Windshield wiper fluid drenched his face, and Dick sputtered, quickly reattaching the rubber tube to the correct spot.
"Grayson? What have you done now?"
Dick slid out from underneath the Batmobile and wiped his face with the rag Damian handed him, muttering about how he was an idiot. Dick couldn't help it: he was distracted. And worried. He watched Damian through his eyelashes.
This had been going on for a whole week, and Dick was worried. He noticed at dinner that Damian had just pushed his food around his plate, and hadn't eaten a single bite. It wasn't unusual for Damian to loose his appetite occasionally, especially when he suffered from nightmares. So Dick had been keeping an eye on him at mealtimes. And he was worried now. It had been a week, and Damian hadn't worked through it alone.
It was time to confront this.
"Why aren't you eating?" Dick asked, tossing the rag back at Damian.
"Huh? What?" Damian caught the rag easily.
"You heard me, Damian. Why aren't you eating?"
Damian blushed. Dick's gaze got more intent. Damian never blushed. This had to be serious.
"It's not important, Grayson."
"It is to me. You're my little brother. If you're not taking care of yourself, I need to know. How can I help you?"
"I do not need help!" Damian sputtered, not meeting Dick's eyes. Dick didn't believe him for one second.
"I'll be the judge of that. Now, tell me. Why aren't you eating?"
Damian ducked his head, embarrassed. He had already claimed to not believe in God, yet here he was, maintaining a religious ritual. It was more out of tradition than anything, he told himself.
"It's June," he muttered under his breath, just wanting this to be over with.
"What? I didn't hear that."
"-tt-"
"Damian, please. I just want to understand."
"It's June," he said louder, so Grayson could hear him. Damian waited for Grayson to make the connection, to point out his childish hypocrisy. But it didn't come.
But Dick was just confused. "You… can't eat… because it's June? What does the month have to do with it, Damian?"
Damian scoffed and rolled his eyes. God, Grayson was blind. And had been fully indoctrinated into American society, it seemed.
"It's Ramadan, Grayson."
Dick blinked. The room filled with a heavy silence. Dick felt like an idiot.
"Oh. Oh. Damian, why didn't you say anything?"
Damian didn't meet his eyes. "It's childish," he muttered.
"Damian, your traditions are not childish. So, what have you been doing? If you can't eat?"
"I can eat, Grayson. Just not while the sun is up."
Dick looked thoughtful. "Okay," he said, rubbing his chin. "How about we ask Alfred to push back dinner an hour or two? That way you can still eat with us."
"Forget it," Damian was embarrassed, so he did what he always did when his emotions were hard to control: he walked away.
Dick wasn't surprised to find Damian in the library, nose buried in a book: The Complete Works of Abu Nasr Muhammad al-Farabi, he noticed in amusement. Of course, Damian chose philosophy for his "light reading."
Damian ignored him, and Dick knew it was because he was embarrassed from yesterday. He sighed. Damian had come a long way, but he still needed to learn that having any emotion other than anger was not something to be embarrassed by.
Dick plopped down on the couch next to Damian, and pulled his younger brother's feet into his lap.
"Alright," Dick just started talking, and knew Damian was listening, even if he pretended not to. "I read that you can't drink water until dusk, right? So we've gotta make sure you keep hydrated, kid. Also, it's probably best if you don't do too much physical activity during the day, so we're gonna dial down the daytime training and start an evening regimen instead, okay?"
Damian rolled his eyes. "This is unnecessary."
"Taking care of my little brother is never unnecessary."