Chapter Three: Lost for Words
Damian returned to the Manor long after evenfall. He spent more time than necessary looking after his mare after their long ride, and when he walked out of the stables, Grayson's black Lexus was already parked neatly in front of the door.
A rush of excitement hit Damian at the sight – Batman and Robin would finally be hitting the streets again. Even with Grayson's training plan and the case, things had been increasingly boring these past few days. Without Grayson's constant talking, the Manor had been silent, and Damian had noticed for the first time how eerily big and empty the mansion was.
"Ah, Master Damian," Alfred called out to him after he passed the threshold. "Master Dick is awaiting you in the cave."
Anxiously, Damian headed for the grandfather clock. Almost three days had passed since his and Grayson's new deal, and Damian was excited about their next case. He had planned out their mission carefully, going over the files many times to deliver good work. He could only hope that Grayson planned to meet his standards.
Damian's eagerness turned into sheer confusion when two boisterous voices met him after only two steps. There was Grayson, laughing loudly at a story a high-pitched female voice was telling.
"And then she rolled over to him and … and.. oh God, Dick, his face! And Babs -"
"Fatgirl."
The two figures whirled around, both with huge grins on their faces. They already wore their costumes, cowls still tucked into their belts.
"Damian, there you are," Grayson greeted, smiling warmly before turning to the screen.
"What is she doing here?" Damian asked spitefully, glaring at Brown. She only smiled back at him, wisely holding her tongue. "When did she arrive?"
"Oh, I picked her up on my way through Gotham," Grayson answered while typing. The file Damian had been working on appeared on the screen. "She'll be helping with the case tonight."
"What?" Damian stared at Grayson's back indignantly. "We don't need help! I already planned a mission."
"Yes, I saw it. I prepared another one in Blüdhaven."
"Your plan was pretty good, Dami!" Brown intervened, sensing the tension that was building between them. Grayson had turned back by now and handed Brown a few devices for her belt.
When Damian grasped that Grayson wouldn't say anything more about his work, he turned around with a '-tt-' and headed for his costume... only to be called back.
"You don't need to change tonight, Damian."
"...am I going undercover?"
"No," Grayson told him, straight-faced, "you're not going out tonight. Steph will be helping me while you work on that kicking technique I showed you last week."
Damian stared at Grayson, at a loss for words, before he fully grasped the impact of his words.
"What?!" he hissed. Grayson was dismissing his plan to work with Fatgirl?
"I said, I will patrol with Steph tonight, while you will stay here."
Damian's head jerked towards Brown, who had taken a step backwards and was following their conversation with a confused and anxious expression.
"I thought you told him?" she asked uneasily.
"There was no need."
"'No need?'" Damian felt the rage getting the better of him. Grayson was so goddamn disinterested in their argument, it made Damian even more furious than he already was. "Why the hell do you want to take Brown?! Are you trying to punish me?!" Scolding him was one thing; taking Robin was something entirely else.
"Don't be childish, Damian," Grayson narrowed his eyes at him dismissively. "Stephanie is better suited for the job, that is all."
'All.' The boy could feel his temper taking over. "What the hell are you trying to insinua-"
"The last time you fought the Snake's gangs, they kicked your ass."
The Snake? Damian's eyes widened. The Snake was a gang leader they had been trying to arrest for several weeks now. He was never seen directly, always sending footmen to do his job, but had ultimate control in Gotham's underground scene. And the last time Damian had fought his gangs wasn't a pleasant memory... but he wasn't involved in that case, was he? Damian's eyes wandered towards the screen, and the gear wheels in his brain started turning...oh... damn.
"I'm more than capable to fight them, and certainly more than Brown is." He protested, still. On principle.
"No, you're not."
"Need I inform you that I have been trained by the best assassi-."
With an exasperated sigh, Dick typed an order and a video appeared on the screen. With growing terror, Damian recognized a fight scene dated three weeks ago, filmed by a common surveillance camera. Batman and Robin were fighting goons that wore bright red snake patches on the back of their jackets.
"You keep dropping your guard after you attack with Capoeira kicks. Apparently, you don't know yet how to slide into another martial arts style after using a Capoeira technique." Grayson commented the video absentmindedly, while Damian and Brown watched quietly as the Robin on the footage sent one goon flying, only to be taken down by another one after landing on his feet again. The yellow cape disappeared for a moment until Batman threw a batarang at the back of the head of said goon and the boy managed to regain his footing... to Damian's utter horror, the scene repeated itself a few times in different but similar variations, until the dark shadow of the Bat whirled across the fighting scene and knocked out the last gang member.
"He fought well," Brown laughed into the silence, high-pitched and nervous, looking at Damian with a sorry expression.
"Of course I fought well!" Damian's cheeks were burning red. Fatgirl was pitying him – he couldn't believe Grayson was doing this to him; embarrassing him in front of Brown, of all people.
"But he can do better, and I'm sure that the Snake has analyzed our fight as well." Grayson grabbed the cowl from his belt. "We have a rare chance tonight and enough manpower to stop Snake and improve our fighting technique. Damian, you will repeat the technique and tomorrow we will begin with training your Capoeira skills."
"I can still come with you! Why do I need to train this stuff tonight, I can start with it tomorrow!" He sounded like a pleading little kid, and Damian hated it, hated it.
Grayson was growing impatient, looking at Damian with narrowed eyes. "We'd lose a whole day of your training. Robin, your presence is not required tonight and this is not up for discussion."
More efficiency. When Damian finally understood what this was all about, the bile in his throat was bitter and burning. Grayson's logic was flawless, and Damian was in no position to argue, since he had promised to listen. And what did he know, he hadn't even discovered the Snake's involvement in a case he had worked for three days.
When he looked up again, Grayson was already gone, revving up the engine of the Batmobile. Brown was still standing next to him, following Batman's path with an alert expression.
"Wow, Dami, what did you do?" she asked, stepping closer to him.
"-tt-, what do you mean, Fatgirl?"
"What I mean? You angered the Buddha! I need to tell that Babs, she always said only Bruce knew how to do that."
"Speak clearly." He didn't understand. Buddha..?
Steph rolled her eyes. "Damian, he's treating you like Batman. He never does that, to anybody. His buddies made bets that they couldn't find anything Dick wouldn't forgive! So, what did you do?"
"I..." Damian watched how Brown donned her cowl and looked at him expectantly. "I asked him to."
"What?"
"I asked him to be more like Batman."
"Why would you do that?"
"It's more efficient." Somehow, the words didn't feel as right as they had anymore.
Batgirl remained quiet for a few seconds. "That it is, I guess," she said unconvinced. "Do, uh.. Do you want me to talk with him?"
"-tt-, you're ridiculous, wench."
"Yeah, you're one to talk. I'm off; happy training, brat!"
Batgirl hurried over to the Batmobile, and Damian watched them take off. He was angry: at Grayson for embarrassing him like that, and for bringing in Brown. He wondered if Grayson was doing it to spite him, but then again Fatgirl was a good fighter, even though he would never admit it when she (or anyone else, for that matter) was around. And he wasn't, as that damn video had just proven.
Damian glared back at the screen. Why did Grayson even have that tape? It was three weeks old, and Damian hadn't even glimpsed it until now. The idiot had tried to convince him to revise his Capoeira training together but never mentioned any failing during a mission, and Damian had just shrugged it of with a rude comment.
Damian was angry: at Grayson, at Brown, but most of all at himself.
Damian awoke the next morning, and after a second of disorientation, he immediately started to worry. There hadn't been any noises to wake him up during the night – Damian's sleep was so light that he woke up every time Batman returned from a solo-patrol and Grayson made his way across the floor and past Damian's room.
Something must have happened, of course, with Brown as support...
But when Damian raced downstairs and almost ran into Alfred, who was as calm as could be, the worry ceased and the confusion grew.
"Master Damian, is there a reason for this hurry?" The butler asked amicably.
Damian scanned the room; no bloody bandages, no puddles of blood or vomit. "Did Grayson return last night? I didn't hear him."
Alfred's lip tugged, tearing at his perfect 'unimpressed British butler' expression. "He did, indeed, Sir."
Something was up, clearly, but Damian decided it couldn't be too serious. He had seen Alfred during times of crises, when he had to stitch up any one of them, and this was certainly not the case right now.
The person in question walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, still in his morning robe, with an obnoxious, lazy smile on his lips.
"Good morning," Grayson greeted them and yawned deeply. He grabbed the coffee pot and reached for the cups.
"Good morning, Master Dick. I take it you had a pleasant night?"
Grayson's smile grew when he looked at Alfred's smirk, and Damian felt seriously out of the loop.
"When did you return last night?!"
"Uh, pretty late, I guess?" Grayson ran a sloppy hand through the mess of hair on his head. "I don't know actually, Steph and I finished off the Snake so fast that we thought we could still use the night to catch up and have fun."
Damian didn't know what to make out of that. Then he spotted a bruise on Grayson's neck and was furiously reminded of the rejection yesterday night.
"You're hurt," he stated. Grayson only stared at him confusedly, pouring coffee. "Your neck. You were attacked."
"I can assure you that was some other kind of attack, Master Damian," Alfred piped up from behind before the other man could reply, and Grayson barked out a laugh and turned red.
"Will the lady join us for breakfast, Master Dick?"
"I don't know, I'll ask her."
Only then did Damian realize that Grayson was holding two cups of coffee in his hands. Dread and disgust welled up in his chest, and Grayson, the idiot, had the indecency to grin broadly.
"You brought a woman?!"
"Uh, yeah. Why are you so angry?"
Why...? Damian wanted to explode, to hit something really, really hard. Instead he turned a bright shade of red and gestured to the staircase, over which the portrait of his father and grandparents hung. "You dare soil my father's memory by bringing some harlot into his home and you have the insolence to ask why?"
"Ohh, that's it?" Grayson asked nonchalantly, grabbing a muffin from the counter and trying to balance it with the two coffee cups. He wasn't even sparing so much as a look at Damian's face, but made his way out of the kitchen. "I can assure you we didn't soil your father's memory, only the sheets in the Master Bedroom."
"GRAYSON!"
Grayson disappeared, laughing smugly.
"It's a quiet night."
"Hmmhm."
"That's suspicious."
"Hmm."
Damian stared at Batman, standing still like a statue in the shadows. The city lay sleeping; the patrol had been peaceful, boring, and, most of all, quiet. Without crooks or goons, Batman and Robin hardly had a reason to communicate, and Damian found himself stealing glance after glance at the Bat.
In the black suit, partially hidden in the shadows, Grayson looked every inch like the Batman his mother had told him about. It was ridiculous – Grayson was barely average height and even with heavy boots and a thick layer of Kevlar far from his father's build, but Damian began to understand that Batman wasn't about strength but about darkness. About silent, deep and unforgiving darkness.
This was their second patrol since Damian had demanded Grayson to be more like his father, and the second time Grayson had shown him this type of Batman. The first time, Damian had been sure that Grayson's silence was punishment or sulking, but now? Mother had told him about Batman, the silent, strong figure of the shadows, and Damian had always longed to see him. Now that he did, he found that he didn't like it one bit.
It was scary. Underneath that mask was still Grayson, the over-energized, talkative moron who laughed and flirted and couldn't stay still if his life depended on it. The one who went partying with Brown after patrol. Nothing hinted at him as it usually did. No impatient drumming with his hands, twitches or the usual babbling. Damian found himself unable to bring the two people together in his head and tried, unsuccessfully, to prove to himself that this was still Grayson.
He couldn't see his face properly in the darkness, and no shuffling of feet or rustling of the cape's fabric gave evidence to Grayson's typical impatience. Where he had once questioned Damian about everyday life during boring (and not so boring) patrols, he wouldn't even properly answer Robin now... and Damian realized that this time, it was him trying to get his partner to speak.
And damn, he was not good at initiating a conversation.
"The Snake's not around?"
Damian was a bit surprised to hear himself asking that question – he was still mad about Grayson's rejection and the tape – but was more surprised when he saw that Batman wasn't going to answer him again. He wracked his brain trying to find some topic, anything, about which he could make Grayson talk, while trying to find out what the hell was wrong with him.
"The Snake will attack soon," Batman growled suddenly, "but their leader is more careful after our ambush."
Hm. Damian desperately tried to find an answer to that. His usual range of possible answers were snarls and insults, and he doubted they would help him now.
"So, uh, whatever happened to Catwoman? Or Harley? Just because the Joker is-"
"Robin," Batman interrupted, emotionless. "Concentrate."
It was a direct order, and Damian shut up immediately. Nothing happened further that night, and no other word was spoken between them.
-tbc-
A/N: Stephanie, hell yes! I needed someone with whom Dick would hit the nightlife after patrol, and I think Steph is just perfect for that. I think those two could be very close friends if they'd ever had the chance... and also, she fits into my 'f*** you DC!' mood :)
The lady Dick brought home will be an issue in the next chapter, don't worry. I just can't see Batman and Robin arguing over One Night Stands on the rooftops...