To say that Bruce was surprised when Damian came to him for advice was an understatement. In fact, were he not the grim and stoic Batman, he probably would have just stood there gaping at his youngest. As it was, the only sign of his surprise was the raising of his eyebrows. Damian fidgeted under his gaze. It was clear he was uncomfortable.

"What is it, Damian?" Bruce asked, trying to sound as reassuring as possible, which was not much.

His sorry excuse for encouragement seemed to have been enough because the next second his son blurted out, "How do you show people that you…" then hesitated. Bruce had an idea what the boy wanted to say but he kept silent. Clearing his throat, Damian continued, "… that you… like them?" He visibly flinched as the word 'like' came out of his mouth. In a flash the skin of his face and neck was covered in red blotches, as if he were experiencing some odd allergic reaction. Bruce could relate; he suffered from the same allergy.

Bruce was surprised, but, of course, he did not show it. From what he had heard from Dick and Alfred, his son was socially awkward – even more so than Bruce, himself. And wasn't that saying something? So Bruce had never thought this subject would come up until his son was well into his teens. That Damian would have a crush on someone, let alone that he would want to make the first move was simply… unimaginable. Though maybe Bruce just wasn't a very imaginative person.

He found it strange that Damian did not go to Dick with this problem, as the boy did every time he needed help understanding the social world. That said, Bruce was glad that his boy trusted him enough to come to him about this. It was, after all, a father's duty.

Maybe it was time to have that talk with Damian. He had hoped that Dick would have covered this in his time as Damian's guardian, but apparently he had been too busy playing Batman. Despite already having given the Talk to three of his sons, Bruce knew it would be just as awkward with his youngest. The fact that it would be even more awkward for Damian consoled him, if only a little.

"If you really want to show her, you can always kiss her. She couldn't misunderstand your intentions then," Bruce said absent-mindedly before realizing that Damian was just ten years old. He was certainly not old enough for kissing. From the horrified expression on his son's face though, Bruce didn't think he would need to worry about his son kissing girls any time soon.

"There must be another way," Damian said, sounding so desperate that Bruce had to suppress a sudden urge to chuckle.

"Kissing is not that bad," Bruce said gently, "once you get the hang of it." He grinned down at his boy, who glared at him in return.

"No." Damian shook his head vigorously.

"Okay, kissing is a no-no," Bruce said, his tone teasing and his gray-blue eyes gleaming with mischief. He couldn't help but chuckle when Damian's glare turned up a notch. "I think you might be too young for that kind of thing anyway," he relented. Damian lost his glare. Finally. Bruce continued, feigning innocence, "But you can always hug her."

Damian made a face.

"I'll take that as another no," Bruce held back a laugh, but could not quite hide the amusement in his voice. Or the grin tugging up at his lips.

Damian glared again.

Bruce's grin widened. It was like looking at a miniature version of his own Bat-glare. If looks could kill, I'd have died several times already, he thought, amused. "You can always just say it to her face you know," Bruce said, the expression on his face serious, though if Damian looked close enough he would see a glitter of mischief in his gray-blue eyes. Bruce knew exactly what his son would say to that. "Say that you lo—"

Damian cut him off with a firm, "No." His young face was scrunched up in clear distaste.

Bruce chuckled freely then, hand automatically going to ruffle his son's hair. Damian, as usual, swatted it away, glaring hotly at him. "My, aren't you hard to please," Bruce grumbled, though he was actually enjoying this interaction between him and his youngest. It was not every day that he had a conversation with Damian that had nothing to do with their roles as Batman and Robin.

Bruce took a moment to think of a way for Damian to express his feelings more… subtly. Then it came to him. "Flower."

"Huh?"

"A flower," Bruce repeated seeing the confused look on Damian's face. He vaguely remembered Dick saying that Damian could be quite cute sometimes. He hadn't believed him then, but now he understood. Damian was looking pretty cute right about now. "A red rose," he specified, afraid his boy would mess everything up by giving the girl of his life an unusual type of flower like, say, Rafflesia Arnoldii, AKA the 'corpse' flower.

Damian looked thoughtful for a moment, as if weighing his options. Then he nodded. "I can do that," he said, more to himself than to Bruce.

Bruce chuckled. "Nothing says 'I love you' like a red rose," he commented, nodding in a mockingly sage way.

Damian's face scrunched up. "I said like not love," he denied.

"Of course," Bruce relented, his voice patronizing. "You just like her more than you like any other girl." Or knowing Damian, more than any other person, he thought.

Damian's face still showed his distaste, but Bruce took his silence as agreement.

"So," Bruce drawled, "who's the lucky girl?"

Damian's face flushed crimson. "Not a girl," he mumbled.

This time it was Bruce who was caught off guard. "What?"

"It is not a girl," Damian repeated, loud and clear. And before Bruce could ask for more information he excused himself, leaving his stunned father behind.

"Huh. Never thought he swung that way."

"Bruce."

Dick's voice on the phone sounded off which made Bruce instantly alert. "What happened?"

"Damian came over."

"And?" Bruce prompted, knowing that Dick was the only person who would welcome Damian into his home with open arms. And yet, he could not shake off the feeling that something was wrong.

"He gave me a flower."

That surprised Bruce. "Huh?"

"A rose," Dick deadpanned. "A red rose," he continued, panic tingeing his voice. And once he had admitted that, it was like a flood gate had opened; he started rambling and he just couldn't stop.

A red rose, Bruce thought, and in a flash he was brought back to a certain conversation he'd had a week ago with a young, awkward boy.

"It's not that I'm not happy, because him giving me something, anything, it means that he likes me, right?"

Damian had asked Bruce how to tell someone he liked them and Bruce had wrongly assumed that the boy had meant 'like' romantically.

"And I know he likes me, but he never shows it so this is a good thing. But, but you don't think he likes me like that, do you?"

Damian had said that was a boy, not a girl. That alone had thrown Bruce for a loop, but he never would have thought that this 'boy' would be his eldest son.

"Because I know we are not technically related but still, it would be awkward. Not to mention that he's only ten and—"

Bruce groaned. "So that's why he didn't come to you," he mumbled, shaking his head.

"Who didn't come to me for what?" Dick asked.

"Nothing," Bruce answered. I should have known, he thought. Looking back, everything was so painfully clear he had to wonder how he had not seen that Damian was talking about Dick. His oldest son was the only person that Damian even tolerated. He was the only one Damian thought of as a friend, his only friend. In addition, Tim had been riling Damian up lately by saying that if he did not stop acting like a spoiled brat, Dick would leave him for real. So it was only natural that Damian would try to show Dick that he liked spending time with him.

Bruce sighed. If Dick knew of his embarrassing failure, he would never hear the end of it. "I'm pretty sure Damian doesn't like you that way, Dick," he assured him.

"Oh?" Bruce could practically hear Dick raise his eyebrows. "And how do you know that?"

"It was just a misunderstanding," Bruce said by way of explanation. He hoped Dick would not ask for details.

"How so?"

Bruce was silent for a moment, hoping Dick would just let it go. Then he remembered that it was Dick, one of the most stubborn persons he had ever known. And he had known many headstrong people. So, with a heavy sigh, he began to explain the whole incident.

After he was done, his only response was Dick's ringing laughter.

For a few days after the whole red rose fiasco, Bruce found himself having to fend off, with a fair amount of ease, a barrage of attacks from Damian. Then one day, Damian charged at him when he was standing by the staircase. In seconds he had calculated the risk of dodging the attack, 'with his momentum, Damian would not be able to stop in time he'd fall right down the stairs.' And sure, he knew that his son was raised to be an assassin, that Damian was prepared to face things more dire than falling down stairs, but he would not risk his boy's safety needlessly. Instead of sidestepping the attack, Bruce braced himself to receive the hit head on.

Damian's momentum was enough to make Bruce fall down, though he was able to position himself, thankfully, so he would cushion the boy landing on top of him. He had the wind knocked out of him and, for a moment, he was too disoriented to do anything but lay there in the hallway. When he regained his composure, he noticed that Damian was sitting on his stomach, with his head tilted to the side and a slight frown marring his young face. He seemed to be in deep contemplation.

"Dami—" Bruce was about to ask what he was thinking when Damian put the tips of his fingers on his lips. Coming from Damian, the act was just plain weird. Bruce could do nothing but stare, transfixed, as Damian put his fingers – the ones he had just kissed a moment before – on Bruce's cheek.

Damian grinned at him, looking smug in childish satisfaction for catching his father – the Dark Knight of Gotham – off guard. Then, without saying anything, he stood up, dusted off his pants, and, with a last cocky grin, walked away, leaving Bruce stunned in his wake.

Huh?

Then it dawned on him that his youngest son had just kissed him. On the cheek. Did it really matter that it was an indirect kiss, when affection from Damian was so rare?

Still lying on the carpeted floor, Bruce found himself grinning like a loon. Instinctively, he knew it was Dick's silly idea of 'revenge' for the rose incident.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Bruce climbed to his feet, a small smile on his lips.

Note to self: get Dick back for this. Or maybe just thank him.

End.

A/N: I'm alive! (Always wanted to say that for some reasons) Yeah, sorry if this is short. Well, that is why I post two stories at once. Because they both are short. Hopefully I can post something more often now but I promise nothing. I have a job now. An editor/translator in a magazine, if you are wondering. So since my job is to write something, sometimes I just get fed up with writing so... yeah.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I got the pic from Google. Lol. I wish I were patient enough to draw the cover of my story. But well...

Thanks to: As always, my super wonderful beta, BookJunkie, the mother of my babies. (My babies being my fics). Her input is what makes my stories as good as they are. Every review that I get, every fave and follow is hers as much as mine.

And of course, thanks you for all of you who have faved/followed my stories/myself. And many thanks to you, reviewers. I don't live to get reviews though I do love them. I squeal with delight when someone tells me that my story can make them laugh/smile.

Behind the scene: I laughed myself silly when BookJunkie said that the idea of Damian giving the corpse flower to the one person he liked was not that far-fetched. And yes, Bruce was bad enough of a parent that the idea of an awkward conversation for Damian was consoling to him. Lol.

Bliss out.