That's My Job
Chikorita-Trainer1
T
Disclaimer: I don't own Batman.

Author's Note: This was one of those stories that came to me LITERALLY in the middle of the night. Had to leap out of bed and type it up while it was still fresh.
Author's Note 2: I just made up the names of the bullies. No such characters exist in the comics.

Tim Drake-Wayne, high-school dropout and heir to the Wayne Enterprises empire, was in Metropolis on business when he heard his cell-phone ding, indicating a text message.

Tim- can you please swing by West-Reeve to pick up Damian? Alfred is with me on this case and it totally slipped my mind. Thanks.

The teen sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. Bad enough he had an hour-long drive back to Gotham ahead of him, now he had to share that drive with his bratty 13-year-old brother. Damn it, Bruce, that's not my job! he thought. Nevertheless, he complied.

Sure, B. No problem.

Of course, Tim now had to text Damian that he would be picking him up in his car, rather than Alfred picking him up in a helicopter.

D- Alfred can't make it today, so I'm picking you up. Where should I meet you? he texted.

Behind the bleachers on the north field. And don't drag your ass.

Tim rolled his eyes at Damian's attempt to sound bossy. The kid could walk home for all he cared.

After school, Damian walked across the kickball field and sat down on the bleachers, and waited for his ride. Unfortunately, some of the kids in his class took notice of his presence.

"Shouldn't you be at the heliport, moneybags?" one of the bullies, Clyde, asked.

"Not today, you little imbecile," muttered Damian. He wanted to really tear into the kid, but he didn't want to get in trouble.

"What- your butler couldn't just send a back-up helicopter?" taunted another child, Marcus. Damian inhaled sharply, but didn't retort.

"You'd better get lost, freak," said the Clyde, pulling a joint out of his pocket. "Unless you want to…?"

"No thanks. I prefer my brain cells intact," Damian said.

"You can spare a few, shit-stick," sneered Marcus as the two boys lit up.

"No, thank you," Damian said through his teeth.

"Alright, then get the fuck out of here already!" growled Clyde.

"I'm afraid you're just going to have to endure my presence," said Damian. "Shouldn't be too hard, once you alter your consciousness via that pathetic attempt at rebellion."

"You are such an arrogant prick!" said Clyde, passing the joint to Marcus and rolling up his sleeve. "If you've got a problem, leave!"

"I don't have a problem," said Damian. "I find nothing offensive about what you're doing. But I'm afraid I have to remain here until my ride shows up."

"I mean with us," yelled Clyde, grabbing Damian by the lapels of his blazer. "Why don't you ever talk like a normal person? 'I'm afraid you're just going to have to endure my presence.' Who the hell talks like that?!"

"Alright, this is ridiculous," Damian declared, gripping Clyde's wrists and prying them off of his coat. "We both know this isn't about my vocabulary."

"No, it's about you getting the fuck on everyone's nerves on a daily basis," Marcus chimed in, passing the joint back to Clyde. "You're such a weird fucking show-off!"

"At least I have something to show off," Damian argued. He really knew better than to engage, but he was frustrated that he wouldn't be getting flown home via helicopter.

"Just GO AWAY, please!" said Marcus.

"I already told you, I don't care that you're smoking weed," said Damian. "I won't be here much longer. What's your problem?"

"YOU!" Clyde yelled, shoving Damian off of the bleachers and onto his side. His phone tumbled out of his pocket and onto the concrete.

"Really? You REALLY want to do this?" Damian said, calmly. "OW!" Before he could even smugly finish his sentence, Clyde kicked him in the face.

"GET OUT OF HERE, YOU SPOILED SACK OF SHIT!" Clyde continued to kick Damian in the head until finally, Damian grabbed him by the ankle and twisted him off his balance.

"GYAAHH!" cried Clyde.

"Hey!" yelled Marcus, leaping to defend his ally. Damian sprang back up and punched Marcus in the nose, breaking it.

The tussle continued, but Damian had to hold back. He knew he couldn't demonstrate too much of his training- both because it would arouse suspicion as to where he'd learned it, and because it would likely get him expelled.

Marcus, while dripping blood all over the ground, picked up Damian's phone and threw it against a brick wall, shattering it.

"What the hell?!" screamed Damian.

"Oh, like your dad can't buy you a million new ones?" said Clyde.

"Yeah, he could. But all my data was on THAT one!" Damian yelled.

"Oh, what? Like your ONE contact?" Marcus teased. "As if anyone would ever call you."

"Do you seriously NOT GET that everyone hates you?" asked Clyde.

"Do you seriously NOT GET that you're a little bitch?!" growled Damian.

Meanwhile, Tim had pulled up to the north field bleachers and begun looking for Damian. The location given via the text had been pretty vague, so he decided to ask for a more specific place.

I'm here. Where did you say you'd be?

Unfortunately, the text did not go through.

Hmm. That's weird. Maybe he has his phone off…? thought Tim. But then he realized that that didn't make sense. The text would still have been received.

Getting out of the car, Tim started to wander around, hoping to find the kid by chance. It was only after he'd emerged from the vehicle that he heard fighting.

"Damian?" he called, walking under the bleachers to the inside of the kickball field. He saw the scuffle between the three boys. Somehow it looked like Damian was losing. Chalking it up to being outnumbered, Tim ran to intervene.

But then he got a better idea.

"You know why your dad sends you here, don't you?" Clyde taunted, holding Damian's arms behind his back while Marcus shoved his face in the dirt. "To save face! Everyone knows Bruce Wayne didn't even know you existed until a few years ago! You're his whore lovechild! Doesn't even want you in his life! You ever wonder why you're his only biological kid? He didn't want you! He's already got a billion adopted kids! Adopted- that means he WANTED them! He CHOSE to take them in! You were just dropped off on his doorstep!"

"Yeah, probably with a note pinned to you, that said, like 'Dear Bruce, next time wear a condom!'" Marcus teased.

"I assure you, that's highly debatable!" Tim called, appearing from the shadows, holding his phone, recording the video of the whole incident.

"The fuck do you want?" asked Clyde, finally letting go of Damian's arms and getting up.

"Not much, actually, I've got more than enough put you two away," said Tim. "Anything else you want to add before I break the internet?"

"You'd better put that thing away before I shove it up your ass," said Marcus, who had also abandoned his mission of making Damian eat dirt to walk towards Tim.

"Somebody sure is eager to go viral," said Tim. He didn't even have to zoom in to capture how actually scared the two bullies looked. They knew they were in trouble.

"Who the hell are you, by the way?" asked Clyde.

"Tim Wayne," answered the teen, emphasizing his adopted last name. "And that's my brother you're about to shit your pants in front of."

Both Clyde and Marcus's eyes widened in horror as they realized how much power this cinematographer had. They both backed away slowly.

"You two get lost right now, I delete this video," said Tim. The two teens bolted. Tim ended the recording, but of course, didn't delete it. He put his phone in his pocket, and knelt down to help Damian. "You went too easy on them," he said softly.

"Shut up," mumbled Damian.

"Are you OK?"

"Fine," Damian said, his voice broken with tears. He collected the shattered remains of his own phone, and walked ahead of Tim back to his car.

Once the two boys were inside, Damian allowed himself a few more tears.

"Ugh. Why won't this stop bleeding?" he muttered, pressing Kleenex after Kleenex to the gash on the side of his head.

"There's a first-aid kit in the glove compartment," said Tim. Damian opened it and got it out. "Just a second…" Tim mumbled, dabbing a cotton ball with antiseptic, cleaning the wound, and bandaging it. "You're OK."

"I just didn't want to get in trouble," Damian sniffed. "You know I could have destroyed them."

"Yeah, I know. You did the right thing- not fighting back," said Tim. "It's OK. They're not going to try that shit again."

"I didn't even want to come here," Damian complained, wiping his eyes. "I would actually WELCOME getting kicked out of here, but Father would be disappointed."

"I know. I know it's hard. I've had to deal with the same thing," said Tim. "Both NOT being able to fight back, and getting picked on for being the 'rich kid.'"

"At least you were wanted," Damian sniffed. "Father chose you. I've seen the magazine covers. "'Why The Billionaire Bachelor Adopted Tim Drake,'" he continued. "'Still In High School And Already Heir To An Empire.'"

"Yeah, people were jealous," said Tim. "That's all they are."

"'cept they're right," said Damian. "I am just my father's lovechild. He didn't choose to have me in his life."

"Oh, Damian- don't. Don't even-"

"You. Grayson. Todd. He chose all of you. He formally adopted you all. He WANTED you, even though he had no responsibility to take care of you."

"Damian, stop it."

"He didn't want me. He takes care of me because he has to, not because he ever wanted to."

"He wanted you from the moment he met you," said Tim. Damian only squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back more tears. "He did."

"Whatever."

"Look at me, Damian."

Damian opened his eyes and turned towards Tim.

"He wanted you from the moment he knew you. I was threatened. I actually was afraid you were going to edge me out. But you know what he said to me?"

"What?"

"'If he is my son- even if he's not- he deserves some love and my respect.' Even before he did a DNA test, he wanted you in his life. He loved you. Don't let some jealous d-bags tell you any different."

"I didn't know he said that," Damian admitted.

"Heh. Yeah. It was right after you, uh, you cursed Alfred out and went up to your room," Tim laughed.

Damian chuckled.

"I remember that," he admitted. Both brothers laughed at the memory.

"You ready to go home?" asked Tim. Damian nodded.

"Thank you," said Damian. "For saving me and for…that."

"Aww," Tim cooed, unable to resist the urge to wrap his arm around his little brother's shoulders, pull him close and kiss his bandaged wound. "I couldn't let those bullies hurt my little bro, could I?"

"Shut up!" laughed Damian.

"Hey, I don't like it when people pick on you," said Tim. "…that's my job."

THE END
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