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?
no subject
[ she actually brightens just a little - she was close, she knows she was. And Dick's follow up of trying to imitate her sign is good and makes that brighter expression mostly stick around. She signs, two distinct gestures. ] My age. [ She changes the first sign slightly ] Your age.
[ It is frustrating, but she does need to work on her spoken language skills and she knows it. So in a way, they're both learning! ]
Yes. I hadn't... ever left... home. Before that. [ she rests her chin in her hand and stares out across the treetops pensively ] It was... less scary, after. And more. But... safer. No one making... me hurt people.
no subject
The gestures were good for putting his fingers to work, keeping him from fidgeting with whatever was in front of him. But when he looks at Cass again after the intense concentration in trying to make signs, it's with surprise.]
He made you hurt people? [He knew Damian and Cass had some Bad Stuff going on before Bruce took them in, and they both had that... scary air about them. But... well that was pretty much the end of everything he knew. But even then, it's hard for him to conceive either of them-- any of heroes he was now surrounded by-- as being capable of hurting people.] Why..?
no subject
[ she sighs softly, then shrugs ]
It's why I... talk strange. I never... learned. I spoke... bodies? How... people moved. So I'd know... when they were going to... attack.
no subject
But. More importantly.]
I... I'm sorry...
[It didn't really... seem like the kind of thing he should've been asking about given the situation, even if Cass was willing to talk about it.]
Um... When I was younger I had trouble learning English grammar. So for awhile I had trouble whenever I had to talk to the townies.
[Not... really the same thing as not being taught how to speak, but-- look he had trouble with languages too!!]
no subject
This time, though, it doesn't rise up in laughter, just... love. There is no doubt in her mind, suddenly, that this boy is her brother, not just in name but in how she feels about him.
So clearly the only acceptable reaction is to lean over and wrap him in a tight hug. ]
no subject
[He lets out the small gasp in surprise, for a moment arms hovering a bit uselessly by his sides. Aside from maybe Stephanie, the Waynes hadn't really been a... hugging family. He'd tried to hold Bruce's hand a few times, but Dick had made a dedicated effort ever since he got to the manor to not... seem too weird.
But the surprise wears off quickly and his instinct to curl into the warmth and comfort take over instead. He wraps his arms around her in kind (well, as far as he can reach), and buries his face into the hug.]
Are you... gonna be OK...?
[Judging by the way his voice was still welling up a little, he sure hoped at least one of them was gonna be.]
no subject
Yes. [ Her voice is soft and not without her own emotion, but it's steady and level. ] Soon.
[ Not yet. But soon. ]
no subject
[There's finally a small smile returned to his face, timid as it was, but still bright, as he stays and settles into her embrace. Truth be told, he didn't know if he was gonna be OK any time soon-- but if she was, if the rest of the family was, then he'd get along just fine. Maybe the big house would even start to feel like a real home.]
I'll help you too, until you are OK. OK?