Like I care about the car. [ He huffs under his breath, half-scoff, half-rough chuckle at the absurdity of the objection, as he picks the boy up, holds him close and cradled, supported, in his arms. Dick weighs next to nothing, feather-light as a real robin.
(His bones had snapped so easily.)
Dick is a gory mess, and though Damian is an old hand at gory messes, the sight is different when it's someone he cares for. Still, he's undeterred from dropping his head to press a brusque kiss to what seems to be the only undamaged square of skin on Dick's temple, covered in blood as it is. It's more of an eskimo kiss - the kind he, just as gruffly, hands out sparingly, and only when the mood strikes him. After a brother's nightmare, or as they're drifting off to sleep, or if they've just done something that he, for whatever reason, finds endearing enough to be moved to an expression of physical affection.
Or when he has been silently terrified of losing them. A too-close call during a fight. A hostage situation.
(Or when he has lost them. Jason, small and cold and still and shattered to pieces beneath his hands on the medical bed.)
He's careful to keep his gait smooth, to avoid jarring the bundle in his arms, as he slides into the Batmobile, letting autopilot see them home and sending a quick radio alert to Alfred to prep the med bay, and then a second one to Gordon to collect the bodies left behind, before he settles back. Damian looks calm, but really, he's anything but, with Dick's blood soaking through his suit and coating his hands. ]
However, I am going to ground you until you are thirty, brat. Alfred will be slipping your three meals through a slot in the door. [ It's a muttered threat, and completely insincere, but vehement. ]
no subject
(His bones had snapped so easily.)
Dick is a gory mess, and though Damian is an old hand at gory messes, the sight is different when it's someone he cares for. Still, he's undeterred from dropping his head to press a brusque kiss to what seems to be the only undamaged square of skin on Dick's temple, covered in blood as it is. It's more of an eskimo kiss - the kind he, just as gruffly, hands out sparingly, and only when the mood strikes him. After a brother's nightmare, or as they're drifting off to sleep, or if they've just done something that he, for whatever reason, finds endearing enough to be moved to an expression of physical affection.
Or when he has been silently terrified of losing them. A too-close call during a fight. A hostage situation.
(Or when he has lost them. Jason, small and cold and still and shattered to pieces beneath his hands on the medical bed.)
He's careful to keep his gait smooth, to avoid jarring the bundle in his arms, as he slides into the Batmobile, letting autopilot see them home and sending a quick radio alert to Alfred to prep the med bay, and then a second one to Gordon to collect the bodies left behind, before he settles back. Damian looks calm, but really, he's anything but, with Dick's blood soaking through his suit and coating his hands. ]
However, I am going to ground you until you are thirty, brat. Alfred will be slipping your three meals through a slot in the door. [ It's a muttered threat, and completely insincere, but vehement. ]