dreamsanddisasters | Age Reversal AU (For Batfam)

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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?

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[To this day he still reveled in the attention, though he's less and less likely to admit he cares. A combination of age and pride and Bruce's vastly different style of approach no doubt.]

I don't need your will. [Huffs. As if he was gonna be in it anyway, Tim was the businessman, and he was pretty sure no one wanted anything to do with any part of the legacy from Damian's maternal side.] I'll just become super famous on my own and have all the money I need.

[Roy was talking about starting a band. That'd be cool.

He follows along to the med bay when prodded, making pains to show that he was fine even if they were back in HQ, posture still held straight and pride measured and straight, refusing to let the exhaustion creep in or the pain creep under the adrenaline. Totally fine, he wasn't the one that lost a heel.]

He already yelled at me when I told him where I was. [Fun fact, it was hard setting up a cross-dimensional communication line when you were being surrounded by weird alien monsters.]

Now he's gonna be double mad I lost my escrimas. And triple when he finds out what happened to your foot. Or quadruple.

[Maybe he should just run away now before Bruce benches him for life.]

[ Just for that, he's going to tell Lucius that Dick's to inherit the League after him. See how well you fare then, Robin. ]

I'm going to repeat those words back to you someday, and you will be embarrassed for your own hubris.

[ Damian plays the long game. He'll to pick the precise moment when Dick is in college, off Bruce's dime, and eating ramen on a daily basis; and he's going to relish it.

Dick's keeping up a strong front, but it clearly doesn't fool his once-Batman. Damian gestures for him to hop up on the bench for first inspection, crossing his arms. Alfred disappears for a moment to retrieve one of the more precise scanning machines as well as to send a short message to Bruce, though not without taking one of his usual, disapproving parting shots about their ridiculous antics.

Water off a duck's back. Damian shrugs and keeps his weight to one leg, the toes of the other boot just lightly resting on the ground. ]

Quintuple. Surely. Although most of that will be at me.

[ He's long since accepted Bruce's criticism. Bruce loves him, but Damian's never been able to live up to the man's standards; Bruce would see his decision today as just as much of an unnecessary risk as Dick's decision was. There was another way, one that didn't end up with him with what might likely be a permanent injury, but in the heat of the moment he only cared about making sure they both got home alive and with Dick intact. ]

Speaking of wills, you have around two hours to write yours. Be sure to make your peace with Jason.

[ He shifts to lean against the bench, frowning as he peels off the mask. ]

Now tell me, what were you doing on Apokolips?

[ How did the pipsqueak squad even get there? ]

[Please, as if Alfred would ever stand for any of them to live off such poor dietary habits. The man hardly even appreciated Dick's demands to eat his sugary cereals every morning.

This time Dick follows the unspoken order without arguing, hefting himself up onto the bench with only a grunt of protest over his injuries as he settled himself down, his demeanor now sullen as he scoffed.]

For my last will and testament, I want someone to drop an angry cat on Jason's head.

[Jason and Dick had never quite gotten to the point of getting along.]

Donna got a distress call from some descendant of the Titans of myth; they said they were trapped on Apokolips and needed help to escape. I guess she knows them, cause they said they were looking into some kind of connection between this weird woman Donna's been having nightmares about and the Female Furies when they got captured. So we used one of the New Gods' Boom Tubes to hitch a ride and see for ourselves.

[How they got one of the New Gods' boom tubes was another matter entirely. He could just feel the disapproval oozing out of every corner of this family now.]

We are not dropping Alfred the cat on top of Jay's head.

[ Disapproval is an understatement. Damian has no qualms about reaching out to thwack Dick on the back of the head, prompt and precise; a familiar motion. ]

You went without telling anyone, and, conveniently, while the Justice League was off-planet. You're lucky I wasn't with them, Richard.

[ And don't think he isn't going to let the League know that the junior brigade somehow has access to boom tube tech. Ugh, he can just feel the headache this is going to be.

But -- lucky. Lucky that the League mission didn't need Blackhawk's skills. Lucky that he wasn't stranded, hours out, knowing that Robin and his team were trapped on that hellish planet, that his little brother had been left behind, that he could do nothing to help and would get there too late, again--

Even Damian's control cracks, sometimes; his hand trembles when it brushes down Dick's mussed hair. ]

You're determined to drive me into an early grave, aren't you? Gleefully. It's because of you that I worry I'll end up looking like Ra's at the tender age of thirty.

[Now was not the time to bring up that me might've already tried to sic Alfred the Cat on Jason the last time he was over.

He lets out the standard response: a small 'ow!' as his head tips forward, and he rubs the spot of the thwack even though it had barely even hurt at all. It was for effect.]

Bruce and Alfred knew I was with the Teen Titans. If I'd said I was going he wouldn't have let me go at all.

[Because apparently he had to tell everyone where he was at all times now or something, as if no one trusted him to not get his ass pounded into the cement.

But he's less than sympathetic to Damian's worries, letting out a breath of air through his nose and callously batting Damian's hand away from his hair before dropping his elbows onto his knees and angling himself away.]

What d'you care? You don't have to come running over just to clean up my messes anymore. Save yourself the grey hairs.

Why do I care?

[ Lips thinning, nostrils widening as he huffs, eyebrows drawing sharply down over squinted eyes. The hand that Dick knocks away curls, clenches into a fist. ]

Are you honestly asking why I'd bother to come save your life?

[ He thinks Alfred is taking an awfully long time to come back, that the man's waiting for something, but Damian doesn't understand what. Why, in the span of a few short years, has his Robin become this biting, prickly little creature?

He remembers energy, excitement. Chatter in his ear and laughter on the wind. Richard's never been sunshine and roses, but he wasn't this.

Dick doesn't get away that easy. He steps forward, following to bully his way into his sight again. His voice is low with frustration, a scowl pulling at his lips. ]

We are family-- [ God save him from teenagers. ] --and I am your brother. Whether you like it or not, I'm always going to be there to drag your ass out of the frying pan.

You left.

[Spat out like a curse, his anger turned tranquil and focused, bringing his eyes up to meet Damian's again for one furious moment.]

You couldn't wait to get out of here once Bruce came back! You NEVER wanted to be Batman!

[Out the door and gone just like Bruce had been when he was a kid, like his parents were and the rest of the circus. (Sometimes he got especially mad at Roy on the days when he'd storm out of the Titans hide out, claiming he didn't want to be part of their dumb little club.)

He holds the gaze and then drops away again, looking down and leaning away from Damian's position.]

And I don't need you of all people to come save my ass. I have other friends now.

That's not it at all! I have always wanted--!

[ His own temper's flaring up, a snarl curling his lips before he struggles to tamp it down, gesturing in frustration.

Since he was a child, he'd never wanted to be anything else. Batman was his birthright, his endgame. Something that he worked and strove for, a secret desire he kept hidden from his mother, and nothing had been more world-shattering than hearing Bruce swear that Damian could never be that hero.

It's been years, but it's still an old hurt, only half-healed. ]

I didn't leave by choice, Richard. [ Carefully phrased. He hadn't ever broached this subject with Dick, but perhaps he should have. ] Father never intended to hand the cowl to me.

[ His son, but not his heir. That's Cassandra, now. Timothy for the business, Cassandra for the mantle, and he -- nothing. Nothing but the suit he's wearing now. Nothing but the place he's found as brother to a small gaggle of adopted misfits. ]

I'd thought that he would see what we-- [ Stressed. Them. Batman and Robin. ] --accomplished in his absence, but it wasn't...

[ Not enough. He'd made mistakes. And it wouldn't be until Damian himself was six feet under that his father would ever trust him, not with his legacy. He shakes it off, frowns at the boy, and, sneer curling his lip, leans forward to use Dick's shoulder as an armrest, obnoxiously dropping his weight against him. ]

And yet, I will continue to do so. Particularly when you and your start-up venture of teenaged hooligans bite off more than even that Kid Flash can chew.

But you had it. [Sullen. Stubborn. For whatever reason Cass had refused. No one really told him the details, but really, Dick figured she'd been just as broken up about Bruce's disappearance as everyone else. He lets Damian throw his weight onto him for now; he's too distracted to bother pushing him off.]

But it wasn't good enough for him. That's what you mean, right? [He looks up, his face still crinkled with scorn and distaste behind the mask, but the wrinkle of his brow furrowed like he doesn't know what else to do. What more could he possibly try?]

That's always how it is with him! Nothing is ever good enough!

[He slips himself out from under Damian's arm, hopping back off the bench and apparently decided he didn't need first aid today, even though the adrenaline had long worn out of his system. He flips his gloves off, discarding them on the ground as he walked, peels his mask off and lets it join them on the floor.]

Nothing is good enough for anyone in this stupid family!

Robin.

[ The command is sharp, arresting. Dick's walking away, but Damian's not going to let him go. Not like this. His legs are longer than Dick's, and his stride just as determined; reaching out, his hand catches on his shoulder, a third time. ]

Richard. [ Damian struggles with words at the best of times; too blunt, cutting straight to the quick. ] You have always been good enough, in my regard. I'm-- [ Fumbling. It's not exactly right, and it's frustrating, and he wonders if Dick is hearing what he's trying to say at all. ] --today, you and your team held your own on a hostile, alien planet where even the Justice League doesn't dare step foot.

[ Cowards. They could raze Apokolips, eliminate the threat, but they'd rather react than act. ]

I am absurdly proud of you. Always.

[ Even when Dick does dumb, dangerous things. Even when he's disappointed in him, or angry at him, or worried sick over this brash child he's helped to raise. ]

And I will never not be in your corner; not even when it comes to Bruce. Do you understand?

[Dick has every intention of ignoring the command, already working the clasp of his cape-- but at the hand on his shoulder he stops dead in his tracks, his feet coming to a hard stop as he lets the rest of him sway to inertia.

Proud. He should be thrilled to hear it. It's kind of funny, listening to Damian try and verbally stumble his way through it; it's all he's ever wanted, to make the family proud. It felt like he didn't have to clamor for it nearly as hard when Damian was his partner. Maybe all he wanted was attention, and the thought made him a little ashamed of himself.

He understood; not like he ever didn't, maybe he just forgot. Damian and Alfred had always seemed to make an effort that he understood that he still belonged. He lifts his head up, the anger mostly drained out, and looked up at his older brother without the masks's protection anymore. Just pleading, and sadness.]

Why didn't you take me with you?

[Compared to his previous outrage, his voice was small, cautious. He didn't really know Bruce; he still didn't really. The man's mere existence still put him awe, was something he admired and inspired him every day, but more and more it felt like Dick was just a troublesome soldier that would never learn to fall in line.]

We-- didn't have to be Batman and Robin, I could've been someone else-- anyone else....

I wanted to. Argued with Father about it.

[ The confession is quiet, strained; it's hard to meet Richard's eyes, but he squeezes his shoulder, letting the hand rest there. ]

But my place in this family is complicated. In many ways, the work I do -- I'm outside things.

[ Because of who he is, who his mother is. Because of the choices he's made and the things he's done. Bruce could never abandon his blood son, and they can even get along, but Damian knows what Bruce thinks every time he looks at him.

Sour blood. A taint upon the bloodline, the curse of the Demon's Head. His father's biggest mistake.

He wonders, sometimes, if Bruce has the slightest hope that, one of the days, Damian won't come back from a mission. Unfortunately, he continues to prove himself remarkably resilient. ]

Father can be difficult. His standards are impossible. Believe me, it's not just you. Even the rest of the League doubts themselves, when it comes to him.

[ Damian didn't appreciate fielding the Flash's concerns about whether Bruce liked him. ]

You are my partner, Richard. I want the best for you. And here, with the family and, yes, your crew of hooligans-- [ So small. So annoying. So energetic. So prone to bad decisions. ] --that's more than you'd have with me.

[He's shocked, to hear that Damian had actually argued for him. To hear that Bruce had said no.]

We were the best...!

[He turns to finally face Damian properly, bringing his other hand up to pull gently at the material of Damian's suit, a gesture like he might've once made more often, before the inadequacy and angry had taken their roots.

He never understood it. Never understood what could have been so much more complicated about it. Damian used a gun, sometimes he was harsher, meaner, but he never did anything for the wrong reasons. He was his, and Tim's and Cass' and Jason's older brother, and for the life of him he just couldn't understand how the hell that was so complicated.

He couldn't even laugh at the idea of Wally's weird cousin being intimidated by Bruce. Unfair.]

I know how to use a gun, I-- [He didn't want to, dear god he never wanted to,but he could--] I can still lead the Titans even if I wasn't with Bruce! He doesn't even like it when I leave to go hang out with them instead!

[He worried his lip, tightened his grip. Choked his breath because even if he sounded like his head was racing he wasn't gonna frikkin' cry.]

C-- C'mon, don't I get a say in this...?!

You always get a say.

[ Runt, don't look at him like that. He frowns, pushes Dick's bangs back out of habit, mussing his hair further. It's grounding; the only way he really knows how to reassure. Confirmation that he's here, he's listening, he's paying attention, that he cares, even when he goes silent or looks away because talking is hard.

He wants Dick to know that his opinion always, always matters. Children are so often ignored. He remembers that. ]

But I don't want you to use a gun. I don't want you to always be living in violence.

[ It's hard enough doing what they do, rough on a kid growing up. He can't imagine introducing Dick to his side of things -- not for a long while, if ever. ]

I want you to do better than me. Even if I must bully you into cooperation.

[ He doesn't sound so regretful about the bullying part. Damian actually enjoys pushing his siblings around. ]

I may not be here every day, but I haven't abandoned you. You remain my highest priority.

I could handle it.

[He could. He's tougher than everyone seems to think he is, for someone who twirls around in circus colors on the battlefield, though the damn near childish pout on his face wasn't really helping matters. But he could.

He got a say, as long as it didn't go against "what was better for him." Figures. Adults were all the same.

He dropped his hand back to his side and his gaze along with it, his head idly leaning into Damian's gesture, even with how stubbornly indignant he was about the whole affair.]

Maybe I don't care about doing 'better.' [Still indignant, but his tone was still one of defeat.] Maybe I'd rather just have you around again.

[Someone who actually cared enough to talk to him like this even if it was hard.]

Of course you could.

[ He sounds scandalized at any implication that Dick couldn't. The boy's adaptable, resourceful, and above all, Robin was -- is -- his partner. He doesn't doubt that Dick would eventually flourish, find his place, and be regarded as one of the best. ]

But you don't have to. And you shouldn't have to. You have choices -- better ones. You, Richard, can become anything from where you're standing now. And you will be amazing.

[ And happy. That's what he wants for him, more than anything. The same for Timothy, Cassandra, Jason.

(Be happy. Be fulfilled. And be more obedient when he tells you to do something, you little bastards. That's it, that's all.)

He huffs, hands cupping both sides of the boy's head, thumbs roughly brushing over his temples, brusquely affectionate. Or, in other cases, a reminder of how easily his mitts can hold a squirming boy in place, immune to his fussing.

Not that he ever has, of course. Not that he's done it frequently, before. Never. ]

I miss you, too, brat. God help me, but silence bothers me now.

[ You've ruined him, Richard. ]

[Dick will most certainly never learn the lesson about fussing. But he doesn't do it now-- at least, unlike ten seconds ago, he's not angrily throwing off any worries or points of contact. He shakes his head, maybe, barely. But then simply bypasses the rest and pushes himself into Damian's torso, buries his face and wraps his arms around him as far as he can reach.]

So stay.

[It's a sour attempt and he knows it's futile, but Dick is determined, and stubborn, and tells himself all the time that maybe if he just tried harder, kept trying, worked smarter, worked harder, been better, then things could've turned out in his favor.

He knows this won't, but he has to try. It's not like he can be this frank with Bruce. He didn't feel particularly amazing.]

All I wanna be is someone who helps people. But Bruce barely trusts me and you won't let me help you anymore.

[Sometimes he thinks about what would happen if Damian was gone for weeks. And if they received bad news. Everyone is more than competent on their own, but-- it scares him.]

[ He does important work. Necessary work. Work that keeps heroes safe. His team's the one that hunts the hunters; they're the ones who act, who track down rogue superhumans before they become a serious threat. No affiliations, no recognition. There's a reason his Blackhawk outfit is blank, no insignia. Nobody but Batman knows they exist; not even the League.

And when things go south, they'll take the fall.

He doesn't want Dick tied to any of that. Not this stupid, tough kid he's wrapped up in his arms; who's growing, has grown, but is still nothing but a twig against him. ]

I'm here every second I can be.

[ He doesn't like being away. Things were different after Jason's death; the Outsiders were both an escape and a punishment. Then Bruce's death brought him back in again, brought them all back. It felt like -- a home.

(His mother would scoff to hear him now.) ]

You're already your own hero, Robin. You don't require anyone's approval or validation -- not even Father's. Do what you think is best, and I will be here to make sure you don't get killed doing it.

[ Because brotherhood. Snarky as it is. ]

[Every second and it still never feels like it's enough. They all operated in relative secrecy, but sometimes he didn't think the Outsiders' operation was worth it. He was still just scared and worried. And he felt ridiculous for it, and squeezed his grip tighter for the thought, but he still couldn't help it.

But he could be a hero. When Damian said it, he sure as hell believed it. The incredibly dry sarcasm didn't make Dick disbelieve it at all.]

Then don't lose your foot next time, OK? [His voice was bound to be even more muffled with his face till buried in nomex, but he didn't care a lick.]

Just call if you need back up... Even if Bruce gets mad...!

[(No sniffles here. Absolutely none. He definitely was not.)]

[ He scoffs, haughty, and pets the messy head of hair, soothing the (completely imaginary) sniffles. ]

It is but a flesh wound.

[ So completely deadpan. He hasn't even watched the movie, turned his nose up at base comedy films, but it's impossible not to pick up some things after living in a household with Tim, Jason, Cass, and Dick. Especially not when they're all regularly getting scuffed up.

It's a standard reply, at this point. Completely excusable. ]

In the event that I find myself in such dire straits that I need help from a chattering, flippy little pipsqueak, which may, unfortunately, include his band of excitable teenaged hooligans--

[ As if Robin hasn't saved his ass as Batman more times than he can count over the course of their partnership.

His arms give a squeeze, despite the sarcasm. ]

--I will. Even if Father gets mad.

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Age Reversal AU (For Batfam)

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