I'm so, so sorry. I've been terrible with updating! I know! I've been doing a lot of work on original stories, and ever present homework. right now, I am meant to be writing a fanfiction for history (a historical fiction is the correct term).
this story is to honour my dog, also a Great Dane, who we put down last month. RIP Duke.
Damian loved Titus, he really did. The Great Dane listened to him, and wouldn't say stupid things (granted, he wouldn't say anything at all, but that was better than some of he he stuff that comes out of his so called brothers' mouths). He was however, still a dog, and that meant he did certain things that all dogs do.
By the time Damian was in bed, changed into comfortable pjs and ready to sleep, it was 4:50 in the morning. It was a Saturday though, so it would be fine for him to sleep well into the afternoon, as the rest of the family would often do after a late night patrol. He was just about to drift off when a massive weight collided with his body, pushing the young boy off of his bed. He easily caught himself, spinning around, out of his tangle of blankets and into a fighting stance, ready to fight his attacker. Who happened to be a dog.
"Titus," the boy hissed, gathering up his blankets and placing them back on the bed. Climbing back into the warm bed, it only took seconds for the Great Dane to crawl on top of him.
"Get. Off," he huffed, pushing against the dog, who rolled over but otherwise remained on the bed. Laying across his legs, Damian reckoned it would only take minutes to lose feeling in his legs. "Get off you stupid dog!" he growled, giving him another push and sending him over the edge. Satisfied, he quickly feel asleep.
Slurp! Damian bolted upright, spitting the dog drool that had found it's way into his mouth off to one side and pushing his dog off him. "Titus!" he exclaimed, wiping the remaining drool on his face off with the back of his hand. The dog wagged his tail, almost smiling at his owner. Damian tt'ed, getting up and head to the bathroom. He slammed the door in Titus's face, not wanting to deal with the dog right now.
After he was clean, he wrapped himself in the towel and headed back to his room, only to find it a mess of white cotton. Titus sat in the middle of it, next to Damian's now shattered drawer. From what he could gather, the massive dog had pulled the draw out, and ripped apart his underwear.
"Titus, you stupid dog! Out!" he screamed, grabbing his collar roughly and all but dragging him out of the room. He heard a slight yelp as the door shut, hitting the dog on the rump.
"Serves you right you stupid animal," he muttered, trying to find at least one pair of underwear that was intact and drool free. Fortunately, he found one. He shuddered at the thought of having to ask Drake, of all people, if he could borrow a pair of underwear.
"You stupid dog!" Bruce looked up from his paper, deciding that, after hearing the same statement five times in he he last hour, he should probably go check on Damian and Titus. He headed to the lounge room, where he had last saw the pair. The sight he was greeted with was more amusing than Bruce would like to admit. Damian was standing up, what appeared to be tea down his pants, feathers in his hair, and dog drool everywhere in between. A pillow lay destroyed a few feet away.
"Damian, what happened?" Bruce asked, his voice firm but not quiet concealing his amusement. Damian picked up on it, scrolling his father as much as he dared, before answering.
"It's that stupid dog! He's been making a mess of everything all day!"
"He's a dog Damian. Maybe you need to take him for a walk. How long has it been since you've taken him outside to play with him?" When his son didn't answer, he assumed it had been too long, and gave him a look that said go. Damian pouted, but took the dog by his collar and pulled him out, towards the front door. He clipped the lead on, muttered something under his breath, and headed out the door.
The path Damian had picked was familiar and long. He hoped that if he walked far enough into the forest behind Wayne Manor, he would tier out Titus enough that he would just sleep for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, it seemed that Damian's short stride and lack of sleep meant after an hour of walking, he needed to sit down. Just sit, he told himself, even as he let Titus snuggle up to him and he used the dog as a pillow. Just sit…
Damian awoke to growls and a stabbing pain in his left forearm. Screaming and shaking the feral dog off his arm, he stumbled backwards over a log, on his back and in a very vulnerable position. The dog he had shaken off before leapt on him, followed by another member of the pack. Damian kicked one in the chest, but was too slow for the second. He threw his hands up, his thumbs skidding into it's mouth and stopping it from biting down. He could feel the hot breath and drool of the wild dog on his face, and all he could think was it's not as bad as Titus. The dog growled and tried to bite down, but Damian kept it's mouth open, slowing bringing his legs up to push the dog off him. The drool was making his hands slippery, and he knew he couldn't hold on much longer.
"I'm going to die," he thought, the realisation of the situation sinking in. His thumbs were starting to slip, and he closed his eyes.
Suddenly the weight of the dog was gone, and a deep, recognisable growl joined that of the feral dogs. Damian opened his eyes to see Titus, covered in blood and fighting off three of the dogs. A forth and fifth were on the ground, not moving.
"Titus!" Damian yelled in panic, watching as his dog fell under the weight of the remaining two dogs. Ignoring the pain in his arm and the stupidity of the action, he ran towards the fighting, grabbing a fist full of fur and pulling the smaller dog off Titus. Turning it's attention to it's attacker, the smaller dog bit down in Damian's calf, sending pain shooting up his leg. He screamed, hitting the dog over the head as hard as he could. It collapsed to the ground, and Damian with it, his leg unable to take the weight. He could feel himself slipping, and reached into his pockets to find the little black button. He pressed it, sending an emergency signal home. Using his uninjured arm, he dragged himself over to Titus, who was on the ground, a few feet away from the other dog. Placing his hand to his collar, he felt the steady rise and fall as he breathed heavily. "Good boy Titus," he muttered, closing his eyes. "Good boy."
Damian woke up in a familiar cave, white Cotten wrapped around his injured arm and leg. He sat up as fast as he could, ignoring the spinning in his head and swinging his legs off the bed. Unfortunately, his legs weren't quiet awake yet, meaning he fell down, bringing several pieces of medical equipment down with him. The resulting crash sent Alfred and Bruce flying into the room, rushing to the boy's aid.
"Where's Titus?" He demanded, brushing his father off and standing up himself. The two adults looked at each other, arguing silently.
"Father, where is Titus?" Damian said again, more forcefully this time. Bruce cleared his throat, then kelt down so he was eye level with his son.
"Damian, Titus's injuries were… well, let's just say it's a miracle he made it back at all."
"He's not…"
"No, he's still alive, but Damian, we don't know if he'll make it. I'm sorry."
Damian looked at his father, tears starting to fall down his face, and pushed past him. Limping over to the curtain that separated his bed from another, he yanked it open, and his eyes fell on here sight before him. The Great Dane was asleep, more of his body covered in bloodied cotton than not. Damian sank to his knees, resting his head on the edge of the bed, and his hand on the dog's body. His chest was still rising and falling, but too shallow for Damian's liking.
"He saved my life," he muttered, too quiet for anyone else to hear.
"Pardon?" Alfred said.
"I said he saved my life. When the wild dogs attacked us, one jumped on me. I-I couldn't hold it off any longer. I was going to die." Bruce had never heard his son sound so terrified, and he instinctively bent down to wrap his arms around the shaking boy.
"Titus saved me. He can't die. I won't let him."
Damian stayed in the cave all night. He refused to eat when Alfred brought him food, and didn't even question Bruce's decision to leave him out of patrol for the night. Damian just sat there, a hand always touching his dog in some way, hoping that the action would somehow keep him tethered to the land of the living. He refused to let anyone else touch him, snatching the fresh bandages off Alfred (who gave him a Batglare but otherwise said nothing) and redressed his injuries himself. He silently thanked the butler for doing such an amazing job stitching the dog's hide up, even as he hated the fact that there were so many. When Bruce finally came home from patrol, he found Alfred laying a blanket over Damian, who had fallen asleep on the bed next to Titus. His hand was still tight around his collar, needing to erasure himself he was still there even in sleep.
"He's going to be fine, Master Bruce. Both of them." Bruce nodded, walking away to change out of his suit.
Damian cracked an eye open, almost asleep but not quiet enough to drown out the previous conversation. He rubbed his fingers behind Titus's floppy ears, smiling slightly to himself.
"Good boy Titus."
How'd I do? Let me know. Was trying to make it sad, but I don't have the heart to kill off a dog.
i will reply to reviews next chapter, I don't have much time right now. Hopefully I will have the next one out sooner!
ps. I got a side blog on my tumblr for prompts under robins-drabbles. If you guys have something to suggest, I will (attempt to) write it. Length will depend on time and how much I like the idea :)
