Damian Wayne | First Son (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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dreamsanddisasters2014-08-21 12:12 am
dfordangerous) wrote in dreamsanddisasters2014-08-21 12:12 am
Entry tags:
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?
(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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[ 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?
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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....
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[ 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.
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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...?!
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[ 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.
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[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.]
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[ 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. ]
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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.]
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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. ]
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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.)]
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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.