AN: Inspiration struck, so I wrote.

Disclaimer: The usual stuff.

Rated T due to one certain Damian Wayne.

His babysitter, devilishly stylish

Saturday 03.00 am

Wanted:

Male babysitter for violent, pre-adolescent boy with anger management issues

Knowledge of guns, knives and martial arts therefore a must

Sitting will be on your own risk, employer will not be responsible for any injury or fatality

Reward: a lot

When interested, ask for Wayne Manor.

Saturday 8.30 am

Kitchen

"You are so dead, you know that right?" Richard 'Dick' Grayson jested, eyeing his younger brother Tim poking his breakfast cereal with a spoon in one hand, while the other was holding an icepack against his forehead.

"Shut up, it was only online like a few minutes or so." Tim Drake retorted trough gritted teeth.

Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne residence butler and surrogate father to the Bat-Family entered the kitchen. "Ah, Master Dick, you are here already. Would you care for some of my pancakes for breakfast? Alas, Master Tim has a queasy stomach this morning, so pancakes for him are a 'no go'"

Dick smiled in response. "Good morning, Alf, of course, I wouldn't want your hard labour to go to waste."

The butler placed the eloquent looking plate with said pancakes in front of Dick, "Now, if you need me, you know where to find me. Be good, Master Tim."

"Don't tell me, tell you-know-who!" Tim retorted to the butlers retreating back, winced, and placed the icepack on his arm.

"So," Dick started, cutting his pancakes, "let me get this straight. Bruce left to do business, and left Gotham and 'our little sunshine' Damian in your care?"

Tim nodded, looking a bit pale. "Alfred is 'untouchable' in his books, luckily."

"Yes, but you and the house aren't apparently. You should have called me sooner! He hardly listens to his father, let alone us."

"Yeah I know," Tim sighed, "I was to careless. What a joke huh? As sidekicks of the Batman we do countless dangerous stuff, and what gave me a bruised arm? Some punk. Ugh, he makes everything so complicated."

"Yes, some punk with high level assassin training. Oh, who still hates you by the way."

"Yup, that's the one. I feel so loved."

"Anyway, I'm here now to help you keeping 'our little sunshine' in check. And no more new painkillers that make you do irresponsible things, mister." An uncontainable smile appeared on Dick's lips. "An advertisement like that, a babysitter for Damy, what were you thinking?"

Tim flung some of his cereal at Dick.

Later that Saturday

Alfred was cleaning up in the Manor. Including the part where it seemed like a tornado had struck. After all these years, he sadly had to admit that he 'got used to it'. Although, he had to say that with Master Damian joining it was now a more common occurrence. Must have something to do with the boy's 'charming' personality and social skills. God bless him.

Now Master Dick was resident in the Manor, things should calm down a bit. Hopefully. At least the older boy had some authority and the physical strength to keep order over his younger 'brothers'. Said 'brothers' were now both in their own room. Tim resting, and Damian having his 'time-out'.

Suddenly the buzzer in his pocket went of, signing that someone had entered the property. While making his way trough the Manor, Alfred looked quickly at the small camera feed. The person waiting in front of the door had his back to the door, apparently watching over the garden. Alfred spotted white hair, a long red leather trench coat and a guitar case on his back. White hair? Well, it is hard to faze Alfred Pennyworth.

He opened the door. The stranger turned at the sound. Alright, Alfred had to admit, apparently he still could be fazed. The good man had no garment on his torso beneath his coat. Only what looked like a broad leather strap across his chest. Alfred couldn't help to raise an eyebrow. Well, at least he was wearing pants.

"How may I help you, good sir?"

"Hi, this is Wayne Manor right?"

"It is." Alfred confirmed stiffly. Like the sign in front of the gate didn't spell it out.

"Right," the stranger added, now looking sort of a mix between cross and reluctant, "I'm here for the ad."

Alfred eyes widened. Good heavens. Somebody seriously responded to that ad?

"A what?" Dick exclaimed.

"An applicant for the advertisement," Alfred repeated to a flabbergasted Dick, "I seated him in the living room."

Dick looked at him incredulously.

"I know," Alfred hastily continued, "at first I wasn't to sure, and thought it was best to scare him of. I led him right trough the area I still have to 'tidy up'. Said area including Master Damian's knife still implanted in the table. He didn't bat an eye."

Dick shook his head, unbelieving. "Okay, so now what? Send him away?"

"Well, he certainly isn't of the scared sort. He seriously seems to be an applicant. And a simple 'no' doesn't seem to exist in his vocabulary, mind you."

"We can't just hire some stranger!"

"If there is something I learned, it's that the world's full of surprises. I say, you talk to him while I go into the cave, running the computers for a background check. I'll watch and listen trough the cameras. Keep you phone with you. Go!"

Dick seated himself in front of a peculiar scene. A white haired guy who looked like a rocker, judging by his outfit including numerous belts, buckles and sturdy looking boots, had seated himself on the couch. Looking completely at ease, sipping tea form an expensive flowery decorated china cup. Some plate with scones on the coffee table between them.

Dick cleared his throat. "Hi, I'm Dick Grayson. So, you're here for the ad?" Can someone say, 'awkward'?

"Yeah." The guy responded, sounding indifferent, and took another sip.

Just my luck, Dick thought, a 'talker'. "Well, we will need a bit more than that, don't we? Got any name? Would be a lot easier than 'hey you'."

The stranger shrugged. "Dante. You can call me Dante."

That's not a lot to go on. "Right, you don't seem really, enthusiastic, Dante."

Dante frowned. "Yeah, 'bout that. I usually do other stuff, but Lady was naggin' she wanted her pay back, short story, she saw your ad, so here I am."

Lady? "Err, just out of interest, what do you normally do then?"

"Does it matter? My normal business is kinda slow at the moment so yeah, I need the money. I know guns and I can fight. That's what the ad said right? So, how much are we talking about anyway?"

Ow, wouldn't it be great if you really could keep Damian of our backs for a while, Dick thought to himself. And hey, Bruce had money to burn anyway. If pigs could fly, this Dante was a rich guy.

Dick's phone vibrated. No background yet, ask further the message said. Well duh.

"So," Dick trailed of, not really knowing what to ask next. Where did his interrogation skills go? He was aka Nightwing and a cop during daytime. What the heck, he had to ask. "Not really a shirt guy?"

"Ah that, Lady took all my shirts." Dante rolled his eyes, which clearly translated into 'Ugh, women, never gonna understand them'. "She won't give them back until she gets her money back."

The Lady sounded like a tough one. Not that Dante had to be ashamed about anything though, Dick mused to himself. Those abs were definitely on the top of the scale. And being in the hero business meant seeing a lot of great physics, including yours truly who had 'the finest butt in the business thank-you-very-much'. Right, getting back to track.

"She ya girlfriend?"

"Hell no. Business acquaintance. Who wants her pay back, with interest I might add. So, am I hired or what?"

"Yeah about that, it's complicated…" courtesy to a half serious placed advertisement by a kind-of-drunk Tim.

"What's the problem?"

Dick just definitely needed to lose this guy, fast. "It's not that. It's just that, well….the kid,…Damian is kinda …complicated." Dick inwardly winced. That formulation could have gone better.

"I'm sure I've seen worse."

Dick raised an eyebrow. "Do ya now?"

"Comes with the job. How hard can the kid be?"

"Right…" Indeed, this guy was not easily deterred.

"This is a waste of my time, if you wanted someone else, you need to sort out your specifications." Dante spat, patience now obviously wearing thin, and threw what looked like a crumpled print-out of the ad on the table. "What you ask is what you get. Be glad you specified the gender, otherwise you would have Lady or Trish sitting across of you right now. And believe me, those two have a talent of making situations worse. "

Dick's eye fell on the third line: Sitting will be on your own risk, employer will not be responsible for any injury or fatality. Well, giving it a second thought, this Dante certainly seemed confident and hot-headed enough for the task. He had no idea what he was getting into though.

The phone signaled a second message. Body scan completed. Our guest is only 50% human. Other 50% of unknown entity. Well I be damned, Dick mused.

A lot of time to think things over he hadn't though, because the next moment one Damian Wayne was standing next to him, ready to pounce. "Prepare to die Grayson!"

Oh shit.

Dante actually had the gut to look sort of amused. "Well, this must be the kid in need of a babysitter, right?"

"Oh yeah." Dick confirmed crossly. After some struggle he had managed to keep Damian in a hold, before he wrecked the place.

Unfortunately, that didn't mean Damian was silenced though. "Unhand me your cretin! Wait till father hears of this!"

"Cute," Dante jibbed, still smirking, "I can see you have your hands full with this one. Explains though why the ad seemed so strangely…desperate."

"Yes, my younger brother over here requires 'saint like' patience. Ouch, Damian, stop that!"

"You are not my 'brother' bird-brain, you are not worthy of my father!" Damian claimed, still trying to force his way free.

"And I thought my family was complicated." Dante said, to no-one in particular, shaking his head.

"Now, if you excuse me," Dick stated with a stained voice, lifting Damian of his feet, "I need to..argh"

"Sure take you time." Dante shrugged, reaching for a scone. "Oh, and I don't know about 'saint like' patience, but I can assure you," Dante continued, taking a bite, "I'm overqualified."

After certain effort and some authority of Alfred, Damian was once again in his room. Dick felt like he instantly had aged a few years.

"What do you think Alf? I must say, some free time from Damy now sounds really tempting."

The butler seemed wearied down also. "Well, I dare say this Dante guy certainly seems up for the task. If we hire him, you can do patrolling. And if he had ill intend, he would have done so a long time ago."

Dick nodded. "You know what, lets give it a shot."

"I'll get the papers"

Later that evening

"Master Dick and Master Tim will be out for the night. You have free access to all the living areas and basically all the rooms Master Damian wishes to enter. You are to keep Master Damian away form any method of communication and computer, and on the property if you please…and keep him from –redecorating- sort of speak…"Alfred summarized.

"Yeah, yeah," Dante interrupted, "no problem, I'll handle it. All I need is this nice couch, food and drinks. Your dinner was great by the way. Loved the dessert."

Alfred sighed, not really sure what to think of their freshly hired babysitter. "Well then, call me if you need anything else."

He turned and left the room, praying that the Manor would still be standing in the morning.

FIN