Damian Al Ghul Wayne was not accustomed to confusion. He was not accustomed to indecisiveness, fear, or sympathy, and certainly not empathy. And yet. Here he was with a small boy in his arms: a boy he looked up to as… something, and here he was, feeling everything he had been expressly trained not to feel. And remembering things he had vowed never to remember. Damian did not yet fully understand what his mother had done to him in her labyrinth halls of smooth tile and her grandiose rooms of imposing centuries of history. But he had come to some understanding that what had been done to him was… wrong. That the respect, awe, adoration and even worship with which he had viewed his mother was undeserved, and even some derivative of abominable that he did not yet fully understand.
What Damian did know was that there was no cause for Grayson (Grayson) to look at him as though his presence were the highlight of his life, as if Damian was a god to be worshiped. Damian of old had wished to be regarded as such. To be held in such esteem now did things to his gut that he had no words for.
He pulled a memorized smile onto his face, aligning his muscles with the precision with which he guided his katana, fake because he did not know how to smile, and attempted to pass comfort into Grayson's fragile body. Grayson trembled with joy, and Damian wished he did not remember the one time his mother hugged him.
Grayson pulled himself back, still beaming, eyes bright and flung himself at Drake, who had braced himself against the headboard and was prepared for the bundle of ecstatic energy coming his way.
"Tim!" Grayson snuggled into Drake's chest, arms snaking under Drake's, and Drake held him tight, fingers splaying over ribs and ice blue eyes holding Todd's own. "When do we talk?" His lips asked. Damian agreed inwardly. Todd had great need to explain all transpired events in great detail, especially if the perpetrator of this alleged travesty was Father himself, as Todd made it sound. Alternate reality or no, Damian required extensive evidence before condemning his Father to anything.
"We'll make supper and talk then." Todd replied.
Damian huffed inwardly. It was unacceptable for the blood heir of the Batman to be 'kept in the dark' no matter how long the time. However, as Tiny Grayson was already bouncing on the bed and trying to ask both himself and Drake questions at once, it would appear his attention was needed elsewhere.
"My name is Dick, but you guys already knew that, sorry, I'm really happy to see you, am I allowed to say sorry? Jason says not if he hasn't given me a rule himself, but do you guys want me to say sorry, what's your favorite colors?"
Damian, trained in hundreds of different languages, able to decode the most complex of logarithms within minutes, and most importantly, accustomed to decoding Grayson's rambling when on painkillers, responded before Drake could bumble the attempt.
"Red. His and mine."
"Yay! That's what Jason said-" *Gasp*. Damian cocked his head as Tiny Grayson inhaled all the air in the room. "Okay." Tiny Grayson resumed. "What are the rules?"
Todd moved forward, brow heavy. "Theirs are the same as mine, for now. I'll talk to 'em later. Give 'em a briefing. Till then we're all gonna be the same. Now Timmers here is in desperate need of caffeine, so we're gonna haf'ta go fill him up, and then we'll be all good." Todd reached over and plucked Tiny Grayson off the bed, situating him on his hip. Damian had seen pictures of Grayson at that age, but had not realized quite how small the other boy was.
Drake was already struggling forward at the mention of coffee, the half-witted cretin. Damian was eager to have a long conversation with Todd to ensure that the anti-hero was not manipulating them all to his own nefarious ends. While Damian had no wish to leave the child alone, he supposed Drake could stay to babysit and he could debrief the fool later.
"Damian?" Damian turned to face the stilled child, glancing up at him hopefully through slightly long bangs. "We made veggie burgers. With ketchup. And we have chocolate ice cream."
Damian supposed that interrogations could wait for later. If there were, in fact, burgers with ketchup and chocolate ice cream. He agreed to Tiny Grayson's terms, and reminded himself over the squeals that ice-cream and burgers were the only reason he was going.
Although, he considered, it was very well that there was now someone competent in a position to care for Grayson. He had wished once that he could repay Grayson the debt he owed him for all the man had done in saving him from his mother and himself. Now appeared to be just such a time as to return the favor.
Upon reaching the dining room, Damian felt nearly carnivorous. Not quite, as he was far too Enlightened to do harm to the vulnerable members of the animal kingdom, but it was well that he was being fed. Tugging Tiny Grayson's arm so that he would be situated between himself and Drake (Drake was an idiot, but at least he was not dangerous like Todd) Damian observed his meal with a gleam in his eye. He also observed, to his disgust, that Drake seemed pleased with his bowl of light soup, a common remedy for the sickness of weak plebeians. On the other hand, he was also disgusted with Todd, who had selected steak. And not overly cooked steak either. Were it not for the presence of Tiny Grayson, Damian would have begun Holy War upon Todd for both the insult and the desecration of innocent cow. And he knew that Todd knew it, too.
"So," Damian turned to the only person in the room who had selected something not revolting (Damian excepted, of course) and began conversation. "As you are the only sane person in the area. You may now make whatever inquiries you wish."
Grayson had built a relationship with Damian by allowing Damian to speak of himself: his interests, preferences and so on, thus making Damian feel valued in a way he had never been before. But abused children often had triggers which were not immediately obvious, and he was not aware of which subjects were safe to probe with Tiny Grayson and which were not. Better to allow him to lead.
Tiny Grayson shifted, hair falling over his eyes, which glanced up bashfully. This was wrong. Grayson was life and energy and embarrassing Damian in public. He was not bashful.
But, Damian reflected, as he watched Tiny Grayson twist his fork and fumble for words, he was considerably adorable. Damian felt that, at least for the duration of which they should keep Tiny Grayson, he had a better understanding of the 'inherent adorableness' of the 'baby of the family'. He wondered if Grayson would still apply that phrase to a younger version of himself. He probably would. The man spent long enough gushing over half blurry photos of himself and Father partaking in ridiculous activities in a time when he was actually of an age to do such things.
"Umm… Did you like your banners?"
"They represented the utmost talent and dedication."
Tiny Grayson gave him a blank confused smile.
"They were colorful and pretty."
Tiny Grayson smiled. "You liked them?"
"Yes."
Tiny Grayson beamed, and Damian decided that no one should be that happy over such a minor compliment, even if it did come from himself.
"Listen, for I am about to speak." This situation was utterly unacceptable and Todd was a fool for not resolving it sooner. Damian had suffered feelings of inadequacy which Grayson had heroically battled through showing Damian his mother's flaws contraposed with Damian's (slight) natural tendency toward goodness and compassion (to animals). Damian would explain to Tiny Grayson that he was endowed with unbelievable goodness, that the deeds of his 'Daddy' were horrific, and Tiny Grayson would thenceforth end this period of depression and despondency and return to his natural state of happiness. So Damian Al Ghul had spoken. So it would be.
"I impart to you that you are-"
"OH LOOK, we're OUT OF MACARONI!"
Damian had never wanted to slay Todd more than this very instant.
"DAMIAN, won't you help me get the macaroni?"
Damian could think of a few other things he would like to give Todd. Who even ate macaroni with underdone steak.
"I AM ABOUT TO-"
"Get the macaroni? Great!"
Todd, the neanderthal, dashed out of his seat, grabbed Damian's arm, and pulled them both into the kitchen. Unfortunately, subpar as the man's skills were, they were sufficient enough that Damian could not disengage without revealing his status as the heir of the Batman. But only because of the remaining vestiges of interdimensional travel sickness.
"Release me, cretin!" Damian hissed. "I was about to deliver Tiny Grayson from his mental bondage, something you utterly failed to do, I might add."
"Listen, Brat." Todd hissed back, leaning over to get closer to Damian. "You don't understand what's going on. You don't know anything. That kid isn't nice ol' Dickie from back home. He's not having a little hissy fit that he's gonna get over with the power of hugs and ice cream and then take you to the petting zoo."
It was well that Damian had not maintained the knives on his person when he appeared, for he would have stabbed Todd where he stood.
"This kid is broken. You know how bad you were, how useless and unworthy you felt?"
Todd had never really brought this up before and Damian was without words. He decided that he did not need knives to incapacitate Todd.
"You know how Tim feels like no one loves him and I can't stop expecting everyone I care about to hit me?"
Oh. Damian had no experience with this. He wanted to leave. He wanted to leave now. He was showing fear and weakness in front of Todd and it showed.
"Combine those and you get Dick. He's not going to magically 'get better' and whatever does get better is going to take a long time, so get that through your dense skull."
Todd's grip tightened around Damian's arm and he suddenly very much wished to pull away. "You start talking about how he needs to get better and how great and perfect he is, and how bad Daddy is isn't going to help. He's not ready. He'll have panic attacks. He's got this thing where if he thinks of certain things he gets blasted with pain. You don't know what not to talk about. So don't talk about anything."
Damian had never been truly frightened of Todd before. But this was a side to the man that he had not seen. A side that was not the grudging assassin who occasionally helped a group of people to whom he was emotionally drawn. Not the murderous madman with fire in his eyes and hate burning in him: with the goal to kill what hurt him and subjugate what he could: nearly an animal, if the animal kingdom would suffer the insult.
This man before him was filled with fire and fury but it had a base. There was a smoldering ember of insanity but the hearth and poker and everything that controlled the fire and insanity was love. Todd cared for Tiny Grayson in a way Damian had never known him to express before. But he was not like Grayson with his smiles and tender caring. Todd was… different. Unknown. Unexplained. Something like Mother with Father's heart and even that did not match Todd.
Damian wondered if Todd realized his eyes had flecks of green.
"GUYS, am I getting macaroni or what?"
Drake. Undoubtedly ensuring that Tiny Grayson cultivated no suspicions nor fears. Prudent of him. Todd's fingers cracked as they released Damian's arm, and Damian started with the surprise that it had fallen asleep.
"Patience Drake! I do everything with perfection, which requires time!" Not his usual level of comeback. He must not be so easily unsettled.
Damian moved the grab the bowl of macaroni on the counter, Todd turning his back, cupping and pressing his hands over his face, inhaling deeply. No doubt composing himself for the benefit of Tiny Grayson. Damian was uncertain of why, but all of a sudden, the moniker seemed to be less fitting for the eight-year-old than he had thought.
Damian lifted the bowl and turned about as Todd shifted towards him and passed his hand over his face, lingering over his mouth and chin. "Damian. Don't tell Dick you're perfect. He already believes it." Damian's step halted as he considered his first meeting with his father. 'I imagined you taller.' He hadn't. He'd known his father's height to the millimeter. And he had seen the man still, in every regard, as perfect. It had been, Damian now knew, a dangerous state of mind.
Damian's gaze matched Todd's. "I understand."
Todd's posture changed completely as they entered the room, and as he swung his arms open upon entering the doorway, Damian realized with a jolt that he was imitating Grayson.
"...once she forgot me in a bar and I had to find someone with a phone and call her. Of course, I didn't have her number, so first I had to use the library's computer… Oh, you're finally back!" Drake turned with a smile to Damian and Todd. "Thought you'd gotten lost. So, anyway, Dick, I used that computer to get my babysitter's number, used the librarian's phone to call her, and got home safe. Something like that ever happen to you?"
So Drake was inquiring about the safety of Tiny Grayson's upbringing, and in an amicable manner, too. Drake would think of something like that.
"No, Tim. I never went outside the manor and I never saw anyone but Daddy. And Daddy doesn't forget stuff ever because he's perfect."
Drake smiled and Damian wondered how old he had been when his babysitter had forgotten him. At a bar, no less!
"Damian, please pass the macaroni."
Damian did so wordlessly. He was used to being compelled to coexist with Drake in public, but he never enjoyed it. Drake took a small portion of macaroni and cheese to fit with his request, but Damian noticed that he only served himself the bare minimum of acceptability. Weak stomach. Typical.
"Damian," Drake began, "Dick says that we already have some fun activities scheduled for today!"
"Wonderful," Damian noted sulkily that Drake was not using his typical civilian voice. This voice was too interested in and excited concerning the outside world to be any variation of 'Timothy Drake' that Damian had yet been exposed to. "I assume you possess the required energy level for these 'activities'?
Damian realized at this point, that Drake was glaring at him, gaze stabbing with the precision of ice and the intensity of fire. Ah. Here was a Tim Drake Damian had been exposed to. Numerous times.
"Oh, I'll be great. Give me an hour or two and I'll be fine. I feel better every minute." It was at this point Damian realized that Tiny Grayson's fragile emotional state may not blend well with his preferred method of expressing himself.
"How wonderful, Drake, I had not realized such care had gone into the preparations for our arrival!" Damian turned to Tiny Grayson. Positive reinforcement. "You have done a highly commendable job in preparations. You have made us very happy." Damian smiled at Tiny Grayson, lacking any other highly complimentary things to say concerning someone he had met an hour ago. Drake, over Tiny Grayson's shoulder, did not look impressed. Well, he was not the Scion of the Shadows and Heir to the Mantle of the Bat. Compliments from him did not mean as much, so he was more used to giving them.
Damian ceased paying attention to Drake. He was about to ask Tiny Grayson what the movie of choice was, when Todd interrupted.
"Hope you guys are ready for The Incredibles !"
Damian had to admit surprise that a movie Todd no doubt had had a sizable hand in picking was revolting to neither himself nor Drake. Actually, The Incredibles was a film in good standing with everyone in the Batfamily, considering its serious potential future problem (government interference with hero work), relatable characters and… interesting action scenes. Even though no one in that movie had any skill at hand to hand combat.
Damian remembered, before speaking, to force himself to smile. "Wonderful. This shall be a most enjoyable evening." He turned to face Tiny Grayson. "Where shall we view this movie?"
Tiny Grayson shifted (he never really seemed to stay still) and grinned (he never seemed to not smile). "Jason and I have been using the living room where we made your banners."
"Then, there we shall go." Damian shot a glance to the still eating Drake. "Are you quite finished?"
"Almost." Drake stuck a spoonful of macaroni in his mouth, swallowed, repeated the process, and plopped down his spoon. "I need to bring coffee with me. And then we can go."
Damian, in the process of rolling his eyes, glimpsed Todd doing the same. It had not been his intention to mirror Todd. But Drake's eating habits were ridiculous.