Damian was walking ahead, head held high and back stiff as he tried to ignore the curious looks he received from the his classmates, his hands held carefully behind his back did nothing, however to hide the clenching of his fingers.
Tim raised an eyebrow.
"If you don't tell me what you did I can't plan a strategy for this," the older teen said, shaking his head. He would usually run a hand through his hair in nervousness but his hands were busy holding onto his crutches and he was, supposedly, momentarily crippled, and therefore he could only shake his head to move the hair from falling into his eyes.
Damian just stuck his nose in the air, his eyes refusing to meet Tim's.
"I still do not understand why Grayson couldn't come," the boy protested. "The teachers are used to him."
Tim has heard this argument over and over again from the little brat, ever since the summons started piling up on his desk at WE and most of the time Dick does go to school in his place but been stranded in space with the rest of the League left the current Batman a little occupied and, of course, the Wayne household couldn't ignore the enormous elephant in the room any longer.
Tim rolled his eyes, narrowing them to look down at the boy just like his mother used to look at him whenever he did something not up to her standards. Bruce would have shaken his head in disappointment while Dick himself would protest, but it was only him and Damian and it was his right to act as he saw fit.
"I told you already," he said coldly in a more masculine replica of his mother's usual hiss. "Dick was never adopted into the Wayne family and I was. As I am an emancipated minor and the head of WE right now, I am your older brother and you are my legal ward, not Dick's and if you are misbehaving in school it is my responsibility as the head of this family to ensure no shame has been brought to our household."
He felt a little bad when Damian took an embarrassed step back, but imagined he must be feeling what he felt at age… four… three? When his mother had given him the same speech and therefore concluded the boy would live.
"I don't believe it's fair," Damian commented weakly, his cheeks flushing.
"Blame Dick when he returns," Tim shrugged. "Now, sit down there and wait for this meeting to be over. We will discuss your behavior back home once I'm done."
"Yes," Damian muttered, splaying over one of the office's ridiculous plastic chairs. Tim decided his own mother would have something to say about such conduct, so he let his eyes go positively frigid and his mouth purse a millimeter in disgust.
"Yes what?" he asked.
Damian stared at him in shock for a second before straightening in his seat and huffing.
"Yes, brother."
"Better," Tim nodded, shaking his head once more and entering the office where the principal was waiting for him. Damian instantly perking as he listened to the old woman grovel at the presence of the new Wayne Head.
Drake better not embarrass him more than was his due.
"Mr. Drake-Wayne, it is such a pleasure to have you back in our esteemed campus," Mrs. Andrews greeted, her voice going unusually high in her excitement. "I must say I was hoping your return would be marked by some more pleasant occurrences but of course we understand a busy man such as yourself cannot spare the time to return to our halls unless it is a dire situation."
"Mrs. Andrews," Tim greeted back, emitting a soft – fake – grunt as he sat before the woman's enormous desk. "It is indeed a pleasure to see you have not changed since my own days as a student."
The woman giggled, making Damian want to gag. It was the main reason why he'd rather have Grayson in this ridiculous Teacher-Parent meetings. Grayson was meek and nervous when meeting his teachers and kept conversation short, usually accepting their ridiculous drivel for no more than five minutes – never really listening to them – before he promised he would talk to Damian himself about his behavior and leaving.
Drake was obviously torturing him.
"Now, the reason of my call is because we are really concerned about young Mr. Wayne's behavior," Mrs. Andrews began, her mouth curling into a serious frown. Damian leaned in a little, listening with all his might. "He is disrespectful of most of the faculty, and refuses to obey orders unless specifically addressed. He is setting a bad example to other students and of course dirtying the name of your illustrious family. Just this morning he was driven out of the classroom after he decided to question Mr. Sommers over the validity of his lesson."
Tim blinked.
"That's rather serious, Mrs. Andrews," he said softly. "May I ask what was Mr. Sommers teaching at the time?"
Mrs. Andres blinked back, eyes wide.
"Well, that's hardly relevant, I would say, Mr. Drake-Wayne," she babbled. "Young Damian disrupts most of his lessons with the same attitude."
Damian frowned, frustrated.
By now Grayson would have apologized, the perfect picture of meekness and charisma, and had the old woman eating from his hand. Drake's questioning was new to the boy and definitely not wanted.
"Please answer my question, Mrs. Andrews," Tim repeated, his tone going colder by the second. "What was Mr. Sommers teaching?"
"The European exploration of the Eastern regions," she said after a pause, tilting her head. "I don't see how this is of any relevance. Mr. Drake-Wayne, your brother stood from his seat and declared Mr. Sommers an incompetent man with outdated information out to set his neurons to rot."
Tim hummed and Damian heard the rustling of papers as he perused the content of the lesson, no doubt.
Damian bit his lips, his hands wringing his ridiculous school mandated tie.
"While uncouth, my brother would be right, Mrs. Andrews," he said finally. "As it was proven two years ago that the so-called Travels of Marco Polo are nothing but the delusions of a drunken old man and should not reflect the ancient China of the period at all."
Glacial blue eyes regarded the woman.
"Of course you knew that, didn't you?"
Mrs. Andrews stared at the man glaring daggers at her and could not find the same little boy she had watched walk meekly down the hallways of her school years ago in his face, in the annoyance pouring out of his every pore.
"Well…" she tried.
"Mrs. Andrews, my family pays your school a considerable sum every month so my little brother can acquire an education of the highest quality and the most updated information he can achieve," Tim continued, his back ramrod straight, his hands gently resting on his lap. "Am I to believe that every time my brother has been called out of indiscipline he has been correcting teachers on their ignorance?"
"Yes, but…"
"Then, my family is paying you a fortune to provide an education for my brother than even he at eleven years of age, can tell is outdated and a waste of his time," Tim interrupted once more and Damian felt a shiver run down his spine as he continued to listen, a twinge of sympathy growing in him for the old woman. "Am I to understand that this is a serious breach of our contract then, Mrs. Andrews, as you are not providing the service you advertise and therefore have lied to me and to the rest of the Wayne family?"
"Mr. Drake-Wayne…"
"And to even think you have been covering this by stating that my little brother is actually rebelling against authority, when he is only trying to receive the education that was promised to him," Tim said, shaking his head. "Can you spell law-suit, Mrs. Andrews?"
"Law suit?" the woman gasped.
"For fraud and defamation of character against my brother and family as a whole? Not to count the psychological damage your so-called 'teaching environment' must have caused my brother with all this persecution." Tim hissed.
"But, Mr. Drake-Wayne-"
"Not another word, Mrs. Andrews, I think I have heard enough. I shall remove Damian from this institution at once," he said, standing. "My lawyers will be in contact soon, Mrs. Andrews. Good day."
Without another word, Tim left the spluttering woman in her office and limped towards the boy staring at him with wide eyes.
"Let's go, Damian," he said shortly. "You will not be returning to this place."
The boy stood instantly, his hand instantly reaching for Tim's and holding it in his own tightly.
"Yes, brother," he said automatically, his cheeks flushing as they walked out of the school and found most of the other students staring at them in awe.
"Dude, your brother is a BAMF!" one of the boys said, slapping Damian in the back.
Damian glared when the older students started eyeing Tim with appreciation before he shook the offending hand off and tugged Tim gently towards the waiting limousine where Pennyworth was waiting for them with a small smile on his aged face.
"Good morning, Master Damian," he greeted when the boy slid into the back seat. "Home, Master Timothy?"
"Yes, Alfred," Tim said as he sat down by the boy's side, a tired sigh escaping his lips. "Thank you."
Damian tried to contain the urge to turn in his seat and stare at the teenager, but the side-mirror gave him a perfect angle to stare as Tim shook his shoulders once, twice, and all the glacial disdain seemed to bleed from his body and turn into his usual cool tranquility.
"I did misbehave," he said finally, removing his tie. "And was disrespectful."
"You were and will be punished accordingly," Tim agreed, staring out of the window. "You must understand that the world will judge the family for each of our actions, any slip-up and the press will have a field day."
"I had not thought about it, with the way Father presented himself to the press," Damian muttered, eyes going to his tense knees.
"Bruce played a character, yes, but did most of the charity work and meetings in order to quell the rumors of his adventures," Tim explained. "You will learn to act in public with time."
"Your own actions today will reflect bad on the family," Damian tried, finally unable to contain himself.
A hand landed on his head gently, slender fingers caressing his hair.
Damian raised his eyes and found Tim's own pale blue ones staring back with a soft warmth and pride reflected in them.
"Sometimes image means nothing when compared to family," he said softly, a small smile curling his lips. "You are my brother and my priority is your happiness, Damian."
Alfred nodded his approval from the driver's seat, eyes set on the rearview mirror.
Damian flushed and gave into the impulse to hide his face on the teenager's shoulder, enjoying his warm caresses and soft voice as he told him of a time, a few years ago, when Bruce had imparted the same lesson to a confused Tim Drake.
By the time they arrived to the Manor, Damian was asleep and Tim had rested his own head on top of his, enjoying the moment of peace that had fallen over them.
Alfred, however, had no heart to wake them, and therefore left the car to start lunch. He would keep it warm for the two of them until they felt comfortable enough to leave. It was the family thing to do, after all.
"I'm sure you would approve, were you here, Master Bruce," the old man said to the empty house, his smile no less melancholic but far more warm.