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
[ Alfred is looking at his oldest pointedly. Damian snorts and looks away, crossing his arms, the picture of disagreeable company. Nevertheless, the old butler looks marginally mollified by the smile upon Dick's face, and the way the boy now crowds behind him.
Damian is uncouth and eccentric in his personal behaviors (careless with fine china and fine crystal and fine words), but whatever tactics he employed seem to have both calmed the young Grayson down and established some measure of endearment on the boy's behalf. A good outcome.
Not that he is surprised. Alfred knows Damian; the young man, despite his standoffish exterior, cares deeply for his charges, and measures his words and actions accordingly when they're upset. Such a change from the boy he first met sixteen years ago, so young and brash and cruel, sharp with his words even with the ones he cared about. Bruce had a hand in the change, as did the friends Damian made (and no small credit to Alfred himself, of course). ]
You accuse me of being poor company, when he's the one calling me old?
[ Damian's hand drops to push in irritation at the messy fluff of Dick's hair, batting his head down and mussing his bangs in one fell swoop, a move that's just inviting a bout of roughhousing (too common between him and Jason, and so many things get broken as a result). Alfred is quick to step in, turning his polite regard on Dick. ]
Would you perhaps be interested in helping me prepare our evening's courses? There is a dessert that could use the expertise of an experienced taste-tester.
no subject
[He's quick to give up his attempt at retaliation though, especially when Alfred draws his attention instead. (Alfred, who of course was never going to go senile. It was OK for him to make fun of Damian for it though, because Damian was his big brother.)]
Oh, right! [Limbs withdrawn, he flies away from Damian's side to position himself in front of Alfred instead, hands curled energetically at his sides, a tacit acknowledgement that he would be absolutely ecstatic to help.] Big D said you're gonna make pirogo for dessert! [So very very excited.] And something with eggplant too.
no subject
The tiniest fly.
He's not going to go senile. ]
Yes, that is the plan. Eggplant lasagne-- [ Because Damian is a strict vegetarian, and Alfred has to find creative ways to ensure the rest of them get their vegetables for the day. ] --with a candied walnut salad topped with gorgonzola, and pirogo for dessert.
[ Damian's stomach growls, loud and clear, and the young man at least has the grace to look embarrassed. Someone skipped breakfast and lunch, too caught up with work. Alfred sends him a knowing look, offering a hand to Dick in clear invitation. ]
It looks to be an early dinner tonight. Shall we, young Master Dick?
[ And that is Damian's cue. He has a few more cases to review before then, and the boy is in good spirits and good hands. ]
Ring me when dinner is ready?
[ Oh, Alfred will do one better. He'll send Dick to retrieve him. Damian too often sequesters himself in his room after grabbing his share of dinner; the boy will have a lot more luck drawing him out than Alfred does. ]
Of course, Master Damian.
no subject
He tries to hide another snicker behind his hand when Damian's stomach interjects, and he reaches up to place his small hand in Alfred's in the same movement. He nods in affirmation, ready to head off to the kitchen and get to work.]
We'll make you a lot of eggplant! [An important declaration before they leave, so Damian can be sure they'll be hard at work. And that way there'd be more pirogo for Dick--
(Of course, eating it alone would be unacceptable. Damian has chosen to learn Dick's language, and thus it would be absolutely required to join the family for the meal. Absolutely non-negotiable.]