Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Characters: Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Barbara Gordon (mentioned)

Warnings: Contains the most precious individual in the world.

Summary: Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like write a paper describing his family.

Note: This is actually the first installment I ever wrote for Grade School. Like. Ever. Like. I wrote this one year ago. Seriously. And I was planning on making this a one-shot. So, if the style seems a bit incongruent, you know why.

When Dick found the paper, he had been rifling through Damian's backpack to make sure his little brother hadn't brought weapons to school. Again.

("No, Damian. How many times do I have to tell you that you can't bring weapons to school?"

"Grayson, If I get attacked-"

"No, Dami."

"Or see a crime in progress-"

"You're in elementary school!"

"Age doesn't prevent people from performing crimes, Grayson."

"You can't bring knives to school.")

He'd almost passed over it, but had taken a second glance upon seeing how it was marked up.

(It's completely covered in red. Did he fail something? Is he upset? Did I miss it somehow when he came home?)

He paused upon seeing the big red "A" in the top right corner, brow furrowing. And then he read the title:

My Family by Damian Wayne

Dick's eyes widened, and he let the backpack fall to the floor as he sat down to read the essay.

"Alfred! Alfred!"

"Yes, Master Richard?"

Dick grinned as he walked into the kitchen and saw Alfred making dinner. "Is everyone coming? Well, not Babs, but everyone else?"

"Yes, indeed. Miss Cassandra and Miss Stephanie are on their way now."

"Great! Great!"

Dick bounced up and down on his toes excitedly. Alfred would ask. He had to ask.

(Come on, Alfred. This smile is hurting my face.)

"Is something wrong, Master Richard?"

Dick jumped forward, taking a seat at the island and setting the paper down on the counter. Alfred raised an eyebrow in question, sliding a pan into the oven without even looking.

"You, Alfred, are a solid man. Quite calm and capable."

"Thank you, Master Richard."

"Oh, don't thank me. Thank Dami."

Alfred's eyebrow raising slightly higher was the only sign of surprise. "Master Damian said that?"

"Well... he didn't say it, so much as write it. I was looking through his bag to make sure he didn't slip any knives past my morning check, and lo and behold," Dick held up the essay with a flourish, "I find this masterpiece."

"And what is that, Master Richard?"

"This, is a four page paper that Dami wrote... on his family."

Alfred blinked. "Oh my."

"Exactly! Everyone has a paragraph! You are right there, third paragraph down."

Dick handed the essay to Alfred and smiled.

"It's quite marked up."

Dick coughed. "Yes, well... it's Dami."

Alfred hummed and read the paper. Dick eyes him carefully; for all his training, he had never fully been able to read Alfred - especially when he was keeping his expression purposefully blank. Alfred was harder to read that Bruce, honestly.

Dick shifted in his seat and reached his hand out.

"Wait until dinner, Master Richard. It's in less than an hour."

Dick laughed. "Yes, Alfred."

Dick managed to sit still for a few more seconds before he stood up. "I think I'm going to get Bruce."

Alfred nodded, turning a page.

"Hey, B! Working hard?"

Bruce flicked his eyes up briefly, grunting. "The board has a new proposal."

"Already have Timmy look it over?"

"He said it seems sound, but there are a few kinks to work out."

Dick nodded, humming a mindless tune and walking a circuit around Bruce's office. He had only completed two full rounds before Bruce gave in.

"Did you want something?"

"Do you want to read a paper your son wrote?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"Your youngest son," Dick clarified.

"What paper?"

"A paper in which Damian describes his family."

Bruce blinked. Dick wondered how long it would take for his brain to process what he had just said.

"Damian wrote a paper about us?"

(Ah, there we go. Faster than I expected really.)

"Alfred's reading it now. Come on, take a break. Dinner's almost ready anyway."

Dick was grinning as he walked into the kitchen. "What'd you think?"

"I fear Master Damian's teacher may have had something of a nervous breakdown while grading his paper. Poor woman."

Dick snickered. "Oh, definitely."

"Aside from that, it was very nice." Alfred's voice and smile were fond, and Dick wondered if it were times like these that made all of the "peacekeeping" worth it.

"B's turn, then. Are you ready, Bruce? You're the fifth paragraph, first new paragraph on the second page."

"You memorized everyone's paragraphs?"

"You're kidding, right? I read that paper, like, 10 times."

Bruce snorted under his breath, but walked over to the island and picked up the essay. He raised an eyebrow as he skimmed over the first page, the corners of his mouth twitching in some places. And then he reached his own paragraph and his face went blank. Dick's grin widened.

"You're an excellent man, Bruce."

Bruce looked at him briefly, did his best to hid the small smile growing on his face.

Dick just laughed.

Bruce finished the last page and cleared his throat. "That was a good paper. Even if Ms. Andrews listed me third," Bruce murmured wryly.

Dick laughed. "It's your own fault for picking the persona furthest from your own. And I'm actually thinking of hanging it on the refrigerator."

"A splendid idea, Master Richard."

Bruce nodded. "I'm going to go finish up that report."

Dick rolled his eyes and grinned, sharing a look with Alfred.

"Now," he said, "What sort of magnets do we have, Alfred?"

"A large variety, in fact. I was thinking-"

"We're back! And we have matching manicures!"

Dick snatched the paper from the counter where Bruce had left it and held it up in front of him as Steph and Cass walked into the kitchen.

"Ladies, I'm sure those manicures are lovely."

"Purple, black, and yellow," Steph replied, smiling.

"What's that?" Cass asked, looking at the paper curiously.

Steph blinked and cocked her head.

"This, Cass, is a wonderfully written paper by your baby brother. About his family."

Steph gaped. "Damian wrote about you guys for school?"

"He wrote about all of us," Dick clarified. "You and Babs are in the fourth paragraph. Cass is in the sixth."

"Oh goodness. I can't even imagine what he said," Steph groaned, walking over and taking the paper from Dick's hands.

Cass glided over, reading over Steph's shoulder.

Dick waited.

"Oh, I'm definitely telling Babs. Oh- of course he had 'plans' - thanks for that by the way."

"No problem."

"I-" Steph stopped suddenly, eyes going back and forth repeatedly. "Did he..."

"He says your his teacher," Cass murmured.

Steph turned the page, reading the last few lines of the paragraph. Her smile nearly broke her face. "He told me he was doing it grudgingly!"

"You believed him?" Dick quipped.

"Yes. Oh my gosh! I'm calling Babs, actually, but first..." Steph took out her phone and snapped a picture of the first page. "She's going to need photographic proof that he called her an 'invaluable asset'."

Steph handed the paper to Cass so she could properly text Barbara. Cass looked at him.

"6?"

He nodded, smiling.

She read her paragraph quickly, silently. She handed it back to him, smiling. "That was sweet."

Dick didn't think he'd seen Cass smile like that in a while. Damian had absolutely no idea how much he meant to them all.

"Babs says that this made her day, and to thank Damian for her. I think she was actually speechless for a while."

Dick laughed. "I'm not surprised. Jason really needs to see this, though. You said he was coming, Alfred?"

"Indeed."

"I'm already here."

Dick turned around, grinning. He held his arms out. "Jaybird!"

Jason stared at him blankly, before waving to the others.

"Don't smoke in the house, Master Jason. You shall develop lung cancer."

Dick cackled as Jason cocked an eyebrow but put out the cigarette and threw it away.

"What did I need to see?" He jerked his head at the paper Dick was holding. "Is that it? What is it? Some sort of terrorist manifesto? Looks sort of flimsy."

Steph snorted. "Your little brother is a demon, not a terrorist," she corrected.

Jason blinked. "What'd he do now?"

"He wrote a paper, that's what. And you need to read it! Last paragraph, second page."

Dick was bouncing on his toes as Jason snatched the essay from his hands.

"Be gentle! That's going on the refrigerator!"

"We're going to go wash up," Steph said, sharing a smile with Cass as the two of them walked out of the kitchen.

"Dinner will be ready shortly. Do tell Master Timothy."

"We will."

Jason grumbled as he read. "Kid's a little-"

"Read it all, Little Wing," Dick said, still grinning.

Jason obliged with a snort, but his scowl melted away, leaving him looking a bit flabbergasted as he turned the page. He gaped slightly.

Dick waltzed over and bumped his shoulder into Jason's. "What is he again?"

"My bratty little brother," Jason muttered dryly, grinning softly.

"Haha! Now we just have to get Tim to read it."

"Read what?"

The two of them turned around as Tim slipped into the room.

"Everyone in this family has excellent timing," Dick said happily.

"Of course we do; we're bats," Tim rejoined. "Hi, Alfred."

"Master Timothy."

"Speaking of bats: Babybat wrote something, Timmers, and Dickiebird seems to think you should read it."

Jason was smirking, making Dick wonder if he'd gotten around to reading Tim's paragraph or if he just assumed it would be the same.

(Probably the latter. He had been too stunned to get past his own paragraph.)

"Damian? What'd he write?"

"He wrote a paper about us," Dick chimed. "You're the first new paragraph on the third page. Read it!"

"Um... no. Thanks. Will dinner be ready soon? I haven't actually eaten in a while."

"We know," Dick muttered, earning a look from Tim.

"It will be, Master Timothy. 15 minutes."

"Come on, Babybird, just read it."

"Not happening, Jason."

"Tim!"

"No, Dick. I'm not sure why you want me to read what is sure to be a scathing commentary on my inadequacies by the Demon, but I'm really not interested. Will you tell them, Alfred?"

"You should read it."

Tim stared at Alfred; he looked betrayed. "Alfred!"

"I read it as well; I doubt you will be too disappointed."

Tim blinked and turned to where Dick and Jason were standing. He eyed the essay suspiciously, but walked up and grabbed it.

"Where was it?"

"First new paragraph on the third page," Dick recited.

Tim heaved a sigh and flipped to the third page. One second passed. "Right, I'm good," he said, holding out the paper expectantly.

"Tim!"

"'It is sheer luck that he's still alive today, despite my best efforts.' Do I need to read more than that?"

"Yes," the three of them said simultaneously.

Tim stared, heaved another sigh, and began reading again. He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, but then his head jerked in surprise.

"'Vastly intelligent'," Dick quoted.

"Seriously?" Jason asked.

Dick nodded, smirking.

Tim's mouth opened and closed repeatedly and he looked up at them. "That's..."

"Yeah," Dick affirmed.

"But that's..."

"Uh huh," Jason said.

"This has got to be the sweetest thing he's ever said about me. And he alludes to my death less than 4 times. That has to be a record. And he said he doesn't even want me dead anymore! I didn't know that."

Dick grabbed the paper back from Tim.

(Tim doesn't need to read about Titus or Alfred right now. Better to preserve the moment.)

"It's the sweetest thing, ever."

Tim honestly looked a little lost.

"You gonna' be okay, Babybird?"

"I don't know; will I? What did he say about you?"

"I'm intelligent, well-read, deserve a better death than lung cancer," Jason paused, his expression a bit more thoughtful, and bit more serious. "And that he understood my reasons, back then. That it's something we both have to deal with. And that he respects me. For not... for not letting it weigh me down anymore."

The three of them stood there for a moment, and Dick exhaled softly. Because the paper was excellent, and surprisingly fond, on Damian's part, but it also said a lot.

No one who wasn't a part of the family would understand it, but they did.

The paper showed a lot of growth in Damian, but a lot of insecurity too. Fear, and the fact that he wasn't sure he could move on from his past the way Cass and even Jason had.

(Oh, Dami...)

"What are you three idiots standing around for?"

They started, and Dick hid the paper behind his back, sheepish all of a sudden.

(Should we have read that? Should I have shown everybody? Probably not. Dami would be so embarrassed.)

"Hello, Master Damian, how was training?"

"Successful, as usual, Pennyworth. Is it time for dinner already?"

"Nearly. Perhaps the four of you could set the table," Alfred suggesting, passing behind Dick and taking the paper from him smoothly.

"Sure thing, Alfred!" Dick said with a grin.

(Thank God for Alfred!)

Damian shot the three of them another look before grabbing the silverware from the counter.

"Maybe ix-nay on the idge-fray, Alfie."

"Of course, Master Richard."

"What?" Damian asked. "What nonsense are you spouting, Grayson?"

Dick laughed in surprise. He hadn't thought that would actually work!

"Oh my gosh," Tim muttered, smiling as he grabbed the plates.

"You don't know pig latin," Jason said, staring.

"'Pig-latin'? That wasn't Latin, Todd? And what do swine have to do with it?"

"You know- what? A dozen languages? And you don't know pig-latin!"

"It appears Miss Stephanie has been remiss in her instruction."

Dick snorted. "Alfred!"

Damian glared at them. "You're all ridiculous," he muttered, walking to the dining room.

Steph and Cass came into the kitchen moments later.

"What's with the angry bird?" Steph joked.

"You didn't teach him pig-latin, Steph," Dick informed her, walking over to grab the casserole.

Steph blinked before laughing. "Oh my gosh! I didn't! He has no idea!"

"I'm all for carrying on a conversation in pig-latin at the dinner table," Tim said seriously.

"Tim!" Dick shouted.

"Yes. Absolutely," Jason said.

"I'm in!

Cass shrugged at Dick and he groaned.

"He's going to be furious."

"He'll get over it," Tim said. "Because he loves us."

Dick stared at him before smiling. "Yeah. He does."