it at least provided some slight relief, from the warmth settled not only in his throat, but on his skin from his nagging fever.
The sound of steps pulls his attention away from the refreshing beverage in his hands. And speak of the devil, Tim marches into the kitchen heading straight for the coffee machine. Damian cannot help but smirk as before Tim can reach it; however, the young caffeine addict is swept off his feet as Dick pulls him back, trapping the younger boy in a hug.
“Yeah I don't think so, Tim.”
“Wow Big Bird, what a kind older brother you are, forcing your poor sweet little sibling to suffer dehydration.”
“If that's the best argument you can come up with, for why you should be allowed to have a 7th cup of coffee today…I'm a bit disappointed.”
“Well, don't see why ‘I have case files’ is not a valid excuse.”
“I don't see how you think you can live off of caffeine and spite.”
“I don’t know man, spite’s a pretty powerful thing, Dickie bird.”
Todd says joining the conversation, as he enters the kitchen. Stopping to mess with Grayson's hair as he passes. Almost like a quick mini noogie on his way towards the fridge.
“Maybe to some of us Jason, we can't all be edge lords now.”
The fondness practically oozes off Grayson's voice as he quips back.
Using one hand to fix his hair back in place, the other still keeping Tim lazily pulls to his side.
“Ha me edge lord oh please, like I could ever compete with our reigning champ here. If anything I'm like the sassy aunt.”
Damian finds himself the target of the aggressive hair tossing now, as Jason gently uses the motion to guide Damian a few steps to the side, so he can open the fridge.
“You speak as if I'm some rabid beast.”
Damian huffs batting the hand away.
“If the shoe fits the kid.”
Jason gives him a wink over his freshly opened soda.
There's a certain spark in his eyes showing he's itching for an argument. That's always been one of his favorite things about Jason. He treats Damian like an equal in this and gives as good as he gets. Matching him line for line in trading over the top insult after the other.
The fire in Damian 's eyes has long gone cold for the night however. His brain feels like a pile of mush, so he turns his gaze back to his glass as he takes another sip letting silence fill the air. Content to continue to listen in as Jason searches for a more worthy debate partner for the night, probably Tim. Though his responses are definitely dryer than the typical energy Jason and Damian like to bring to the table.
The slice stretches on though, turning to an awkward pause, Damian can feel the weight of eyes on him but he ignores it. After all, give them no room to question you .
“Seriously though kid, everything good?”
Surprisingly Jason beats Grayson to the punch in breaking the silence. That does nothing to change Damian’s response to the question.
“Everything is quite fine, why wouldn't it be?”
“You seemed a little off today, is all.”
Grayson says hesitantly.
“Merely a figment of your imagination Grayson, I performed as always.”
“I wouldn't say that, you definitely were moving a little slower than usual. And it isn't like you to ignore Bruce, ya know if something is wrong we’ll totally listen and stuff.”
Tim trails off as his deduction turns to a ramble.
“I assure you I am perfectly capable and do not require any assistance. I was merely thinking about what I'll need to sharpen soon. I've been meaning to sharpen my katanas,when I noticed tonight some of the batarangs could also need sharpening. I was considering if anything else needed to be added to the list, nothing to make a molehill out of.”
“Ok buddy just keep Timmies words in mind ok?”
“Sure.” His response to Grayson's question earns another hair ruffle, this one gentler.
“Anywho enough sappy shit its Mario Kart time bitches !”Jason shouts.
“For you, maybe I have better things to do.” Tim says, rolling his eyes so hard it's a miracle they didn't get stuck.
“And that attitude is exactly why you're not getting any of this, unless you beat me in rainbow road.”
In typical bat fashion Jason had somehow snuck back to the entrance of the kitchen. Without anyone noticing till he drew their attention by speaking, holding the unplugged coffee machine, much to Tim's horror.
“Hey!”
At the sound of Tim's shout, Jason instantly started running as Tim started chasing him without missing a beat. Jason's laughter fading down the halls followed by the sound of Tim's rage.
“Always something with those two.” Grayson said with a fond sigh.
“You can say that again.” Damian agreed.
“I suppose they’re little game of tag will at least give us a second, to get the tv set up. Without them trying to start a wrestling match on the couch.”
“Us?” Damian raised a brow.
“Yeah ? You're invited to play too ya know.”
Damian did not know as no one has expressly said that to him until this second, the warmth in Grayson's eye becoming infectious as at the invitation, Damian feels a spark of excitement grow in his own. That spark was immediately snuffed out as Damian stiffened, trying hard to choke down the cough trying to claw its way out of his throat.
“You're always invited to play with us ya know, one of the many perks of having siblings. You always have someone to curse out over Mario Kart, Smash Bros, Mario Party or really any co-op with means of sabotage or competition.”
Grayson's voice chattered on mistaking, Damian for needing encouragement - he was sort of right as Damian was a coward. But not in the way of shyness, Grayson mistakenly pinned him with. After all, the real thing choking him wasn't the cough, but the very thing plaguing him all throughout the day. The possibility of them seeing his weakness.
“Something I'll keep in mind for the future. Like I was saying earlier, I really need to sharpen some equipment, the sooner the better.”
Damian said briskly, as he walked towards the exit to the kitchen. Pausing in the doorway as he spoke to look back at Grayson. Ignoring how he has to bite his tongue to still himself, to help ignore the kicked puppy expression on Grayson's face.
“Rain check then?”
“Sure, kick their butts for me.”
Damein responds softly, as he leaves fully. The last thing he needs is to show them this weakness. The last thing he needs is to accidently infect the others with his germs.
The cold dark quiet of his room is a much better place for him right now, to rest and get over this as soon as possible, to pretend this weakness never existed, compared to the warmth and chaotic joy of joining his brothers in cursing each other out over silly games.
The sooner the better indeed.
—-------------------------------------
The disorienting feeling of shooting awake from a deep sleep always takes your breath away. A fact that makes the choking, suffocating feeling of bile leaving his throat all the more violent .
Everything about vomit tends to be violent, from the lack of breath, to fizzing war in his stomach. Only made worse by the foul smell. His racing pulse accompanies it all. Beating like a drum in his ears.
Despite knowing this fit will end soon enough,and couldn't have lasted more than 15, 20 minutes. It feels like utter agony. Agony slightly soothed by the freezing chill of the A/C, as he assesses the damage done.
Thankfully, he finds that didn't get any on himself somehow. The same could not be said for his bedding. He watches how the contents of his stomach soaks further into his sheets and comforter mocking him.
Each passing second serves only to add more weight heavy on his shoulders . Damian represses the recoiling flinch from the calming breath he tries to take, it only serves to fill his taste buds further with the disgusting taste of vile, that almost triggers a round two.
He is not so weak as to let that happen though thankfully, just as he is not so weak as to lay down on the floor and wallow in his misery.
He already has quite the mess to clean up for 3:42 in the morning. It would be a shame to add more to that.
So without further stalling, Damian pulls himself to his feet as he carefully removes the spoiled sheet and blankets from the bed. Folding them over so the mess is trapped inside like a vile dumpling. Keeping the mess contained as he drags the arm full of laundry to his bathroom.
When he first saw the bathroom, attached to his room here at the manor, he couldn't help but scoff at the large tub inside. Despite Grayson's insistence that baths could be relaxing fun, the young vigilante cannot see them as anything but a waste of time.
Showers are much more efficient.
The tub comes in handy tonight though, as he sets about washing the majority of the mess out of his sheets. Focusing on the enjoyable feel of warm water and the pleasant scent of soap, helps to distract from the sight of the vomit, mixing with the water as he washes. Sadly still more enjoyable than the texture of it against his hands as he scrubs.
A texture he's grateful to replace with more soap, as he scrubs his hands raw in the sink. Leaning heavy against the counter, as the dizzying feel returns. He makes easy work of ignoring it for the time being, as he switches to brushing his teeth. Stalling the inevitable trip to the laundry room to wash and dry his bedding properly, now that the bulk of the mess has been taken care of.
The temptation to go curl back in bed despite the work to be done is strong even without his sheets, that mattress and pillows are by far the softest nicest place Damian has ever had the pleasure of sleeping on.
However he only had so much time before the others started to rise for the new day, and he would rather die than let any of them see him in such an unbecoming position. The last thing he needs is for any of them to think he's more of a burden then he is.
Besides, while the sheets are technically clean, it still would be best to get them in the proper cleaning machines. To fully ensure no trace of his weakness be left behind. To stain the sheets his father so kindly bought for his bedding with his wages, and all the work Pennyworth puts into maintaining them, on top of staining his reputation more than the blood on his hands ever could. At least the blood showed he was a survivor, a victor of battles.
He lets those thoughts guide him, as he pulls out the now soaking sheeting from the tub. Shivering despite himself, the cold damp feel of them against his skin. Causing goosebumps as he begins his trip.
Stumbling slightly though the halls as he makes his way, the slight chatter of his teeth from the cold being thankfully, the only noise he makes. Still, a cause for concern in the manor.
When you live with vigilantes, the walls always have ears. So he watches the hall in front of him carefully and meticulously, keeping his ears pinned behind him for noise. It's no wonder, as he takes the staircase down one step at a time, that about half way down his foot snags on his sheets. Despite his efforts, he folds like a house of cards.
The dizziness that has plagued him the past few days, haunting him like a ghost from the ever present nausea, is nothing compared to the dizziness from the tumbling fall he just endured.
Despite the fact his eyes are screwed almost as tightly shut as the grip on his sheets, stars still dance in his vision. Damian couldn't care less about that though, as he focuses solely on his hearing. Holding his breath despite his ragged pulses attempts to place it out of his control.
He focuses solely on any hint that the crash of his fall woke any of the other inhabitants of the manor. Thankfully, as he recalls, the room Jason uses whenever he stays the night is the closest to the stairs. The fact doesn't ease his worries too much. While Jason may be the heaviest sleeper in the family, that doesn't mean much when you're talking about a group famously of nocturnal insomniacs.
Quickly peeling himself off the floor, he drags both himself and his bedding to their destination. Only letting out a sigh of relief as the door to the laundry room shuts behind him.
He makes quick work of getting his sheets into the wash. Efficiency is key after all, and he now has other objectives to attend too. His eyes narrow as he glares at his reflection from the washers door. He checks to find his eyes remain un-dilated. He mentally checks that off his list, as he knocks over a laundry basket nearby.
He’s pleasantly surprised to find he's able to balance on top of the basket, on one foot. He's a little shaky technically, but it's good enough that Damian is confident to write it off any major worries of concussion for the time being.
An embarrassing amount of relief washes over him as he settles in. watching the washer spin his sheets in circles. The relief doesn't last long. How could it? That was too close for comfort, far too close. Any more noise and he surely would have attracted someone's attention. A one way ticket to throwing all his hard work down the drain. A one way ticket to becoming a failure. His heart sinks, feeling like it comes to a painful stop at the thought of being faced with that.
It doesn't take much thought, his nightmares already have done the leg work for that, long ago, to picture how that would play out,
The long cold disappointed stare of his father he knows stings much more than his mother or grandfather’s ever had. Because unlike his mother and grandfather, his father’s stare always held a bit of hope, a small shine that felt as warm as June. His grandfather and mother’s disappointment was a harbinger of tougher training to follow, a promise they would insure he would not make the same mistake again, he ready knows the despair that would make up his being at seeing that spark, that small glimmer, leave his father’s eyes,
The sneering snarl of Jason's mockery would be sure to follow, barely heard over his laughter, a wicked sound that would cut deeper than any knife. It always hurts most to be seen as lame, a mere joke to the people you find coolest.
He knows it's only cold disdain he would find in Tim’s eyes, calm, cold, calculated, already having seen this coming from miles away. A bored disgruntled aggravation of having to deal with the inevitable fall out. He already grows cold thinking of that frost, how he’ll miss the chaotic energy, that electric spark Tim tends to bring
None of their reactions would stop Grayson from trying to save face, insisting on stretching himself even thinner than the man already is, his bleeding heart would lead him to feel as if he needs to protect Damian , to pity him like some stray. The overwhelming guilt of Grayson misplaced undeserved worry for him would only leave him drowning in the abyss.
He's already feasted far too heavily on pity, he's failing the titles he was so graciously allowed to bear .
Far too emotional, needy for an Al Ghul.
Too aggressive, blood thirsty for a Wayne.
To be unbecoming for the name of Robin, something undeserved for the amount of weakness he has displayed of late, and yet Damian continues to ignore that. After all, fake it till you make it, confidence is key. He will correct his mistakes and present himself in a way worthy of his titles . He will do right by his family. the haunting thought of their disappointment will not have anything less.
He makes sure to be more careful on his trip back up the stairs very quickly, missing the warmth of the freshly cleaned bed sheets as he tosses them on the bed and heads back to his bathroom. It’s now 5 am thankfully still about an hour early for anyone to rise at thanks to patrol however not really anytime for Damian to sleep especially with a potential concussion so to play it safe as ignoring the growing fever the once more rising churning in his stomach - the aches, the chill in his spine, the heaviness of his eyelids, is sadly harder to ignore, so he focuses on the feeling of the water pouring down from his shower head as he sits beneath it staring at the clock as he waits.
—-------------------------------
The next few hours pass by in a daze, as Damian takes care to not aggravate the sore spot on his head. He fixes his hair resisting the desire to close his blood shot eyes once more, as he looks over his appearance. So many cracks in his appearance, his mother and grandfather would have his head if they were here for the pitiful sight his reflection makes. Damian , despite the trembling of his hands, is meticulous. As he makes himself presentable he is nothing short of pristine. He carefully marches himself down the stairs, following the scent of breakfast making Pennyworth’s work known to the manor.
Damian is collected, as the taste of said cooking enters his palate.
Sitting at the dining table in the kitchen with his brothers, their father had already left for the office and Pennyworth had already moved onto the next task, leaving just his siblings to dine with this morning. For once, their banter washes over him falling on deaf ears as Damian cannot help but ponder.
There are many things that are impossible in this world. One fact Damian had always considered impossible was a disdain for Alfred's cooking. The elder takes great care in his craft that shows in every bite. Cooking with love always seemed like another nonsense saying people like spat. Until Damian tried Alfred's cooking and grew to understand.
Tasting the warmth and care that soothes like Grayson's ramblings. the pure joy and excitement that comes during late night fastfood fun with Todd, and it satisfies like quipping back and forth with Tim debating and mocking films during movie nights. Damian always thought Alfred's cooking did the impossible, being made of love. And yet, the shock of the fact that he has to force himself to down bite after bite. Refusing to let any sign of how it adds to the nausea slowly building in him once more feels even more impossible.
“Oh please, you are such a sore loser dickie bird.”
“Says the world's worst winner, seriously, Jason, enough.”
“Oh, but you were such a chatterbox last night. Talking all this game of how you could out race us on any track only to eat dust, wanna remind dick face the score replacement ?”
“12 -4.”
Tim adds to the chatter, over the click of silver were on plates holding up his coffee cup in a cheer of victory like it was a trophy. A cheer Todd matches as he grabs his own drink and clicks their cups together. The identical shit eating grins never leaving either of their faces. Much to the current disdain of Grayson, as while Damian can’t see Grayson's current expression from his seat on the dining table bench next to the young assassin. He can feel the exhaustion in his tone as he speaks to the duo sitting across from them.
“More like 7 - 4, I don't recall wrestling and stealing controllers as official Mario Kart strategies.”
“All fair in love and war, Big Bird, besides we never said street rules were off limits.”
“We were playing Mario Kart, not Grand Theft Auto.”
“What more can I say, get good next time. Besides what's wrong with a little creative thinking?”
“The fact you bribed our little brother with coffee, to tackle me off the couch!”
“Oh please, you also bribe me with coffee all the time. You literally bribed me to steal Jason's hoodie for you the other day.”
“Wait, that's where it went ?!”
There's never a dull moment here in this manner. The island of Al Ghul is a place many expect to be stained with green, its honorable long tapestry of history building a strong foundation and lasting presence all hallmarked by the sacred lazarus pit, the signature lime green glow being an iconic trademark color of al Ghul to most.
To Damian though the league always felt dull, much more like rusted metal. The sleek grandeur, hiding the cold cool monochrome silver of their precision beneath. That description feels more fitting to the frosted tension that hung heavy like a knife on the island. A sentiment that grows stronger, as he spends more time surrounded by the warm glow of his family. Despite the typically gloom muteness of Gotham's walls that paint a stark contrast.
“I can't believe this, the audacity after all the lectures about how crime is wrong.”
“Hey, I'm gonna give it back .... eventually. Besides, maybe I wouldn't steal your hoodie, if you hung out with me more. Is it such a crime to miss my baby brother Jay? “
“Its absolute horseshit is what it is. We see each other all the time.“
“Yeah, Baby Bat’s the one with a penance for pulling a disappearing act. So much hate, couldn't even be bothered to show up to family game night.” Tim says dryly, dragging Damian into Jason’s and Grayson's bickering.
“Oh yeah how did the sharpening go kiddo?”
The whine in Grayson's voice earlier is completely gone. As he turns to look at Damian , the excitement of an overgrown puppy.
“It went quite well, everything is perfectly prepared for tonight's patrol.”
That lie paid off in the end, as it ended up becoming the truth. Sharpening made a great distraction, to make sure he didn't accidentally fall asleep while watching for signs of concussion.
“That’s great! You'll have to show me tonight then.”
“Oh please, excuses excuses, take a page from Grayson's book, Baby Bat, and come lose with honor.”
“Hey!!”
It's Tim's comment that causes his heart to stop as it sinks in his chest. It's Grayson's shriek at Tim that becomes the final nail in the coffin as Damian 's headache spikes.
“I'm just saying, it's kinda lame that I couldn't stick to my original plans for the night but the brat did, oh well guess some things cant be helped huh?“ Tim pauses for a second letting his words settle in the air, before bringing his hand to his mouth to fake a cough while muttering the word coward in between. Smirking at Damian , white hot shame burst through his chest.
“Taking the proper care of equipment is extremely important, no one wants to use a rusty blade to cut certainly isn't very efficient”
“Sorry, what was that ? I don't speak coward, champ.”
“Oh no I didn't stay up till 5am screaming at a fictitious video game and instead did something productive, sue me. “
Damian mutters hoping to stop this from going much further, he's too tired for the back and forth right now.
“Oh no, hanging with the big kids makes you miss your bed time? Poor thing, ha right, weak excuse Dami. Almost as weak as you.”
His eyes prove to be a thing he is terrible at ignoring. Despite his best efforts he can feel water build in the corner of his eyes.
Confidence is key, his mind echoes for the millionth time as if he doesn't know. It's more a hollow thought really, at this point as he keeps his gaze down. Keeping his body as still as possible, refusing to make any sudden movements that could draw attention to this crack. When you're in a house with vigilantes however, things don't go unnoticed for long.
“Tim fucking apologize now!”
Damian couldn't help but flinch at the tone Todd in which Todd speaks. The slight gruff to his tone was as common and natural as his father's baritone but this was next level. Thankfully the others didn't notice the filch, as they all were locked onto Todd equally as shocked by the tone.
“Chill Jason, i'm just joke—-”
“Not funny Tim, congratulations. You made Damian fucking cry!”
Despite his best efforts to quickly leave, as soon as the words left Todd's mouth everyone's attention was on him like a hawk. The gazes are almost as heavy as Grayson's touch, having been what stopped him from leaving. Dread fills his stomach, as his head is turned to face them.
He's seen shock on their faces before, but not like this. The look of absolute horror on Drake and Todd's face only marked more extreme as the spilt coffee and broken glass of Tim’s cup lying completely ignored on the floor. In favor of staring wide eyed at him his gaze buzzing with a panic undertone, contrasted by the dead eyed stare of Todd.
He can feel the misplaced guilt radiating off the way Grayson's hand shakes on his face.
His tears now steam down his face, on full display for everyone to see. Time stands still for what feels like eternity, as Damian tries to pull himself together to stop this shameful unbecomingness.
“It's fine, really. “ He mutters, trying and failing to suppress the slight hitch in his breath. Which only causes the hand shaking against his cheeks to shake more. Before with a broken whisper, almost a whimper of his name, his face is getting gently shoved into Grayson's chest
“Omg Damian ! I didn't mean – I swear it was only a –! I am so sorry ! I swear I don't actually think — none of us!! ”
Tim's rambling washes over the room, the only noise filling the silence, but it does nothing to lessen the weight of the tension. Despite being firmly pulled into Grayson's lap, head buried, the weight of everyone's eyes still burns. They burn almost as bad as the shame coursing through his veins. Almost as bad the desire, the urge, the need to fix things.
“Enough Tim, your stammering is not necessary.” Demien finally says, voice steady tone cool. As he pushes out of Grayson's hold. Calm, cool and collected.
“I am the one who is sorry for the unsightly display. I apologize for the interruption to the lovely meal Alfred worked so hard to make. We deal with far more important and difficult things than a few teasing remarks. My response is most unbecoming, and I take great shame to the dishonor I bring the Wayne name with this behavior. It will not happen again.” Damian declares, voice steady.
His gaze was perfectly straight ahead. Far softer than he intended, but his breath did not hitch and no more tears are being added to the remnants of the earlier ones. So, all-in-all, a solid recovery.
Damian can take pride in that, when faced with future remarks about this episode. At least things will be back according to schedule, and Damian can go back to being effective, to being becoming. He will apologize once more and play along with Jason's laughs, Tim’s snark and Grayson attempts to save face. He’ll get things back on track.
Only the silence remains. In fact, it grows louder. The whispers of any second now slowly die out. As the only change to the shocked expressions across his brothers faces is the cold hard grief in their eyes along with the tears now also streaming down Grayson's face - a fact Damian only knows as he's once again pulled to Grayson’s chest, the acrobats arms wrapping even tighter round him and practically vibrating, his voice wet with tears.
“Dami, oh Baby Bat, never ever say any of that again, you hear me? Your feelings are way more important then acting “becoming”, that’s fucking garbage.”
Grayson says between his own hitching breath, a borderline sob that Damian cannot believe but doesn't have time to ponder as a third hand comes to rest alongside Dick’s on his back, warm and calloused.
“Big Bird’s right, little b.”
Oh god he’s fucked up, hes really fucked up if Jason is crying. Damian's heart races at the thought brought on by the wetness in Jason's voice, so distracted he almost missed the ex crime lords next sentence:
“I'm not good with emotions or touchy feely shit. Heck, none of us here except Big Bird are, but Dami, honey, you are so so loved by each and every one of us, feelings and all okay? Don't you doubt that for a second.”
Damian has heard a lot of broken men, but man, it is so much more heartbreaking to hear your brother use that tone about you.
“Do you not remember how Jason lost it last time we all played Smash Bros? Last I checked we still keep him around, if that didn't scare us off, your little water works don't have a shot either.”
Tims adds softly, placing a hand on his shoulder as he slides onto the bench taking the spot Damian was sitting at before he was pulled into Grayson's lap.
Tim's addition to the conversation is both a blessing and curse as it serves to help light the mood just a hair. The purr-like vibration from the small chuckle Grayson lets out in response to Tim's comment makes gaining the will to leave his grip even harder.
“Ooh man I forgot about that haha-”
“Oh yeah at least I can watch a horror film without screaming my head off- ”
A tension he didn't realize was in his shoulders falls, as his brother's bickering fills his ears. He's learned many more things since coming to Gotham, he's seen things he never thought he would, he still never understood though, how people could laze about where there's work to do. After all, Damian was raised to value efficiency. Even with a bed made of clouds is no excuse to act like a cat in the sun.
This, however…
The vanilla cologne Jason teases the older for wearing fills his nose warmly and helps him understand. That understanding is made greater by the grip of Grayson's arms wrapped tight, strong, sturdy and stable. The shiver down his spine has nothing to do with the ache and cold but all to do with the shapes and swirls Grayson draws on his back.
Running on no sleep is nothing new. Damian is used to being tired, he's been ignoring all the aches and chills, the nausea that's plagued him without a thought. It's hard to ignore something he never knew existed before, he's been plagued by the insistent heat of fever the past few days, but the warmth that surrounds him makes the fever feel like winter. He's seen Grayson cling to the others, pull them all impossibly close, he's been the target of said clinginess from ruffled hair to an arm draped over his shoulders. And he's never understood the point of it . What goal does it accomplish ? But now , he cannot help but acknowledge it sparks something.
He wonders if this is how it feels, to be loved.
Haha, he's really out of it isn't he?”
“Aww, the little ankle biter has a cute side. Who'd have thought?”
“Shhh, don't wake him, let him sleep.”
The slight jostle as Grayson shifts his weight is what encourages Damian to open his eyes. He did not realize they closed, raising his head from the soft cotton of Grayson's tee blinking in his surroundings.
“Hey sleeping beauty, welcome back to the land of the living.”
That single remark from Todd causes the remnants of sleep to leave as he jolts up more fully. Grayson's grip doesn't let him get far however. He's now back in his own seat on the kitchen table bench squeezed in between Grayson and Tim, the acrobat’s arms staying loosely wrapped around him.
“Easy now buddy, what's the rush?”
“You were only out for like 10 minutes, if that.”
Grayson and Tim in tandem try to calm him. Confusion must be painted quite heavy on his face as Grayson tries to be overly sweet. It's Tim's assessment, a simple statement of truth however that does the trick to ease the panic from his eyes
“Oh good, I still have time to make it to school, then.” Damian’s deduction is only met with bold refusal.
“Yeah, no way in hell we’re letting you out of our sight right now.”
Damian doesn't have to look at Jason to know the way his brows furrow the scoff that heavily laces his tone.
“Father has ordered that I attend, I see no reason to skip.”
“You were just crying, buddy. Heck, you still got tears on your face - and I'm not saying that to be mean! We've seen you handle stuff that would leave most grown men crying like babies without so much as a blink, so we're not going anywhere till you tell us what's wrong.”
Jason's tone starts soft and grows firm, solid as he leaves no room for argument. A stark contrast to the nonchalant breeze that carries Tim's next words:
“Besides, I already called you out of school so there's really no point going, ghost boy’s right you’re stuck with us, Baby Bat!”
His outraged filled cry of Tim's name goes ignored as the other ruffles his hair only for the hand to leave just as quickly like Damian burned him at the pain-filled hiss Damian lets out at the contact. As Damian relaxes from the flinch, he's once again met with the startled faces of his siblings.
It’s Jason this time who’s manhandling him as he pulls Damian to lean against the back of the bench to reach him better from where he stands behind the bench, to examine his skull.
“I’m fine,Jason —-”
Damian muttered trying to pull back
“The hell you are! That's one nasty bump kid, what the hell happened?”
It's no big deal, I already checked last night when it happened for signs of concussion, played it safe by not sleeping, and checked again before coming down here. It's just sore.
“Sounds like a big deal to me if you thought you needed to check for a concussion. Besides you know the rules, you're supposed to report injuries from patrol.” Grayson said, with as stern of a look possible for Grayson.
“How did it happen though? He was in front of us most of the night and not much happened.”, Tim pondered.
“Because it's not from patrol, I fell down the staircase last night.”
“YoU WHAT!”
There's no use in hiding it now, the cracks have long since faded to piles of dust, besides he'd rather them know any tears he's shed has more to do with his current ailments then anything they've said.
“When did that happen and how? You're not known to be clumsy?”
The confusion’s palpable in Tim’s questions.
“I tripped over the edge of my bedding as I was taking it to the laundry room to wash the vomit out of it, I was already lightheaded from my fever so I didn't notice the blanket was dragging on the floor— unhand me, Tim!”
Damian starts to explain only to devolve into cursing out Tim as the boy pulls his head to face him. Once more the curses die on his tongue like a fire in water, as a sigh of relief leaves his lips at the cool sensation against his face
“I thought he looked a little more flushed than normal, he's burning up.” Tim says as he lets go of his face, while the heat sadly stays.
“What the hell!”
“People tend to do that when they have fevers, Todd.”
“And the sass is never ending with you isn't it, replacement, let me go get a thermometer.”
“No need. It was 102 before I came downstairs and it shouldn't change too much as it didn't spike or anything yesterday until last night when I fell but it was nothing a shower couldn't help.”
“Hang on, let me get this straight, you woke up yesterday sick with a high fever. Went to school and patrol while sick, threw up in the middle of the night and cleaned up everything by yourself falling down the stairs during the process possibly gaining a concussion on top of that. And this is the first anyone in this household is hearing of any of this?”
Jason asks as he pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I’ve confirmed by now it's a no on the concussion but the rest would be accurate, yes.”
“Jeez, Dami, you never half-ass things, huh?”
“I have the situation handled. I did not let it hinder my productivity and completed all my assigned work both from school and patrol, and I assure you everything was cleaned correctly. I made sure to wash the vomit out in the bath before taking it to the laundry to be sure of it.”
“Oh no, baby, what Jay is trying to say is… why didn't you come get one of us?” Grayson's tone is almost as soft and warm as the hand he places on Damian 's back as he speaks - a comfort Damian fights to not sink back into.
“I was raised better than to let something as trivial as this affect me.”
“Oh baby, you’re breaking our hearts!”
“I don't follow.”
“What Big Bird’s trying to say is we love you, brat. Think of it like this: remember a few months ago when that guy cut me good on my leg-”
“I recall.”
How could he forget, it may not have been a serious injury per se for Tim but it was bleeding pretty heavily and the knife the guy had definitely was not clean.
“It was a pretty big cut, but it wasn't life threatening or anything, yet you still insisted on bandaging it up.”
“Life threatening or not it would be idiotic to not treat it.”
“And it's just as idiotic to not let us help you, dummy. You bandaged me up because you care and we wanna help you because we also care. The thought you've been dealing with all that, could have gotten more seriously injured, is terrifying.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
“It really isn't necessary to inconvenience you–”
“Are you saying it was an inconvenience to patch me up?”
“No, I-”
“Then this isn't either. You watch our backs, we watch yours buddy. Never thought I'd say this, but you think too much, be more like Jason.”
“Yeah! Hey, wait -”
The kitchen fills with laughter as Jason sputters, catching on to Tim's “compliment”, and Damian has never felt lighter. However, it only makes him more tired, as his laughter soon turns into a yawn. Next thing he knows, Damian finds himself being lifted higher.
“Grayson, put me down!”
“Mm, nope! C’mon guys, think we've had enough excitement for one morning, and you have had enough excitement for a week.”
Grayson punctuates the sentencing by bopping Damian 's nose.
“Jay, be a dear and grab some extra pillows and blankets, will you? And Tim honey go grab the Switch, we’ll meet you in b’s room, okay?”
“Roger that!”
“Aye aye Captain.”
And with that they were all on their way, splitting off towards their objectives, Grayson refusing to put him down along the way.
“This really isn't necessary.”
“Hush,big brother privilege, let me have my fun.”
Grayson's response got a small laugh from the younger along with an eye roll as they continued down the hall in silence.
“Hey now, I’m not a cactus, I'm not gonna poke you.”
Damian 's face once more falls into the crook of Grayson's neck as the acrobat shifts his neck, bringing his hand up to start drawing patterns and shapes on Damian 's back as he continues to walk. It only takes a few steps for Damian to relax, letting out a small sigh at the smell of vanilla again.
“Mmm, there we go baby.”
Grayson practically croons, his voice honey sweet in a soft whisper. The flush on Damian 's face now has nothing to do with fever, and somehow despite the fact his head is buried, it doesn't stop Grayson from noticing.
“Awww, do you like being called pet names?”
“It's an entirely inaccurate way to refer to me.”
“Haha, awww, no need to be shy. Ya know Jayson also really likes being called pet names a lot; it’s no big deal, honey.”
Any response to those words Damian might have had died on his tongue. The words might as well have been stolen from his mouth as all his focus is stolen by the lips pressed to his forehead.
“Hmm, that really is a high fever, we’ll grab you a wash cloth when we get you settled, ok?”
The sincerity and care in Grayson's eyes shine as he speaks. Almost like the very depth of his care is reflected in them, giving them the appearance akin to the ocean.
“Okay ….love you, Grayson.”
His muttered response - barely a whisper, really - causes Grayson to pause for only a second. A second kiss is pressed this time to the top of his head as Grayson speaks.
“Love you too baby.”
It doesn't take too much longer for them to reach their father’s room. Grayson sets him on the edge of the bed as he goes to the closet in the corner.
“Why exactly are we in father’s room?”
“Cuz it not only has the biggest bed but the comfiest clothes, too.”
Grayson says as he tosses some of father’s shirts onto the bed as well.
“What, does stolen clothing feel better or something?”
Jason mutters as he steps in arms full of blankets and pillows which he also tosses on the bed, his grumbling doing nothing to stop him from reaching for the pile of shirts already replacing his clothes with the slightly too large black tee shirt he grabbed from the pile. Tim's not far behind Jason in entering the room and he makes quick work of plugging the Switch into the tv as he turns to the bed to also grab one of the shirts, muttering under his breath.
“You seem to think stealing peoples controllers in the middle of Mario Kart is fun, so why not shirts?”
“Touché, replacement. Say, ya know what is also fun… stealing coffee machines! It's also super fun to hide them.”
“Will you stop doing that! I swear one of these days–
“Alright alright, save it for later, we got more important stuff to tend to.”
As Damian finishes changing clothes, pulling his head though the oversized shirt, he finds Grayson has sat down next to him to his right on the bed, holding a small bowl filled with cool water and a rag. He sets the bowl carefully in his lap as he reaches out to cup Damian 's face in his hand, tracing a gentle line beneath his eye as his other hand brings the rag close.
“This should help some-
“Hold it.” Tim cuts Grayson off, stopping him from placing the rag against his face
“I know Dami said he took his temperature not long ago but we should take it again to be sure what exactly we’re working with.”
“Good thing I also grabbed a thermometer then, and grabbed the good meds from the medbox.” Jason adds as he sits down on Damian 's left, turning Damian to face him as he places the thermometer to his forehead.
“Wow, can’t believe I’m saying this, but good thinking, Jay.”
“Someone had to and it certainly wasn't gonna be momma bird over there since all that's on his mind right now is cuddles.”
“Oh, really? Say, I don't recall cradling the back of the head being a required step for taking a temperature, do you, Tim?”
Grayson asks with a raise of his eyebrow, his arms crossed as he draws attention to the hand Jason has tangled in the hair at the base of Damian 's skull, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle.
“I didn't say the kid didn't need a hug, he just needs some meds first.”
Jason says with a wince as he reads the thermometer - a wince that Grayson and Todd mimic when Jason turns the thermometer for them to read as well.
“I'll grab some water–
“ No need.” Damian interrupts, stopping Tim from turning towards the bathroom as he grabs the bottle of meds from where Jason sat them on the bed, intending to take one dry as the pill falls into his hand. Tim snatches it and the bottle up, taking them with him to the bathroom.
“Stop being stubborn.”
As he walks back in, he places a glass of water in Damian 's hand, gabbing his other, he places half a pill.
“It's not good to dry swallow meds, and Jay wasn't kidding about this being the good shit. Unless you wanna get higher than a kite, sticking to half a dose is best for now, especially if you've been nauseous.”
Damian couldn't help but smile as he took the pill with a generous sip of water, before handing the glass back to Tim with a muttered thanks. The warmth may soon leave his head but in his chest it's here to stay. As soon as he is done he finds himself being pulled to the side, an arm wrapped around him.
“My turn now.”
You can hear the grin in Grayson's tone as the arm slung around Damian 's shoulders reaches up to brush the hair off his forehead, the other dabbing the cool rag against his face.
“There we go, baby.” Grayson mutters as Damian melts into the touch
“Ha, careful now the goal is to make him less red, not more. Kid’s gonna turn into a tomato at this pace.”
Damian can't help but shift his gaze towards the floor at Jason's tease.
“Be nice to him Jay, poor babe has been through enough.”
“Yeah yeah. I didn't mean anything by it, I was just teasing sweetheart.”
And now Damian really feels like he’s melting as Jason places a quick kiss to the top of his head before placing his hand on his back.
“Aww, you’re being such a sweet brother right now, great job honey.”
“Shut up before I smack you.”
“Haha see you’re not the only one who likes pet names.”
Grayson whispers to Damian as he looks up to find Jason sporting a matching flush to his cheeks, as well.
“Huh, maybe Stephaine was right about Jason being a tsundere.”
Damian mutters the sentence without thinking, barely a whisper, but that didn't stop Grayson from barking out a loud laugh.
“What's so funny dick face?!”
“Haha nothing, oh nothing, little wing.”
It doesn't take long for the two to start bickering. Damian finds his attention drawn to behind him as he feels a small poke on his back. He turns to see Tim has crawled onto the bed and is sitting behind him. Having his attention, he tugs lightly on Damian 's shirt, nodding his head back and gesturing towards the head of the bed where Tim had placed all the extra pillows and blankets Jason had grabbed. Damian lets him lead him over there, leaving the elder siblings to fight at the foot of the bed as they settle down against pillows.
“It's like watching toddlers pull each other's pigtails on a playground.”
Tim mutters dryly.
“Such is the joy of having siblings.”
“Touché, after all, now that they're thoroughly distracted… I don't have to share.”
Tim mutters, placing a kiss to Damian 's forehead before pulling him tight against his side, snuggling down into the nest of pillows and blankets
“Sounds good to me.” Damian mutters as he shifts to tuck himself a little closer to Tim, content to watch the show before them and see how long it takes them to notice his and Tim's “disappearance”.
After a while of watching them go back and forth with no stopping, Damian feels another poke and looks up at Tim’s face to see the boy holding up the tv remote with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at him in question.
Damian returns the smirk as he realises Tim’s idea, and oh yeah, this is gonna be good.
The bickering is soon replaced as the opening theme to Mario Kart is blasted from the speakers and Jason and Grayson both jump, nearly falling off the bed at the sudden noise, turning their heads so fast at the sound of Damian and Tim's laughter it's a miracle they didn't get whiplash.
“Really, Tim?” Grayson pouts as Tim turns the tv volume down to be a more appropriate level.
“What, did you two really wanna spend the rest of the day fighting like cats and dogs or are we gonna finally have a proper Mario Kart tournament?”
It doesn't take more convincing as they all get settled at the top of the bed, controllers in hand as the charming sound track of Yoshi's Tale starts to play over the speakers as the race begins. It also doesn't take long for the bickering to start back up. Although nothing has truly changed from the ordinary, in a sense it seems softer than normal.
Typically Jason would have started screaming curses by now and Tim would be laughing manically while Grayson would be poking and teasing, however he saw fit in the moment to stir the pot. Today, however, it’s a soft chuckle as Jason knocks Tim off the edge of the map, almost like a purr as Damian leans a little more into Jason's side from where he’s sandwiched between his siblings. It's the soft ramblings as Tim throws in some fun trivia facts about the game in between muttering insults under his breath and it's the sound of Grayson sweetly humming along to the music as he goes out of his way to do all the short cuts and flips he can in the game.
Those are the sounds he hears as his eyes struggle to stay open and he feels the controller get gently pulled from his grip and replaced by cotton material as he's pulled further into the cuddle pile.
At some point the sound of his siblings chatter had all faded to snores. The mess of tangled limbs surrounding him, and the quiet hum of the tv remain a constant present. The drowsiness that clings to him is only made worse by the warmth that surrounds him, making him feel much like a cat lazing in the sun.
The sensation of cool fingers draws his gaze upwards, as he opens his eyes to see his father as the blurriness of sleep fades.
“Father, welcome home.”
“Hey, are you feeling better?”
“I am…. better.”
The urge to deny, to ignore, on the tip of his tongue is a gut reaction. Looking down to see his sibling all wrapped around him, despite all being in the midst of sleep, he cannot find the will to do so; their words weigh heavily on his mind.
The disappointment he expects to find in his fathers eyes is non-existent. In fact, that glimmer of hope shines brighter than before. It feels more like pride.
“I'm glad.”
“I will make up for the missed school.”
“Don't worry about that, just focus on getting better. Dick filled me in on everything, and I just want to say that your siblings are right.
You're far more important than any image.”
Damian ’s heard those words multiple times now, but it still brings a smile to his face.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“That's all I ask. Anything you need, kiddo?”
“Can you hand me the thermometer? I should probably check again.”
The piles of arms are all locked tight around him despite them being asleep, so no way he was getting up like this. Not without assistance. At least, assistance he wasn't expecting to find, much less in the form of his father carefully plucking him up from his underarms like he's a ragdoll.
Lips are pressed once more to his forehead as he's settled into his father’s lap. He cannot help but lean into the hum that runs though the man's chest.
“Hmmm, still high, but definitely has gone down from what Dick was telling me. The bruise from the fall definitely seems to be healing well too, that’s good.”
“Heyyyyy, no fair Bruce, give him back!” Grayson whines, his voice slurred slightly from sleep, laying like dead-weight in the mess of tangled limbs on the bed.
“What isn't fair is that you all have gotten to hog him all day. I want to cuddle my baby too.”
He presses Damian a little closer to his chest as he speaks, his baritone a soothing hum.
“Get on over here then, old man.”Jason adds, ever so elegantly.
Laying at the center of a cuddle pile was not how Damian expected his day would go. It's not very becoming, it's not efficient. But he's surrounded by more warmth than he's even known, from the steady breathing of his father underneath him, the man sitting in the middle of the pile half sitting up against the pillows and letting Damian lay against his chest.
Jason’s to their left and lays his head above, nestled in the crook of Bruce's neck. His body is half-thrown overtop of Damian like a weighted blanket. This doesn't stop Grayson's arm from curling around him from the right, the faint hums of pop songs falling from the acrobats mouth, as he squeezes his head between Damian and Jason’s, resting on Bruce's shoulder. Bruce’s arm is wrapped around him playing with the acrobats hair, an action Dick mimics as his own hands play with Tim's hair. The boy's head falls next to Damian 's chest as he squeezes himself on top of them all, a leg thrown over Damian and Bruce tangling with Jason as he leans against Dick.
As they're all snuggled together, Jason shifts around, moving a tad as he grumbles something Damian cannot hear. Bruce leans down to kiss Jason on the forehead, the grumbling Jason was doing halts almost immediately at the action a flush on his cheeks. Tim’s snickers and Grayson’s coos at Jason's flush are soon shushed as Bruce also turns to press a kiss to the top of their heads as well. And Damian can't help the smile that grows when he receives one.
It's chaotic, it's messy but he wouldn't trade it for the world.
cxybaBy on Chapter 2 Wed 06 Aug 2025 02:24AM UTC
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Shyolet Wed 06 Aug 2025 02:25AM UTC
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LexyPerry on Chapter 2 Wed 06 Aug 2025 05:47AM UTC
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Revelryinthedark86 on Chapter 2 Thu 07 Aug 2025 08:39AM UTC
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websforcam on Chapter 2 Sat 09 Aug 2025 03:55AM UTC
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Fly_agaric_mooshroom on Chapter 2 Sun 17 Aug 2025 02:50PM UTC
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Tayl0r_R0s3 on Chapter 2 Tue 19 Aug 2025 03:33PM UTC
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drechian on Chapter 2 Fri 22 Aug 2025 12:36AM UTC
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Finley_the_wayward_soul on Chapter 2 Fri 22 Aug 2025 04:54AM UTC
Last Edited Fri 22 Aug 2025 04:55AM UTC
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Shyolet Fri 22 Aug 2025 04:59AM UTC
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theForsakenJedi69 on Chapter 2 Tue 26 Aug 2025 09:02AM UTC
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theForsakenJedi69 Wed 27 Aug 2025 05:09AM UTC
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krc773000uwu on Chapter 2 Tue 26 Aug 2025 05:26PM UTC
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MochizukiFan on Chapter 2 Fri 29 Aug 2025 11:40PM UTC
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I_got_2_many_fandoms on Chapter 2 Sat 30 Aug 2025 06:52AM UTC
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Ibis1921 on Chapter 2 Tue 30 Sep 2025 12:10PM UTC
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Ethershu on Chapter 2 Mon 06 Oct 2025 12:09AM UTC
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