Damian Wayne | First Son (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dfordangerous) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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
[ He would have given anything for his mother to join them, however. Damian never managed to give up the dream that his parents would one day get along.
Humming absently, he curls his arm more snugly around the boy at his side. ]
Well, that unpleasant business aside, at least you now know how impressive Alfred can be. Without bringing up the couch incident.
no subject
I thought it was a good story, though. But your story-telling skills could use some work.
[Absolutely just said to be a little snot about it. And the way he smiles and squirms to lean more weight against Damian, you'd have thought he actually said something endearing.
(He had to refrain from asking for more stories, really, or else Damian would probably get annoyed with him. But even just listening to them was fun.)]
no subject
My apologies for not meeting your exacting standards, Richard.
[ He snorts, leaning his head back against the board and letting his shoulders drop. ]
I guess I shouldn't tell stories at all then, hm? Should leave it to the professionals.
[ Who wouldn't divulge anything half so interesting as stories about what a boss Alfred is. ]
I mean, of course you wouldn't want to hear about the time I sent Father on an international scavenger hunt in order to be Batman for a few days, for instance. And you certainly would have no interest in learning about how Jason joined our family--
[ Bruce, there's a key word. And Jason, too. He may have been returned to them early on, back when Bruce was still alive and Dick was his Robin, but sometimes it's just as painful to talk about him before as it is to talk about Bruce.
However, Damian finds it easier, lately. Cathartic. The boy is always so eager to hear about them, and to get to know the standoffish teenager, and his excitement and happiness at picking up those rare snippets is almost tangible, and entirely contagious. ]
no subject
[And he's sitting up again, and he even almost pulled it off without aggravating anything. Almost. He was pretty glad for the steady drip of medication that made the pang in his side more of a sting than a kidney-rending laceration.
(To his credit, he bit back the grunt of pain like a champ.)]
You gotta tell me!
[International scavenger hunt? Damian trying to be Batman when he was younger? The kid absolutely ate up anything he could hear about Bruce-- and anything he could hear about Jason. Jason, who hardly seemed to like him very much at all, but who Dick was still desperate to actually get to know-- and maybe desperate to actually win the approval of the brother who didn't want to give it, even with how abrasive they both acted.
He knew some bad stuff had happened. But his appetite for curiosity was insatiable. He wanted to know more.]
You have to practice your storytelling! You can't get better without practicing. [The tug on Damian's sleeve is gentle despite his insistence, probably because Dick is already feeling tired again.]
Come on, come on, tell me, tell me...! I wanna know more about Jason [He barely knew him now--], I wanna know about Bruce going on a scavenger hunt! [He wanted to know everything about Bruce.] Did he think it was the Riddler? Did you get caught when you got home?
no subject
I'll tell you, later. [ He pauses, lips pursing. ] After all, one story a night until you are well again - that sounds fair, doesn't it?
[ A promise of one story a night is almost too good to believe, and a huge gesture on Damian's part. Stories about Bruce, Jason, Tim, Cass, Alfred, even himself; sharing whatever he feels is safe to share.
He'd been terrified that night, thinking that he'd lose Dick without the boy ever having the chance to hear any of it. ]
I can't promise they are all happy stories, but -- if you want to hear them.
[ Like a game of twenty questions, Dick can pick the person, the topic, and Damian will oblige. It's not like he can't make the time. ]
no subject
[The news was absolutely devastating, and he didn't really have the strength to resist so he simply bounced back into his spot on the bed again when oh-so-elegantly persuaded.]
I guess that's fair. [He sighs; if it had to be that way.] And I don't mind if they're not happy. I'm not scared if that's what you're worried about.
[Psh. Ridiculous.
The idea of weeks of recovery sounded daunting than unhappy stories, but Dick would learn that having the stories to look forward to would make it a lot easier to wait.
(Unfortunately that also meant he'd be completely restless until he did get to hear the story that night.)]
no subject
You should try and get more rest.
[ He underscores his point by resuming petting Dick's hair, in an obvious bid to lull him back to sleep. (When the boy is unconscious, Damian can also get some work done, thank god.) ]
I'll talk to Alfred about getting entertainment set up for you. There were a couple movies you wanted to see in theaters, weren't there?
[ Perks of being outrageously rich: it's no trouble at all to get a stack of screeners sent for their private viewing pleasure. ]
no subject
[So boring. He was pretty sure he had slept enough to last him for like a month by now. He was both wired to go do something, and still felt exhausted. But still awake enough that a few parts were starting to dully ache.
(Despite the complaint, he may as well be leaning into Damian's touch like a needy cat.)]
Mmm... I think the new Star Trek movie's coming out soon... and the one with the monsters and aliens, and I think Pixar's make a new movie too...
[It was probably a good thing that Dick was still an active consumer of pop culture, or else he'd be really bored.]
no subject
So boring. [ Mimicking mockingly under his breath, punctuated by careful scratching.
(Damian has never personally had his hair messed with in a pleasant fashion, has always kept it too short, so he doesn't understand what's so entrancing about it, but his longer-haired brothers and sister seem to especially adore it when he does. It shuts them up and puts them to sleep, and that's good enough for him.)
He's going to recommend to Alfred that they just keep Dick drugged and high as a kite for the next few weeks, otherwise he is going to be hearing that phrase too much. ]
I will contact the production companies about arranging for private screenings.
[ Good to be a Wayne. ]
And that new game, too -- Swordwalkers, right? That, and a few others. Should hold you over for the week or two before Alfred might allow you to hobble around.
[ Damian doesn't underestimate how quickly Dick can burn through games and movies. Keeping the boy entertained and from fidgeting too much will be a feat in itself. ]
no subject
Sooooooo boooooriiiiiinnnnnggggg.
[Mimicking with even more mockery right back. So take that.
(Keeping him sedated was certainly the only way to assure he'd actually stay in bed. He was already planning his route to at least get as far as the window once he could put weight on his legs.)
But lucky for Damian, the mess of his hair succeeded in eliciting a yawn when he was done with his sass, and his eyelids started to droop.]
Oh, yeah! But I think that wasn't out until the end of the month... The companies seriously won't be mad if we don't go to the theater to watch their movies...?
[He still wasn't used to this Billionaire business. All of the DVDs and video tapes he'd had at the circus were probably ancient.]
no subject
Shut up, says one hand. Go the fuck to sleep, says the other hand. ]
They will be happy to oblige, I assure you.
[ They always are. Dick would learn in time that money makes many requests and relationships go much more smoothly. ]
no subject
But he would not be cowed so easily. He would not stand for this. And he wiggles his tongue out from his mouth (finding that indeed, at least his tongue didn't feel number like the rest of him), and licked the palm of Damian's hand with as much spit as he could muster (which wasn't as much as usual, but still enough to be a bit moist at least).
So take that.]
no subject
He wasn't the heart of his team (that honor went to Chris Kent), but Damian is undeniably looked to as the leader in all situations.
He's Blackhawk, one of the world's most lauded and well-known heroes. Co-founder of multiple superhero youth teams, and full member of the JLA.
And Richard "Dick" Grayson, Robin, Boy Wonder, has just licked him.
Damian freezes, as if not comprehending this fact, or what to do about it, looking down at Dick with blatant consternation. ]
Why.
[ Flat. Incredulous. Why this thing? Disgusting. ]
no subject
And it was absolutely probably the best thing Dick's seen in his entire time at the Manor.
So. He just starts laughing. Uncontrollably. Devolved to a fit of giggles and coughs only slightly muffled. But the effect is certainly not lost.]