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Chapter Text

Damian had been told two things about his father. The first being that he was a great warrior who worked from the shadows. The second was that he was a powerful figure in Gotham.

When he asked his mother for his father's name before boarding the plane, she replied. "If you are worthy of being his son, then you won't need a name to find him."

Now, Damian was strolling through Bristol, looking for the powerful warrior who sired him. He had initially considered going to the Diamond District, before being informed that only moderately powerful people reside there.

Damian sneered at the fact he had almost set foot in such a place. Moderate, how plebeian.

He had researched and listed the names of the families residing in Bristol. He had immediately crossed off names like Johnson and Flynn, much too common for someone of Damian’s calibre.

He hesitated over Wayne, he had heard that name spoken more than most of the others. But it was so basic, common and ordinary that Damian had no choice but to cross it off.

Wayne, such a droll and dull name for a supposedly powerful family. Damian was glad he wouldn't have to take it as part of his title.

Damian Al Ghul, Ibn al Xu'ffasch, Heir to The Demons Head, Wayne–

Damian shuddered. 

There was one name that he was certain was worthy of him. A name cutting and powerful, the word for the most powerful creatures in both mythology and languages of old. A name befitting of a warrior.

Drake.

Damian stood at the door, staring up at the gold lettering.

He steeled himself and raised his hand to knock.

-

There was someone knocking at the door.

Usually, Jack would yell for Tim to answer it, but as he was packing some last minute items for Jack's trip to Rome with Dana, Jack decided to get it himself.

He opened the door only to see a tiny kid with piercing green eyes, brown skin and an unusually serious look on his face for someone with so much baby fat.

"Yes?" He asked politely.

The kid stared at him intently. "I am Damian Al Ghul Drake, your son and heir to the Drake empire." He stated.

Jack had always known this day would come. With his and Janet's open marriage, it was inevitable. He'd just hoped he wouldn't have to deal with it when he was getting ready to go to Rome with his new wife.

With a sigh, he decided to hear the kid out. "What age are you?" He questioned.

"I am ten years old." Damian answered.

"Where have you been living until now?"

"Nanda Parbat, but I have spent much of my childhood travelling alongside my mother."

Jack hummed, thinking back. He and Janet did spend some time travelling around that area about a decade ago and they had both spent time with other people throughout their marriage so it wasn't impossible.

He glanced down at Damian. The boy did have Jack's hair colour and his chin, if he squinted. He must have favoured his mother in the looks department.

Jack figured he couldn’t disprove it and it wasn't worth the legal battle to try and do so, especially before his trip. So he gave a mental shrug and opened the door wider to let the kid in. "Tim, come meet your brother!"

-

Tim walked downstairs with Jack's suitcase in hand, almost ninety percent sure that he'd misheard him. Unless he or Janet had had a secret child at some point there was no way–

There was a kid standing in the parlour.

"Dad?" Tim questioned, putting the case down, lest he drop it out of shock.

"Tim, this is Damian, your little brother." Jack said, clapping Damian's shoulder. The kid looked as shocked as Tim felt, they both stared at one another like two cats that had been thrown in an unfamiliar room together. "He's ten. Keep an eye on him while I'm gone."

"You're leaving?" Damian questioned, his eyes widening slightly. Tim’s heart clenched in sympathy for the kid, remembering the days when he used to ask that question.

Jack didn't even seem to notice Damian had spoken. He patted the kid absently, not noticing Damian's – very cute– scowl. "Is my case packed?" He asked.

"Yeah." Tim said, still in shock.

"Thanks kiddo!" Jack ruffled Tim's hair, he moved to pick up his case and started heading for the door. "You be good for your big brother while I'm gone." He called back.

"Yes, Father." Damian replied just as the door slammed shut.

They stood in silence for a minute before Tim got over his initial shock and smiled. "So you're my brother?"

"I suppose so." Damian said, eyeing Tim cautiously.

Tim's smile turned into a grin, elation running through him. He'd always wanted a little brother.

-

Damian had been skeptical about having an older brother to say the least, but Tim had proven himself to be a good mentor and caretaker so far.

He had introduced Damian to cocoa puffs and pop tarts which made for a worthy meal.

He gave Damian a tour of their home, not seeming to mind when Damian asked him a question. In fact, he encouraged it.

Not to mention, Damian had discovered a bo staff under Tim's bed while they were watching a movie about The World's Greatest Detective, Sherlock Holmes.

"You're a warrior." Damian stated, holding the staff in his hands.

"No–" Tim started.

Damian slowly dragged a multicoloured tunic out from under Tim's bed. "A strange warrior." He noted, squinting at the R on the right side. "I'm a warrior too."

"I noticed." Tim gestured to the katana strapped to Damian's back. "An adorable warrior." Tim grinned down at him. 

Damian huffed but didn't bother scowling. In their short time together he had learned the hard way that scowling earned him hair ruffles. He endeavoured to glare instead.

He received a forehead kiss for that. Damian decided that he would glare at least three times a day. For tactical reasons, of course.

-

Tim had taken Damian out to explore and get art supplies. Mostly because Damian had accidentally read a book on sketching from cover to cover while tracing the pictures with his fingertips.

"This is not necessary." Damian protested as they neared the store.

"It's something that you like which makes it very necessary." Tim replied.

Damian huffed. "That's not–"

"And having a unique talent is very important in our family." He added. At Damian's suspicious look he continued. "Janet's was history, Jack's is archaeology and mine is photography." 

"And my talent could be…art?" Damian peeked up at Tim to ensure that his brother hadn't changed his mind.

Tim smiled. "Exactly."

"I see." He mused, looking through the window at the endless colours, sketchbooks and pencils.

They went into the store. Anything that Damian looked at for more than a minute was put in the basket.

They had to get a taxi home that day.

The next day, Damian had Tim lead them to the camera store, where he retaliated in kind.

-

Damian smiled as the kitten headbutted his hand, then scowled at himself for smiling.

Tim was sitting next to him, filling out forms one of the volunteers handed him.

"I find it strange that we need to fill out so much paperwork just to visit the animals." Damian commented. Most people were more fickle than Damian and Tim, the poor creatures must not get many visitors. 

Tim laughed. "No, you don't have to do this for a visit. This is for adopting them." Tim gestured to the kitten batting at Damian's hand. 

His breath caught. "I can have her?" He asked.

"Yeah. I know you'll look after her well." Tim said easily.

"But what about Father?" Damian said, already drawing up plans to run away with Tim and the kitten if Jack's reaction wasn't ideal.

"He won't notice." Tim said. "If he does, just pretend you don't see them."

Damian hummed in agreement. Sadly, Jack Drake hadn't struck him as the most observant person, at least not in his public persona. It was good that both he and Tim inherited their mother's intellect.

"Then, could I…" Damian trailed off, looking over at the black puppy staring at him with big, pleading eyes.

"You want the dog too." Tim was looking at him with that gaze his mother held whenever Damian bested someone in battle. Tim's face was warmer, somehow. He called the volunteer over, requesting more forms. 

-

"Have you chosen any names yet?" Tim asked a few hours after they had arrived home, with the animals in tow.

"The cat shall be known as Sherlock and the dog, Titus." Damian spoke the names with the reverence they deserved.

"Perfect names for perfect creatures." Tim praised.

Damian turned his head away to hide another infernal smile, they had been occurring quite often lately. 

Seeing this, Tim prodded at Damian's ribs until he was laughing like some sort of heathen.

Having a brother wasn't nearly as awful as Mother claimed it would be.

-

"There are a few people I'd like you to meet, if you're up for it." Tim said.

Damian looked up from his sketchbook. "Who?"

"Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson."

"Wayne." Damian spat the name like poison. "Why are we wasting our time on the riff raff?"

Tim laughed, only Damian would refer to the most powerful man in Gotham as 'riff raff.' 

"They're family. Dick's like a brother to me." He answered. Tim had been wanting to introduce Damian to them from the moment he arrived, but he wanted him to feel settled and secure before doing so.

Damian's eyes flashed dangerously. "I see." He said. Tim had a feeling that he had made a big mistake. "You want us to battle for the honour of your regard."

Tim jolted. "What? Dami, no–"

Tim knew of and accepted Damian's slightly homicidal tendencies, but he'd rather not have them turned towards his second family. 

Damian unsheathed his katana. "I will be sure to dispatch of him right away–"

"You don't have to kill him," Tim said, gently coaxing Damian into putting the katana away. "I love you all equally."

"There is no such thing as equal love. You love me more." Damian stated, glaring.

Tim pulled Damian into his arms and kissed the crown of his head. 

-

"Wait, start over, how exactly do you have a little brother that no one knew about until now?" Dick questioned.

Dick had been thrilled to see Tim at the manor again, as his presence had been scarce outside of patrol for the last few weeks. 

Now he knew why. 

Bruce had gone silent from the moment Tim started talking about his little brother. From the calculating gleam in his eyes, he was probably drawing up plans to steal two Drake children instead of one.

"Jack and Janet had an open marriage." Tim said, shrugging. Dick, on the other hand, was shocked by all of this new information. "I'm honestly surprised this is the first bio sibling that's turned up on our doorstep." Tim looked over at the open door. "Speaking of which, Dami?"

A boy around the age of ten strutted into the room with his shoulders back and his head held high.

Dick’s eyes widened. The kid was almost the spitting image of Bruce. 

Tim grinned, looking happier than Dick's ever seen him. "Bruce, Dick, this is my little brother, Damian Drake."

"Which one do I have to dispatch?" Damian questioned with narrowed eyes.

Dick was about to laugh it off, until he saw the katana strapped to the kid's back.

"We've talked about this, you're my number one, you don't have to dispatch anyone." Tim said softly, tapping Damian's nose.

Dick had only known Damian for thirty seconds and even he knew that anyone else would lose a finger for trying that.

Dick's brow furrowed. "Wait, has he killed people? He looks like he's killed people." He muttered the last part. Not quietly enough, if the scowl Damian shot him was an indication.

Tim made a so-so gesture. "I mean, what is murder really–"

"Execution is the more accurate term." Damian stated. "It is what I'll be doing to you soon enough." He said looking between Bruce and Dick, a bloodthirsty glint in his eyes. 

It kind of made him look like Talia–

Oh.

Bruce, who had yet to say a word since Tim had announced that he had a little brother, lost all colour in his face.

"Dami," Tim chided. Dick nodded approvingly despite his shock. It was good that Tim was setting boundaries– "I thought it was a battle to the death?" He questioned. 

Dick sighed, he shouldn't have expected anything else from Tim.

Damian glanced at Bruce and Dick before scoffing. "Spare me, these dimwits couldn’t fight off a child, never mind me."

Dick blinked. "But you are a–"

Tim shot off a glare while making a cut off motion with his hand.

"Tim, may I speak with you in private?" Bruce cut in. Finally.

"Are you good if I go for a few minutes?" Tim asked Damian. Dick smiled, Tim was shaping up to be a good big brother. 

"The world shall keep spinning, believe it or not." Damian huffed. 

Dick scowled, if only Tim had gotten a nice baby brother instead of the little demon in front of them.

Tim smiled indulgently and kissed Damian on the forehead.

Dick never got forehead kisses.

Sure, Tim would have to go on his tiptoes to reach, but still. The effort would be appreciated.

Dick stared mournfully as Tim followed Bruce out the room.

"He does not love you." Damian said, smugness radiating off him in waves.

Yeah, Dick hates this kid. Maybe they can send him back?

As if sensing his thoughts, the kid glared.

Dick glared back.

-

"He's perfect, isn't he?" Tim sighed happily as they walked into the office.

At any other time, Bruce would be overjoyed to see Tim so happy. But the death threats and suspicious resemblance to Talia, had Bruce a little concerned.

"The executions–" Bruce started.

"He's ten, B." Tim waved him off. 

Yes, because all ten year olds go through an executioner phase.

Bruce gave Tim a flat stare. "He has a katana."

Tim rolled his eyes. "It's Gotham, everyone should have a katana."

Bruce sighed, obviously Tim's judgement was clouded. "He looks like me." 

Tim huffed, crossing his arms. "Ugh, you're so vain. Not everything is about you." He scowled.

"Tim." Bruce growled. 

Tim's eyes lit up with an unholy glee. "You're jealous." He crowed.

"What?" Bruce asked, feeling tired already.

"Because I got a kid before you!" 

Bruce sputtered. "I–"

"Well you can't have him." Tim hissed. "Damian is my baby wing. Mine." Bruce was starting to worry about Tim's unhinged state. "And I don't want to fight you, but I will."

"You'll lose." Bruce said, matter of fact.

Tim's eyes frosted over. "I was trained by Lady Shiva, Bruce. I'm non-lethal by choice. Do not test me." 

Bruce raised his hands placatingly. "I don't even want the kid–"

"Oh, so Damian's suddenly not good enough for you?" Tim puffed up indignantly.

"I didn't say that." Bruce sighed.

"Just because you can't take rejection with grace." Tim spat, staring at him with disgust. How did this escalate so quickly? "Screw this. We're moving out!" He yelled, storming out of the office.

"You don't even live here." Bruce muttered,  following him at a more sedate pace.

Bruce entered the living room to see Tim guiding Damian out, throwing a scowl over his shoulder as they left.

"Bruce, what did you do?" Dick's voice was despairing. Bruce tried not to be too insulted over Dick's immediate assumption that he had done something wrong.

Before he could answer, Tim popped back in.

He gave Dick a hug and a kiss on the cheek, saying a quick. "Love you." Before darting back out of the room. All the stress melted away from Dick's face, leaving a grin in its wake.

"Love you too!" He called after him, brimming with happiness. Then he looked back at Bruce and scowled. "He does love me." Dick glared, before storming out of the room.

"I never said he didn't." Bruce said, baffled.

-

Ever since Damian had found out that Tim was Robin, he had been determined to join him on patrol.

This hadn't been too much of an issue until recently when Damian had started sneaking out to try and patrol on his own.

Each time, Tim had managed to catch him before Damian made it past the Diamond District.

Until now.

Tim found Damian in an alleyway near the Bowery, dressed in black with his katana at the ready.

"Timo– Robin." Damian greeted with a nod. He gestured grandly behind him. "I'm prepared to serve and protect Gotham as required." He said, staring up at Tim with bright, earnest eyes.

Tim sighed. Why did he have to be so damn cute? He couldn’t even yell at him for the mess Tim was going to have to clean up because of this.

Tim looked down at the decapitated head near Damian's feet. "Right," He said, leaning on his staff. "We can work with this."

Damian preened.

-

Jason had been having a relatively relaxing patrol. The Alley was quiet, there were no rogues out and Batman had been steering clear. All in all, Jason was quite content.

Which was why the universe had to throw a Tim shaped curveball at him, because God forbid Jason have a nice night.

"Hood." Tim landed in front of Jason, there was a kid clinging to his back. Said kid gracefully jumped off and landed beside him.

"Robin Three," Jason greeted. His eyes widened as he got a closer look at the kid. "Did the old man shrink?" 

The kid's face flushed with rage. "How dare you compare me to that bumbling imbecile!" He seethed. "I am a Drake, of the highest calibre." 

"Yes, you are." Tim smiled adoringly at the little brat.

Jason's brow furrowed. "Are you fucking with me right now, grave robber?" He asked, with Tim he could never be sure.

"You weren't buried with the costume." Tim corrected absently, too busy smoothing down the angry munchkins hair to even look at Jason. "I robbed your memorial display." He added. The kids' eyes lit up in awe at that. 

"I'm so close to knocking your damn teeth out, Tim." Jason gritted out.

The brat glared. "I'll kill you." He hissed. "Your head would be of better use mounted over a fireplace."

Jason blinked, he had gotten a lot of threats both from the adults and kids of Crime Alley. But he had never had a toddler look up at him and threaten to mount his head on the wall like a goddamn deer.

"You're so eloquent, Damian." Tim remarked fondly. He finally deigned to look over at Jason, something about the domino made his stare more eerie. "You like eloquent people right, Jay?" He asked. "You know, because of books and stuff?"

Damian looked as pained as Jason, but stood supportively by Tim's side all the same.

"Sure." Jason said, sensing a trap.

"And you both like murder, dislike Bruce and have a thing for executions– he cut off twelve heads in a night." Tim said to Damian, as if Jason had done something impressive. "Then he put them in a bag and threw them at the feet of his enemies."

Should Jason be letting Tim tell this to a child?

Well, Damian did seem mildly intrigued, looking over at Jason appraisingly.

Wait.

"Are you trying to set up a playdate between us?" Jason said slowly, not fully believing the words coming out of his mouth.

Tim froze. "Maybe?"

"Oh for fuck's sake." Jason covered his face and yelled into his hands. Why did he let these goddamn people back into his life? And his second one at that. 

Damian's eyes widened in horror. "Timothy, for whatever I did to slight you, I apologize." He said urgently. "Do not make me endure this ridiculously styled man." He wrinkled his nose at Jason's leather jacket and Jason had to talk himself out of beating the snot out of the little brat. "He even has multi-colored hair."

Jason growled. "Oh fuck off you demonic–" Tim smacked a hand over Jason's mouth, shooting a glare at him that said do not.

"This wasn't meant to be a punishment, I'd never do that to you." Tim reassured, squeezing Damian’s shoulder. "I just thought you might want a murder buddy."

"He doesn't seem like a particularly talented killer." Damian remarked.

"Actually, he tried to murder me once. He almost succeeded too." Tim spoke as if he was pitching a product rather than bringing up a horrific experience. Jason grimaced, maybe he should get his successor a therapist. Tim might let Jason out of his 'reparations debt' quicker if he did.

Damian's eyes blazed, he lunged forward with a roar and punched Jason in the gut. 

Jason gasped, leaning over to clutch at his stomach. Did the kid have knuckle dusters or something?

Tim continued on, unperturbed. "But we're good now. Right, Jay?" He smiled at Jason, paying no mind to his wheezing.

"I hate you." Jason groaned.

"Die again." Damian spat.

Yeah, Bruce had some explaining to do. Once Jason could breathe again.

-

Bruce had managed to convince Tim to let him take some hair and a cheek swab from Damian to run a DNA test in the Cave.

Tim had elected to stay while Bruce ran his tests to ensure that he 'didn’t tamper with the evidence.' Something Bruce had to bite back a strongly worded response to.

The results came in, confirming Bruce's suspicions.

"He's my biological son." Bruce said solemnly.

They both sat in silence for a few moments.

Tim began typing something on the computer. "Too bad, I got him first, legally he's mine." He said just as the results disappeared from the screen.

Bruce's eyes widened. "You can't just keep him."

"What are you going to do about it?" Tim challenged. 

Before Bruce could even try to formulate a reply to that, a voice piped up from behind them.

"I wish to remain with Timothy." Damian said, looming above them from halfway up the staircase. He wrinkled his nose at Bruce. "Your public persona is an embarrassment to my bloodline, Drake is a more suitable name due to what it symbolises and Timothy has promised to name me as his heir to our empire–"

"Already have, I'll show you the paperwork later." Tim said.

Damian pointed. "See? He is also more efficient than you and less held back by petty things such as morals." 

Maybe Bruce should let Tim keep him, God knows he already has his hands full with Jason. Not to mention, if Bruce did take Damian there was a high chance that would push Tim into becoming the supervillain he was destined to be.

"What's morality in the face of family?" Tim shrugged.

Damian looked at Bruce. "When the time comes I will fight you for the mantle of Batman for the sake of continuing your legacy." He spoke as if Bruce should be grateful for his generosity.

"You can have Robin if you want." Tim offered.

"Tim, no!" Dick screeched from the top of the staircase. Bruce couldn’t have said it better himself.

"We can both be Robin." Damian suggested, looking over at Tim hopefully.

Tim's eyes lit up. "Yes, imagine how many people we could scare." 

Bruce glared at them. "You two will not–"

They did.

-

Three months later, everyone had settled into the new status quo. Only three of them did so by choice. Tim, Damian and Alfred to be specific.

The rest of them suffered in relative silence.

On the bright side, he was now getting weekly calls from Jason, mostly consisting of complaints about his younger brothers, but Bruce enjoyed listening all the same.

Unfortunately, this wasn't one of Jason’s calls.

"Beloved." Talia greeted when Bruce picked up. Despite everything, his chest warmed at the sound of her voice.

"Talia." He replied. He could practically feel the way Dick's head snapped over to look at him.

"Has our son arrived yet?" She asked.

"Our son?" He questioned, wanting to make sure that she hadn't sent over another one.

Talia sighed. "Damian." 

Bruce slowly looked over at the two boys whispering to each other from across the room. Likely making plans for world domination, as is the Drake way, according to Damian.

"About that," Bruce said, gesturing for Dick to come over. "Maybe you shouldn't just send a ten year old to Gotham and hope for the best."

Talia hummed lightly. "Do you not like him? He is a lot like you."

"I wouldn't have found the wrong family." Bruce grumbled. 

Dick made grabby hands for the phone. He had an unhinged look to him that Bruce hadn't seen since he went hunting for Zucco all those years ago.

"What do you mean?" Talia's voice took on a sharp edge.

Bruce smiled wryly. "He's a Drake now. Tim refuses to give him back and Damian has decided he likes Tim better."

"What? Beloved–"

Bruce passed the phone to Dick. "Have fun."

He was barely out of the room before the yelling started. 

Chapter Text

Dick had been attacked, assaulted and almost assassinated. Multiple times. Sure Damian called them 'jests' or 'humorous shenanigans' but Dick knew better.

He barely managed to dive out of the way of the two dozen knives that rained from the ceiling last week.

It was only Jason's uncharacteristic mercy that saved Dick from the cement flip flops and Damian shoving him into the manor pool.

And now, here he was, strapped to an electric chair in the basement of Drake manor.

Sure, Tim was undoing the straps now, but that doesn't change the fact that his demon of a baby brother tried to shock Dick's soul out of his body.

Dick snarled at the smug brat as Tim undid the last of the straps. He lunged forward, ready to knock the kid back to Nanda Parbat, only to get roughly pulled back by Tim, who seemed to have gained super strength along with big brotherhood.

"Let go." Dick growled.

"Dick, he's only ten." Tim said, exasperation lining his tone. As if this were just an overreaction to a petty prank.

"He almost killed me!" Dick exclaimed, pointing at the little demon watching them with gleaming eyes.

"Only in jest." Damian replied, tilting his head at Dick.

"See? That just means he likes you." Tim offered him a strained smile, patting his shoulder awkwardly.

Dick levelled a flat stare at him. "We both know that's not true."

"It isn’t. I despise him." Damian shrugged.

"Dami." Tim chided.

"I am just being truthful."

"And you're doing brilliantly," Tim smiled proudly at Damian. The boy straightened up slightly, like a soldier receiving a medal. "But Dick is family."

"To someone, I'm sure." Damian replied. 

"Dami." Tim levelled Damian with a look. "Be nice."

Dick stared at them. "Is that all you're going to say to him?" 

"Watch your tone, placeholder." Damian snapped.

"Placeholder?" Dick scowled.

"It's an apt name is it not?" Damian said smugly. "After all, you occupied space as Timothy's brother until I was ready to take my rightful place. But Timothy now has his ideal brother, so your presence in his life is now redundant."

"Why don't you look into my eyes when you say that, shortstack." Dick said coldly. Damian’s eyes flashed.

"Guys," Tim raised his hands placatingly, as if trying to calm down a pair of indignant alley cats.

"I will look into your eyes as the light goes out of them." Damian hissed. 

"You've failed at making that happen eighteen times." Dick glared down at the little hellion.

"I was testing. You can only kill a man once." Damian smirked. "Unless your mentor resuscitates him that is."

Oh, he did not.

"Listen here you little–" Dick strode forward with the intention of picking the brat up and dropping him on a plane flying the hell out of Gotham when Tim intervened.

Dick's arm went numb, hanging limply by his sides. It took him longer than he was proud of to realise Tim nerve struck him.

Damian’s eyes lit up. "Will you teach me that?" 

Tim smiled. "Of course." He promised.

"Tim!" Dick exclaimed.

Tim gave him a remorseless stare and a kiss on the cheek, leaving Dick feeling very conflicted. 

Until Damian glared, then Dick grinned smugly. After all, it's not as if Damian gets cheek kisses.

"Damian, we've talked about the murder attempts, not everyone finds them as funny as Jack does." Tim explained patiently, even as Damian scowled.

Dick's eyes widened. "Uh, Tim–"

"One minute." Tim waved him off. "Are the outings with Jason not enough? Should we make them twice a week–"

"No!" Damian exclaimed. "Don't make me endure him more than I have to."

Tim frowned. "I thought you were starting to like him."

"I don't like anybody other than you, Titus and Sherlock." Damian paused, considering. "I find Pennyworth…agreeable."

Dick gasped quietly. Who on earth looks at the wonder that is Alfred Pennyworth and says agreeable? It's an unspoken rule that you adore Alfred on sight or you're evil. There is no in-between. Sure, Dick made up that rule when he was nine, but it still held up as far as he was concerned.

"You're doing so well." Tim squeezed Damian’s shoulder.

Damian once again preened like a particularly vain peacock.

Dick gave them both a flat stare. "Can we go back to the part where he's trying to murder your dad?" 

"You must have misheard, he's play killing Jack, not Bruce." Tim said absently.

Dick couldn't help but smile. Why did Tim have to be so cute at the worst times? 

Bruce is going to be so happy when Dick tells him about this, he may even smile.

Damian’s eyes narrowed. "You view my degenerate biological donor as a father figure?"

Tim shrugged. "In a way. Don't tell him I said that." He warned playfully.

"Worry not, I shall take it to his grave." Damian promised, a dark look on his face.

Dick swallowed thickly. "Don't you mean your–"

"I said what I said." Damian stared up at Dick, his eyes cold and his face blank.

Dick would have to warn Bruce to sleep with one eye open from now on.

-

"Can't we just send him back?" Dick whined.

He was lying across Bruce's desk, right over the paperwork Bruce had been in the middle of working through before his sons decided to barge in.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's my son."

"Legally, he's Jack Drake’s. Maybe we could send him to wherever he is?" Dick sounded so hopeful that it almost made Bruce hesitate to point out the glaring flaw in his plan.

But alas, needs must.

"And I take it you would be the one to tell Tim this plan?" Bruce said dryly.

Dick went silent, scowling at the ceiling.

"We could send them both away." Jason piped up from his place on the couch.

"No!" Dick sat up glaring at Jason.

Bruce tilted his head consideringly. Maybe a little three month trip would do the boys some good. And if it just happened to give the rest of them a much needed reprieve, that could be looked upon as an unexpected bonus.

Bruce went to ask Jason to expand on that idea when he saw the manic gleam in Dick's eyes. 

He froze.

If sending Damian away would kick off Tim's villain origin story. Sending Tim away would be the start of Dick's. Which is a much more terrifying idea to comprehend.

With Tim, villainy is inevitable. He'll be a storm of calculated chaos ripping his way through the city. Bruce is prepared to deal with that.

Dick is unfathomable, unpredictable and, when it comes to his little brothers, unstoppable. Bruce has no idea how he would handle that situation.

"We're not doing that." Bruce said, quiet and final. Three villainous children were enough, he really didn’t need a forth going to the dark side.

Dick stared at him, unblinking. "No one sends my babybird away. He's mine, my tiny tot. Tim will stay here forever." He hissed, the crazed glint in his eyes reminding Bruce of Harvey right after the acid incident.

Hearing someone say tiny tot shouldn't strike fear into the hearts of two grown men, but here they were.

"You do know that means the demon brat stays forever too, right?" Jason reminded him, a hint of caution in his tone.

Dick faltered, blinking rapidly, until the glint had faded away completely. "Maybe we could get Manhunter to wipe their memories?" He suggested.

Jason snapped his fingers and pointed at Dick as if he'd said something brilliant. "Yes, factory settings then separate them, can we call him now?" He asked hopefully.

Bruce wondered what it was about his parenting that made all of his kids so morally bankrupt.

-

Tim had decided that they should invite the placeholder on one of their outings. To encourage an alliance, he had said. Which was the only reason why Damian was accepting such an invasion.

As it was October, the weather was cold. There weren't many things that Damian missed about Nanda Parbat, but the weather was something that made the admittedly short list.

Damian refused to shiver when a particularly cold breeze grazed them. Drake’s do not bow to something as paltry as the weather.  

The wait wasn't ideal, especially since the placeholder was three minutes late.

Damian looked up at Tim. "He had his chance, I say we leave without him."

"Not so fast." Dick's gratingly cheerful voice sounded from behind them. Damian wondered how no one had strangled the man yet, if for no other reason than to silence him.

"Dick," Tim greeted him with a smile. Damian’s scowl deepened, tardiness shouldn't be rewarded, it was why Damian always set up a trap for Jack when he returned late from one of his trips.

One day, he will learn. Or he will die. Damian wasn't particularly invested either way.

"Sorry I'm late, the line in that cafe you like was crazy." Dick said, holding out a coffee cup to Tim. From the scent, it was the hazelnut roast Tim favoured.

Oh, I see. Damian’s eyes narrowed. He's trying to buy Tim’s love.

Tim’s eyes lit up. "Thank you." He smiled at Dick with an unacceptable amount of warmth in his gaze.

Damian huffed, Tim looked over at him and smiled fondly. And Damian didn't even have to buy anything to earn it.

Tim leaned down to give Damian his hourly forehead kiss. Damian allowed it with a scowl that earned him a side hug. 

"Can I get a hug?" Dick asked Tim, already reaching out. How presumptuous.

Damian sneered at him. "No."

"Dami," Tim nudged him gently. He went over and began bestowing his affections on the placeholder who had yet to cease in calling himself Tim’s brother.

Tim only had one brother as far as Damian was concerned.

Damian caught Dick's eye and mimed running a blade over his throat. He had seen people on the television do so and it had looked quite satisfying.

Dick shot Damian a smug look over Tim’s shoulder. "It's good to see you, babybird." He said, holding Tim tighter.

Damian snarled. How dare he. His hands twitched to unsheath his katana but he couldn’t do anything with it while Tim was in the arms of the placeholder.

Damian would wield his blade against both his biological donors at the same time before ever spilling a drop of Tim's blood.

So, unable to attack, he decided to go for a different tactic. One that would hurt his pride, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

"The climate here is detrimental to my comfort," Damian stated, even going so far as to let himself reveal the shivers he had been suppressing. "Does this city have no sun?"

Tim’s eyes widened and he rushed over to Damian. "Babywing," He said in concern, rubbing his hands up and down Damian’s upper arms. It soothed the goosebumps that had formed. "I forgot how bad Gotham winters can be."

Tim stared at Damian with a tenderness that he couldn't recall being directed at him by anyone else. It made Damian want to push Jason into wet cement for almost taking this from him. 

He had tried to do so, but sadly, Tim caught Jason in time.

Damian leaned into the touch. "It is very cold, akhi." The nickname slipped out without his consent, something that happens too often around Tim. Pennyworth refers to it as Damian 'letting his guard down.' 

He also gave Damian a cookie to congratulate him on his progress. It was adequate.

Tim unzipped his hoodie and wrapped it around Damian, guiding his arms into the sleeves and zipping it up. The material was soft and still warm from Tim’s body heat, the sleeves were so long that Tim had to roll each one up seven times before they could see Damian’s hands again.

"Is that a little better?" Tim questioned, his gaze earnest and soft.

Damian’s chest felt warm as he nodded. "It is…bearable." He averted his eyes away from Tim’s gentle stare. "Thank you." 

"Here, Timmy, you can have my jacket." Dick said, going to unzip his coat.

The placeholder works quickly, Damian must give him that.

Damian glared. "No need, I'll buy you a new coat, Timothy." He was sure there was a shop nearby, the one Tim had taken him to when they were updating Damian’s wardrobe.

"Guys, I'm good–" Tim started.

Dick draped his coat over Tim’s shoulders. "Drink your coffee, it'll warm you up." 

"I shall buy you a cup of the blackberry tea you favour." Damian proclaimed. "It's better for your heart."

"Coffee actually has a lot of health benefits." Dick stated.

Damian scoffed. "Spoken like an addict."

"Sorry, I can't hear you from all the way up here." Dick replied. Damian growled, his hand flexing up towards his katana, it was only Tim taking Damian’s hand in his that stopped him.

"Perhaps I should slice the back of your knees so that we may see eye to eye." Damian hissed.

"Dick, Dami, come on–" Tim tried.

Dick raised an eyebrow at him. "That katana has yet to slice anything other than the walls it hits when you miss me." 

"You mean when you cower like a child?" Damian spat, if only Tim’s hand wasn't so warm, then he'd have no issue with taking his katana and pinning the placeholder to a nearby wall with it.

"What age are you again?" Dick questioned lightly.

"Are you too far past my age to even try at deciphering it, you dinosaur?" Damian smirked.

Dick snarled. "That is it–"

A sniffle broke through their argument.

Damian looked up at Tim, to see tears streaming down his brother's face.

"Timmy?" Dick's voice softened.

"Who did this? I shall dispose of them for you." Damian looked around for the culprit, but the street, while not particularly crowded, had enough people walking around for the offender to blend in with. Not that it would protect them for long.

"I just wanted us all to have a nice day together." Tim cried, more tears falling down his cheeks.

Oh, they were the culprits.

Dick's eyes widened with the horror Damian was feeling. "No, no, don't cry, I'm sorry." He cooed softly, dabbing at Tim’s tears with the back of his sleeve.

Damian batted his hand out of the way with a glare, he took out a silk handkerchief and went up on his tiptoes to dab at Tim’s face. Even in the most dire of situations, he'd never let his brother's face be marred by polyester.

"We were…jesting." Damian said, like the liar his mother raised him to be. Tim looked between them hopefully, blinking back tears.

Dick nodded frantically. "Exactly, it was all in good fun."  

"We will cease doing so as it has upset you." Damian said pointedly, because least he cares for Tim’s comfort.

Dick shot him a glare. "Of course, we can be civil for a few hours, right Dami?"

Damian puffed up angrily. "Do not assume you have the privilege of shortening my name, you–"

Tim sniffled, more tears falling.

"Of course we can be civil, is what I meant." Damian corrected, dabbing away at the fresh tears.

"Promise?" Tim looked between them with skeptical eyes.

"Yes." Dick said fervently. 

"Of course." Damian promised.

The tears dried up so fast, that Damian wondered if he had imagined their existence.

Tim smiled brightly. "Good, shall we go to the art gallery first?" 

Damian stood still in shock. He looked over at Dick who was gaping like some sort of commoner, but Damian couldn't fault him too much for it this time.

Dick pointed at Tim, indignance painted on his face. "You–"

Tim kissed his cheek and Dick froze. "Come on, before it gets too crowded." He said, wrapping an arm around Damian’s shoulders.

He let himself be guided towards the gallery in a state of awe.

Damian’s brother was ruthless and unafraid to exploit the weaknesses of those he holds dear. 

And Damian loved him for it.

-

"Will you teach me that?" Damian asked later as Tim tucked him in.

"Of course." Tim replied, brushing Damian’s hair back to kiss his forehead.

Damian smiled.

He had never been happier that his mother never told him his father's name.

Especially since it was so appallingly basic.

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.

Chapter Text

Damian was holding a grudge for the Tower.

Jason knew this because the brat told him as much. Multiple times a day.

Sometimes it was through ominously articulate texts, emails with phone destroying viruses on them– Jason no longer bothered opening them– detailed or graphic post-it notes. 

One time through a kid, who had been given fifty bucks to read a handwritten speech informing Jason that such brutish behaviour was not at all acceptable.

He'd even taken to analysing the fight and pointing out all the ways that Jason would have lost if Tim weren't such a fucking angel.

Or, in Damian's words; 'a noble warrior consistent in his beliefs and relentless in his pursuit of honour.'

Jason wondered how Tim could tolerate someone who talked like that all the time. Especially with Damian's snotty little pipsqueak voice.

Oh God, Jason was starting to sound like Dick. He'd been subjected to a lot of rants about Dick's rivalry with a ten year old who barely reached his waist. 

Jason gave a mental sigh as he tuned back into Damian's little rant about a fight that had happened two goddamn years ago.

“Obviously, Timothy was holding back, he would never lose to the likes of you.” Damian scoffed.

"Well, he did." Jason said simply.

He watched in amusement as the brat's face went red and he puffed up like an angry little bird that had been denied a worm. “You fought dishonourably, it was not a fair challenge.”

“Like you fight fair.” Jason raised an eyebrow.

“I would for a worthy opponent. Like Timothy.”

Of course he would. He probably wouldn’t even fight Tim, the wuss.

Jason grimaced, maybe he should spend less time with Dick. Their relationship was becoming too functional anyway, borderline healthy.

“I love you too, babywing.” Tim ruffled Damian’s hair as he walked by.

Jason swore that Tim never used to be that affectionate. Sure, he gave Dick hugs and cheek kisses and got roped into cuddle piles with his superpowered harem. But he was never one to reach out for casual touches until the demon came along.

The brat's face brightened for a second under Tim's attention, until his eyes fell back on Jason.

Damian glared. "You will pay for this." He hissed.

"We'll see." Jason huffed out a laugh. 

It was hard to take the kid seriously when he followed Tim around like a duckling and fussed over every animal they came across on patrol.

Damian's brow furrowed. "See what?"

"If I'll pay for it." 

"Are you buying something?" Damian asked, staring at him in confusion.

Jason sat up straighter. "You just said–"

"I don't have time for your riddles, Todd." Damian sighed.

Jason scowled. "It was you–"

"Are you unwell?" He cut him off, actually looking concerned. Which was scarier than any threat he'd made to Jason.

"I'm fine." Jason gritted out, trying not to let his confusion show.

"Timothy," Damian called. Tim looked up from across the Cave. "I believe Todd is sick."

Jason could feel a headache coming on. "Bullshit, he was threatening me. Again." 

Damian scoffed. "I don't make threats, merely promises." His tone darkened slightly, making him resemble his mother, who actually was scary.

"See?" Jason gestured as Tim stopped beside him.

Tim blinked. "What? He was just stating a fact about himself." He said slowly, as if Jason was the weird one here.

"In a threatening way." Jason pointed out, batting away Tim's hands as the kid tried to check him for a temperature.

"Perhaps he got gassed, or hit with a toxin of some sort?" Damian suggested, looking way too happy at the prospect. The little sadist.

"I did not, I know what I saw." Jason said. He only realised how unhinged that sounded after the fact.

Tim shot Jason a worried look. "Maybe you should lie down." His voice took on that tone he used with unstable civilians they came across.

"Your brat was threatening me!" 

"Don't call him that." Tim narrowed his eyes. The demon shot him a smug look. "And Damian didn’t say anything, did you darling?"

Darling. No one in their right goddamned mind looked at Damian Drake and thought darling.

Damian shook his head, with wide eyes. "I thought we were speaking of purchasing weaponry."

"No, no, you said…" Jason faltered in the face of their worried frowns, he looked down, trying to recall exactly what the demon brat had told him. "Yes! He said–"

When he looked back up the Cave was empty.

Jason frowned. Looking around, there was no evidence that anyone other than himself had been there. His heart dropped.

Did he… imagine that?

-

Damian leaned into Tim's side as they watched Jason exit the Cave in a daze. 

They were up on the ceiling, obscured by the bats Tim had trained to do his bidding. Use everything at your disposal. Another rule of the Drake's, one of Damian's favourites.

They waited a few minutes until they were sure Jason was gone. Tim whistled softly and the bats dispersed, leaving room for them to scale back down.

"That was beautifully done." Tim said as they landed on the floor, he gave Damian an approving look.

Damian puffed out his chest. "Of course, I learned from the best."

"I'm so proud of you." Tim kissed his forehead. Damian allowed it, hiding a smile at the warm feeling in his chest.

As much fun as making Jason question his own mind was, Damian couldn't help but think about the time he'd cut Jason's grappling line. Or the time he put hemlock in his water. Or–

The point was, Damian had a craving. Especially after seeing footage of what happened in the Tower, Tim was much too merciful in the face of Jason’s relentless assault and appalling manners. 

He didn’t even let Tim have a turn at monologuing. Terrible village etiquette.

While Jason wasn't as bad as Dick in terms of attention seeking and clinginess– at least when it comes to Tim, Bruce is a very different story– Damian still had a bone to pick with him.

And he had the perfect idea on how to resolve that issue. Albeit, a repetitive one, but it was so fun the first time that Damian couldn't help but want to indulge.

-

The brat pushed Jason into wet cement.

Again.

Jason growled, trying to clamber out of the pool of grey. It was even more of a struggle than last time as Damian had decided to push Jason in face first.

Or, more accurately, kick him in.

Jason would have to get new gear again. Bloodstains are easy enough to get out with enough experience but cement? No way. Not even Alfred’s magic could work on that.

"Enjoy drowning in your mistakes." Damian called down from the ledge they'd been up on before.

Jason spat a series of curses he usually wouldn't dream of saying around a ten year old, but he figured the unofficial antichrist Tim called a brother didn't really count as a real child.

The cement was thick and dragging him down, especially with his heavy jacket that now clung to his body like melted toffee.

A pair of arms grabbed him from under the armpits and slowly dragged him out until he was fully on the ground.

"What's up, Jay?" Tim grinned at him as if they'd just run into each other at a coffee shop.

Great, that's the third time Tim’s saved his life now. That, on top of The Tower Reparations Debt, meant that Jason would probably owe the kid until his next death.

"Hello, Robin." Damian swung down to meet them, greeting Tim with a small smile.

"Babywing," Tim shot the brat a smile before looking back at Jason. "How'd you manage to fall in?"

"I didn't fall in," Jason snarled, pointing at Damian. "He pushed me."

"Dami?" Tim raised an eyebrow at the kid.

"I did." Damian said proudly, not a hint of remorse on his face.

"You must have been very quick to get the drop on him," Tim sounded impressed by that. "Good work."

Damian preened.

Jason whacked Tim's arm, ignoring Damian's snarl. "Are you fucking kidding me, graverobber?" He glared. Tim blinked up at him in surprise as if he forgot Jason was there.

"Again, it was your memorial case–" Tim corrected.

Jason valiantly resisted the urge to dump Tim in the pool of cement. "That's not the point." 

"Mind your tone, coward." Damian sneered. "Lest you fall into something worse next time."

Jason lunged at the brat, planning to pull his cape over his head and trip him into the gross looking puddle nearby.

A flash of movement from the corner of his eye and his arms were suddenly useless. He caught a glimpse of the bo staff before it swept his feet out from under him, making him stumble unceremoniously to the ground.

The end of the staff pressed lightly against his windpipe. Jason blinked a few times in utter bafflement at how fast he'd lost that fight. 

"Can you teach me how to do that?" Damian stared up at Tim as if he was the best thing to happen since the publication of Jane Eyre. 

"Of course." Tim smoothed a hand over Damian's hair.

"Where the hell was that at the Tower?" Jason asked. Tim had put up a good fight that day, but he'd practically wiped the floor with Jason without even trying just now.

Tim shrugged. "I was tired." His lips twitched. Jason narrowed his eyes. "And trying not to laugh."

"Excuse me?" He shoved the staff away and sat up.

"Ah, yes, Timothy told me of your Robin costume." Damian chimed in, looking way too smug for someone who hadn't even been involved in this at all. "The kind you get from a fast fashion clothing line."

Jason's face warmed. "It was symbolic."

"It was bursting at the seams." Tim said flatly.

"With justice." Jason tilted his chin up defiantly. He wasn’t sure how intimidating a picture he made, soaked through with cement, feeling like a stray cat that fell in a puddle then got caught in a sandstorm.

"Are you ever embarrassed by yourself?" Damian seemed genuinely curious. Before Jason could formulate a colourful reply, the brat looked at Tim beseechingly. "See, this is why I require a new murder comrade." He gestured to Jason as if that said it all.

"I don't let you kill. Much." Jason huffed. 

He was a big advocate for killing. It fueled most of his and Bruce's brunch debates. But being assigned to be the kid's babysitter while he killed crooks was a bit much. Jason viewed murder as more of an adults only activity.

His little brothers did not.

Damian widened his eyes, staring pointedly at him. It looked pretty funny through the domino mask, but Jason graciously bit back his laugh.

Tim tilted his head, humming. "It's important that you don't do it in excess." He said, smiling indulgently at Damian's huff. "Balance is everything."

"Then why don't you kill?" Jason cut in, just to stir the pot a little.

Tim gave him a wide smile that made him look too much like Dick for comfort. "Keep talking and I might start."

Damian turned to Jason. "So how are you today, Todd? Have any interesting events occurred since we last saw one another? Tell me everything." The brat stared attentively at him. 

Jason remained silent, glaring at Tim when he started laughing.

"Perhaps we could speak of the Tower?" Damian prompted. "It's unsurprising that your costume was so hideous, considering your current fashion sense."

Tim snorted at whatever look must have been on Jason's face.

"Dick is way worse–" Jason started, ready to defend his honour. Since apparently– Tim– no one else saw fit to.

"The placeholder doesn't wear last decade's leather jacket with his armour." Damian sneered, eyeing him up and down in distaste.

Tim's face melted into something disturbingly soft. "That's the nicest thing you've said about Dick."

Jason stared. That's what he got from this?

Damian recoiled, his eyes wide with horror. "It was an accident–"

"You're making so much progress and I'm so proud of you." Tim leaned down to kiss his forehead. Damian tilted his chin up, a pleased look on his face.

"He kicked me into wet cement. Again." Jason growled.

"And he didn't even stab you this time," Tim beamed, practically radiating pride.

Damian preened. "I wanted to, but I refrained." His cheeks gained a pink hue as Tim gave him a disgustingly soft look.

"This is a cause for celebration, how about we fly out to the Van Gogh museum this weekend?" Tim wrapped an arm around Damian's shoulders.

Damian lit up. "Truly?"

"Of course."

Damian smiled, bright and wide, leaning against Tim slightly like a cat pretending it didn't want snuggles. It was almost cute.

Jason thought about saying that Tim shouldn't reward murderous behaviour, but that would be hypocritical. 

While Tim doted on Damian, who lapped it up like the high maintenance terror he was, Jason took his chance to storm off.

Damn kids, Jason and Talia would be having a talk soon. 

After he finished bitching about this clusterfuck of a night to Roy, he'd call Bruce to yell at him for not using protection, then Dick to tell him that he was two seconds away from using his All-Blades on his tiny tot, Alfred to ask for comfort cookie's and then he'd call Talia.

And see if she had a return policy on her demonic child.

Chapter Text

Damian had been feeling strange for the past few hours.

His nose was constantly ticklish, his body ached slightly and his eyes kept getting irritated.

He had taken to surreptitiously carrying a few handkerchiefs around in his pocket to help stave off the worst of these symptoms.

A lesser man may claim to be sick, but Damian was above such things. He was a Drake after all. 

Tim had never made any mention of sickness when going over the family rules so Damian presumed they were the same as the ones back in Nanda Parbat.

Conceal your weakness, act as if it isn't there, and don’t let anyone know. His mother had told him. She even incorporated it into one of her lullabies– back when she used to sing them, Damian was too old for such things now.

Except when Tim does it, then it’s acceptable.

Nonetheless, Damian knew the rules and abided by them as best he could. It helped that he was spending the day with his obtuse sperm donor along with the pretender for ‘quality time’ as Tim puts it.

Damian very respectfully disagrees, but for the sake of Tim’s contentment, he’d endure.

And endure he had.

Bruce and Dick were insufferable on a good day, nevermind with Damian’s affliction coming into play.

They were currently bickering over whether Dick should stay at the manor more often. Surprisingly, Damian was on Dick’s side. He agreed that Dick certainly shouldn’t do so any more than he already does.

Then again, Tim does seem to be happier whenever the pretender was around. 

And Damian could always do with some more target practice. Jason was too easy to hit.

“Perhaps you should visit more often, pretender.” Damian’s voice was hoarse as he spoke. 

Bruce froze, staring at Damian in shock.

Dick’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Timothy likes–” Damian was cut off by his body betraying him. 

He sneezed. Twice.

Bruce’s brow furrowed in misguided paternal concern. “Damian,”

“As I was saying,” Damian cut in. “Tim–” He was betrayed again. This time by three sneezes.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dick said. Damian scowled at the childish term. “It kind of sounds like you’re sick.”

The sheer nerve of that man. How dare he bring attention upon what is clearly a private matter.

Damian puffed up indignantly. "I am not sick! I am above such petty things–" He sneezed again. 

“Look at that little kitten sneeze.” Dick remarked with a grin. Damian threw a knife at him, but sadly, the man was quick enough to dodge.

“Damian!” Bruce scolded. “We don’t throw knives at family members.”

“I didn’t throw anything at Timothy,” Damian said innocently. He revelled in Bruce's exasperated look.

"It looks like a cold." Dick said, unphased by Damian’s attempt on his life. It seemed Damian would have to escalate his attempts soon.

"A cold." Damian sneered. As if he would be defeated by something so paltry.

Dick ignored him, taking out his phone and calling someone. "Tim,” Damian perked up at the sound of his brother’s name. “I think Damian's sick."

Damian's vision went red. It was one thing to bring this up among the riff-raff that was the Wayne family, but to drag his brother into it? 

“How dare you accuse me of such weakness.” Damian lunged at Dick, only to be held back by Bruce. 

“No killing.” Bruce held him tight as he struggled.

Why mother ever saw fit to associate with someone so squeamish, Damian would never know. A weak stomach was hardly an attractive trait in anyone, never mind the so called warrior mother claimed Bruce was.

Nevertheless, Damian ceased his struggle. Killing Dick in the Cave would be pointless, It would implicate him, upset Tim and leave Alfred with a mess to clean up.

“Tt.” Damian glowered. The sacrifices he made for these people.

Five minutes later, a Batmobile zoomed into the garage, tires screeching and a small crash following.

“He took my car?” Bruce’s eyes went wide in bewilderment.

Damian rolled his eyes. Timothy had at least five Batmobiles of his own at this point, two of which Damian would inherit once his feet reached the pedals. His sperm donor's incompetence was embarrassing at times.

Tim ran into the medbay, his eyes wide and frantic. Damian instinctively took out his dagger, looking out for a threat.

He put the dagger aside as Tim neared him. "Babywing," He rushed over to Damian and placed his hand on Damian’s forehead. A peculiar thing to do, but Tim’s hand felt nice and cool so he didn’t object.

Tim took his phone out and within seconds he was talking to someone. He kept giving Damian concerned looks which in turn made Damian concerned for Tim.

He did not like seeing his brother stressed. Or sad. Or experiencing any kind of negative emotion. Hence why he knocked out that idiot who had been speaking ill of Tim at school and arranged for him to be sent to Metropolis in a crate. A fair punishment in his opinion. 

Unfortunately, he was retrieved by Bruce before the crate passed the city limits, but it was the thought that counted.

At least, that’s what Tim had told him. Along with politely requesting that Damian never send anyone to Metropolis on his behalf again. Apparently it was a fate worse than death.

The fact of the matter is that Damian did not like seeing Tim discontent. Especially over the pretender’s dramatization of Damian’s condition. 

Tim clutched the phone in his hand for dear life. "Dr Leslie, can you come to the Cave? It's urgent."

Damian glared at Dick. "Now look at what you've done," He hissed, then coughed, grimacing when Tim went even paler at the sound. "Worrying Timothy unnecessarily, have you no shame?"

Dick at least had the decency to look slightly remorseful.

"His symptoms?" Tim cupped Damian’s face in his hands, staring at him with a scrutinizing gaze. "His nose is red, his eyes are glassy, he keeps making sick people noises–"

"I do not." Damian scowled, then started coughing, even harder than before. The disgusting fit ended, only to have its place taken by a series of infuriating sneezes that made Damian’s eyes water.

Tim's face lost what little colour it had regained. He pulled Damian into his arms, clutching him tightly. Damian leaned into the embrace, hiding his face in Tim’s shoulder, mortified by the display his body had made.

Damian was going to hunt down the cretin that had infected him with this virus and make an example of them. A very bloody example. He found that those tended to work best on the sheep like masses.

“My poor darling,” Tim rubbed Damian’s back soothingly. “How soon can you be here, Leslie? He’s getting worse as we speak.” Damian resented that, but couldn’t deny it either. “Okay, we’ll see you then.”

Damian sniffled, immediately regretting it when Tim made a distressed sound, pulling back to look him over again.

"It's just a cold, Timmy." Dick said soothingly.

Tim's icy eyes zeroed in on Dick. "Are you a medical professional? No? Then hush." He snapped.

Damian bit back a vindictive smile when Dick reared back in shock. 

Bruce, of course, jumped in to defend the pretender. "Dick's right, it really–" 

Tim’s eyes took on a glint Damian had only seen in his mother’s eyes before she killed someone. "You are Mr Wayne not Dr Wayne so hush."

Bruce, in a show of uncharacteristic wisdom, obeyed.

Damian sighed, leaning back against Tim. How his poor brother dealt with these imbeciles alone for so long was beyond him. It was good that Damian was here to ease his burden.

"You could have been Dr Wayne." Alfred remarked after a few moments. Everyone straightened automatically at the sound of his voice. Alfred had a very commanding presence after all.  "But it seems dressing up as a bat was your true calling."

From the way Bruce sighed, Damian could glean it was an issue that had been brought up many times.

Rightfully so, if Bruce were a doctor, they could have spared Tim at least ten minutes of needless worry by now.

"Not now, Alfred." Bruce grumbled.

Alfred tutted. Damian – all too familiar with the feeling of being disappointed in Bruce – tutted in solidarity. 

It was a pleasant moment among the chaos.

-

Tim frantically felt Damian's forehead for the third time in as many minutes, his face looking more grim each time 

“Tiny tot,” Dick smiled reassuringly at him. It was both sweet and concerning to see his babybird get so wound up over Damian sneezing a few times. “A cold isn’t that big a deal. He’ll be fine.”

“Hush.” Tim hissed in reply, like a pissed off nesting viper.

Dick wondered if this was what he looked like whenever Tim was sick. If so, he likely owed many people an apology or five.

"I suddenly feel much better now." Damian's voice was stuffy from his blocked nose but he still managed to sound smug.

Notably, Tim didn’t tell Damian to 'hush.' 

Dick wondered if Tim would be this sweet to him if he caught a cold. Who knows, maybe he could catch Damian’s.

"Right, Leslie will be here soon, until then we need blankets, tea, tissues, soup and a heating pad." Tim rattled off, using the same tone he did when taking point on a case.

Dick nodded and Bruce grunted in acknowledgement. He stared at Tim waiting for him to expand.

"What did I just say? Shoo!" Tim clapped his hands and ushered them out the medbay. "I want those things here within ten minutes at most." He added.

Dick bit back a laugh, bossy brat. He and Bruce shouldn't have humoured him so much back in the early days.

Well, Dick had humoured Tim. Bruce had been coerced and blackmailed into doing his bidding. A fact that never really stopped being hilarious.

Tim and Damian's voices echoed through the Cave as Dick made his way towards the stairs. Bruce had already rushed up ahead of him. Sick kids and bossy birds were his kryptonite after all.

"Can you–" Damian cut off with a sneeze. "Teach me how to do that?"

As if Tim hadn't taught Damian enough. The little demon was already a pro at crying on cue along with being quite good with the bo staff.

"Of course, darling." Tim said softly.

Dick bit back a groan.

-

It did turn out to be a cold. Damian was prescribed some medicine, bundled up in blankets and taken to Drake manor.

He was then informed that the rules pertaining to sickness did not apply to Drake’s. If one was sick, the other must be informed so that they may take quick and efficient action.

It made much more sense than the rules in Nanda Parbat.

Tim had murmured something about having a talk with Talia and Ra’s. Damian decided not to worry about it until he was free from the clutches of this sickness.

He cautiously leaned back until his head was resting on Tim's chest. Tim ran his fingers through Damian's hair, only stopping to kiss the top of his head.

He hummed Damian’s preferred lullaby to him as Damian slowly drifted off.

The soothing melody of The Imperial March followed Damian into his dreams.

Chapter Text

Damian watched through narrowed eyes as Tim indulged Dick with his presence. Even with Dick having done nothing to earn it, he merely asked, as the lazy tend to do.

But for some reason, Tim enjoyed Dick's company, so here they were.

Dick had invited them over to decorate a plastic tree for the festive season. A ridiculous ritual if one were to ask Damian. No one did.

“It's kind of nice to have a Christmas tree up, it makes the dark nights a little brighter.” Tim remarked, laughing as Dick wrapped a string of tinsel around his neck.

Perhaps it wasn't such a ridiculous ritual. 

“Hey, demon.” Jason walked up beside him.

“Todd.” Damian sneered.

“Not joining in on the festivities?” Jason nodded over at where Tim was humouring Dick's overly cheerful antics.

Damian scowled. “Tt. I'd rather hang myself on that sorry excuse for a tree than do such a thing.”

“Really?” There was something odd to Jason's tone, but Damian didn't care for him enough to analyse it further. “I thought you'd be excited about meeting Santa.”

Damian's eyes narrowed. He had heard a few of the brainless meat sacks he was made to call classmates mention that name. Again, he didn’t care for them enough to take any interest in it.

“Pretty sure Tim was excited to meet him at your age.” Jason remarked.

Damian snapped his head around to look at Jason. "Who is this Santa?" He hissed.

"He's just a guy who goes into kids' houses, leaves mysterious boxes under the tree and keeps an eye on them all year to make sure they're being good.” Jason shrugged.

Damian tensed. A man with an Orwellian surveillance system was planning on breaking into their home?

"I must protect my family from this fiend.” He whispered to himself.

-

As Tim was busy investigating a case involving a string of Christmas themed murders, Damian decided to research on his own.

Once he had compiled a sufficient amount of evidence, he would show it to Tim and they could defeat Santa Claus once and for all.

Still, the more research Damian did, the more unsettled he became. 

Santa had a good portion of the world under his spell. They paid tribute to him through trees, milk and cookies and put up countless decorations in anticipation of his arrival.

And yet, no one had ever caught him. 

There were many charlatans masquerading as Santa– they could be found in shopping malls or worse, visiting schools– but the real criminal had yet to be caught.

Damian sighed. Bruce claimed to be the world's greatest detective– despite Tim obviously being superior– and Gotham's Knight. Yet, he had failed to apprehend this fiend.

It was no wonder his rogues always broke out of Arkham. The man was incompetent to his core.

Fortunately, Damian was not. 

Still, Santa would be difficult to catch. Despite portraying himself as a doddering old fool, the man was cunning, ruthless and wicked in ways that would make Damian's grandfather falter.

Santa had slaves. He called them elves and feigned fondness for them, but Damian knew it was just a cover. Another layer to the sugary sweet veneer he cowered behind.

The poor creatures had been trapped with the insufferable tyrant for centuries. Spending all year making cursed toys for billions of children all around the world. 

They were trapped in the harsh, freezing conditions of the North Pole and forced to wear cheery smiles while they suffered in silence.

The League, flawed as Tim claimed it was, never forced anyone to join. And any suffering one endured would be ended with the swift swing of a blade. A mercy in comparison to what those poor elves lived with.

And not only did Santa have slaves, no, he had indoctrinated some helpless, defenceless animals into his crusade. 

If Damian hadn't been set on killing him before, he certainly was now.

The reindeer were chained to a sledge that somehow carried millions upon millions of presents. They were made to fly in the freezing cold, at impossible speeds in an attempt to deliver all the gifts in time.

All while Santa sat in the back, inconsiderately pulling at the reigns hard enough that the poor animals had likely suffered some damage.

Damian seethed, if it weren't so uncouth, he'd be frothing at the mouth with rage. 

Yes, he'd be happy to string this cretin up on his own sledge. Leaving his beaten corpse as a warning for any other bearded men who saw themselves fit to play the role of a malevolent god.

-

As the month went on, along with his research, Damian became more and more horrified to see the chaos Santa Claus had wrought on the world.

Children were threatened into being nice, lest they end up on the naughty list.

Threatening children was bad according to both Tim and Jason– though Damian cared little for the latter's opinion. Either way, it was frowned upon. Unless Santa was doing it apparently.

Damian mused on this while out on his ‘playdate’ with Jason. They had just taken down some mobsters threatening a small store in Crime Alley. 

Damian waited impatiently while Jason coddled the civilian. His irritation gave way to horror as he tuned into the strange, eerie melody coming from the radio.

You better not cry, I'm telling you why, Santa Claus is coming to town.

Damian turned to Jason, grabbing his arm. “They sing hymns for him?” He hissed.

Jason stopped for a moment, seeming confused. Damian scowled, wondering why Tim saw fit for them to interact with such slow minded people.

“Santa.” Damian clarified, more than ever wishing that he was patrolling with Tim.

Sadly Dick had called dibs. A sacred, binding claim in the eyes of many Americans. So Damian was left to suffer. Still, Jason was preferable to Bruce, even if the man quoted literature like a preacher would scripture.

Jason stood up straighter with a quiet cough that sounded similar to his rare chuckles. “Right, yeah, there's a lotta songs about him. He's pretty famous.” Jason said. He turned to say goodbye to the civilian before they finally left the shop.

Once they were perched on a nearby rooftop, Jason spoke again, his voice low and grave. “The songs are based on people's interactions with the guy, they give you an idea of what he's known for, like– listen here,” Jason took out his phone and after a few taps, another awful melody began to play.

I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus.

Damian couldn't hold back a gasp. “He accosts women in their homes?” He whispered in horror. Did the fiend have any line he wouldn't cross?

Jason let out another one of those strange coughs. Whatever he was coming down with, it better not be contagious.

Damian refused to be sick again.

However, if another illness did befall him, he wouldn't protest Tim's care. 

“Does he bewitch them?” Damian questioned, once Jason had recovered.

“Yes,” Jason coughed again. Damian leaned away from him, even with the helmet confining Jason's affliction, he didn’t want to risk it. “He bewitches anyone he comes into contact with.”

Damian hummed. It was just as he suspected. “Fortunately, no women live in Drake Manor, but we will have to ensure that Gordon is protected,” He said. Barbara was one of the few people in the family that Damian held in high regard, mostly due to her intellect and her low tolerance for Bruce's nonsense.

Cassandra was currently on a mission and wouldn't be back until the New Year. Damian had yet to meet her– it seemed she was cross with Dick for annoying Barbara, Damian could respect that. Either way, he trusted that she'd be safe enough.

Steph, Damian didn’t know enough about her to have an opinion. She cared little for Bruce, which was a point in her favour. Damian would ensure her wellbeing until given reason to do otherwise.

Jason looked over at Damian. “You do know that Santa goes for men too?”

It was as if Damian's blood had been turned to ice. His heart dropped and he felt his eyes widen from behind his mask.

Tim.

Damian took in a slow breath, counted to three and let it out. It was something Tim had taught him to do in moments of strain. Particularly when a plan goes haywire.

It'll help clear your mind, Tim had said. Then, you can break whatever's overwhelming you into a series of smaller, more manageable steps.

Damian repeated the process, ignoring whatever Jason was saying as he re-evaluated the situation.

Talia would be able to handle herself against Santa's sorcery. She'd likely slay the fiend herself if he tried to bewitch her. 

Jack was Damian's real concern. He had no fighter's instinct and was painfully oblivious to any kind of threat. He would be perfect prey for Santa's devious ways.

Damian made a note to hire Deathstroke to guard him when Christmas came. That should dissuade Santa from trying to dishonour a Drake. Even if that particular Drake was quite dim.

It would be of little consequence if Santa kissed Bruce as Bruce has shown that– barring Talia– he has low standards. So Santa wouldn't be degrading him more than Bruce himself does on a weekly basis.

Still, he was Damian's sperm donor, if nothing else. So Damian would set up a few traps in a half-hearted attempt to preserve Bruce's non-existent honour. 

If Santa got Dick, Steph or Jason, well, it wouldn't be that big of a loss.

His biggest worry was Tim.

Damian was certain that Tim would be able to fight off Santa with ease, after all, he was one of the best warriors Damian had ever known. 

But that did not mean that Damian was going to take any unnecessary risks. Not when it came to his brother. 

He would guard Tim and send the jolly fiend’s corpse back to the North Pole.

First, he would have to set a trap. Lure him into a false sense of security, then, once he has him ensnared, he would put an end to Santa for good.

“– Are you even listening to me?” Jason asked.

“No.” Damian said. 

“See if I help you with your Santa problem.” Jason muttered.

“You'd only be useful as bait and there are plenty of others more suited to even that role.” Damian replied.

“Hey, I was in drama club, you little shit.” Jason glared indignantly.

“Tt. That explains a lot.” Damian sniffed haughtily.

He tuned Jason out once more as he began ranting and raving over the well deserved slight. 

How Tim hasn't killed the man yet, he'll never know.

-

Damian had prepared well for Santa's visit.

He had ensured that Timothy was patrolling with the placeholder. For all Dick's many, many flaws, he would die for Tim and makes for adequate cannon fodder in desperate moments.

The hilt of his katana was a familiar weight in his hands, anchoring him as he waited for the cretin to break in.

And after two hours, his patience was rewarded.

-

Jason stumbled through the second floor window of Drake Manor, barely managing to stop himself from falling to the floor.

He'd be more graceful if it weren't for the gigantic fake belly strapped to his body. Or the sack full of– mostly– empty cardboard boxes slung over his shoulder.

His nose tickled from the fake beard, it made him glad that he was unable to grow a real one.

But his suffering was worth it. He actually had the demon brat believing in Santa Claus. It was the ultimate revenge.

Jason had lost eight sets of armour to the brat’s murder attempts. It was time to get even.

He carefully made his way through the house, ignoring the eerie feeling that Drake Manor always seemed to have.

Weirdly enough, it had gotten better since Damian turned up. There were pictures and paintings on the walls. Pictures where Damian was actually smiling, adding to the general eeriness of the house.

There were paintings of the elusive pets that Damian had deemed everyone but Tim unworthy of interacting with.

Whiteboards and vision boards were scattered around the place, all with some frankly concerning plans written on them. Even by Jason's standards.

Jason peeked into the kitchen. Report cards were on the fridge along with a meticulously marked calendar.

Take Dami ice skating. Playdate with Jay. Go to the skatepark. Christmas with Dick.

The last one was crossed out, then rewritten with No unauthorised edits allowed, Babywing, tacked on at the end.

There were at least nine vegetarian cookbooks taking up half the counter. The other half was occupied with a mixture of Middle Eastern and South East Asian recipes. 

The idea of Tim and Damian cooking without supervision was disconcerting. But they hadn't died yet, sadly. So they obviously hadn't fucked it up too badly.

The living room had pet toys scattered about the floor, along with a cat post bigger than most Crime Alley apartments. There was a dog basket almost as big as Bruce's California King bed. 

Even more photographs lined the walls, all in painstakingly hand painted frames. Books, tech and sketchbooks covered the large coffee table. 

There was no Christmas tree, so Jason decided to make do with the apartment sized cat post.

He was surprised to see a little black and white cat peek out at him from the top of the post. Sherlock, he recalled Tim mentioning her name.

She stared down at him judgmentally. Unsurprising, considering whose cat she was.

Jason elected to ignore her in favour of putting the empty boxes under the cat post. Damian would be pissed when he saw this the next day. And it would be glorious.

Jason was pretty sure that he could torment the kid with the idea of Santa for at least another two years before he figured it out.

“Ho, ho, ho.” Jason muttered to himself with a grin.

Sherlock twitched her whiskers, unappreciative of his efforts. Then she gave a little meow.

Huh, maybe she did like it a little.

"Ho ho– holy shit!" Jason barely ducked out the way of the katana going for his head.

Damian glared fiercely at him. “Santa,” He hissed. “We meet at last.”

Then he lunged at Jason, katana at the ready.

The fat suit got in the way of Jason’s movement as he dodged. He waddled away from the little terror, dropping the sack to gain more speed.

"Come and face me you bearded fool!" Damian bellowed, steadily gaining on him.

"You're getting put on the naughty list!" Jason yelled back through huffs and puffs. Running in a fatsuit was a struggle. He darted around the coffee table, running to the other end of the cat post.

"Only after I put you six feet under." Damian growled. "You will not have my brother, you decrepit dirtbag."

Shit. Jason knew it was bad when Damian used slang. Alliterative slang at that.

But he still couldn’t help adding fuel to the fire.

"Then I shall have your pets instead." Jason proclaimed, gesturing to Sherlock. The cat stared back at him, unamused.

Damian snarled. "I will rip out your guts and give them to Mrs Claus as a gift."

"There's the Christmas spirit." Jason cheered.

"I'm Muslim you nitwit!" Damian yelled, throwing a dagger at him.

Jason wasn't sure he'd be able to fight the kid off in this fat suit. And without Tim, the kid would most definitely kill him.

So, for the first time since Jason got on good terms with the family, he pressed the panic button.

-

Despite Damian having no wounds, Tim fussed over him as if Jason had brutalised the kid.

Jason was covered in bruises and claw marks. Sherlock had decided to join her owner when Damian attacked.

Dick was doing everything he could not to laugh at the fact the Red Hood got bested by a ten year old and a cat.

“You used unnecessary force.” Bruce said to Damian.

“It was self-defence.” Tim glared, he looked five seconds away from ripping Bruce's throat out.

Dick clasped his shoulder, both in an attempt to soothe him and to hold him back if he did decide to lunge at Bruce.

Jason gave Tim a flat look. “He was literally kicking me while I was down.”

“To ensure you stayed down.” Damian tilted his chin up defiantly.

“Exactly. Self-defence.” Tim said. He ran a hand through Damian's hair. “My poor darling.”

Dick scowled as Damian leaned into the touch slightly. Tim never gave him hair pets. And he would appreciate them much more than the demon would.

“He was wearing steel-toed boots.” Jason hissed.

Dick winced in sympathy, that couldn't have been pleasant.

“Damian.” Bruce chided. Damian scoffed at him.

“And what exactly were you wearing at the Tower? Bunny slippers?” Tim snapped, giving them both a Janet Drake™ glare.

That shut both Bruce and Jason up.

Dick mentally retracted his sympathy wince. Karma's a bitch, Little Wing.

Damian growled at Jason, his green eyes flashing dangerously. “I wish I'd kicked you harder.” He snarled.

Dick hummed. He could understand where the demon was coming from.

“No, Babywing. Those weren't the right shoes for prolonged kicking anyway.” Tim said softly. 

“Do I want to know what the right shoes are?” Dick asked.

Tim shook his head, remaining silent. 

"Timothy, I have failed you." Damian said, sounding more remorseful than Dick had ever heard him. "I failed to find the terrible fiend known as Santa. And now I fear that I may not be able to slay him even if I had the chance. He's a master in the art of evasion. Unlike Todd."

“That last part felt unnecessary.” Jason muttered.

Tim stared at Damian in confusion. "You're trying to kill Santa?"

Damian nodded. "I've been hunting for that cretin day and night, but his true form manages to evade me. Now he's going to kiss father, kidnap you and continue to abuse elves and animals alike for all eternity." 

“Does he not know that Santa isn’t real?” Dick whispered.

Jason grinned, wide and evil. “No, no he does not.” He chuckled darkly.

Damian looked down at his lap, avoiding Tim's eyes. "I will understand if you deem me unworthy of the Drake name, just please, don't let them make me a Wayne."

Dick bit back a laugh at the offended look on Bruce's face. 

"Babywing, I would never do that to you." Tim said fiercely. "And as far as I'm concerned, you will always be worthy of the Drake name, okay?"

"But I didn’t kill Santa." Damian whispered.

"Dami, darling," Tim held Damian's face in his hands, staring straight into his eyes. "Santa's in the Phantom Zone."

Dick jolted. "What?"

"How?" Bruce's eyes narrowed.

"My teammates and I imprisoned him after we discovered his operation.” Tim spoke as if he was giving a debrief after a quiet patrol. He turned back to Damian. “He's been gone for three years and he's never coming back. If he does, I'll kill him for all the stress he's caused you." 

Bruce glared. "Timothy Jackson Drake."

"Bruce stresses me." Damian said.

Tim laughed. "Alas, the city needs Batman."

"He's truly gone?" Damian said.

"Of course. His reindeer are in a sanctuary in Canada, I could take you to see them?" Tim offered.

Dick scowled. Tim has never taken him to see reindeer either. He was being deprived.

Damian practically glowed with happiness. "I would like that."

"You put Santa in space prison?" Jason questioned.

"I never got that report." Bruce said faintly.

"You only get the reports I want you to get." Tim shrugged.

"As he should." Damian said with a smug look.

"I don't see why you're so shocked, I once played baseball to save the planet." Tim said, frowning at them.

Dick remembered taking Tim out for ice cream after that. They both got a mountain-sized sugary monstrosity and ate until they felt sick.

"You did what?" Bruce growled. Dick whacked his arm. That is not the tone you use with someone who saved the planet.

Tim hummed. "Then there were those times we went to hell."

Dick made Tim start attending sessions with Dinah after that. Even though Tim apparently thought hell was rad. 

Damian perked up. "May I join your Young Justice team?"

"When you turn twelve." Tim smiled at him. "I still have to teach you how to fly a spaceship."

"Tim," Bruce sounded like he was three words away from a migraine.

Tim waved him off. "Hush, Bruce, we won't use yours. I have my own."

That probably wasn't what Bruce was worried about, but at least Tim was trying to be reassuring.

"Of course, and it is much superior to that pathetic heap of metal you steer." Damian said proudly, as if it were his spaceship.

"This is a lot to take in." Dick said, patting Bruce's back comfortingly.

"Only if you have a weak disposition." Damian sneered.

"Coming from the one who couldn't handle a tubby old man." Dick said, raising an eyebrow.

He bit back a grin when Damian's cheeks darkened and he glared.

"Santa is no joke, Dick." Tim said gravely. "He almost turned Bart into an elf."

Dick made a note to talk to Wally about that.

"This is the best day of my life." Jason grinned, his voice muffled by his cheap looking Santa beard.

"Take the beard off, Todd. You look ridiculous." Damian said, as if reading Dick's mind. He wouldn't actually put it past the little demon.

"I don't know," Tim's lips twitched up. "It hides most of his face, which is arguably an improvement."

"Ah, that is true." Damian mused. "Now if only there were something similar for the rest of him." He hummed. "Along with something to silence his incessant nattering." 

"Well, he had a casket, but that didn’t work for long." Tim said. 

"Timothy!" Bruce scolded.

As he'd always done, Tim ignored him.

Jason snorted. 

"Jay, did you really press your panic button over Dami chasing you through the house?" Dick asked. Part of him was still convinced that Jason pressed it by accident.

"He was going to kill me." Jason said defensively.

"I wish I had." Damian muttered. "He threatened what was dearest to me."

"Tim." Jason clarified, as if it was necessary.

"I did not say Timothy." Damian snapped. He looked over at Tim. "I meant it, but I did not say it." Tim kissed his forehead in reply.

Dick would mean it and say it. Because he wasn't a coward.

Jason snapped his fingers. "Subtext." 

"Wayne, you should withdraw Todd from that literature course of his, it has made him more insufferable than usual." Damian said to Bruce.

Dick hated the fact that he kind of agreed with the kid. Of course, he wouldn't want Jason to lose out on something that made him happy. But having to hear three Emily Brontè quotes before breakfast was pretty annoying.

"You should have seen him when he first came back, English nerd had nothing on the theatre kid." Tim shuddered. “He made me listen to a fifteen-minute monologue before fighting me.”

“Really, Jay?” Dick sighed. As if his poor tiny tot hadn't suffered enough. 

Jason scowled, but said nothing. 

"You truly have suffered at their hands." Damian said solemnly.

Tim hummed. "Love is pain sometimes."

Dick shot Bruce a dark glare. He was sure that this was somehow his fault. Bruce stared back at him, confused. 

Dick made a mental note to throw all his good coffee out.

“Tt. Only when you're surrounded by incompetents.” Damian sniffed primly.

“Dick and Cass are pretty good.” Tim said, giving Dick a warm smile.

Dick preened, wrapping an arm around Tim and pulling him in for a side hug. For one glorious moment, all was as it should be.

Damian glowered. Dick knew the little demon would have gutted him then and there if it wouldn't have upset Tim.

Dick shot Damian a smug grin. He'd never claimed to be mature after all. 

Damian looked over at Tim. “Akhi, my side hurts from where Todd elbowed me.” 

Tim was across the room in a split second, leaving Dick with empty, cold arms once more. “He did what?”

“The brat was going to kill me.” Jason glared.

“Oh boo fucking hoo, it's not as if you've come back from that before or anything.” Tim said scathingly.

“Tim.” Bruce said, aghast.

Jason, on the other hand, was grinning. The weirdo loved joking about his death.

Tim whirled on Bruce. “Do you not care that he almost murdered my baby brother?” 

“He almost murdered mine too.” Dick added, shooting Jason a glare. He hadn't exactly forgiven Jason for the Tower either, even if Tim had him paying some kind of reparations debt.

Damian looked over at him with an unfamiliar look on his face. If Dick didn't know better, he'd almost believe it was respect.

Jason groaned. “I hate this family.” 

“And yet, you went crying to your father as soon as you were bested in a fight.” Damian said with a smirk, puffing up proudly when Tim laughed.

Dick bit back a grin as the tips of Jason’s ears went pink. 

“I'm glad you called, Jaylad.” Bruce smiled softly at him. 

“Now, which side did he elbow?” Tim asked, a crazed, frantic look in his eyes. “Did he hurt your ribs? Jason, if you hurt his ribs I'll skin you alive and dip you in acid.”

Jason’s eyes widened and he shuffled back slightly, until he was pressed against Dick's side. 

It reminded Dick of the early days when Jason was still skittish around Bruce– understandable, considering the man basically kidnapped him– but for some reason, figured Dick was safe enough.

Dick pulled Jason into a side hug, smiling as he leaned into the embrace a little, grumbling under his breath all the while.

Even though Jason deserved Tim's ire, Dick was still happy to comfort him a little as he faced the consequences of his actions.

Bruce sighed. “Timothy.”

“Don't Timothy me you useless furry.” Tim snapped. Bruce reared back as if Tim had struck him.

Dick, pitying his drama king of a dad, decided to intervene. “Babybird, how about you focus on Damian?”

Dick almost threw up as he said the words. It went against everything he stood for. But for the sake of stopping Tim from making Batman cry, he persevered.

Still, Bruce owed him big time for his sacrifice.

-

Tim had decided that Damian was to stay in his room for the night.

He made this ridiculous decision after Damian went to his room at 2AM and lingered at the door for three minutes before going to the unoccupied side of the bed and slipping under the covers.

Absolutely ridiculous.

He even kissed Damian's forehead unprovoked and held him close when Damian shuffled to his side of the bed.

Ludicrous behaviour, truly.

Damian fell asleep within five minutes.

Chapter Text

"Why must we mix with the riff raff?" Damian huffed as Tim fixed his tie for him.

They were taking Damian out to his first gala. Much to the boy's reluctance. Still, Bruce believed that it was a good idea, despite Dick and Jason's protests. 

Tim had, surprisingly, agreed with Bruce. Then again, Tim was the more level headed out of his kids. Which wasn’t saying much, now that Bruce thought about it.

"Investors, stocks, socialising," Tim rattled off. Bruce nodded approvingly at the reasoning, he looked over at Damian to see the boy wrinkling his nose. "Manipulation, mind games, gathering blackmail material and investigating white collar crime."

Bruce no longer approved of the reasoning. Damian, on the other hand, lit up as if Christmas had come early. 

"Sometimes people even break in and try to kidnap someone or hold the room hostage." Tim added with a grin. He smoothed down the lapels of Damian's jacket with a satisfied nod.

The first time Bruce had tried doing the same to Tim, he'd gotten a nerve strike to his wrist. He had yet to try it with Damian.

Damian's eyes gleamed. "This may just be a worthwhile endeavour."

Tim lightly ruffled Damian's hair. "And after, we can look into that lead on the weird Snake gang we've been investigating."

Bruce frowned. Tim hadn’t mentioned them to him. Then again, Tim never mentioned that he had his own Batmobile either.

"The Vipers," Damian nodded. "We shall make them suffer for their misdeeds."

"Precisely." Tim's smile was all teeth. He looked too much like the late Janet Drake for Bruce's comfort.

He used to be terrified of her back in high school.

Bruce wondered if he could get Dick to attend the gala in his place. It seemed unlikely.

-

The gala went– well, it went.

Colin Richardson and Margaret White both left early with bone white faces and trembling lips. 

Meanwhile, Damian smiled like the cat that had got the canary and Tim looked viciously proud.

Bruce resolved to take Dick and Jason with him next time. Once Jason let Bruce legally resurrect him, that is.

Strangely enough, Lucius seemed to take a liking to both of Bruce's youngest sons. He tried not to think about it too hard.

-

Batman and his two Robin's had just taken down an exotic animal ring.

They had rounded up everyone involved and handed them to the police. Damian insisted on overseeing the transfers of the animals, which Bruce didn't have the heart to deny.

Even if he somehow had, Tim would have made him regret it.

It was going surprisingly well, that should have been Bruce's first warning.

They had gotten the bird's and tiger cubs transferred safely to nearby sanctuaries– what the traffickers were thinking by putting birds and felines so close together, Bruce will never know.

The last of the reptiles had been sent off, or so they thought.

Just as Bruce had settled into his false sense of security, Damian walked up with a two foot long reddish-sand coloured snake curled up in his arms.

“I found her in one of the boxes at the back,” Damian said. “Perhaps we could keep her?”

"No." Bruce said immediately.

"Tt, I wasn’t asking you." Damian sneered. "Timothy?" He held the snake up, both the boy and the reptile staring hopefully at Tim.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at the considering look on Tims face. "Tim, no." 

"Your input isn't needed here, B." Tim waved him off.

Damian threw him a smug look. He's definitely Talia's son through and through. Bruce refused to take responsibility for one bit of that.

The snake left Damian’s hands to twine itself around Tim's wrist. Bruce twitched when Tim booped it on the nose, out of all his sons, Tim was the one most lacking for self preservation. Which was ironic because he wasn't even the one that had died.

The snakes’ tongue flicked out briefly before it slowly moved around Tim’s arm, seeming relatively calm for an animal that had been kept in a box for so long.

Tim cooed softly at it, sounding eerily similar to Dick. "We'll have to go shopping for supplies tomorrow." He ran a finger over the snake's head as he spoke.

Damian stared up at Tim like a flower turning towards the sun. "We can keep her? Truly?"

"Of course, Dami." Tim smiled fondly. “So long as she gets on well with the others.”

Damian nodded seriously. “I will ensure Titus and Sherlock are on their best behaviour.” 

The image of one of his sons getting bitten by a potentially venomous snake flashed across his mind.

"Timothy Jackson Drake, you are not keeping a poisonous snake at Drake Manor." His tone held no room for argument.

"Do not question my brother's authority." Damian snapped. "We are dragons, you are merely a bat."

Bruce scowled. "I am your father–"

"Jack Drake is, actually." Tim shrugged.

"Tim." Bruce growled.

"It's in writing and everything." Tim added.

Bruce pointed at him. "Don't make me adopt you, young man." 

Both Tim and the snake froze. Slowly, both turned to look at him. Bruce was likely imagining it, but it seemed like they had twin expressions of horror on their faces.

Damian snarled. "You wouldn’t."

"He would." Tim said, eyeing Bruce warily. 

“No.” Damian shook his head. "No. I refuse to be publicly linked to the likes of Brucie." He hissed, his face flushed with anger. "Nor will I have my title besmirched by a name so common, uninspired and prosaic as Wayne!" 

Damian waved his little dagger at Bruce as he spoke, resembling a kitten lashing out with its claws for the first time.

"Dami," Tim gently redirected the dagger away from Bruce. "Not your porcelain one, it'll stain."

Bruce shot Tim a look. His son's priorities left a lot to be desired.

"It already haunts me that my mother, esteemed and worthy as she is, had relations with such a man. But I should not have to suffer for her misjudgement!" Damian’s chest rose up and down in deep, angry breaths.

Bruce tilted his head. Was this what a temper tantrum looked like on a child assassin?

"No, no, darling, don't worry, I won't let that happen." Tim soothed, holding the snake out to Damian who held it like one may a security blanket. Fortunately, the snake didn't seem to mind, curling up in Damian's arms without a fuss.

Tim smoothed down Damian’s hair before tucking the boy under his arm. Damian leaned into the embrace, glaring at Bruce with wary eyes.

"My persona isn't that bad." Bruce said exasperatedly. He bit back a smirk as he spoke again. "You could even make one of your own. Dami Wayne."

Turns out, Damian had the same vein in the forehead as Talia when hit with a bout of all consuming rage.

"We could wear matching ties at the next gala." Bruce added. He had always loved riling Talia up back in the day, he may as well resurrect the habit with their little bundle of joy.

Damian made a sound, it was probably meant to be a string of well worded insults. But he was speechless in his rage, it seemed. Bruce was quite impressed with himself, even Dick hadn’t managed to elicit such a reaction from Damian. Yet.

“Brucie and Dami Wayne.” Bruce mused. “And of course, Timmy Wayne as well.”

“You dare besmirch my brother’s honour,” Damian froze mid lunge at Bruce, looking back at Tim questioningly. 

Tim shrugged, shooting a cold glare at Bruce. “He brought it on himself.” He held his hand out. "Go on, babywing. I'll hold our snake."

Damian grinned, a wide feral thing that made him look eerily similar to Tim.

Bruce sighed, resigned to his fate of wrangling his youngest. Again.

Damian lunged at him.

-

Bruce hissed as he pressed the icepack against his side.

Jason whistled, grimacing at Bruce from his place on the workbench. “He landed some hard hits, huh?”  

“That was Tim.” Bruce corrected. At Jason’s wide eyed look, he decided to explain. “Damian decided to start ‘crying’ when I disarmed him."

Jason's eyes bugged out. "I'm surprised you're even still alive, Tim loses his shit when the kid's upset."

Yes, that was a fact that very quickly became apparent. Damian barely even had to sniffle before Tim came charging in with his bo staff at the ready.

It turned out that Tim had learned a lot more from Lady Shiva than he let on.

"They were crocodile tears." Bruce growled. 

"Tim probably taught him." Jason said. Taking pity on Bruce, he patted his shoulder comfortingly. “At least he didn't push you into cement.”

Bruce's eyes snapped up. “What?”

“Don't worry about it.” Jason waved him off and began making his way out the Cave.

“Jason.” Bruce called. Jason ignored him. “Jason Peter Todd!”

-

The plan to drag Dick and Jason to the next gala fell through. They ran away before Bruce could even finish asking them.

Which was why Bruce was watching as Tim and Damian made Joshua Thomas’ go an ugly puce colour Bruce hadn’t seen since they were in high school together.

"Aren't you going to intervene?" Lucius asked, staring at Tim and Damian in horrified awe.

Bruce hummed, leaning back against the wall with a wry smile. "No," He said serenely, dissociation was a wonderful thing. "I don't think I will."

-

Three weeks later, when Tim and Damian introduced everyone to Athena– the snake who thankfully turned out to be non-venomous– making Jason flee to the Cave in terror, Bruce called Talia.

"Beloved?" Bruce couldn't help but smile at the familiar nickname. If it weren't for his sons' eyes burning into the side of his face, he likely would have indulged in catching up with her. "This is a pleasant surprise–"

Bruce handed the phone to his sons. Both Dick and Jason's eyes lit up like two hungry wolves about to converge on fresh meat. "Enjoy."

Even after he went back upstairs, he could hear the cacophony of yelling. It was a beautiful thing.

Chapter Text

Talia, contrary to popular belief, was not a social person. It was why she and Bruce had once gotten along so well.

That was, until he started masquerading as an airheaded socialite for reasons Talia would never truly understand.

So, when she began receiving near weekly phone calls from Dick – and sometimes Jason– filled with whining, complaining and near incoherent shouts of rage, it grated on her nerves.

After months of this routine, she decided to fly to Gotham and see what her son had been doing to cause such a fuss. 

Becoming a Drake was one thing, but driving people to contact Talia on a regular basis, that was a step too far.

She didn’t bother telling anyone that she was coming to visit. It was bad enough hearing their voices on a near constant basis, she didn’t need to see their faces so soon after a long journey. 

Talia would rest for the night, then she would head to Drake Manor in the morning. Hopefully, she would be able to resolve this issue and be on her way to Nanda Parbat by the evening.

-

Damian and Tim were discussing how to apply Machiavelli's philosophy to the modern business world over breakfast when there was a knock at the door.

“I do not believe Father is due to return for another week.” Damian remarked. He hadn’t even finished setting up the trap door in the parlour yet. It was to have a twenty foot drop. 

“Maybe it’s Athena’s new sun lamp?” Tim stood up and began walking to the front door.

Damian wrapped a hand around Tim’s wrist, stopping him before he even got out of the dining room. “That is due to arrive tomorrow.” 

Tim hummed. “And our new training dummies don’t come until Thursday.”

“I still don’t see why we need them.” Damian said. “Todd and the placeholder are perfectly adequate for such a role. And their intelligence level is about the same.”

Though, come to think of it, that may be an insult to the dummies. 

“Dami,” Tim chided. Before he could say anything more, the front door clicked open.

Damian took out his katana and Tim unsheathed the daggers Damian had gotten him as a gift. 

Damian scowled as Tim moved in front of him, shielding him from view to the intruder. He peeked around Tim as the door swung open to reveal his mother.

Talia stood still in the doorway, eyeing them both. She seemed satisfied with their weapons of choice. “I did knock.”

“That doesn’t negate the fact that you’re breaking and entering.” Tim said, putting his blades away. Damian followed suit. “Hello, Talia.”

“Mother.” Damian nodded. “What are you doing here?”

Talia walked further into the parlour, closing the front door behind her. “I’m here to resolve the issues created by your choice.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” Damian made use of Tim’s lessons and made sure to seem innocent and confused. Despite the face he knew what Talia was referring to.

“I find myself quite confused as well.” Tim had a furrow between his brows.

Talia stared at them, unimpressed. “That may work on your father but do not believe for a second that you can fool me.”

“Yes, I suppose you wouldn’t be as easily misled as Jack.” Damian conceded.

“I was referring to Bruce.” Talia clarified, giving Damian an exasperated look. It was similar to when Damian brought back a stray kitten to their base, the third that week. Or the fifth. It was a long time ago.

“B? What about him?” Tim asked, widening his eyes innocently.

Talia narrowed her eyes. “Enough, it is time you go to your father.”

Damian reared back in horror. He couldn’t believe that his mother would be so cruel as to try and make him live with that tragic, inarticulate fool. 

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Tim cut in, putting a hand on Damian’s shoulder.

“This does not concern you, Timothy.” Talia said dismissively.

Damian bristled. “As he is my brother, I believe it does concern him.” 

“You are the son of Bruce Wayne, you shall act as such.” Talia stated, her voice holding no room for argument.

An image of himself dressed in a tux that matched Bruce’s came to mind. Both of them swanning through a gala with idiotic smiles, absent eyes and presenting themselves to be as intelligent as a pair of raisins. 

Damian Wayne. That’s what they would call him. Wayne. How he would be forever known in history. The son of Brucie Wayne.

It would be like living through the nightmares Damian sometimes had. Except Tim wouldn’t gently shake him awake and reassure him that such an awful thing would never happen on his watch.

Damian looked into Talia’s eyes, his voice unwavering as he said. “I would rather you kill me.”

Talia’s eyes widened, but before she could reply, Damian was pulled into a fierce embrace. He leaned into it, requiring comfort after such a harrowing thought.

“Not happening.” Tim hissed. “If you wanted him to go to Bruce, you should have told him who his father was before sending him off on his own.” He held Damian tighter, crushing him to his chest.

“Though I find myself thankful that you didn't, he is very disappointing.” Damian added.

He couldn't imagine a scenario where he accepted his fate as Damian Wayne. It would be a very bleak existence and an even darker world.

Talia sighed. “Your father, while flawed, is a great man–”

“Brucie.” Damian spat the word like the curse it was.

Talia grimaced. “Ah. That.”

Damian couldn’t help but feel betrayed. She had known about his public persona and sent Damian to him regardless of it. He could never imagine inflicting such cruelty on his own child.

“Not to mention his last name is an affront to my very being. It is repulsive.” Damian wrinkled his nose.

“You’re really not a fan of that name, huh Babywing?” Tim’s lips twitched upwards.

“As I said, he is flawed. Still, you shall go and live with him as intended.” Talia said.

“No.” Tim replied before Damian could.

“Agreed.” Damian said.

“That was not a request.” Talia’s voice took on a familiar, but dangerous tone. 

Damian, for once, paid it no mind. "Mother, I don't want to disown you, but if you keep insisting, I will."

He would cut all ties with her before agreeing to be Bruce’s son. 

Talia’s eyes flashed. "Damian al Ghul–"

"Drake." Tim corrected, his face cold. Damian smiled up at him briefly.

"He is my son." Talia had a glint in her eye that had Damian considering stepping in front of Tim, just in case she decided to handle this the way she did with most of her problems. Murder.

"I'm willing to negotiate a joint custody deal if it makes Damian happy." Tim said smoothly, giving Damian’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"Twice a year visits would suffice." Damian said. Frankly, twice felt like too much for either of them, both Damian and Talia liked their space. 

But if he can tolerate Bruce and his pathetic nature on a weekly basis, then he can see Talia twice a year. Her company was preferable to Bruce's any day.

So long as she stopped looking at Tim like she was contemplating slashing his ribcage open with her blade.

"I cannot believe your father let this happen." Talia spoke with the disappointment Damian viewed Bruce with every day.

"He is a weak man. I question your judgement, mother." Damian said honestly.

"So do I." She muttered, sighing. "I blame his other children for his deterioration, Richard in particular."

Ah, that made sense. Before Tim could try to fix Bruce he had to endure two others first. Damian spared a moment to miss the man Bruce could have been if he left the first two to their fates.

"Agreed." Damian nodded.

"Dami." Tim chided.

Damian sighed. "The pretender has his attributes, though I have yet to see them." 

Talia hummed. "I suppose it is best that you stay with Drake then. He has been trained by some respectable warriors at least."

"Timothy is one of the best warriors I've met." Damian stated, looking up at Tim who was staring back at him with that strange, warm look in his eyes.

“Do tell your brothers to stop calling me.” Talia said to Tim. “It is quite bothersome.”

Tim was surprisingly sympathetic to her plight. “I can send you a program that will block their calls no matter which number they use.”

Talia gave Tim a pleased look. “That would be acceptable.”

“Timothy is an excellent programmer.” Damian tilted his chin up proudly. “They shall not bother you again.”

Talia hummed in acknowledgement. "You may stay.” She said, Damian let out a quiet breath of relief. “Do not become the disappointment your father has." 

Again, Damian would rather die than resemble Bruce in any way. The man couldn’t even make toast without assistance.

"Damian could never be a disappointment." Tim said fiercely. 

Damian's face warmed as a pleasant feeling spread through his chest. Something that happened much too often these days.

"I see that you are well defended here." Talia sounded amused. "I shall see you in six months, habibi. I expect the streets of Gotham to run red with the blood you shed."

"They do. On Tuesdays and Thursdays." Damian said.

“Ah, yes, the playdates with Jason. How is he?” Talia asked.

“I don't care enough to know.” Damian replied. 

“Me neither.” Tim said honestly when Talia looked at him.

Talia hummed. “Understandable. I may go and check on him.”

She said nothing else, just left as quickly as she arrived.

“She reminds me of Janet.” Tim remarked, a hint of wary nostalgia in his tone. 

Damian hummed. He wasn’t sure if that was an endorsement or a condemnation.

They went back to finish their breakfast. Damian relished in the feeling of once again avoiding the terrible fate that had once awaited him.

Damian Wayne. What a horrific title that would have been.

Chapter Text

Tim was sitting at the Batcomputer. That wasn’t an unusual sight, the little gremlin often had to be pried away once he was focused on a case. What was unusual was the fact he wasn’t focused. He was sitting with glazed eyes absently looking at the screen.

Before Jason had to, God forbid, ask if Tim was alright, or anything else of the sort, Dick descended in all his big brother glory with a concerned expression and a reassuring shoulder pat.

“You okay, babybird?” Dick asked.

Tim’s face took on a forlorn look. “No.” 

Jason’s eyes widened. He had seen Tim stay standing after getting shot twice and say is that all you’ve got? He remembers it so well because he was the one who shot the little brat. For Tim to actually admit to not being okay was worrying to say the least.

Dick hummed, hiding his panic with a reassuring smile. “How about you tell me what’s going on and we’ll see what we can do?”

“It’s Damian.” Tim said. 

At those words, Jason saw the corners of Dick’s eyes tighten. “Oh?”

“He’s been quiet and withdrawn all week. I checked his blood and temperature, but he’s not sick. The pets are fine, his weapons are well looked after, Talia sent him a book on poisons– oh, and Jack is good too.” Tim rattled off before sighing. “I don’t know what else to look for.”

“Maybe he misses Jack?” Dick suggested.

“I guess it has been a while since he got to use one of his little pranks.” Tim mused. “But he’s been having fun setting up his latest one, so I don’t think it’s that.”

“Pranks?” Jason questioned. Damian didn’t exactly strike him as a water balloon kind of guy.

“Better known as death traps.” Dick whispered, a haunted look on his face.

Ah, that made sense.

“I just wish I knew what was going on with him.” Tim looked so sad that even Jason began to feel a little for the gremlin.

Jason shrugged, deciding to give this whole big brother thing a try and put his two cents in. “Maybe the kid’s getting pushed around or–”

Tim's head snapped up so fast Jason swore he heard a crack. “Someone's harassing my baby brother?” His voice was a low, icy hiss. Like a winter breeze cutting through a narrow alleyway.

Dick slowly raised his hands, like one would do when trying to calm a spooked animal before it thought to attack. “Jason was just–”

“Jason will speak for himself.” Tim stared at Jason with an unwavering gaze.

Jason was beginning to think he should have just kept his mouth shut.

“I was just suggesting things, you know what the kids in Bristol are like.” Jason said carefully.

“Which ones?” Tim's tone was similar to Talia's when she was musing over who she was going to be killing that week.

“Tim, you can't fight children.” Dick said, aghast.

“Watch me.” Tim growled, already typing away on his laptop. Presumably to cyberstalk some preteens, as one does. 

“Oh my God.” Jason grinned. 

Usually, he didn’t endorse messing with kids, but rich kids were a different breed. Who knows, if someone had scared the shit out of a baby Lex Luthor, maybe Superman wouldn't be battling giant robots every two weeks. Fear built character.

“I'm gonna ruin the lives of each and every one of the little fuckers.” Tim snarled, his eyes glinting dangerously under the light of his screen. 

Shit, babybird was out for blood. 

“Tim, no.” Dick used an authoritative tone that Jason had never seen directed at Tim before.

Probably because it doesn't work. Tim ignored Dick as if he were background daytime TV.

“They're kids.” Dick pushed the lid of the laptop down.

“So is Damian.” Tim said fiercely. “And he's better than those pint sized bastards. I should have just homeschooled him, I don't even like school.” His eyes lit up. “You know what? I'm dropping both of us out, America's education system is useless anyway.”

“You are not dropping out.” Jason said with a glare. “You're lucky to be at school–”

“Tower.” Tim hissed.

Jason faltered, then looked away with a sigh. “You can do what you want.”

“Jason!” Dick scowled at him. “Tim, I'm sure Damian’s fine.”

“He will be.” Tim said ominously.

“That probably sounded more threatening than you meant it.” Dick said, naive as ever.

“No.” Was Tim’s succinct reply.

Footsteps echoed from the top of the stairs, getting closer with each passing second. The moment the limited lighting of the Cave shone on Damian's face, Tim rushed over to him, immediately starting to check him over.

Damian looked at Tim in a mixture of bewilderment and concern. “Timothy, what–”

“Are you being bullied at school?” Tim cut him off.

Damian huffed. “Of course not, even Americans know their superiors when they see them.” 

The all consuming rage on Tim's face waned slightly. “No one's hurting you?”

“I'd kill them if they tried.” Damian said, matter of fact. 

Tim nodded approvingly. “Not if I did first.” He said, not noticing how Damian's face softened into something akin to awe. 

“Tim.” Dick sighed, exasperated.

“Is there a reason you believed I was being tormented by my inferiors?” Damian questioned.

“Jason said so.” Tim ruthlessly threw Jason under the bus without batting an eye, in fact, the little shit glared at him. 

“Hey, it was a guess, you’re the one who took it to heart.” Jason said.

“Of course you would blame Timothy for your mistakes.” Damian spat viciously. “You should be ashamed.”

Jason threw his hands up in exasperation. He was done with those two. And he couldn’t even yell at Talia about it since she had somehow managed to block all of his numbers. And Dick’s. And Bruce's.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Tim smoothed a hand over Damian’s hair. “You’ve been quiet this week. You didn’t even try to kill Dick.”

“Which we’re all glad for.” Dick added pointedly.

Jason shrugged. “Well,”

“Not a word.” Dick hissed.

“As it is Pennyworth’s birthday this weekend, I have decided to abstain from such things until the event passes.” Damian explained, the tips of his ears reddening. 

“That's very sweet of you,” Tim praised, leaning down to kiss a preening Damian's forehead. “I know that must have taken a lot of restraint.”

“No one kisses my forehead for not murdering anyone.” Dick muttered bitterly.

“This really isn't a good look on you.” Jason said.

Dick scowled at him but said nothing. Instead, watching as Damian and Tim went to spar on the mats.

“You guys want to join?” Tim looked over at them, not noticing Damian pouting at the idea of having to share Tim for once.

Dick was across the room before Tim even finished the question. 

Chapter Text

Dick was contemplating pinning Damian's picture to the wall to throw darts at. It could be a fun game for the family, much better motivation than a bullseye. It was just a shame that it was illegal to throw darts at the actual child for some reason.

He stared vacantly at the space Tim had occupied before the demon had sunk his little claws in and dragged him away once more.

Yes, Dick would be pinning up a picture. If nothing else, it would be good target practice. Something Damian has no problem using Dick for. 

-

"What's up?" Jason asked, holding back a sigh.

Dick had been staring forlornly at where Tim had been for almost five minutes. Which wasn’t ideal as they were supposed to be partnering up to help with the latest Arkham breakout.

Dick whipped round to face him, his eyes wide. "I swear that little demon is turning Tim against me." He whispered frantically. Oh, here we go. "The way Tim treated me just now, he may as well have spat in my face." 

"Because he didn't kiss you on the cheek?" Jason shot him an incredulous look.

Dick sniffled, his eyes shining with tears. "You saw it?"

"We're dealing with an Arkham breakout.” Jason said slowly. “He was in a hurry. We should be too." Frankly, he couldn't believe that he was having to explain this to the – supposedly– most mature one out of all of them.

"It's just Kite Man and the Riddler." Dick scoffed. Jason shrugged, he had a point. Those two were pretty tame in the scale of things. "Not to mention, he had time to dote on the intruder."

"He was helping him with his armour– wait, intruder?" Jason’s brow creased.

Dick crossed his arms. "He calls me placeholder, I call him intruder."

Jason stared at him for a few moments. "You are a full grown man." He said carefully, still in disbelief of what he was witnessing.

"You don't get to judge me." Dick hissed.

"The kid pushed me into wet cement. Twice."

Dick rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't be such a baby, he does that to everyone."

Jason punched him in the arm. Then grabbed said arm and dragged Dick towards their bikes.

-

"I could call Slade." Dick mused. 

They were on their way back to the Cave after getting Kite Man back in Arkham. Bruce and the gremlins were finishing things up with the police.

Dick had spent most of patrol cooking up ridiculous ways to get rid of Damian.

Jason wasn't too worried. Dick would never actually go through with any of them. If not because of his moral compass or the lack of feasibility, then because he wouldn't want to make Tim sad.

"No." Jason said, mostly out of habit.

"I'm calling Slade." Dick nodded to himself.

Jason decided to humour his brother. "To kill the brat?" 

"No,” Dick gasped, appalled. “Just to take him on a little murder spree for a few years." He spoke as if that was so much better.

"You do know that Tim would just join them, right?" Jason checked, just in case Tim's unconditional love for the antichrist he called a brother had somehow gone over Dick's head.

"Tim has a strong moral compass–" Dick cut himself off at Jason's look. "He wouldn't want to–" Jason raised an eyebrow. "He– fine! I won't call Slade." He huffed like a teenager saying they wouldn't stay out too late.

"There we go." Jason clapped his shoulder.

He wondered when exactly he somehow became the responsible one.

Dick glared. "You're such a killjoy these days."

Jason punched his arm again.

-

They didn't make it back to the Cave. 

No, instead of going back, filing a report and going to Jason's safehouse for takeout and shitty reality TV, they were perched on a rooftop that had seen better days, watching as the terrible two sat in a diner across the street.

Sure, Jason could just leave Dick to his psycho shit, but watching reality shows alone was boring, so here he was.

Even though patrol had ended almost three hours ago.

Dick still had his domino mask on, but even then his glare burned through the lenses and shot right across the street to where Damian sat, pretending not to smile as Tim ruffled his hair.

If looks could kill.

"I still can't believe that you've got beef with a ten year old." Jason said with a snort.

Dick's head snapped over to him. "This coming from the guy who went after a fourteen year old? Not to mention, I didn’t ask you to come along, you invited yourself.”

Well, someone was clearly in a mood. Who knew Tim time was so crucial to Dick's enrichment.

"And I'm still paying for it to this day." Jason sighed forlornly. He made sure to stare out into the distance for dramatic effect.

Such efforts were wasted on Dick, who just whacked him in the shoulder. “It’s your own fault.” He said. "What exactly is this debt Tim’s got you paying?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Jason whispered. 

“Come on, it can't be that bad–” Dick cut himself off at whatever he saw on Jason's face. “Nevermind.”

A flicker of movement from below caught Jason's eye.

"There they are." Jason nodded towards the two figures walking out of the diner.

"Look at them," Dick spat, watching as Tim zipped up Damian's jacket and fixed his scarf. Damian scowled, all while leaning into each touch. "Something needs to be done about this." 

Tim took out an all too familiar looking knife and handed it to Damian, smiling down at the kid, who actually smiled back. 

“God, this is sickening.” Dick looked away, his movements were akin to a horrified Victorian lady who'd just seen something scandalous.

"They're kind of cute. In a horrific, demented sort of way." Jason said.

Dick fished his binoculars out of his pocket and began looking through them. "In a thieving, conniving way, you mean." 

"You're way too close to this." Jason muttered.

"Heads in a bag." Dick threw back.

"God, it's been two years, get over it already." Jason rolled his eyes.

Dick said nothing, watching as Tim and Damian made their way to the uber they must have called.

Tim looked up as Damian climbed into the car, his eyes honing in on Dick and Jason.

"Shit, we've been made." Jason muttered.

Dick cursed, quickly dropped the binoculars and ducked down as if that would somehow make Tim unsee them.

Tim climbed into the uber, not breaking his stare until he shut the door.

Both Dick and Jason's phones went off.

Just come and sit with us next time, stalkers.

Jason groaned. "You know it’s bad when Tim’s calling us the stalkers."

Dick hid his face in his hands. 

Feeling sorry for him, Jason awkwardly patted his shoulder. “Wanna go watch trashy TV?” 

“...yeah.”

-

“Why were the plebeians following us?” Damian questioned, looking over at Tim the car pulled onto the main road.

“I'm not sure,” Tim admitted. “Maybe they're feeling left out?”

“Good.” Damian said, his eyes gleaming like a cat that got the cream.

“Dami.” 

Damian sighed. “How unfortunate. For them.”

“Mild improvement.” Tim said with a smile. 

“Perhaps we could invite them to dinner?” Damian suggested. 

It would be an innocent enough suggestion, if Tim didn't know his brother. And if Damian hadn't been practising his poison lacing skills on the irredeemable one percent at galas.

Tim gave Damian a knowing look. “You can't poison them.”

Damian pouted. Of course, he would die before he ever admitted it, but that was definitely what was happening there. 

Tim was almost tempted to cave.

Damian gave him a beseeching look. “It would be a non-lethal dose–”

“No,” Tim tapped Damian's nose, holding back a laugh as he scrunched it up in response. “Dick hasn't had much poison training.”

“Tt. Typical.” Damian scoffed. “What of Todd?”

Tim should say no. But then again, Jason had played a very cruel prank on Damian last Christmas, that wasn't something Tim could just let slide.

Plus, there was that whole Tower incident, but Tim was more pissed off about the Santa thing. His poor babywing had been so stressed.

Tim shrugged. “Eh, he'll probably come back either way.”

“Not if I do it right.” Damian said darkly.

Tim gave him a curious glance. “I'm intrigued.”

Immediately, Damian sat up straighter, lifting his chin and puffing out his chest a little. He began detailing his latest untraceable murder proposal to Tim while the Uber driver's face visibly paled.

Tim was hard pressed to recall a time when he'd been more content.