A/N: Howdy yal. Thanks to all who reviewed, favorited, or followed. You're all lovely people :). And those who like this story but haven't done any of those three things, well, you're lovely too :).

By the way guys, I saw the Maze Runner movie today and it. was. awesome! Intense, scary, and violent, with some vulgar language, but for those who can stomach those things, it was really cool. I really don't know why I told you that, but if anyone's interested in seeing it, that's just my opinion on it.

Hope you're enjoying the story. Let me know if you think there are any corrections I should make, or tell me what things you would like to see happen. Review, review, review!

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"So...you are fighting with Bruce."

Damian gave a noncommittal grunt, refusing to make eye contact.

"What happened this time?"

Grayson said that in such a way, as if he had so many better things to do than be here, it made Damian angry all over again. "Well it wasn't my fault," he snapped.

Holding up his hands, Grayson took a cautious few steps closer to Damian. "I'm not pinning blame. But..." he glanced around. Damian became overly aware of the many holes in the walls, and even a few on the ceiling. He didn't remember making those. "I'm a little confused as to why you would destroy your own things and not Bruce's if you're mad at him."

To that, Damian had no answer. He tried to produce one, but he took too long because Grayson started talking again.

"Of course, I assume this was you're doing because I really can't imagine Bruce destroying his own son's room...and Alfred would have told me if a burglar had payed a visit."

"Tt. Of course none of that happened."

Grayson took a seat on the carved bed frame. For some reason, Damian wasn't able to contain a flinch when the man's eyes seemed to draw in on the word useless just beside his leg. "You know, it helps to talk."

"I believe we are talking. And what a rousing conversation it has been."

Grayson snapped his fingers. "And it would be more rousing with cookies!" he exclaimed.

"...No."

A frown—no, it was a pout—appeared on Grayson's face. "But I haven't had them since I visited a few weeks ago."

"Tt. You had them a few minutes ago, when you arrived."

"That doesn't count."

"It does too, moron."

"But I missed lunch, I'm hungry."

"Then eat a proper meal, don't fill yourself with unnecessary fats and simple carbohydrates!"

Now Grayson was smiling. Only an idiot would smile after being insulted several times over. "I have never met another ten year old who cared so much about his health."

"Possibly because I am not like other ten year olds you have met in any way conceivable."

"Yeah...that's true."

Damian didn't like the thoughtful look on Grayson's face. Before he could object to any ludicrous ideas that were undoubtedly filling Grayson's head, the man suddenly started shifting around. "Sit still, would you?" Damian said irritably. "You look as if you have ants crawling through your clothes."

"I would," Grayson mumbled. "If this were more comfortable. Where is your mattress?"

Damian pointed to the window.

Grayson's eyes widened. "Goodness, where have you been sleeping?" After some consideration, and a beat of Damian's silence, Grayson asked, "Have you been sleeping?" He peered closely at Damian's face. "Cause it doesn't look like it. You haven't been, have you?"

Damian reluctantly nodded in affirmation. Grayson sighed. "I have been finding it necessary to replace sleep with training. You know very well that Father values sleep very little. Training should be the number one priority."

Grayson leaped to an assumption. "You've been training instead of sleeping to impress Bruce?"

'No, of course not', Damian wanted to say. But could that be true? Was he really trying to get on Father's good graces? That thought caused Damian to become very self conscious about the state of his room. Would Father dock him even more nights of patrol if he saw this?

Grayson must have read into the subtle movements of agitation Damian was allowing to surface. "You know, I used to do the same thing when I was Robin. Especially when I thought Bruce was mad at me, which was pretty much all the time, until I learned to speak the bat language."

Damian looked up. "Bat language?"

Leaning forward conspiratorially, Grayson was about to speak, but the bedroom door opened. In walked Pennyworth, seeming unfazed by the state of Damian's room. "Master Richard, I do hate to impose, but there seems to be a mattress taking up residence within the tulip beds. Would you be so gracious as to assist me in returning it to its proper place?"

"Oh. Sure Alfred. Dami, want to come help?"

Damian was about to protest, but Grayson added, "It is your bed, after all."

Not that he wanted it now that it had been lying in soil and exposed to the elements for the past two days; bugs had probably nested in it by now. But somehow, Damian found himself lifting one end of the mattress alongside Pennyworth and Grayson. Grayson might have deduced the reason of his cooperation to something he called a "guilt trip", but Damian believed it was because it was his bed, and he couldn't trust Grayson to be around his things unsupervised; even if he would be with Pennyworth.

"You good on your end, Damian?" Grayson called.

"Yes, just move!"

The three of them shuffled the mattress through the manor's front doors and up the long staircase, down the hall, until they finally reached Damian's room, where they deposited the mattress on the bed frame. Damian wrinkled his nose. "It's filthy!"

"And I do wonder how that came to be," Pennyworth said, dusting off his hands and raising an eyebrow.

To his credit, Damian wasn't cowed that much under the butler's accusing gaze. Like every Wayne (real or not real), he was well aware that Pennyworth was a force to be reckoned with. A force whose bad side he wanted to be on even less than his Father's.

"Well there's nothing to be done for it now," Damian declared. "I propose we make the best of this situation."

Now it was Grayson's eyebrow that went up. "And we would do that by...?"

Damian thought. "Father has plenty of money to fix this damage."

A dratted smile just about creeped onto Grayson's face, like an overly friendly cat ready to pounce at any given moment. "Or, we could have...brotherly bonding time by fixing this room ourselves! And before you say no, that's not an answer because if you agree, I won't tell Bruce about this mess!"

Damian's jaw almost dropped. "A-are you blackmailing me?!"

"You know it!"

With a huff, Damian said, "Fine! But only if you teach me about this 'bat language'."

Grayson saluted, smiling widely. He must have a really big mouth to be able to give a smile that big. "Can do, Dami!"

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Well, there you have it. It was fun for me to write, so I hope it's fun to read too.