A/N: This story will probably be slightly AU, OOC and crack!ish. Basically Batman/Nightwing/Red Hood/Red Robin/Robin/Batgirl/etc doesn't exist, and the Wayne family are just a normal family (aside from the infinite amount of money).
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the DC characters. Also, please bear in mind that I have not read any of the comic books, so the characterisations of the characters may be different to canon (hence why this is slightly OOC).
The sun was high in the afternoon sky as Damian Wayne stared up at the mahogany door in front of him. Glancing around, he knew that his driver was long gone, leaving the boy on the doorstep of the richest man in Gotham's estate. The driver — Damian remembered he had been fat, greasy and ugly — hadn't even bothered to make sure the boy was dropped at the right place. Lifting up a hand, Damian gave the door three quick knocks. A few seconds later, he heard footsteps from the other side, and the door was pulled open, revealing an elderly man dressed in what seemed like a butler's outfit.
"Welcome, how can I —" The butler was obviously not expected to be greeting small child, though his initial shock was replaced with a warm smile, "Am I incorrect in assuming that you are Master Damian Wayne?"
Damian frowned, but nodded.
"We were not expecting you so early," the man said, before stepping out of the way, allowing Damian to enter the house, but the boy stood on the doorstep, "Oh, forgive my manners. My name is Alfred Pennyworth —"
"And if you are the help my father has employed —" Damian's gaze flickered up and down the older man's outfit, "I would suggest helping me with my luggage."
"Oh, of course, Master Damian." If Alfred had been insulted by Damian's rude tone, he didn't show it. Instead, he simply stepped around Damian, walking towards the two large bags that Damian had arrived with. "Now come on inside, please. Since Master Bruce wasn't expecting you until later, I'm afraid he has dashed off to the office for a quick emergency. No worries, however, as all the other young Masters are at home." Damian had tuned out the butler's tone as he followed the old man up the stairs, gazing up and down the walls of Wayne Manor as he walked.
As Damian walked past a slightly opened door on the second floor, he heard laughter coming from inside, accompanied by a loud whack. Damian's brow creased, wondering if his father would approve his workers goofing off.
"Right, then, Master Damian, this shall be your room," the butler paused in front of a large mahogany door. On the door was a plaque, with the letters DW engraved. Damian turned glanced around. Three other doors had letters engraved into plaques — RG, JT, and TD. The only door on this floor that did not have an engraved plaque was the one that had been slightly ajar earlier.
"Where is father's room?" Damian glanced at Pennyworth as the butler unlocked the room. Walking inside, Damian followed suit. The room was relatively large, and had all the necessities — a bed, a desk, and shelves and drawers. There was also a door to Damian's left, which he guessed led to a private bathroom.
"Master Bruce's bedroom is further down the corridor," Alfred replied, "Now, if you will excuse me, I have to prepare lunch. If you wish, you may join the young Masters in the recreation room, down that way —" Alfred gestured to his left, indicating the room that the laughter was coming from, "I am sure they won't mind. They're all excited to meet you." With that, he gave a small bow and disappeared from the corridor. Damian stood in the middle of his room, and had thought about unpacking, but a loud crash followed by laughter and a string of profanities broke his thoughts. His expression was clearly annoyed as he stormed out of his room, wanting to know who the loud noises came from.
Tim Drake laughed loudly as he watched his two brothers scuffle on the floor of the recreation room.
"You fucking cheater!" Jason Todd all but screamed as he whacked his brother with a soft pillow (aka the first thing his hand had grabbed on to).
"It's not — my fault — you — suck!" Dick Grayson breathed in between laughs.
This caused Jason to roll his eyes and slump back against the couch, glaring up at Tim, who was clutching his sides from the stiches he received from laughing.
"We should play a racing game," Jason muttered, pushing himself up to sit on the couch.
"Why? You know you're still going to lose at that," Tim said, dodging the pillow that Jason had thrown his way.
"Yeah, I mean, who failed their driving test twice?" Dick joked, standing up.
"At least I don't burn toast," Jason replied, glaring at Dick, who simply laughed again and sat down in between his brothers.
"I want to play a —" Tim's voice was drowned out when he saw a figure standing by the door. The boy looked around Tim's age, maybe a little bit younger. The thirteen year old's eyes squinted. "Who are you?"
The two older boys turned to see who their younger brother was speaking to, and both their eyes widened when they saw the boy by the door.
"Damian Wayne." The boy crossed his arms across his chest, eyeing three of the boys, "And who are you? Should you all not be downstairs, helping Pennyworth with lunch?"
His question caused Jason to quirk a brow. "What are you talking about?"
It was Dick that clicked first. The eldest boy jumped up from his seat. "You're Damian Wayne?" He looked at the boy, as if trying to solve some sort of puzzle.
"Yes, are you deaf? Or just idiotic?" The boy's frown deepened, "And as I was saying, you should be —"
Before the boy could finish, Tim snapped his fingers, at the same time as Jason shouting a loud "Holy shit!" They had both clicked onto who he was.
"Listen kid," Jason spoke up this time, standing up, "I don't know who you think we are, but you have no right to tell us what we should be doing."
"Jason, I don't think his mother told him about us," Tim muttered, earning a nod from Dick.
"It still doesn't give him the right to act all high and mighty. And rude," Jason said, glaring at the boy.
"I would not speak in such a way if I were you," Damian retorted, "Especially if you all clearly know who I am — Damian Wayne." He said his name again, emphasizing the last name, "As in, son of Bruce Wayne?"
"We know who you are," Jason said, annoyance clear in his tone, "And since you obviously don't know who we are, I guess it'll be a shock for you when your father tells you." Jason hadn't missed the slight smirk that graced Tim's features, and the twitch of a smile forming on Dick's.
"What are you babbling about?" Damian asked.
"You'll find out later, when your dear daddy returns," Jason teased, before motioning to Tim and Dick, "Come on, let's go see if Alfred will let us eat the cookie dough." With that, he left the room, Tim following close behind. Damian was smart enough to move aside, so Jason hadn't gotten a chance to "accidentally" bump into his newest brother.
The only one that stayed back was Dick, who gave an almost apologetic look towards Damian, before moving to turn off the game system. "Don't worry about Jason," the older boy said, turning his attention back to Damian, "You'll get used to him."
Damian responded with a roll of his eye and exited the room.
That evening...
Damian sat with his arms crossed firmly across his chest. He was facing his father, Bruce Wayne, in the older man's study. Just before, Damian had been introduced to his three newest older brothers — Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and Timothy Drake. Coincidentally also the three idiots Damian had met earlier.
"Why didn't mother tell me you had other sons?" Damian's voice was low, and if one paid closer attention, they could pick out a slight hint of jealousy in them. Unfortunately, Bruce hadn't been that perceptive that night.
"Talia probably did not see the importance in informing you," Bruce said, looking up from the papers that littered his desk. He watched his son — his own blood — carefully. There were similarities, definitely, but Damian also looked a lot like Talia Al Ghul, a woman that Bruce loved once upon a time.
It was ten years ago, and they had what one would call a summer romance. It wasn't meant to last — Talia lived outside of Gotham, and once summer had ended, she had returned home. Never to be seen by Bruce again.
Until a few months ago.
She had informed Bruce of her son — and his, too. Due to Talia's dangerous past (one that she had not allowed Bruce to explore or know about) she knew that her son was in danger. So she had asked Bruce if he could take him in, until everything was settled. Bruce was hesitant at first, but eventually agreed. And two months later, his own son had showed up on his doorstep.
"Father, are you listening?" Bruce was brought out from his trip down memory lane, looking back at his son.
"I'm sorry — son, what were you saying?"
Damian was silent for a moment. "Nothing, forget about it," he muttered, "I am going to sleep now. Good night, father." With that, he stood up from the chair and left the room.
A/N: Please review! Constructive criticism works well too!