A/N: Hi everybody! Thank you so much for all the support for this story! I read all of your comments and they keep me going. So this chapter here, I wrote in about 2 hours last night so if you see any mistakes, sorry! I am also in the process of getting a new job so I might not be able to update again next week. We'll just have to wait and see! For now, enjoy!
Damian had to admit that Grayson knew how to spin a good story. His favorite stories were still the ones his mother had told him as a child, though, of the entire other family he had in Gotham and all the trouble they got into on a regular basis.
He looked up to trade surprisingly longsuffering glances with Drake, who was openly smirking through his wince. Dick cackled as he hopped over to a bookcase, looking overjoyed. "What pictures do I have? Kid, what pictures don't I have? It's a big brother's job to follow their siblings around like a creep and capture all of their greatest hits for, you know, posterity." He threw a sarcastic glare at Drake, and for some reason he turned bright red and melted down into the sofa, grumbling.
"Will you never let that go? I was a little kid that lived in Gotham! Of course I had a serious case of hero worship!" he defended himself hotly, though even Damian could tell that this was an old argument that was treated with more comedy than care now.
"Timmy used to follow us around at night, taking pictures. He was a grade-A stalker," Dick stage whispered at Damian, and Damian swiveled in surprise, throwing a fresh eye over the older teen now that he had this new information.
Drake just threw his head back and groaned, running a hand over his face as he shook his head in defeat. Grayson swept out to his rescue as he resettled back on the sofa between Drake and Damian, a large bound book in his lap. Damian resettled his cat in his lap and leaned further into Grayson's space, almost surprised when Grayson didn't point it out but almost seemed to welcome it.
Damian stared at the pictures Grayson had on display with high suspicion, even though he knew it was highly unlikely he was making up the stories that he said went along with them. But the way he spoke of Jason, so carefree and rebellious and caring and young, hit him as incongruous to the man he knew now.
Grayson had a lot of pictures. Pictures of the Bat Family, the Young Justice team, the Teen Titan team, and even the Justice League on rare occasions. Pictures of these people both in and out of uniform, smiling and laughing and crying and frowning. As the pictures became more recent, he noticed a change in his father, especially in the time immediately following Jason's death.
He grew stiffer and rarely smiled; before, he had always had an arm around someone else in the picture, and after he never seemed to be found with someone else nearby at all. Before, he always had at least a sardonic smirk on his lips, and after he was always stony faced and grim, jaw set like he was grinding his teeth or very close to doing so.
They sat together on the sofa for at least two hours, probably longer, as Grayson spun story after story of his younger years. Damian enjoyed most of them, of course he did; Jason was very sparse with any information relating to his time as Bruce Wayne's ward and Batman's Robin. It was striking to know that Jason wasn't just keeping back bad memories, but good ones, too.
As they neared the end of the second album Grayson had tugged down from the bookcase, Damian followed his motions and took in the size of that piece of furniture; there were probably ten more albums, just as thick as the others, sitting up there. Damian felt his heart stutter at the sight and almost felt sick to his stomach as the realization hit him that he had only really been present for a few sparse years of his brother's life. He knew that Jason's time at the Compound had not been saturated with good memories, not the same way the memories Grayson spoke of were filled with light and laughter and exhilaration.
Grayson described Jason as a happy, rebellious, over excitable teenager with eyes bright with mischief and mind always racing away. He had cared for the people on the streets of Gotham in a way that even Batman couldn't, because he had never been one of them. Jason had cared about the street rats and the starving children and the junkies and the alcoholics when sometimes everyone else decided to turn their backs on them, because there were more important things to worry about.
Nothing was ever more important to Jason than the forgotten of Gotham.
Except, maybe, his family. And he paid for that, Damian knew, with his life.
Damian felt sick.
This Jason Grayson was describing was so different from the man he lived with. Damian supposed he could see bits and pieces of the child in the man he knew, but some of the stories Grayson told had Damian throwing him incredulous looks. This boy Grayson spoke of with such pride and nostalgia was a stranger to Damian. He certainly hadn't existed by the time Jason had shown up at the Compound when Damian had been just a toddler. And he certainly wasn't like that now.
The more Damian thought about it, the more uncertain he felt, guilt gnawing away at his gut.
Grayson, if nothing else, was observant. He seemed to pick up on Damian's struggles almost immediately, closing the book without a second thought. He turned to look Damian over, his eyes tracing over him slowly so as not to miss something important. His eyes were soft, Damian noticed before he ducked his head down.
"I didn't realize just how late it is!" Grayson exclaimed, glancing over Damian's head to see the digital clock over the stove. It was nearly 1 in the morning. "I think it's time for some sleep, Damian. What do you think?"
Damian had to grudgingly admit that he was exhausted, though maybe more due to weariness and worry than any real physical tiredness. He nodded anyway, turning to rake his suspicious glare up and down Drake's face, expecting some sort of joke or comment from the teenager. The other barely even acknowledged him, just waved a lazy hand as he skimmed through his phone. Damian sniffed, lifted up his cat, and walked into the guest room Grayson had given him earlier in the night.
He got ready for bed with mechanical movements, hardly even thinking about anything in front of him as he was so preoccupied with his own thoughts. The cat slunk between his legs as he moved towards the bed, generally being a nuisance, but Damian welcomed the distraction.
He threw his backpack onto the bed and stared at the book nestled inside. He stared at it, biting his lip, and kicked himself for even bothering to bring it tonight. He felt his knees give out and he sat down hard on the edge of the bed, holding the book in his lap while the cat jumped up beside him, settling down and getting comfy enough to sleep. Damian sighed, shaking his head. It was such a stupid thing to bring during an emergency, just a piece of sentimental garbage, and if Drake or Grayson caught him with it he would probably have to kill them to hide the shame of being seen as human.
But then again, it was the book he and Jason were reading together, every night before bed.
It was theirs.
It was a hard decision and he felt like such as child, dithering over something that, in the grand scheme of things, wasn't all that important. Did he even want to read the book without Jason? How would Jason even know what was going on tomorrow night if he missed a whole chapter tonight?
Grayson was also sneakier than Damian had given him credit for, as he appeared hovering over Damian with that worried look all over his face. Damian panicked and tried to shove the book back into his backpack, but it was too late, and Grayson had already seen it. Face burning, Damian pushed himself further up on the bed, hiding his face, feeling guilty and lonely and out of place.
"What do you need, Grayson?" Damian growled, refusing to meet his eyes. Grayson just took another step closer, only stopped when he reached the edge of the bed.
"I was just checking in to see how you were doing. You were pretty quiet all night." Damian scoffed at that and Grayson smiled again, this time something a little sadder than hopeful. He took a seat on the edge of the bed beside Damian, close but not too close. "I just wanted to see if you wanted to talk about anything." He smiled then, something a little self-deprecating. "I know how close you are with Jason, and I wanted to let you know that you aren't alone here in Gotham. It's not just you and Jason, all on your lonesome. Tim and me, we're your family, too. I don't want you to ever forget that you have far more family than you think. We're brothers, all of us, and we worry about you two. I worry about you, ever since I saw Jason running around with a kid at his side. Especially since I met you that first time, face to face. Call it big brother instincts. I worry."
Damian grumbled, but had to admit that Grayson's words produced a pleasantly warm feeling in his chest. So, Grayson saw them as brothers, too? Even if they had only met one time? "You needn't bother yourself. Jason and I, we take care of each other, look after each other. He understands me because he has been with me through most of my trials. He knows what I am capable of and thinks no less of me for it. However, I think I realized tonight that I do not know quite as much about him as I thought I did."
He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back his ridiculous tears. "The Jason you knew before the Pit, he seemed so happy. I have seen Jason happy before, but never like that. Never without a thought, or laughing just to laugh. He is so different now, and I have to wonder, is it because of my mother? My grandfather? Is it because of what they, what we put him through? Or is it something greater than us?"
"Dami," Grayson breathed out slowly, sounding so sad that it left Damian feeling guilty all over again. "That's some pretty heavy stuff to be thinking about, kiddo." He reached out, tentatively wrapping an arm around his little shaking shoulders. When he got no reaction, Grayson sight and brought Damian closer, squeezing him up against his side. If Damian closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that it was Jason sitting there, holding him instead. "I think the way Jay is now is a combination of a lot of thing. But I don't want you to ever think for even one moment that any of that is your fault. You're just a kid, Damian. You said it yourself, you've known him since you were a baby. There's no way that you did anything but make his life brighter. I guarantee it."
Damian sighed with his whole body, shaking his head against Grayson's chest in misery. "You are surprisingly naïve for someone so old," he grumbled half-heartedly. Grayson laughed, shaking Damian's shoulders fondly.
"Are you calling me an old man, little boy? I'm not a geezer yet, buddy. Promise." Then he nimbly reached behind Damian to pluck the book out of his baby once more. Damian felt the tips of his ears burning in mortification. "And what's this here? Bedtime story?"
"Jason is attempting to help me improve my reading. I am fluent in speaking English, but I still have difficulty on occasion reading it. We have been practicing at night by reading a chapter before bed." Damian scowled down at his lap as he leaned back out of Grayson's grasp, but his gaze lingered longingly on the cover.
Grayson smiled fondly down at Damian, carefully running his long fingers through Damian's spiky hair. "Okay. Budge up and we can read the next chapter together." Damian bit his lip, unsure, and Grayson seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. "It's okay, kiddo. You two can re-read the chapter again tomorrow night. I won't tell." He gave Damian a wink and Damian huffed, feeling slightly grateful but mostly insulted.
So he rolled to make room for Grayson on the bed, his shoulders leaned back against a mountain of pillows. Grayson wrapped one arm around Damian's shoulders and then used the other to prop up the book in his lap.
"How about I read a paragraph and then you read a paragraph?"
Damian blushed but nodded, feeling like a stupid little child in need of reassurance but also like Grayson's coddling may be just the thing he needed to calm down. "That is usually how Jason and I do this, as well," he admitted, letting himself lean ever so much closer to Grayson's side. It still didn't feel right, not like it did with Jason, but Damian was exhausted and he was willing to give Grayson a chance at being his pillow.
"Good. Here, I'll start us off." And then he began the next chapter, even if he had no clue what the book was about of who the characters were. This was not for him, it was for Damian. He seemed to enjoy the tiny ball of warmth leaning up against him, young and exhausted and slowly relaxing until there was no choice but to fall asleep. Grayson sat there for a few more minutes just stroking Damian's arm, making sure he was actually asleep before making to get up.
Once he was sure Damian had absolutely passed out, Dick slipped out of the bed, tugging the blanket up around the kid's shoulders a bit more securely. He brushed a strand of hair from his face and watched, transfixed, as he breathed out peacefully. His little face seemed to lose all of its tension with sleep, and the boy actually looked his age for once, instead of the somber ever-vigilant soldier he had spent the night with.
That kid sure was a piece of work, he mused to himself as he shuffled from the room, closing the door behind himself as quietly as he could. He had so much pressure on his shoulders, with a mind far too advanced for his young age. Dick had to admit that he would definitely fit in just fine in this family, what with that massive chip on his shoulder.
Tim was waiting for him in the living room, because of course he was. "Didn't expect that to take so long," Tim remarked softly, voice quiet so as not to wake the little assassin.
"Yeah," Dick admitted, and knew even without looking that his face was downright smitten. "He's such a good kid, just like Jason said. Carries the world on his shoulders, you know, but he's good. Sweet. Ridiculously worried about Jason but then, who isn't, in this family?"
Tim let out an inelegant snort at that but had to admit the truth behind Dick's statements. "He's so quiet. And when he isn't, confrontational," he accused playfully, like that was Dick's fault. Dick just shrugged it off.
"I know you put it together, who his parents are. I'm letting Jason decide when and how he wants to play this with Bruce. It's not my place, and it's not yours either," Dick stated pointedly, giving Tim a pointed look. Tim just nodded, holding his hands out in defeat.
"I know. I wasn't going to tell Bruce, I swear. Jason probably wouldn't hold back on trying to kill me this time around, I bet." Dick had to admit that was probably more true than Tim liked to entertain.
Damian and Jason were closer, ridiculously close. If Tim took that away from him, Dick wasn't sure how rationally Jason could be expected to react.
"Probably safest," Dick admitted, before turning to check the clock again. It was nearing three in the morning. "You can sleep on the couch if you want, or bunk with me tonight. I only have the one guest room." Tim smirked but easily settled back against the couch cushions, making himself comfy.
"I'll take my chances out here, thanks. You hog the blankets and cuddle like an octopus."
Dick scoffed in mock refusal. "Whatever. I'm gonna take Damian back to Jason's as soon as possible in the morning. I doubt I'll be able to push it back any more than that. Kid's worried enough as it is." Tim nodded, leaning back until he was stretched out on the sofa. Dick said goodnight, checked the lock on the front door one more time, and then made his way to his own bed for the night.
Babysitting was exhausting.
Tim was he first one up, already gulping down his third cup of coffee by the time Dick stumbled into the kitchen, shortly followed by Damian and his kitten. The kid definitely looked worse for wear, with bloodshot eyes and heavy bags beneath them. The poor boy looked like he hadn't slept a wink.
The cat pranced into the kitchen like it owned the place, nose up in the air. It hopped from the floor up onto the counter and then proceeded to mewl loudly in Damian's face until he started blearily searching the cabinets for something to feed it.
Dick busied himself pouring three bowls of cereal and then forcing them on his younger brothers. They all sat at the table together, heads down and bleary eyed as they tried to wake up.
"I've got to get home and get changed, I've got a meeting later today at WE," Tim said after another cup of coffee and half a bowl of cereal. He gulped down the last of his cup and then stood. He paused before he left the table, looking down at Damian with a contemplative look on his face. Then he sighed, leaned down so Damian had no choice to look him in the face, and said, "It was nice to meet you, Damian. I really do hope Jason's feeling better this morning." He rested a hand on Damian's shoulder for a fraction of a second before flitting away, knocking any sign of affection from him probably wasn't welcome. "Bye, Dick!" he called as he fled the room the next moment, the front door clicking quietly behind him as he left in a rush.
"Well," Dick drawled, blinking slowly at Tim's departure, his spoon still hovering in front of his face. "Don't you mind him, Damian. Tim gets a little hyper-focused sometimes. When he isn't, it's just weird." He shrugged to himself, rolled his eyes, and went back to eating his breakfast.
Damian remained silent, unsure how to process that declaration, but he did turn to glance at the doorway in confusion. The cat, now sated with breakfast, rubbed up against his leg and support and Damian turned his attention down to it instead.
As he was patting the kitten's dark side, Dick peeked over at him, grinning at the adorable sight. He hated to break the moment. "As soon as you're ready to go, we can head back to Jason's."
Damian's head jerked up at that. He stared at Dick for about three frighteningly intense seconds before he hopped up from his chair and sprinted to the bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him. Dick watched in amusement. He could hear the kid banging around in the other room, throwing everything into his bag while simultaneously trying to shimmy into new clothes.
He showed back up before Dick was even done with his cereal, bag slung over one shoulder, cat at his feet, an impatient glare on his face as he tapped his foot. Dick just smiled and slurped at his milk; he didn't want to be an ass, though, so he finished his breakfast quicker than he normally did, just for the kid.
"Alright, alright," Dick finally chuckled, breaking beneath Damian's almost panicked gaze. The kid scooped his cat up into his arms and took Dick's hand with his free one, tugging him over to the door. Dick took just long enough to lock the door behind them before leading them to the elevator, the lobby, and then out on to the street.
Damian clung to Dick's hand with a death grip. His face was calm and blank, hiding his obvious anxiety and fear at what they would find once they entered the apartment. Dick squeezed back gently, rubbing his thumb over Damian's knuckles.
The apartment was easy enough to find but Dick took a little too much time dismantling Jason's alarms for Damian's tastes. He stood impatiently beside Dick as he crouched in front of the door, lock pick at the ready while he worked. Finally, the door clicked open and Damian rushed past him to the closet, shoving the false wooden backing out of the way so Dick could get to the keypad. Dick followed a step behind, inputting the code before tugging the door open for his youngest brother.
Damian darted past Grayson again without a backwards glance. There was silence and then a long, loud groan, before Damian started chattering away at Jason like he hadn't at all the whole night before. Dick stepped into the room and felt a pang of pity for his Little Wing.
The poor guy was sprawled across the bed in much the same position they had left him in. The room, however, was another story entirely; it looked trashed, like a hurricane had gone through destroying everything, but at least Jason didn't look any worse for it. Damian was laying right on top of Jason, leaning sideways across his back and over his shoulder so his face was right next to Jason's.
"Are you alright? You didn't hurt yourself, did you? This is ridiculous, Jason, why aren't you awake yet? Move over, Todd, I need to see if you are bleeding. Jason. Jason. Jason! I mean it!" He started tugging at Jason's shoulder then, which caused Jason to groan that much louder in response, but he still refused to open his eyes.
Dick figured he should probably step in at this point.
"Okay, Dami. How about we give Jason some room to breathe?" He reached forward with an answer, lifting Damian off of Jason's back. He couldn't help but roll his eyes when Damian put up a fight, thrashing in his grip, trying to break free.
"I'm up, I swear. Give me like, two minutes." Jason waved a hand at them from the mound of blankets he was buried under but didn't try to make another move. Dick sighed but was able to tug Damian closer, moving towards the door.
"We'll get breakfast started, how about that. Come join us when you're ready, Jace. C'mon, kiddo; I'll need help." He didn't let go of the kid, wrapping him up tight in his arms while he complained the whole way.
Damian was a master complainer, but at least he wasn't hitting or kicking or biting. He set Damian up at the toaster, telling him to make enough toast to feed a small army or, alternatively, enough for a Jason coming off a wild bender, which was his closest approximation for the situation at hand. He started in on the bacon and eggs, mentally preparing himself for Jason's comments once he caught a whiff of his cooking. Jason had always been better at that than him and never wasted a chance to shove that in Dick's face.
A few minutes later, Jason finally graced them with his presence, having finally dragged himself out of bed and into the kitchen, though obviously grudgingly if Dick understood anything from Jason's wincing. He blinked half open eyes at them and Dick glanced up just long enough to see his knuckles were bloodied but dry and he had bruises running all up and down his arms and on his face.
Damian's head snapped towards Jason's direction the moment he heard him, abandoning his toast-making duties in order to check up on Jason. "Are you alright?" he asked, voice so small and quiet that it had both Jason and Dick turning to look at him in concern.
"Hey, kid. You know me, nothing keeps me down for long," he said, running a hand through Damian's hair slowly, tugging slightly at the ends to get his attention. "Now, what did you two make me? Huh?"
Damian glared at the affection but led Jason to the counter without further question. Jason sat down at the table, leaned heavily on his arms, his eyes narrowed to slits as he watched Dick and Damian fix up plates. Jason's was unceremoniously stuffed into his face in no time at all. He sat up reluctantly, inhaling the food before Dick or Damian could even sit down with him.
Damian settled down next to Dick, across from Jason, wide eyed and focused as he watched his big brother. Dick was a little less obvious about it, but he was staring, too. Jason ignored them both and just focused on eating until he couldn't take it anymore.
"So, Dames. What did you guys do yesterday?" He must have figured that was a safe enough question to start with, though he obviously wasn't prepared for the answer.
"We went to Grayson's apartment and Drake spent the night with us while Grayson told us stories of your youth." Jason nearly choked, instead choosing to spit out his surprisingly good eggs in shock.
And then the cat chose that moment to hop up on the table, purring as he came to settle by Damian's elbow, rubbing up against him insistently. Jason blinked dumbly at the animal. "When did we get a cat?"
So then Dick had to add his two-cents to the conversation.
"Damian adopted a gutter cat," he pointed out, shoving his egg-laden fork at the black cat, mouth full and chomping, calm as can be. Jason turned his exasperated gaze from Dick to Damian, which was his first mistake, as the kid's eyes were wide and pleading and Jason was a sucker for that look, no matter what.
"Fine. Fine. Gutter Cat can stay, whatever."
Jason was far too tired and sore for any of this shit, but Damian was a kid and pets were supposed to be good for kids, right? They taught them responsibility, or something like that. And realistically, he was a little surprised Damian hadn't picked up any strays before now. When he had been nothing but a baby, Damian had used to chase the little critters stupid enough to wander the Compound's grounds, running after them, just wanting a cuddle.
And then the first part of Damian's sentence caught up with him. "What was the Replacement doing over there?" His eyes widened and he turned on Dick, glaring. "Did he figure it out? Oh, who am I kidding, of course he did. Is he going to tell or does he need a personalized gag order?" Jason brandished a fist but it lost some of its menace when he looked so tired even lifting it off the table.
"Tim isn't going to say anything, Jason. I talked to him already." His eyes slid to the side, catching Damian's reaction. The kid just looked resigned and vaguely annoyed at it all.
"I really do not understand why we have to keep my parentage such a secret. Am I ever going to meet Father?" he whined, glaring down at his toast, shoulders slumped in dejection. Jason sighed into his hands, roughly rubbing at his face in agitation.
God, how to answer that loaded question?
"We'll figure it out, Demon Baby. Just give me a little more time, okay?" Damian didn't perk up, but Jason hadn't really been expecting him to. The kid practically worshiped Batman. He had grown up on story after story about the man, but Jason knew that sometimes stories just didn't do the truth justice. Bruce was just a man, after all, and Damian would have to come face to face with that fact when he met him. His perfect image of who he imagined his father to be would shatter. Jason just wanted to make sure that Damian was prepared for that eventuality before he threw him into that whole mess.
Dick met Jason's eyes over the table and they traded heavy looks. Dick realized what a mess they were in, too, and winced in sympathy. But he would be there for them, both of them, easing the situation any way he could.
In the silence that followed, Damian chimed up, slightly more upbeat than before but sounding oddly confused. "Did you really put pink hair coloring in Father's shampoo when you were a child, Jason?"
Jason's head whirled around and he glared fiery death at Dick Grayson. "You told him that story? What else did you let out of that big fat mouth of yours?"
Dick was too busy cackling at Jason's reaction, and even Damian was sporting a tiny pleased grin, so Jason had no choice but to cave and crack a grin of his own. The spark of anger that that reminder of better times had rekindled was promptly simmered down as he recalled the somber look on Bruce's face as he sat at the dinner table, pink hair and all, acting like nothing was wrong.
That was the Bruce that Jason missed. He had changed so much since Jason's death; he had become harder, less demonstrative. Deep down he knew that the Replacement had to have helped loosen him up at least a little bit, and he was grateful for that. It was jarring to know that Jason's death had caused such an impact on Bruce, so much so as to be nearly indecipherable now. But it also sucked, because Jason's death hadn't made Bruce a better person, it had just made him harder, and jaded, and sad.
Jason didn't really feel comfortable giving his precious baby brother over to a man he could hardly recognize. Sure, five years ago Bruce would have been overjoyed to find he had another child, one that was he true flesh and blood no doubt. A child that was his true child, his own baby. But now, Jason wasn't so sure how he would react. Probably with suspicion and gruffness, just because of how he was raised and who did the raising. Not to mention the fact that pretty much every other member of the family knew who Damian was at this point and were keeping it quiet due to Jason. The Bruce of today would see it as taking sides, that everyone had chosen to keep him in the dark just to spite him or something.
This was just one big shit storm waiting to happen, and Jason knew the truth was going to have to come out sooner rather than later. But then he would look down at his baby brother's little face and see red streaked across it, bruises from a crowbar, cuts from a knife, blood matted to his hair and his face and his uniform, and he would say one more day. One more day to prepare, one more day to think of just the right thing to say, the perfect way to reveal Damian and all the history he carried with him.
He didn't want to see his brother heartbroken, but even more, he didn't want to see him dead.
This was a crazy situation and sometimes Jason wished he could just wash his hands of it all, leave it up to someone more experienced or capable than himself.
But there was no one else, so he was going to have to suck it up and figure it out, whether he wanted to or not.
Sometimes being the big brother, the adult, sucked ass.
Now he definitely knew how Bruce felt all the time.
And wasn't that just shudder-worthy?