dfordangerous: (you in so much fukkin trouble)
Damian Wayne | First Son ([personal profile] dfordangerous) wrote in [community profile] dreamsanddisasters2014-08-21 12:12 am

Age Reversal AU (For Batfam)

[ His father is dead, and he's still reeling from the shock. Alfred and Tim both know he's barely keeping it together, for all his standoffish composure. Years of preparing for this moment--

(steeling himself, to watch his father be laid to rest next to his grandparents)

--have done little to offset the grief. He wouldn't be seen at all if it weren't for his brother; if Tim hadn't coerced him out of his room in the hours following the funeral, hadn't confessed his worries for Cass (retreated, to the attic of all places), Jason (god, Jason, Damian's own cunning little húlí, he'd adored the man), and his father's newest stray, Richard. Dick. His father's Robin.

His Robin, now. As strange as the thought is. But the cowl is his, and so is Robin.

His Robin, who Alfred has informed him is currently making his roost up in the ballroom's chandeliers. Refusing to come down.

Damian, briefly, contemplates leaving him up there in favor of finishing reviewing this case file.

('He'll come down when he gets hungry,' he tells Alfred.

'He's in mourning, Master Damian,' Alfred points out, with all the dry chastisement his stiff upper lip can give.

'I'll get the broom.')

And here he is. He finds himself squinting in irritation up at the boy monkeying around on the fragile, expensive crystal. ]


Richard. [ Prim, clipped tones. Damian hardly raises his voice unless his fuse is blown; usually only when he's locked in a shouting match with Tim or with his father.

He doesn't know Richard that well. The boy is a relatively fresh arrival, and the past few months he's been here have seen Damian on longer missions; international and galactic trips alike. Before Bruce's death, they had maybe spent only a few hours in each other's company, and the boy was clearly not overly fond of him. ]


What are you doing?
graysondive: (oops)

[personal profile] graysondive 2014-08-23 05:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[He kind of thinks maybe he's imagining that tone in his voice. Dick's never quite heard anything like that before, maybe if he were in a better state of mind he would actually feel bad for Two Face. As it was now, he tries half-heartedly to crane his next and try and spot where the ex-attorney had fallen (because he's definitely fallen, if Batman is so sure of that, but what if he does get up what if--), but gave up when the strain made something else hurt.

So, he curls into Damian's chest instead, and it's warm in a way that broken and swollen blood vessels aren't, and he makes a small sound like affirmation to Damian's question. The roar of the engine almost counteracts the roaring in his ears, but he tries to ignore it like everything else. Can't see it too well, but-- can't see very much, but he can't close his eyes because he doesn't want to fall unconscious. Can't do that. Had to stay awake.]


I'm gonna-- [His voice is smaller, the price of making a conscious effort to steady it. A cough interrupts him again (god breathing was so hard) but he doesn't let it deter him. He needed something to concentrate on. Something that wasn't his head or his blood or everything else.]

I'm goin-- going to-- make a mess a-all over the i-interior.
graysondive: (pic#7056938)

[personal profile] graysondive 2014-08-23 08:52 pm (UTC)(link)
'S expensive. [His response is a bit more halfhearted than before, but Dick's more glad then he thought he would be to hear Damian almost chuckle. Makes it easier to ignore everything, like what's happening isn't really happening.

Even though he's expecting, the change in height and position still elicits a groan from pain, and his limbs all feel like lead under the force of gravity-- but Damian's stronger than that, and it's still not as bad as he thought it would be with a bit of anesthetic starting to take effect. Though Dick's only aware that more is starting to feel numb, and he just buries himself more into his brother's touch and his torso like a plant seeking sunlight.

(Maybe it was all a nightmare. He wanted to wake up so badly. He wanted to sleep.)]


'm sorry. [He only talks when he can hear Damian again, and his words are starting to slur. He's not one hundred percent sure if Damian's serious or not, but he sure didn't sound that convicted. And he'd never been able to keep Dick still when he tried to ground him anyway.]

...messed up... 'gainst Dent... Alfie'll be worried... lasagna can't fit-- can't fit through a door...
graysondive: (graceful landing)

[personal profile] graysondive 2014-08-24 01:34 am (UTC)(link)
[The gesture is like a godsend, and he tries to focus his brainpower on the feeling in his hand, trying to hold onto the feeling in his hand while everything else is going heavy and numb, curling his fingers weakly around Damian's hand. Or at least trying, his joints didn't quite get very far in the effort, hovering a bit and just twitching in the air. But it still helps-- he coughs again, can feel more blood dribbling down his chin, but his breathing regulates, even if it's strained.]

'M not a cat. [It's almost petulant in the way he spits it out, a ragged breath that could almost be construed as a laugh.

He wants to sleep-- he wants to sleep so badly. He's scared, a little scared. But he's so tired.]


P... Promise...?

[The answer is only a formality, because he can already feel his consciousness swimming, now that he has permission to leave.]
graysondive: (hmmmmmm)

[personal profile] graysondive 2014-08-24 04:36 am (UTC)(link)
[Unconsciousness was like an old movie-- replaying the night over and over, skipping around odd places, almost mismatched in a way that made it disconnected and disjointed. The sound was out of synch in places, and he doesn't feel anything connect or impact when he's certain it should-- like expecting an actor to say a line in a movie you've seen a thousand times, but suddenly saying something different.

Sometimes it gets as far as Batman in his vision, and all he remembers from the conversation is that promise. But usually it rewound when Dent left. He had no idea how many times he watched it.

When Dick wakes up it's cold and numb again, but it's not warm or hurtful or heavy. His vision isn't wet and his mouth isn't bloody, and he can feel his face in as much as he could tell that the swelling had gone down.

He shifts around, just slightly-- moving still hurt, and the breath he takes in hisses between his teeth (breathing doesn't hurt as bad, but it's strange and there's a cannula in his nose and it makes him sniff). Stitches and bandages and probably a cast or two, and it feels like there's an IV in his arm. His head is clearer, but not by much. But more importantly, he moves his head to the side, searching, and there's an overwhelming relief in his chest when he can confirm that Damian was here.

He's here. Thank god. He's OK and he's so much gladder than he could've ever thought he would be.

Dick lets out a whimper, not from pain but to have something to say, to make some noise to try and get his attention if he was even awake, lifts up a hand to try and grab onto his brother, trying not to rustle anything else.]
graysondive: (graceful landing)

[personal profile] graysondive 2014-08-24 06:45 am (UTC)(link)
[He grips onto Damian's hand like it's a lifeline once it's around his; and in a way it is, still feels like it is. Damian's the one that saved him, Damian's the one that's protected him before. The smile on his face is fascinating, but he doesn't quite realize how rare or special it is right now. He's not entirely sure he's seen it before, but he revels in it regardless of any of that.

He closes his eyes, lets his head rest back against the pillow under the feeling of a hand in his hair (a small part of him remembers that his mom used to do that whenever he was upset, and it helps put him further at ease.) The anxiety from his dreams and waking up relaxed, and he nodded his head against the pillow in response to the question.]
Mmhm.

[Yeah. Wow his throat kind of hurt even with all the drugs that were no doubt in his system trying to spare him the aftershocks of surgery. It sure felt ragged.] How long has it been...?

[Damian wasn't waiting here the whole time, was he? Man, he was so tired of sleeping.]
graysondive: (pic#7056941)

[personal profile] graysondive 2014-08-24 07:57 am (UTC)(link)
[The revelation that he had been out cold for so long was almost as mortifying as the fact that he had apparently wanted to marry one of his older brothers while he was hopped up on pain medications.

Some psychologist would probably have a field day with that.

His face is immediately red, and it's not from the heat. If it weren't for the fact that he was rapidly realizing he was really thirsty, he'd probably be content with hiding his face in his pillow as far as he could. But thankfully he edges forward to puts his mouth over the spoon and suck the chips in. Which, thankfully meant he couldn't actually respond verbally right away. But he still managed to puff his cheeks in indignation.

(Ironically he's probably a bit more awake for the embarrassment. So that was certainly a plus.)]


Then my rebound time is awesome. [Yes. This was his conclusion, mumbled around the melting ice and a pout.] Tim is missing out.

[So take that.]
Edited 2014-08-24 08:10 (UTC)
graysondive: (wow no)

[personal profile] graysondive 2014-08-24 05:04 pm (UTC)(link)
[He let out a loud, almost whiny groan of protest, deciding that the worry of pain or busting something open again wasn't nearly as bad as listening to this, and dragged one arm up to half cover his face with his hand.

(Still kinda hurt, but that was mostly because he ended up moving his hand all over his face. The pain was still vastly less important than his dignity.)]


I'd rather marry the dog. [It's official. If he ever had a girlfriend he was never, ever, ever bringing them home or letting them meet the family.

He moves his hand to the side mostly so he can have the room to slurp up more ice chips, and eventually lets it fall back onto the bed completely.]


Mm. I feel like I got hit by a freight train. [Which was a vastly preferable explanation compared to what had happened, really-- but if he thought about that any more, he was sure he'd get nauseous.]

I think I'll be good when I can feel my toes again. [He shifts a bit, fingers fidgeting; lying still this long was starting to kill him even more.]
graysondive: (heeeee)

[personal profile] graysondive 2014-08-24 07:57 pm (UTC)(link)
Age is just a number. You wouldn't understand. [Huffy and rebellious. Even after multiple losses of life, Titus would be around as long as Dick was as far as he was concerned. Everyone else in the house had to be so grim, it would be way too exhausting for Dick to think the same way they did all the time.

Well, maybe he had a little feeling in his toes, because he wiggles and jerks his foot away from Damian's hand, letting out a little snort and a giggle. He regretted it slightly, and the weird feeling of the cranula in his nose when he snorted, but. It tickled.]


But I don't even need both legs to do a one-handed hand stand...!

[The humor was a bit weak, but he was already fidgeting and shifting, trying to get himself in a better position to lift himself up on his own-- though not really getting that far before some bone or muscle or stitches started to disagree with him. So he just nodded a little (yes, he would definitely like to sit up a little), and rolled his stiff shoulders against the surface of the bed.]
graysondive: (graceful landing)

[personal profile] graysondive 2014-08-24 11:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[Dick is determined not to be completely useless despite his week of unconsciousness, and we shifts and moves along with Damian until he's sitting up. Maybe more of a hassle, but Damian's care made it so he got through it without hurting himself again on accident.

He nods when his head is resting against the headboard, and smiles, moving his shoulders some more and stretching his spine carefully. The new height and perspective is refreshing-- helps him get more in his head and not drifting off.

(On the contrary, he was sure he wouldn't even know what to do with himself if he wasn't smiling and laughing; everyone else would certainly be even more unhappy, and he wouldn't know what to do with himself if he made the others so upset.)]


I bet I could escape even if you did tie me down. Tim and Cass teach me all sorts of stuff when you're not looking. [Gloating. He knew all sorts of things.

He wouldn't go so far as crying-- not again-- but his face grows a bit serious, and he picks up the IV from where it's hanging off the edge of the bed, thumbing the tube carefully and looking down as he speak]


...I'm sorry for messing up. [Shame-- it's one of the last things he remembers.] I guess it's gonna be awhile before I can go on patrol with you again.
graysondive: (hmmmmmm)

[personal profile] graysondive 2014-08-25 04:07 am (UTC)(link)
[Months. The thought on its own is almost unbearable, waiting that long to get back into the action. Back to helping. He's already fussing with the tube at the thought of it, but Damian's tone of voice-- his scrutiny and authority, makes him want to disappear, scrunching his shoulders over and trying to compact himself as much as he can, trying to absorb himself into the bed and the headboard (it's only now that he's realizing it's familiar, that it's his room, and it should be comforting but it's not right now). It's only after a moment, his neck seeming to try and decide what to do, that he lifts his head up to look at Damian, in a perfect imitation of a lost puppy.

Dick listens, and he's-- he's not sure what to do with himself, what to think. It's not as if his parents had ever been short of loving and caring, but-- but this magnitude, it'd never been required, never been necessary, never been a topic to breach before they'd been gone forever. And Bruce, he'd-- for the short time Dick had known him, he'd never been taught that anything was more important than the mission. That's all he had the time to learn.

But Dick was a smart boy-- smart enough to draw his own conclusions and opinions at the least, from both Bruce AND Damian. And he fidgets and squirms, and holds the IV tubing in his figures as he drops his eyes back down to his hands, away from Damian's gaze.]


But I almost got you hurt.

[Unforgivable. Unacceptable. He had an entire new family here, but Damian was the one that had been watching him, training him-- he was his partner. He's glad he's the one hooked up to the machines, as long as Damian's still OK.]

I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to you because of me.
Edited 2014-08-25 04:08 (UTC)
graysondive: (pic#7056930)

[personal profile] graysondive 2014-08-25 08:47 am (UTC)(link)
[He yelps in surprise when there's suddenly a hand making his hair a mess (well, even more of a mess, it's not like he could really brush it while lying in bed hopped up on pain medication), and Dick abandons his grip on the IV tube long enough to futilely try and bat Damian's hand away from his head.

(It's not really his best effort. He's still woozy and a bit weak and kind of weird feeling, and he can't even get Damian to leave his hair alone on a good day, so he kind of just ends up hooking his hands onto Damian's arm and letting them dangle from there.)]


No one's invincible. [Stated very matter-of-factly, with the air of a child expert. He'd once thought his dad was, and that had clearly been proven wrong, and not even Bruce Wayne was unstoppable.] Not even Superman.

[The news of Superman's death had been a downright devastation to his even younger self. For a full week he refused to believe it, and decided the news had been lying to protect Superman's secret identity. So it was certainly a good thing that the man had come back.

But despite his anxiousness over the subject matter, he can't help but smile again at the praise and draw his gaze back up. He often thought about what his brothers might have been like when they were Batman's partners, never quite willing to ask for fear of rubbing salt in open wounds. But sometimes he gets to hear stories, especially from Alfred when the older man is trying to clean, and he knows they're big shoes to fill. It's a challenge he accepted with pride and gusto-- and if he can make Damian proud in the same span of getting the living daylights beat out of him, he must be doing something right.]


Robin should be someone that can help Batman when he can't plan ahead enough. Or save him from a torpedo. [Heh. That actually sounded kind of funny.] So it's OK. We can get better together, when you finally let me out of bed.
graysondive: (doyyyy)

[personal profile] graysondive 2014-08-25 09:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Wow. 'Demon' almost sounds as scay as being called 'Killer Moth.'

[The kid who wanted to be called 'Robin' isn't scared at all. It's not like Dick really thought much about superior genetics, when he himself was from low class circus stock.

His ears turned a bit more red with the new praise (he wanted to make Damian and Alfred proud, he wanted everyone to think that bringing him here was worth it, and he can't fight the smile spreading further on his face). He drops his hands and plant them in his lap again, placated enough from even arguing with the fact that spending months in bed sounded ridiculously more than necessary to him. He was all ready to object to the 'pipsqueak' comment, but--

His attention was drawn away by the noise of the phone, suddenly curious, and more alert even if it wasn't even a signal he could respond to.]


....Is... the Comissioner mad about what happened? [Actually, he doesn't even know what had happened to Two Face after that night. And Dick had... heard some stories, about Damian, from before he joined the family, even if it was just files he'd tried to take a peak at while no one was looking, but nothing seemed very concrete. Was that what this was about....?]

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