A/N: Woo! There's a new Young Justice tomorrow! I'm so happy! In celebration, I'm trying to update/upload as many stories as I can this weekend...and work on my English essay…

Disclaimer:

Dick: The Girl Wonder doesn't own us.

Damian: Thankfully.

Me: What's that supposed to mean?

Damian: I hate you.

Me: Yeah? Well, that's your problem.

Dick: Okay, can we start the story?

Me: As soon as Damian stops trolling me.

Dick: No! We're starting now!

Me: But-

Dick: NOW!

Me: Fine, Dick. FINE.

"Damian," Dick called, knocking on his new "brother's" bedroom door, "Come and get breakfast. We're going to be late for school if you take too long."

"Grayson, I am perfectly capable of managing my own schedule," Damian answered through the door, "Leave me be."

Again with the "Grayson" stuff, thought Dick.

"Well, fine, but I'm just warning you: I'll take all the bacon if you don't get downstairs."

With that, Dick turned and descended the stairs.

In his room, Damian smirked.

Tt. He thinks that he can command me simply because he has lived here longer. My father owns this house, and therefore it is more my home than Grayson's. He is the guest and I am in charge of him.

Damian finished pulling on his black dress shoes and started on his tie.

Whoever designed this uniform should be hanged.

"Damian," Bruce called from downstairs, "You'll be late for school if you don't hurry up."

"Yes, father," Damian called back immediately.

In the kitchen, Dick did a double take.

Oh, so he listens when Bruce says it, but not when I do…Wait a second. "Yes, father"? What American kid calls his dad "father"? I mean, I know he just met Bruce, but still. He's so overly formal.

Having that in mind, Dick walked over to Bruce, who stood in the hallway fixing his hair.

"Hey, Bruce?"

Bruce turned to the boy and acknowledged him with a nod.

"Good morning, Dick."

"Good morning…Um…Where's Damian from?"

"Where'd that question come from?" Bruce inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, nowhere," Dick replied with a hand behind his neck, "I was just wondering why he's so formal all the time. He doesn't really sound like he grew up in America."

Bruce nodded, though he hadn't exactly noticed the extent of Damian's formality. He had mostly avoided the boy the previous night.

"Damian was raised by his mother in the Middle East," he answered.

"Oh, um, okay, Bruce…Sorry for bugging you about it. I'm going back to the kitchen."

Bruce frowned. Was something bothering Dick? Before he could find out, Dick walked back to the kitchen, and Damian came downstairs. Damian nodded at Bruce in greeting before following Dick.

Bruce shook his head. Damian is pretty formal, I guess. Why hadn't I noticed that before?

In the kitchen, Dick and Damian heard the front door close behind Bruce. After they were sure that he was gone, they turned to each other.

"Allow me to inform you of something, Grayson," started Damian, "You are not in charge of me."

Dick glared and said, "I'm not trying to be in charge of you. I'm trying to be your friend, and you're being constantly jerkish."

"Jerkish is not a word."

"Does it matter?" Dick asked, rubbing his temples. He sighed and looked back at Damian, who had sat down and started on his breakfast. Dick sat across from him and started eating as well. They remained silent for a few moments, until Dick spoke again.

"Okay, maybe we need some rules. One: You have to stop being so hostile. Two: I'm not your enemy. Three: Quit calling me Grayson because my name is Dick…Well, uh…Grayson's my name too, but you know what I mean!"

"Oh, but your wrong, Grayson," Damian responded, smiling, "You are my enemy here, which is why I must be somewhat hostile."

"Why?" Dick asked, genuinely confused, "What did I ever do to you?"

"You have not done anything, but you are standing in my way."

"In your way of what?"

Damian quietly cursed in Arabic. He wasn't supposed to give away any information. "That is none of your concern," he said.

Dick raised an eyebrow. "Did you just curse in Arabic?"

"No,"

"Yes, you did. You called me a 'nosy son of a-'"

"Master Dick, I do hope you mean to end that with an appropriate noun," stated Alfred, entering the kitchen with a disapproving countenance.

"-businesswoman," Dick finished, trying to ignore Damian's smirk.

"A commendable choice, Young Master. Now chop, chop, or the two of you will be late," the elderly man said, leaving the room.

"A commendable choice indeed," muttered Damian.

"Hey," said Dick, standing from his chair, "Don't mock Alfred."

"I do not see the problem with doing so. He is just an old man."

"Alfred's the coolest old man you'll ever meet," Dick proclaimed, "and, more importantly, he's family."

"Tt. Just as you and I are family?"

"Exactly…Hey, that was sarcasm, wasn't it?"

"Amazing, Grayson. You actually possess more intelligence than a three-year old."

"…Hey, is that why you've been acting like this? Because you're set on proving that we're not family?"

It wasn't the first time that Dick would do this, and Damian would someday curse Dick's ability to read people.

"I mean," Dick continued, "I honestly don't see you as family either. Not yet, anyway…But why can't you let me just try to be your friend?"

Tt. Friends…right. Someone of my status requires no friends.

"…You are pathetic," Damian voiced, "Listen closely: I. Do. Not. Need. Any. Friends."

Damian got up and left Dick in disappointed silence.

So much for that method, Dick thought.

I pull the "I'm going to eat all of the bacon," trick all the time with my brother. He usually comes running downstairs at superhuman speed. Too bad it doesn't work with Dami…

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