Chapter Text
Damian scowled at Jack from across the breakfast table. He was four days late in returning this time.
Damian had punished his tardiness by setting up a bear trap in the parlour. Unfortunately, Jack’s suitcase had fallen victim to the trap rather than Jack himself.
Jack had laughed at the correction attempt, as he always did, ruffled Damian’s hair and headed upstairs.
At least Tim had been impressed by the trap. He had taken Damian to the museum as a reward.
Damian cut up another piece of his poptart, frowning at Tim’s empty seat. Usually, at breakfast, they talked about how they would restructure the world once they conquered it.
This week’s discussion revolved around the benefits of a Roman Republic structure, but less flimsy of course.
Unfortunately, the placeholder had called just as they were about to make their way downstairs and Tim, polite as always, had decided to indulge the man with his attention.
Which left Damian with Jack, who kept calling him kiddo and asking him how his soccer practice was going. Damian didn’t play soccer. He wasn’t a caveman.
Even breakfast with Bruce was preferable in comparison. Yes, the man mainly spoke in grunts, but he tended to be silent and easy enough to ignore. Which Damian was all too happy to do.
Jack babbled away in the background while Damian thought up ways to get rid of Dick’s phone. He had been forbidden from getting rid of the man himself– at least for now– so removing his methods of contact was Damian’s next best option until the piranha fish he had ordered arrived.
Damian only tuned back in when Jack’s rambles cut off abruptly. Jack was staring at the doorway, where Titus had just walked in.
“Is that a dog?” Jack stared at Titus in bewilderment.
“Where, Father?” Damian asked, widening his eyes slightly. It makes you look more innocent, Tim had told him. No one will doubt you.
“There,” Jack pointed to where Titus was sniffing around his suitcases. Newly packed as Jack was leaving for the jungle the next day. Damian had rubbed quorn meats over the suitcases in the hopes that the scent would attract predators to Jack. “Don’t you see it?”
“See what?” Tim asked as he walked into the room. Damian let out a quiet relieved sigh. Both because Tim was here and that Dick wasn’t.
Titus bounded over to Tim with a happy woof, jumping up and knocking him to the floor. Damian’s lips twitched at Titus’ wagging tail as he headbutted Tim’s chest.
Jack made a wordless exclamation.
Damian’s heart dropped. They had never gone over what they would do if the presence of the animals became undeniable.
“There! See!” Jack pointed at them. Damian sneered at his common way of speaking. But at least he could speak, unlike Bruce.
“God, I’m such a clutz,” Tim laughed, even as he gave Titus head scratches. Between Tim and himself, Titus and Sherlock were quite spoiled.
“Always have been.” Jack nodded in confused agreement. Damian took in a shocked breath, how dare he. “But the dog–”
“Timothy is the most graceful person I know.” Damian glared at Jack, his hand tightening around his fork. If he moved fast, he could have it embedded in Jack’s eye before Tim could hold him back.
“The dog–” Jack started.
“Dad, are you feeling okay?” Tim asked, his face uncharacteristically expressive. He stood up and walked over to the table. “You and Dana were in India– the jungle, right? Maybe you caught something.” His brow was furrowed as he placed the back of his hand on Jack’s forehead.
Jack blinked up at Tim. “I had all my vaccinations–” Titus woofed, headbutting Tim’s leg.
“You’ve still got jet lag too, maybe you should lie down?” Tim suggested while scratching Titus’s head, making the dog’s tail wag.
Jack stared wide eyed at Tim, as did Damian. But he followed his brother’s lead all the same, Tim was an expert at manipulation.
Damian nodded. “Yes, Father, you should rest. You’ve been working quite hard lately.”
If lounging by beaches and pools in foreign countries with one’s wife counts as work.
Tim shot Damian an approving look over Jack’s head. He sat up straighter, barely keeping a proud look off his face.
“Yeah, maybe I should.” Jack murmured. He shuffled up from the table and to the doorway.
It was a slow process as Jack kept glancing back at Titus, blinking rapidly and shaking his head. But eventually, he was gone.
Titus hopped up on his empty chair, resting his head on the table.
“That was artfully done.” Damian said as Tim sat down beside him.
“Thanks, babywing.” Tim smiled down at him. Damian smiled back.
Perhaps, once Damian became more proficient in the art of gaslighting and manipulation, he could make Bruce and Dick slowly lose their minds. Or make them believe that they are. Arkham could always use new inmates.
As if sensing his thoughts, Tim shot Damian a sharp look. “Just for the record, you are not allowed to do this to Bruce or Dick.”
Damian scowled. “But–” Tim cut him off by placing a pop tart in his mouth. Damian glared at him as he chewed it.
“It would upset Alfred.” Tim said. Damian sighed and nodded in acknowledgment, Pennyworth’s food wouldn’t be as high quality if he was grieving the others. “And me.”
Damian dismissed all semi formed plans at that moment. “Understood.” He said.
“Thank you.” Damian’s chest warmed as Tim kissed his forehead.
They ate in blissful silence for a few minutes, when a thought occurred to Damian.
“What about Todd?” He questioned, trying to hide the hopefulness in his voice.
Tim shrugged. “Go for it. He’s your murder buddy.”
Damian smiled.
-
Somewhere deep in Gotham, the Red Hood shivered.