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Damian grits his teeth together painfully, hoping to interchange the pain welling in his ankle with something self-inflicted. It doesn’t work, and now both his ankle and jaw hurt.
Fantastic, he thinks bitterly.
Damian slowly, so very slowly makes his way up the mahogany staircase, trying to ease the throbbing in his leg. Each step is more painful than the one before, and he doesn’t know how he is going to make it to make it all the way to his room, let alone have enough strength for a shower.
Snails have done things faster. Drake after 72 hours of no sleep moves faster.
Damian just grumbles some more, peaking a look behind him to make sure no one is watching his pathetic ascend of the staircase.
He doesn’t know how he avoided both Bruce and Grayson with an injury, particularly one as obvious and difficult to hide. But it must be an attest to just how exhausted they too must be after the last few days.
A breakout from Arkham at the start of the week left them all tried and Bruce more cantankerous then usual. Then Freeze was up to no good yesterday, which had Grayson not necessarily snapping at people but blunt for the usually bright demeanor man. Today was just a few loosely henchmen trafficking illegal drugs, but the none stop of it all was getting to them.
Tonight had been easy, in and out of a warehouse. Himself, Bruce and Grayson had it covered, Oracle watching their sixth with Red Robin and Hood on standby if they were needed.
They weren’t, it was in and out.
Which makes it so much worse when Damian didn’t see the buffoon coming, landed a kick the wrong way, twisting his ankle painfully before knocking him out.
It had been sloppy.
It had been careless.
It shouldn’t have happened.
That’s why Damian didn’t say anything when Batman asked if everyone was alright through the comms. Just a grunted yes, and to be honest it hadn’t hurt that badly at the time. It was painful yes, but he could deal with that. He had dealt with much worse in his 11 years. As he hobbled along to the others, he thought he was more than skilled to handle the situation.
He stood up straight when Batman assessed him, let Grayson give him a visual once over claiming he was fine.
Besides, standing on it hadn’t hurt that badly.
He didn’t realize adrenaline was probably still coursing through his veins, dulling his senses.
And if it didn’t hurt that badly it was simply a weakness, he was not willing to submit to. Damian was better then that.
He was stronger than that.
Although Grayson’s valiant attempts to convince him otherwise, Mother and Grandfather didn’t allow weakness. It was pathetic; it was not tolerated in the league. Damian would never have cried to Mother about a sprained ankle, she would have him continue fighting until blood was drawn and he could no longer stand.
But Damian was the decent of legends, he always continued.
That thinking does not go away overnight.
When they’d returned to the Batcave, Bruce was running some tests and Dick went to have a shower.
The usual post patrol checkup had been forgotten. This was new territory, Bruce rarely forgot something so important.
Damian wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
Damian had no idea what to do or what was expected of him. Bruce and Grayson worked hard to give him a home, a family to make up for what he has lost. But he has relied on strict communication with structure, Grayson always keeps him in the loop, is aware Damian needs to know.
“Go have a shower Damian,” Bruce had mumbled when Damian just stood there, waiting for orders.
He nodded curtly, that was an order. He could follow that.
A part of him was glad Bruce forgot to check. It made it easier, he didn’t want his father to think of him as weak, or pathetic, or sloppy. He had been careless, and it almost cost him, he couldn’t risk father finding out about it. He would go to bed with some ice on it and be fine in the morning, nobody would know.
So why does his gut feel odd thinking about the way Father had just dismissed him?
He shakes the feeling away, it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t need to be coddled. He had escaped Bruce and Grayson’s concerns, that was the main thing. He passed Tim briefly in the study, but he was too preoccupied with his computer to notice his limping, and he hadn’t run into Alfred, and that wasn’t likely now. Alfred would have been the real problem.
Damian was home free to have a quick shower, ice his ankle and go to sleep.
Damian tried not to groan, all of that seemed like a lot of work by himself. But he shook off the feeling, he was Robin, he was a trained assassin. A simple sprain would not hinder him.
He was better then that.
“Hey short stack!”
Damian froze in the hallway and snapped his head to the right.
This was a variable Damian had not accounted for.
Jason Todd was in the library, sprawled out on one of the plush couches with a book in his hand. He was wearing sweats and a soft t-shirt, feet bare and hair wet from a shower. He looked like a young adult, a kid in college hanging around home for the summer. He looked as relaxed he possibly could, it was a new development for Todd, one Damian was not necessarily bothered with.
Damian has no idea when he got here, or that was even going to be here. Todd is such a trickly entity to track down. He’s friendly with the Bats now, doesn’t kill, helps when needed. Bruce and his relationship is still prickly, but its no where near explosive as it once was. Both parties are very slowly learning to heal and coexist.
With that though, Todd likes to think he is still a lone wolf - he has about 7 safe houses he jumps around from, never settling in one place very long. But Damian knows one of them is his favorite because his PlayStation and about 10 books are there. Plus, he has a room in the manor made up for him, clothes and whatnot available whenever he wants. Stacks of books in the corner. He rarely uses it, but sometimes – like now, he turns up and acts like the manor is his home.
Bruce is not necessarily happy with the wayward arrangement, Damian is sure he would rather Jason be where he can see him, although he is unsure why. He thinks it is perhaps to protect him, even though the emotional constipated man would never say it. But because the elder doesn’t want to push, allows the wondering between places. Sometimes he turns up for 3 days annoying everyone, sometimes they don’t hear from him for two weeks.
Nobody misses how tense Bruce is for those weeks of silence.
Similarly, nobody misses the way his face lights up when Jason is at the breakfast table or at movie night.
Usually, Damian doesn’t mind having him around, he’s a good sparring partner – both physically and verbally, and he’s usually a good medium between Grayson’s overbearing attention and Drakes utter indifference of him.
Jason is an interesting development in their lives – most of the time he tries to appear apathetic and uninterested, but the way he allows Dick to tease him and looks out for Robin on patrol would suggest he cares.
Damian understands being wary of feelings, but Todd takes it to a new level of incompetence.
Right now though, he doesn’t know what to think. This is going to be new territory for both of them.
“Todd,” Damian grits out, he hopes it come across as his usual boredom, instead of a grind in pain. He stands straight, allowing his left leg to bare most of the weight. Now that the adrenaline has worn off his ankle is pounding.
When Jason’s head snaps up from the couch to frown at him, he realizes he must sound off.
“Don’t you have your own home to go to?” Damian tries again, laying his annoyance on thick. While he and Jason sometimes coexist well, its not uncommon for him to be blunt. Hopefully he can fool Todd with his exasperation, distract him from the bigger picture.
This would work with Drake, who would roll his eyes and claim Damian is being prissier than usual and give him space like one would a bear in hibernation.
When Jason fully spins around, laying his book face up next to him, Damian recognizes he is not dealing with Drake.
Jason is intuitive. Jason is perceptive.
Jason is looking at him far too closely.
Jason is doing a very good impression of the look usually reserved for Dick. It’s very, big brotherly.
“How was patrol?” Jason ignores him, and if it didn’t hurt to put weight on his ankle Damian would shift around uncomfortably. Instead, he stands there, as stock as anything like a good soldier. Too afraid to put any pressure on it and give himself away.
“It was fine.” Damian responds curtly. He needs to get rid of Todd immediately. Of all ways to be found out this is not the one he would have chosen.
What almost concerns him most is he doesn’t know what the man’s reaction will be, this is unknown territory. Drake would roll his eyes and get Alfred. Alfred would be disappointed but gentle. Dick would be full of concern, even Bruce would be predictably frustrated and worried.
Damian has had experience with the other four – far too much coddling from his eldest brother who thinks the remedy to illness is hugs and a gentle fondness hidden by concern from his father. Todd is a new variable, he hasn’t been around for long enough periods to deal with illness or injuries, and by the off chance he has, he makes an escape to get someone else.
Damian has no idea how Jason will react. The elder boy is constantly surprising Damian with his genuine kindness, but he can be prickly and unforgiving. He might appear indifferent and send him straight to Bruce, he might ignore him completely. He might be callous.
Damian doesn’t like so many possibilities. Damian likes the world he can put into neat little boxes and make sense of. That’s one thing he misses about the league – he always knew where he stood. People fit into their allocated boxes; they never differ from the expectation. The manor, this family – they are always making changes and disturbing his understanding of the world. It makes it hard to calculate their next move, or for him to even make sense of his own place in it.
Jason gives him a weird look, “Okay,” He looks the boy up and down, he can’t place what it is, but somethings off.
“When Bats didn’t call, I assumed he had it covered,” Jason continues.
Damian rolls his eyes, “We did not need the assist, Todd. Father had it under control.”
Its Jason’s turn to roll his eyes, “Sure thing kiddo, where is the bats now?”
“In the cave, going over some data,” Damian replies, “Was there something you needed Todd?”
This conversation would have been tedious with or without the pain from his ankle. However, the pain is starting to become unbearable, Damian needs to get off it immediately.
Jason shrugs, “Where are you going?”
He eyes the boy skeptically, usually he hangs with Bruce or Dick after a patrol, especially one that was supposed to be easy. It used to be hard for Jason to unwind as Robin, and he knows Dick and Tim are the same. Its odd the boy is upstairs, still in his Robin outfit minus the domino mask.
When Jason takes a moment to assess him, the young boy looks wrecked.
There are bag under his eyes, his cheeks are tinted pink and he is standing suspiciously straight. Damian is never relaxed perse, Jason has teased him about it more than once, but his not usually this rigid.
Like his trying to hide something.
“I’m going to bed Todd,” Damian supplies, like he is talking to a young child, “That’s what people usually do at this time of night.”
Jason almost laughs out loud at the condescending tone. That’s more like the Damian he knows, patronizing and rude.
“Okay,” He says instead, still eyeing him carefully, kid hasn’t moved the whole conversation, now his getting suspicious, “Goodnight baby bird.”
He uses the nickname to get a rise out of the boy, it always gets a rise out of him. Instead, Damian stares at him blankly, not moving, a clear tell in itself, “Goodnight Todd.”
Then they proceed to stare at each other for an uncomfortable 20 seconds.
Damian doesn’t move, and Jason doesn’t turn away.
Bull shit Jason is going to be the first to back down. Baby bird is up to something, he intends to find out.
Jason hadn’t planned on coming to the manor tonight, but after working with Red Robin, and the week they’d had he’d decided he deserved a 1000 thread sheet count and Alfred’s hot waffles in the morning.
Besides, he hadn’t stayed in the manor for a while and he could see Bruce’s left eye twitching in that certain, unprofaned way it does when he doesn’t know if Jason has eaten or slept properly for a while, and is too constipated to just ask. Better to put the old man out of his misery. He didn’t expect to be interrupted in his favorite reading chair by demon brat, nor to find him acting so weird – which is something for the kid because he’s an 11 year old assassin, he’s usually pretty weird.
But he’s also bored – not concerned – enough to continue probing.
When Damian seems to realize Jason is not going to back down, for whatever reason, he falters for a brief moment. He quickly replaces it with distain.
Anyone else besides someone trained by the worlds greatest detective would miss it.
Jason is perceptive enough to see the slip of emotion.
“Are you okay Damian?” Jason asks carefully, uncertain with what’s going on. He knows he has to tread lightly with the kid sometimes. Dick is always going on about how Damian deserves better, and how he’s had it rough, Damian deserves their kindness despite being prickly (an asshole) sometimes. Dick is basically conditioning the kid to try and open him up.
The juxtaposition of Dicks compassion and Damian’s apathy is quite something to watch.
Jason would like to counter they’ve all had pretty rough childhoods, Dick.
But then he remembers what Talia was like – and he bites down the words and harsh responses. Because Damian is a kid, and people often forget that because he barely knows how to be. He was taught to be an assassin.
A killer. He hasn’t had a childhood.
Jason watches as Damian’s expression goes from carefully placed indifference to his eyes welling up with tears.
It’s the carefulness in his voice that does it for Damian, the kindness.
Not that Jason isn’t capable of kindness, Damian knows he is. Damian watched the man risk his life to save a cat out of a tree and hand it to Damian carefully once, eyes full of concern.
It just when that gentleness is directed at him in this moment.
The moment when his father and Grayson didn’t have any and he is in excruciating pain. Pain that at another time he would have been expected to ignore and push through. The little voice in the back of his head telling him he is being ridiculous, stupid. Weak.
Countering that, theirs the other voice in his head, the one that sounds like Dick, who says that its okay to admit defeat once and a while and ask for help. Because family asks for help and weakness means that you can be strong.
But, Dick wasn’t there to help him tonight. The rational part of Damian knows Dick can’t be their all the time, and he’s not a mind reader either, Damian never spoke up. It’s not Dick or Fathers fault he doesn’t know how to communicate. Its just, Dick knows. He always know, it’s his superpower – being able to just tell when something is wrong with a little brother. Damian just looks at him and, Dick makes it better.
Damian had gotten used to that, it didn’t reasonably make any sense, but it fit into his new view of the world.
Tonight, the expected deviated slightly and Damian can’t place the new world he became accustom to into the box it was supposed to fit in. Couple that with the pain and the worthless feeling clawing at his gut, Damian is so frustrated with himself he wants to cry.
Damian used to be able to catalogue his emotions so much better, he blames stupid Dick for this.
He knows they weren’t being unkind; it wasn’t a test or an attempt to be cruel, simply an oversight.
And god, he can’t just tell Jason he wants someone to fix it. How pathetic is he, that he needs Dick to fix all his problems?
Damian can feel tears start to well up in his eyes, and before something truly atrocious can happen like Jason witnessing them, he turns around makes his way to his bedroom.
The initial step he stumbles, but he rights himself quickly and attempts to walk through the pain.
It hurts. Damian can feel the sweat pooling on his brow. Damian wants to crumble on the floor and give in. But he can wait until he gets to his bedroom at the very least.
This time, nobody can miss these emotions pouring off the younger.
Jason certainly doesn’t and his heartstrings don’t tug a bit. Shit, Dick has been rubbing off on him.
“Oi, Baby bird are you limping?” Jason is up off the couch and in Damian’s face in less than 4 strides. God, the man is appallingly big. Jason has this presence about him, even in sweets and a soft t-shirt he commands the room.
Damian doesn’t care though. He doesn’t respond, just looks up at his brother and glares. All traces of tears have vanished.
Jason frowns back, “Where are you hurt?”
“I’m not,” Damian spits, but it’s childish even to his ears and anyone can hear the strain in his voice. He’s hoping Jason will just let it go.
Jason stands there for a moment, contemplating the boy.
He works through his options.
He could easily manhandle him, lift him up and check for himself. Or yet, lift him up and take him straight to Alfred or Bruce. He’s not sure how this got past either of them anyway. He could simply just call Dick, have him deal with it.
Instead, he decides to play the long game.
“Okay,” Jason says, hands in the air to signal defeat and side steps to the right, clearing Damian’s path, “If you’re not limping or hurt, off you go. Without limping.”
Damian glares at him, Jason smirks.
Looking at him now, up close, Jason can tell his done something to his right ankle. Its painfully clear on his face. He’s favoring his left just slightly, but he looks exhausted, like his masking the pain, standing rigid and clenching his teeth. He’s probably just twisted it, however Jason was with the league and knows Damian’s pain threshold must be high. He wouldn’t put past a minor fracture.
Damian quickly looks to his room, its so far away with Todd watching his movements.
He goes through his options and grits his teeth, this time in annoyance not pain.
“It is nothing major,” He decides on, straight up lying will get him hauled off to medical, maybe an omission of truth will get the older brother off his back.
Jason crosses his arms and lifts an eyebrow, “If its nothing, you can make it back to your bedroom just fine,” He challenges.
Damian huffs annoyed, not meeting his brothers’ eyes, “It is just a sprain.” He mumbles.
Interesting, Jason thinks as he kneels down to Damian’s level, who is looking down at the carpet with great interest.
“Is that what Bruce said?” Jason prompts.
Damian’s body language somehow goes stiffer than it was.
So Bruce doesn’t know, which means Big Bird and Alfred don’t know either. Which means they won’t be impressed Damian is hiding an injury.
Although they’ve all done it, hiding an injury is big on the list of dumb things to do. Nobody ever gets away with it. No matter how much they try.
What Jason wants to know those is how Damian has hidden it. If Jason could figure it out fairly quickly, he can’t imagine Bruce or Dick would have bought that act in a heartbeat.
Not Bruce who had a strict policy on pat downs after patrols to check for injuries or mother hen, big brother Grayson.
Jason sighs, “Has anyone looked at it?” he asks, still kneeling by the boy, trying to be gentle.
He doesn’t know how this has become his life, but here he is. Tending to broken Robins.
Damian remains silent, and he peeks a look at Jason through his eyelashes.
He is so young. Jason always forgets how young the boy is. Despite everything Damian has been through he still has that young outline on his face, his cheeks have a bit of baby fat that helps emphasis his pout. He’s so little.
“What will it cost for your silence?” Damian demands, startling Jason with the turn of events.
There’s the Damian he knows, despite how he looks he has a sharp tongue and reflexes.
“You literally will never be able to afford me,” Jason rolls his eyes, standing up tall, “Come on baby demon,”
With that he swiftly lifts the boy up and carries him to the couch, tossing him gently and taking a seat on the coffee table in front of him. Effectively trapping him unless the boy scales the back of it, and seeing as he can barely walk Jason thinks he’ll stay put.
“Hood!” Damian cries, cheeks turning a bright red in both anger and embarrassment at being so easily manhandled, “One day I will be bigger than you and you will be no match!”
Jason rolls his eyes, yes he has heard this before, “But until that day you are at my mercy,” Jason teases evilly, the grin he uses as the Red Hood.
Damian stares him down, and for a moment his brain lapses to remind him that Todd can be dangerous.
There is always a small chance he could revert back to the pit madness and turn on them all. Usually Damian wouldn’t be worried, he can take Jason on in a fight – he is the superior fighter. Right now, he would be at a disadvantage though.
But that’s not the Jason he knows now, the Jason he has put into a box. Jason wouldn’t hurt him, he is reformed. He is kind.
Jason rolls his eyes as he ruffles the boy’s hair affectionately as he can literally see the cogs turning in the boys head, “Relax kid, come on lets see it.”
Jason holds out his hand for Robin to show him the ankle, again Jason could just force him but he thinks it’ll be easier if Damian accepts it. Somethings clearly got the boy a bit worked up.
Sure, he would be upset over a busted ankle, like the rest of them he wouldn’t like to admit it. But there’s something else Jason can’t put his finger on.
Damian just sits rigid on the couch, it’s swallowing his tiny frame up and he holds his legs close to him.
Jason sighs, trying to appear as the nice, caring older brother that doesn’t come as naturally to him as Dick, but he can try, “Come on kid, you’re limping, and nobody has checked it. I need to see if it’s swelling or broken.”
“It’s not broken,” Damian supplies moodily, “I just tripped during a fight and sprained it. Some ice and rest, it will be fine.”
Jason cocks an eyebrow, that’s more information than he thought Damian would tell him, “You’re probably right, can I check it just in case?”
He’s pleading now, trying to appeal to Damian’s ego and he doesn’t even know why. Why does he care if Damian fucks up his ankle? The kids not his responsibility.
Lies, Jasons brain tells him. He stuffs it down quickly.
Damian bites his lip, clearly torn, “Does that mean you will not tell father?”
Jason grimaces, “I can’t make that promise,” He admits.
Damian sighs, like he expected that. Jason admires that he tried anyway.
Damian gently puts his right foot in Jason’s large hand, and very gently Jason unties his boot. He takes off his sock and rolls up his pants so he can see the offending ankle better.
It’s swelling, not an insane amount but more then Jason’s first aid training is comfortable with. He pokes and prods it gently, and he watches as Damian picks a spot behind him to focus on. The boy doesn’t cry out in pain or yell at him, but he does wince involuntarily. More then enough for Jason to know it hurts.
It’s not broken, but it’s a very painful sprain. It will need to be iced, bandaged, and elevated. All things Jason doubts Damian doesn’t know but doesn’t fully trust to do by himself.
“How’d it happen?” Jason asks, he doesn’t look at Damian, just on the tiny ankle that he can wrap his whole hand around while swollen.
It will be easier for Damian to answer truthfully if he’s not looking him in the eye. It used to be easier for Jason with Bruce like that.
Damian sighs, “I was just careless, kicked the wrong way. The arrest was easy, this should not have happened.”
Jason tends to agree, injuries like this just tend to happen for dumb reasons. He could have achieved the same sprain missing a step going into the Bat Cave.
Still, Jason can tell something else is bothering his younger brother.
“How come you didn’t tell Bruce, or Dick?” Jason pushes further, Damian is giving him a lot right now. He doesn’t want to push too hard, but he is curious.
Damian stalls for a moment and winces when Jason runs a thumb over the malleolus, “Father will think I was being reckless, stupid. Grayson would hover,” Damian mutters but he sounds uncertain.
Jason frowns, he wants to counter argue but he can tell Damian isn’t giving him the full story.
“And?” Jason prompts.
Damian sighs and brings his palms together looking at them intently, “And they didn’t ask.”
He says it so quietly Jason almost misses it. He blinks up at him, confused. Since when doesn’t Bruce do an injury check? What planet would Grayson let this go?
Damian can feel his change in demeanor and quickly adds, “It has been a very long week, father is distracted, and Grayson is tired. I didn’t want to be more of a bother.” He defends.
Jason runs a hand down his face tiredly, there it is.
It has been a busy week, Jason gets that. And he gets this was just an oversight, there’s no way Bruce or Grayson would have let this go usually.
But sitting here with Damian, the kid assassin who is still very uncertain of his place in this world, in this family, seem so defeated and unsure is a bit heartbreaking.
Not want to be a bother?
Right in the heartstrings. You know, if he had a heart.
Which apparently, he does because it’s breaking a little for the kid.
“You know this isn’t a bother right?” Jason asks, gesturing at his ankle, “This is an injury that needs to be taken care of properly or you’ll be in more pain tomorrow.”
Damian frowns and mumbles childishly, “I’m bothering you right now.”
“Everyone’s always bothering me, its my thing,” Jason counters annoyed, but whatever, it’s not about him, “This isn’t a bother to me, and it wouldn’t have been to Bruce or Dick. They aren’t mind readers kid and they can be stupid sometimes, but they would always want to know if you’re hurt, or upset, or any of your feeling. Dick loves feelings, it’s his thing.”
Damian continues to frown, and Jason has no idea if any of this is getting through to him, but he hasn’t yelled or tried to storm off yet, so he thinks it’s going okay.
“Mother always used to say-”
Before Damian can finish that thought Jason interrupts him, “Nobody cares what Talia says. Ever.”
Damian at least meets his eye this time when he frowns. There’s not a day that goes by that doesn’t give Jason another reason to go find an Al Ghul and kick someone’s teeth in.
There’s another beat of silence before Damian asks hesitantly, “You don’t think Father will be mad?”
Jason sighs, and rubs his thumb over Damian’s ankle in what he hopes is a comforting gesture, “No. He’s not going to be mad you’re hurt,” Jason says firmly. Damian seems to mule this over.
“Big Bird however will be annoyed you’ve denied him prime cuddling time from this injury though,” Jason grins, “That I can’t help you with.”
Damian frowns, but it looks more affronted rather than fragile, so Jason takes it as a win.
He stands up, “Come on, we need to ice it and I will not have Grayson on my ass about this.”
Damian’s expression goes back to his usual sullen and condescending self, which honestly thank god, Jason couldn’t handle the actual upset version of his little brother. Damian is a trained assassin who could kill a man 20 different ways without a weapon.
But man, does he have a set of tragic puppy eyes on him.
“Are you sure your silence can not be bought?”
Jason can tell its an attempt for show, to keep his indifferent attitude alive rather than an actual plead. God forbid Damian be a kid, with feelings of wanting comfort when injured.
Jason sighs, he can relate a little bit.
“No,” He deadpans simply. With another swift movement, he lifts Damian off the couch and maneuvers the boy so he is giving him a piggy back ride, arms holding tightly to his legs in case he does something stupid like try to jump off.
Damian’s self-preservation skills are better then that though as he squawks and wraps his arms tightly around Jason’s neck.
“Todd!” He squeaks alarmed as Jason literally skips down the stairs, he can feel Damian rest his face on his shoulder and, huh. Maybe being a big brother is okay sometimes.
Maybe, he gets the appeal.
“Todd, the kitchen is the other way,” Damian says when Jason bypasses the kitchen and heads for the cave.
“I never said we were going to the kitchen,” Jason replies.
“You said we would ice it! Not tell Father!” Damian snaps, he bangs Jason’s shoulder with his hand a few times to try and get him to stop but Jason is undeterred.
“I literally never agreed to anything baby bat,” Jason smirks taking the stairs carefully and trying not to knock Damian into anything. He’s squirming is annoying but he’s in no danger of being dropped, yet.
Damian grumbles something he can’t hear and adds, “You need to get your nicknames in order,”
Jason huffs out a laugh but is distracted when he enters the cave, “B!” he calls out.
He doesn’t need to look at Damian’s face to be able to tell the kid is mortified at being carried on his back into his father’s workspace, his fingers are digging deep into his shoulders. Jason just smirks.
Bruce looks up from his desk, his expression moves from happy, confused to concerned very quickly when he accesses the picture in front of him.
Dick, freshly showered and perched on the bat computer munching on cereal, face does a similar dance. Although his concern is far easier to read.
“What happened?” Bruce says instantly, standing up and striding towards them.
Jason instead sidesteps both of them heading for the medical area, “We have an injured baby bat,” He provides, popping Damian down on a bed and grabbing a cold compress.
That gets Bruce into action quickly. He looks like he might have an aneurism.
“Sprained ankle, not broken. Will need to be iced for 20 minutes then bandaged and elevated the rest of the night,” Jason supplies quickly, although he knows Bruce will check anyway.
Bruce frowns at the both of them before, yes, inspecting Damian himself. Gentle fingers poke and prod his son’s injured ankle. His face expressionless, as he inspects the bruise and clearly goes over the night’s events in his head. When he seems content with Jason’s analysis, he takes the ice pack and presses it gently to the swelling.
Damian all the while sits there, allowing himself to be manhandled but says nothing. His arms are crossed, and he is not looking anyone directly in the eye.
He looks cute, sitting there all rumpled and frowny. Jason’s starting to see why Dick has worked so hard with him.
Jason can tell he is part embarrassed and part betrayed, but there’s something else lingering on the surface that Jason can’t place. He stands back so Bruce and Dick can assess and fuss over him, smirking slightly at the scene.
“Damian, what happened?” Dick asks gently, running fingers through the small boy’s hair but Damian shakes him off, still refusing to look at anyone. Dick looks stricken at the rejection.
Bruce turns to Jason, it’s not accusatory, but it has Jason putting his hands up innocently anyway, “I just found baby demon sneaking off to bed limping.”
He says it with enough emotion that has Bruce looking worried and a bit guilty.
“Oh Dami,” Dick say’s and this time Damian looks up and frowns at his brother.
“It is fine,” he says stubbornly, well as stubbornly for an 11-year-old sitting on med bed with an ice pack on his foot pouting, can. His words don’t hold their usual bite though, he has clearly registered the genuine look of concern coming from Dick and Bruce.
Jason can see his heckles go down as quickly as they were raised. Jason’s not sure if its because he truly trusts Dick and Bruce not to hurt him, or he simply can not stand the thought of them genuinely forgetting him.
Jason swallows a lump in his throat.
Bruce contemplates this for a second, “You should have mentioned it before I sent you to bed,”
Damian shrugs and after a moment of awkward silence adds, “It is nothing to be bothered about, I have had much worse.”
Dick goes to say something but is stopped by Bruce, they share a look full of silent conversations.
Dick sighs, but takes a step back, clearly allowing Bruce to handle this. Jason’s not totally on board but he’ll allow it and see where they go.
Jason, unlike Dick, has no issues giving Bruce a piece of his mind or telling him he’s been a dickhead.
“Do you want to have a quick shower and get changed, then we can ice it for the rest of the night?” Bruce asks gently.
Damian nods, seeming a bit startled by the sudden turn of events, even Jason thought he was surely in for a lecture about honestly at least.
The younger looks warily to the shower. Like he truly would like one but he’s not about to ask for help.
Typical demon brat.
Bruce doesn’t mention it, just helps his youngest son down from cot – god the boy is tiny – and helps him over.
“Dick can you get some clothes?” Bruce asks, he assists Damian over to the shower while Dick gets a large blue hood and some sweats for the kid.
Jason isn’t sure what to do, so he just takes a seat on the bed and watches as Bruce hovers around Damian’s shower asking if he needs any help.
Jason isn’t sure how he manages it by himself, but through sheer willpower he comes out of the small bathroom 3 minutes later, quickly rinsed off and sweatpants on. He looks as unhappy as ever, but Bruce is looking at him with a fondness he imagines is similar to his own face.
Bruce easily wraps the boy in the soft hoodie, Damian grumbling but allowing Bruce to dress him, and in a swift movement lifts the boy up and plonks him on the bed next to Jason, so they are sitting side by side. Jason moves over a bit so he can get comfortable. Dick takes a seat perched on the edge.
Damian looks sufficiently ruffled, but much more comfortable, pout situation on his tiny face.
Jason is grinning widely because the whole thing is far to adorable not to. Damian side eyes him and continues to pout, crossing his arms.
Bruce pulls up a chair by the end and puts the ice pack back on the boy ankle, its much easier now that he’s not in the robin costume. Which is probably why Bruce made him change in the first place.
Bruce lays the cold pack there, holding it in place with one hand, the other gently massages the ball of the boys foot, careful not to hurt any places that might be tender. Jason imagines its supposed to relax the him, but Damian is sitting as straight as a board on the bed, his heckles are back up. He is on alert.
“We’ll ice it for 20 minutes and then bandage it,” Bruce says.
Damian nods curtly, he’s gone back to refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room. Jason frowns. Bruce was supposed to make it better.
“Damian, do you know why we do a post patrol check in?” Bruce asks softly,
Ah, Jason thinks. He wanted to ensure Damian couldn’t run away from the conversation before he brought up anything heavy. That Jason approves of.
“To check for injuries,” Damian supplies like he memorized what Bruce had told him so he could relay it back. Like a good solider. Like a league member.
“Yes,” Bruce’s mouth twitches slightly, “But mainly because of a certain acrobat.” He nods to Dick.
Dick smiles but looks a bit sheepish about it.
“You see, one day after a very uneventful patrol, Dick had sliced his hand open on a fence,” Bruce says quietly, Jason hasn’t heard this before, he knew they check in technically because of Robin, but hasn’t heard the story behind it, “because he wasn’t injured during a fight, and it wasn’t very big. Dick didn’t say anything. And I didn’t ask. I assumed, stupidly, that if he was hurt he would tell me. 3 days later when Dick was at school, I get a call from the school nurse that Dick had fainted during class.”
Dick now looks very sheepish when Bruce turns to him accusing, but his smile is fond.
“The cut, that he had failed to mention wasn’t very deep. But without proper treatment became infected. Luckily, it was just a cut, it needed some stitches. Dick went to hospital, was prescribed antibiotics and it was fine. But I remember driving to the school that day,” Bruce looks up at Dick and then glances at each of his sons.
“I remember being so worried. So very scared,” Bruce says, “And it all could have been avoided if he’d just said something, about a silly little cut.”
There’s silence for a moment, Damian contemplating the story.
“I’m sorry for forgetting about the check in, that was negligent of me and I am truly sorry,” Bruce says, “But every time you get hurt, even if its little, I would like you to let me know. You are never a bother.”
He says the last words meaningfully, “Any of you.”
If that doesn’t get Jason a little bit.
Damian looks up finally at Bruce and nods, “I did not want you to worry father, I had it handled,” he says quietly.
Jason snorts, bull shit he did.
Bruce smiles at that, adjusting the pack, “I understand you felt that way, but it’s my job to worry. I like worrying about my sons. Besides, I will worry far more if you don’t say something, and Jason has to carry you down to the cave crying about injured bats, or worse if he hadn’t coerced you into coming down at all,” He looks sternly at Damian, but its full of love.
Damian spares a sheepish glance at Jason, but turns back to Bruce, “You know Dick did not have the first aid training I possess. I would never have let it get that bad.”
“Hey,” Dick scoffs offended and Bruce chuckles.
“Maybe,” The older man contemplates, “But I still want to know, you have nothing to hide from me. You are not a bother. I love you.”
Damian mules this over again, but Jason can see the tension he was carrying before has eased slightly. Damian is never truly at ease, (unless he’s sleeping, and yes Jason does think he’s cute) but he needed those words from his father.
Jason on the other hand has a bone to pick.
“So wait,” Jason interrupts, frowning at Dick and pointing an accusatory finger in his direction, “Because one time Dick got himself an infection from a fence, meant that I got a post patrol pat down every time we came home like some kind of criminal at an airport?”
Dick openly laughs and Bruce sighs, checking Damian’s ankle, “No, you were certainly the worst for hiding injuries,” He says slowly fondness still lacing his words, “You got a post patrol pat down every time, because you tried to hide broken ribs from me after Ivy’s plant got you. You couldn’t be trusted.”
Jason frowns and then back tracks a beat, he does faintly remember that. He remembers Bruce being very mad when he found out about the ribs that he had hidden for 3 days.
Then he remembers his first night back in the field, in the Batcave where he’d been dragged back by his cap while Bruce did an extensive pat down to make sure his ribs weren’t broken. He’d proceeded to do it every time they came back from patrol. Jason used to try and run from it because it would tickle, even though Bruce claimed he had to be thorough because Jason wasn’t a reliable source.
It turned into a game, Jason had forgotten that part.
Jason is broken out of his thoughts when Damian tuts at him, the boy is smirking, “I wouldn’t laugh kid, surely this warrants a pat down next time.”
Jason will do the pat down himself if he has to, he’s letting Damian get away with this.
The younger sulks and peeks at his father. Bruce certainly looks like he’s considering it.
Bruce turns back to Jason, remembering warmly, “You just hated it because I’d use it as an excuse to tickle you,” He teases his second eldest son.
Jason’s jaw drops in betrayal, “I know you were doing it on purpose,” He mumbles.
“Of course I was,” Bruce laughs, not at all hiding the fact that he has always exploited things that made Jason smile. The broken kid from the street needed more reasons to smile.
All of his sons do actually. With that in mind, he runs a finger down Damian’s poor exposed foot as a test.
Damian yelps, a noise Bruce has never heard from him before “Father!” And tries to bring his leg up to his chest, cheeks tinting pink.
Bruce just chuckles, storing that information away for later, and continues to hold Damian’s ankle in place, not letting him escape. Not that he’d get far limping around anyway, he goes back to gently rubbing the exposed ankle. Damian looks at him full of distrust but seems to think making a scene with both his older broths here is not the wisest move.
Dick certainly looks like he’s keeping that pilar of knowledge for a later date.
“We’ll bandage this up and then set you up in bed with it elevated, it’s been a long night,” Bruce declares. He’s watching his youngest son carefully though and can see the moment his expression drops to disappointment. He schools it back pretty quickly, but Bruce doesn’t miss it.
He shares a look with both Dick and Jason, who both don’t seem to miss it either.
“Or,” Dick counters, “We could set up a movie in the theater room, I’m not really tired.”
“As long as its not another Disney movie,” Jason shoots, who has sometime in the conversation wrapped an arm around Damian’s shoulder and pulled him in close. Bruce smiles fondly at them, it seems so natural and absentminded that he doesn’t even know if Jason has realized he’s done it.
Dick just shrugs and turns to Damian, who seems very tired but clearly doesn’t want to go to bed by himself.
“That would be adequate,” He says quietly, uncharacteristically unsure.
He seems to be trying to make sense of his world and where it all fits, once again the people around him have thrown spanners in the works and they will not fit into the boxes he has made for them.
Jason rolls his eyes at the boy and ruffles his hair, jumping up from the medbay.
Bruce sighs exhaustedly, “Can one of you please compress his ankle for me? I’m going to turn everything off and I’ll meet you up there.”
Damian looks at his father almost pleadingly as Jason goes to get the bandage, at this point he doesn’t really trust either of his older brothers to bandage it without them exploiting his injured state. But he can’t very well voice that or it will give them a reason.
Dick ends up doing it, and Damian can’t tell if it’s an accident or not when he brushes his toes. Damian just holds his breathe and refuses to show any signs of anything. When Dick grins up at him, he knows it wasn’t an accident.
Before Damian can issue his best threat, which will still having validation despite the circumstances, Jason smirks at him, quickly hoisting the boy in his arms and fireman carrying him up the stairs. “Come on squirt,”
The younger just crosses his arms over his chest, annoyed. Secretly, he is grateful he doesn’t have to walk, his ankle is actually very sore by this point, but he has a pretense he has to keep up.
The theater room is upstairs, and Dick diverts to the study to wrangle Tim away from his computer. Damian can hear yelping and ‘Dick what is wrong with you’ so lord only knows what Dick does to convince him to come.
Jason is surprisingly gentle as he sets Damian down on the plush sofa, adding pillows under his leg so it’s elevated and takes a seat next to the boy. He raises an arm over the sofa, leaving a gap Damian doesn’t mean to snuggle into. Its just the sofa is very plush, and he kind of falls into it.
Jason is picking a movie, not looking at him when he starts carding through the boys hair, “Dick is going to castrate me if I take his cuddle spot.”
Damian doesn’t look up at, just hides his blush in the mans soft t-shirt. Jason is so big, his fingers are very soothing in his hair. It’s nice.
Jason settles on Harry Potter, as Dick and Tim come in. Tim grumbling about stupid brothers.
Dick takes one look at the duo on the couch. He looks a bit bothered at first, but quickly turns to delight as he grabs out his phone and snaps a quick photo of the two before Jason can throw a pillow at him.
“Bite me Dickhead,” Jason mutters, throwing a pillow that Dick dodges easily but the threat is half assed when he hasn’t moved his fingers from his little brother’s hair. The older shrugs and pulls Timmy in for a cuddle on the other couch.
Tim looks annoyed, but he’s known Dick long enough to simply accept his fate.
Bruce strides in 6 minutes later, surveying the room with a fond look. He takes seat on Damian’s other side, but not before kneeling down to check his ankle for any more swelling and that its elevated correctly. And purposely run a finger down his exposed foot. The yelp Damian omits is precious, Jason chuckles pulling the boy in closer.
Bruce takes a seat on Damian’s other side, hand easily finding the back of the boys neck to rest a comforting hand there.
Damian barely see’s the first 20 minutes before he falls asleep. He sleeps the entire night curled around Jason with his father a heavy, consistent, safe weight next to him. He is oddly content.