Inspired heavily by AnnettieXx on dA's picture titled "I Love You Too, Damian." Which was inspired by Kisukaite's ".APAD: Dec 13, 2010." Go check them out, and I hope I did these two justice :)
"You aren't hurt, are you?"
A head shake.
"You better not be lying to me, boy."
"I'm not, father."
A sound of approval, the Batmobile door slam echoing as the man and his son got out of the car. It was well past midnight - hell, Bruce wasn't even aware of the hour - and all the man wanted to do was take a seat in front of his wall of computers and hack away at the crime he'd just adverted. It was dangerous, and if he had known what would have gone down ahead of time, he wouldn't have even taken his son. It wasn't the Joker or any of his toads, or so it appeared on the surface, but the way they operated was just too similar to not look further into it.
Somehow he'd overlooked it in his notes and surveillance. It was a rookie mistake, and Bruce wasn't a rookie - and even with Damian being as skilled as he was, he'd nearly gotten killed. He had a bad habit of jumping into his ambushes without giving a second thought as to weapons or to who he was dealing with. Not that Batman could blame him entirely. He was ten, and he could remember a time with one of his previous Robins had been the same way: brash and foolish.
The idea that his son so closely resembled Jason Todd was enough of an incentive to beat some sense into the child. He wasn't about to have another Todd on his hands, especially one that was his own flesh and blood.
He'd let down one. He wasn't about to let down another.
His gaze snapped from the computer he was standing at to the little boy standing at his side, tugging on the edge of his cape. It'd been a long night for the both of them, stressful and emotional - Bruce would have to make sure to apologize to the boy later for the words he'd used regarding his entrance to the crime scene - and as soon as he tore his eyes from the large computer monitor did he notice this.
He was only ten, but there was an air of exhaustion about the boy, and not from lack of sleep; world weariness, a hint of fear, his eyes haunted and innocent at the same time. Bruce knew there was nothing innocent about the assassin's son, but the sleepy expression on his face was the closest to innocence the boy had probably come to in a while.
He raised his eyebrows, and the boy merely inclined his head, chin in the air, eyes still slightly guarded by the domino mask he wore.
"What do you need, Damian?"
He pulled on the man's cape again; he relented, hunching over, the scalloped edges of his cape skimming the ground and his head tilted away from the boy. He leaned in, whispering something in his father's ear - he wasn't sure if he was just that tired or if it was embarrassment, as children tended to be when they had something they needed to say.
"I love you, father."
His arms snagged around the man's neck, hiding his face in Batman's collar and stifling a yawn. Even under the Robin costume, under the pretense of being a hero and all he had gone through, he was still a child.
"Damian..."
The boy stiffened, as if awaiting the disapproving comment he was sure that would come, but it never did. The boy's feet left the ground as Bruce stood up to his full height, arms still around his father's neck, and the man's own encompassed the little boy.
"I love you too."
He felt the grip tighten around his neck, a smile breaking out against his shoulder. The man under the imposing cowl put an arm under the boy's legs, supporting his weight now, and began the trek to the staircase that lead up to the Wayne Manor.
"Now, let's get you to bed. It's way past your bed time."
"I don't have a bed time, father."
"Well, you do now."