HEYA I almost forgot to post today oh my god I have so many things to do I am never gonna survive this year :'(

Warning: I know absolutely /NOTHING/ of boxe. Only that you need special shoes or something? I did my best. If I have any boxer-readers, I am so sorry.

Thank you for all your reviews, likes and follows it means a lot to me :3 Have fun!

VI

Imagine the bag is Tim

September 8th

Damian had been working in the kitchen all day. He didn't have anything else to do. No one was home except for Pennyworth busy in the garden and Cain working in her room with her tutor. But Damian didn't need them. That's what he'd been telling himself since he'd arrived at the manor.

He was finishing a very complicated arithmetic exercise when he heard someone going down the stairs. Had Cassandra finished her work? She was probably the most curious of them all. She wasn't really an orphan like them. Unlike her adopted-brothers, her parents were both still alive. Damian had been wondering if she was like them. She had a quick temper and if it weren't for Tim she would already have punched him a couple of times.

The someone entered the living room where he was working in peace. Damian raised his head.

- Oh, it's you, he said as he saw Jason.

The young man was wearing a pair of grey jogging and a white T-shirt. His hair was messed up and he didn't look too good, as if he hadn't slept for a while – which was probably the case, Damian started to know him well.

- Hi, Demon's Spawn. How's homework?

- It's not homework.

- I don't give a crap anyway.

On those words, Jason went to the fridge and opened. He grabbed a bottle of water, then went back out. But before he did, he stopped and remained thoughtful for a couple of seconds. Finally, he looked at Damian and asked:

- Do you wanna come to the gym?

Damian frowned.

- What gym? He asked.

- The one here. Y'know, the gym?

- I didn't know father owned a gym.

- No one's showed you around, did they?

- They have not.

- I'm not a guide, so I won't either. But you can leave your not-homework-thing for a minute and come with me if you want.

Damian hesitated. Was Jason actually trying to be nice to him? He'd be one of the firsts. He'd never thought him capable of such a thing. He seemed to hate everyone, especially Tim – who wouldn't – but there he was, trying to be nice.

- Why not, he finally answered.

He jumped off his chair and followed the older one through the manor. Damian realized the place was much bigger than he'd originally thought. There was a lot he ignored about the place. It was a real museum: paintings of his ancestors on the walls, furniture and decoration from all around the world – mostly Japanese, Damian could recognize the style.

Finally, Jason opened a door and let the kid in. Damian never imagined the gym to be this big. His father seemed to own every possible equipment a normal gym could only dream of. There even were fencing swords.

- You do fencing? He asked.

- Sometimes. Bruce taught us all. It's some sort of family tradition.

Damian hadn't been taught yet. But surely his time would come. He was real family, after all.

Jason walked towards the punching-bag. A chest laid against the wall: he knelt in front of it and opened it.

- What shoe size are you?

- Pardon me?

- C'm'ere.

- What are you going to do to me?

- I'm going to find you boxing shoes your size.

- What for?

- Because I'm going to teach you how to give a punch, asshat. And I don't want you to do it in sneakers. Now move your ass over here and show me your feet.

- Why would you teach me boxing?

- Do you know how to boxe?

- No.

- That's why. Now don't make me ask you to come here again.

Damian walked towards him and took of his shoes. Jason took a look at the number under them, then searched for a matching size in the chest.

- Put those, he said.

- You don't give me orders, Todd.

- Now you're just being stupid. Gimme your hands.

He obeyed. Jason wrapped a band around them, tightly, then banded his. He approached the punching-bag and positioned himself behind it. Damian took his sneakers off and sat down to put the shoes on. When he was done, he positioned himself in front of the bag. Jason went behind him and positioned him correctly.

- You need to spread your legs a little, he explained, and find the right balance. Both your legs are useful. Keep your spine straight and both your feet on the ground. Also, keep your hands around your chest, not over your face. Don't try to hit up, but right in front of you. Which is low, considering your height.

- You think you're funny, don't you?

Jason didn't answer. He left his side and went behind the bag to hold it still.

- Come on, hit it. Give it everything you have.

Damian took a deep breath and hit the punching-bag. Jason laughed.

- That's all? Hell, I thought someone like you would have a little more strength than that.

- Maybe if it was you I would have hit harder.

- Imagine the bag is Tim. That's what I do.

Damian took position and hit the bag again.

- That's better. Again.

- What if I don't want to?

- Do you have to discuss every goddamn thing I say?

He took another hit at the bag.

- Did you punch it? I didn't feel it.

- Shut up Todd.

Another punch. This time, Damian gave it everything he had. Jason held the bag still.

- What about now? Damian asked.

- Less talking, more punching.

Damian punched it again, and again, and again, and again. He punched it until he didn't feel his hands anymore. He had turned all red and was sweating and breathing heavily. Jason held his position until then. When he couldn't punch anymore, Damian took a step back, panting. He wiped his forehead.

- How do you feel? Jason asked.

- Tired. And thirsty.

Jason let go of the bag and grabbed the bottle. He threw it at the kid. Damian sat down and drank.

- Is that how you deal with things? He asked once hydrated, by punching a bag?

- No. That's just called exercise.

He took Damian's place in front of the bag and started punching it, much harder than Damian had been. Damian looked up at him, still sitting down. Todd didn't seem as a loser as he thought he was.

- So how do you deal with things?

Jason stopped hitting the bad and looked down at the kid.

- I go out, drink, get into fights.

Or maybe he was after all.

- Is that all you do of your days?

- I don't have much else to do.

- Is that what your psychiatrist told you to do?

Jason froze.

- That's none of your fucking business, Demon's Spawn.

- I thought we were family. Family doesn't keep secrets.

Angry, Jason turned around.

- No. We're not family. You don't know anything. Shut the hell up.

- That's where you're wrong, Todd. I told you already, I did my research. I know what happened to everyone in this house, and mostly you. We are brothers after all.

- We're not. You're not my brother. Neither is Tim and Dick. And Bruce is certainly not my father.

The young man resumed his punching without another word. Silent, Damian got up and left. His work here was done.