rannajii asked: i see you've opened prompts ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) could you write damian finding an abandoned litter of kittens and taking them home? preferably set during dick's batman run.
Damian walks into the bunker carefully cradling a box and sporting a determined expression, and Dick doesn't know why, but he's immediately on edge. He's been up all night on patrol and then finishing up some research for a case, and he has to head out for a meeting with some top executive with Lucius in a less than an hour and Dick's tired. Exhausted, even, and as much as he's grown to love Damian the past year together, he doesn't like what that look could bring.
"Grayson," Damian greets, sounding a lot more formal and polite than before. He holds the box closer to his chest and stands up straight, looking Dick straight in the eyes. "I have something to tell you."
"You mean ask me," Dick says, finally standing up to peek into Damian's box, his heart sinking at what he sees.
Kittens. Five of them curled up asleep in the box, looking scruffy and scraggly, and Dick knows that Damian probably found them on the side of the road or in an alleyway, abandoned, and Dick's heart sinks even further, because he's going to have to tell Damian exactly what Bruce told him when he was Robin.
"I would like to keep them, if you don't mind," Damian says, tentative hope in his eyes. It's the closest Damian's ever gotten to asking, not demanding, and Dick hates, hates, hates what he has to say.
"Damian," Dick says softly, and all the hope falls from the boy's eyes, "I really wish I could say yes."
"I can take care of them," Damian insists.
"No," and Dick shakes his head, "you can't. Neither of us can. We're already stretching ourselves thin trying to cover Gotham by ourselves and with both the Riddler and Ivy both out of Arkham, neither of us have the time."
"Pennyworth could surely take care of them until—"
"Until what?" Dick asks, frowning and crossing his arms, and Damian clutches the box even closer. God, Dick feels like he's back to playing Bruce's role, but he's tired and he's right. Damian isn't going to react well, he knows, but he can't not try to get his little brother to understand this. "Until we catch the Riddler and Poison Ivy? Will Alfred take care of a bunch of kittens every time another prisoner escapes Arkham?" He lowers his voice. "Damian, Alfred doesn't have time, either. It's just not possible."
Damian's stiff as a board, and he's not looking at Dick. "I can't just leave them to die on the street, Grayson."
"And we won't," Dick says. As much as he wants to reach out to Damian and pull him into a hug like usual, Damian's giving off those stay away from me or you die and Dick doesn't want to push his luck when he's already feeling so exhausted. He hasn't lost his temper in a while, but Damian likes to test him when Dick's almost at his limit, and Dick doesn't want Damian to see him that why. "I know a few people that will be willing to look after them until someone is ready to adopt them."
Damian scrunches up his face oddly, and it's—Dick's only seen that expression a handful of times. But before Dick can process exactly what Damian is feeling, the boy is gone, taking the box with him as he past Alfred and into the open elevator. Dick slumps into his chair as soon as the doors closed.
Alfred sends him a raised eyebrow. "May I ask what that was about, Master Richard?"
Dick sighs into his hands. He's in his twenties, but he feels old and mean and horrible for crushing his ten year old little brother's hopes of caring for a few kittens. He's the absolute worst, and he wonders if Bruce ever felt like this, too.
Probably not, considering the fights they had while Jason was Robin.
"Damian found a box full of kittens," Dick tells Alfred, looking up just as understanding crosses over the butler's face. "And I had to be the bad guy and tell him no."
"I see," is all Alfred says.
Dick groans. "I didn't want to do it."
"I didn't say you did," Alfred says. "But perhaps you should clear that particular point up with Master Damian."
Dick's on his feet and up the elevator before Alfred's even finished talking. He doesn't think he's in the wrong here, not really, but maybe he could have sat Damian down and explained further instead of just telling him no. Instead of telling Damian what Bruce told him and expecting Damian to just roll over. Damian's too proud, but he also has the biggest heart Dick's ever seen when it comes to animals.
Dick should have told him something better than It's not possible.
Damian's sitting on the couch when Dick steps out into the penthouse, the box of kittens next to him. He's half-heartedly playing with the only one awake, and Dick sighs and walks over to sit on the other side of the box.
"What." Damian isn't looking at him, but his tone is everything Dick needs to gauge his tone.
"I do want you to keep the kittens," Dick says. "And maybe if we weren't stretched so thin, just you and me, then you could. But it's just us right now, Damian. Batman and Robin, and we're both pulling all-nighters every other night to keep on top of things. Alfred's overworked, too."
"You already explained this," Damian tells him, sparing him barely enough time for a glare. "I know all this."
"Yeah," Dick says, poking at the kitten that's awake. It bats at him clumsily and a sad smile spreads across his face. "I did. But I also didn't give you time to say your piece. So," and Dick might come to regret this, but Dick's not Bruce, and he has to stop trying to be for everybody's sakes, "if you can convince me that you can care for all these kittens and keep up with everything else, then you can keep them."
Damian's face practically lights up—well, as much as possible for Damian Wayne—and Dick finds himself smiling genuinely. "I will come up with a presentation for you, then," Damian says, standing.
He's about to grab the box, too, but Dick grabs Damian's hand and squeezes when Damian doesn't immediately pull away. Damian meets his gaze evenly, almost questioningly. Dick grimaces. "I know you want to keep the kittens, but think about what's best for them, too. Just—think about it, okay?"
Damian nods, and Dick lets him go, sinking into the couch. He watches as Damian takes the box of kittens and disappears into his room. And then he thinks about what he's got to do today and his shoulders seem to gain another twenty pounds.
He still feels old, but at least he doesn't feel mean and horrible anymore. And he hopes he never does again.