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Damian felt humiliated that he was rendered to… to… to this. Acting like a brainless pup. If he had it his way, he never would have to pretend to be a child. But his mother told him that he needed to act his age. To pretend that he was a normal civilian while he was at his father’s house. “Put those acting lessons to good use,” she had said before proper introductions had been made, “and don’t draw the wrong attention. It might expose the truth of our bloodline.”

Damian had protested the entire boat ride to Gotham – had tried to convince his mother to come up with some other plan – to no avail. Damian was to live with his civilian father for the next few years. It was greatly upsetting that he couldn’t put his sword to use, that he’d never whack someone in the face with his fist, and that he was to avoid fighting of all kinds. It was the type of ‘attention’ he didn’t want to draw, after all, according to his mother, since his father, being a civilian, had absolutely no idea that he conceived a child with an assassin.

Damian wasn’t terribly excited to live a life of ‘normalcy,’ and he had a hard time fitting in. It was clear that, even with acting lessons, there was something different about Damian, but his family decided it had something to do with cultural differences.

Damian’s father, when they’d first met, had been surprised to meet Damian, having known nothing about his birth, but he was quick to accept him into his family. It was an awkward transition. Damian was brought in, yes, but he was given a lot of space. Bruce didn’t know how to act around him – an understandable dilemma – considering Damian’s sudden intrusion. The man had been given zero time to prepare. Nevertheless, once the week of adjustment was over, Damian was swept into a fury of pack protection that he’d never witnessed before, and he was disgusted that these plebians thought he needed protection. But then he remembered that he was pretending to be weak. Thus, did he realize he must be doing a good job if they thought he needed guidance. Damian wasn’t sure if he should be proud of if he should despair over his circumstances. It seemed to be a mix of both at the end of the day.

Damian could hardly go one evening without some kind of affection being plopped on top of him. Damian did not realize how quickly acquainted he’d become with the den until his father was kidnapping him from any location he was in, lugging him into the big pile of nest, and then purring him to sleep with that cursed parental power of his. Damian’s mother was also capable of doing such things to him, but she’d long since abandoned the practice when he started sleeping on his own. In his father’s mansion, however, despite having been given a room, Damian rarely slept on his own, and his father made certain he was gathered in his bosom every night. It was boggling to him. Damian had never witnessed such basic instincts, no, certainly not, for Damian al Ghul was a sophisticated creature with refined tastes, but Damian Wayne was a simple-minded character with no brain function.

It scared him how true that was because his father had a way of making him numb – dizzy with affection – even clingy. Damian was horrified to find himself giving into the caveman mindset, and that he had begun to make little pup noises when his father scented him.

Father liked those noises though, encouraged them, even, and drowned him in his scent. Damian couldn’t walk around without reeking of his father, and everyone knew which alpha he belonged to because of it. Damian couldn’t even sense his mother’s scent anymore, long having been dwarfed out by his father’s domineering cologne, a warm sort of smell, like a delicious fruit (Damian’s not sure how else to explain it), as opposed to his mother’s spicy peppermint.

Father was bolder as time went on, as evident by his shamelessness for public affection, taking Damian’s hand in his, and even lifting him up so that he could be shown off to close friends. Damian was proudly displayed anywhere they went, and Bruce’s friends were always surprised to see him. But when they saw how happy Bruce was, they complimented Damian. Telling him that he was such a handsome pup and that he looked just like his daddy. Damian hated being treated like a child and being baby talked, but he did nothing to dissuade their poor choice of vocal tones. It would be bad for his undercover operation if he threatened them with bodily harm. It seemed to do something in his favor since most believe he was a well-behaved boy. Clark Kent, a journalist from the Daily Planet, even wrote in his article that he’d never met a sweeter pup, and Damian was mortified to find that passage on the internet (since he did not make it commonplace to walk to Metropolis for a newspaper).

Bruce seemed to agree though.

Damian was the only one who lived with his father initially, since all his adult children had left the nest, but they returned occasionally to visit. It was not long before his father was proudly displaying Damian to his older sons, and Dick seemed to think Damian was the best thing since Christmas.

“Wow, he’s beautiful, Bruce, congratulation,” he’d said. “I know you’ve been having a tough time lately, and I think this is really good for you.”

“Thank you, Dick,” Bruce had said while gathering Damian up proudly, once again lifting him up to show him off, and then preening like a proud rooster with the puff of his chest. “I’d like it if you came around more in the future. I think Damian could use some good role models.”

Dick had been touched and agreed.

Nevertheless, his visits barely increased, and Damian still would call them occasional.

Damian didn’t really get to know Dick until Bruce had to call in a baby-sitter, having sent Alfred off on vacation, and having promised a woman named Selina that he’d join her at a 3-day yacht party (it was a wedding for a close associate). Dick then became Damian’s baby-sitter from that point on, even though Damian didn’t need a baby-sitter, being perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but that had set the standard apparently. Damian became acquainted with his oldest brother against his will, becoming the highlight of several zoom calls (“Is that your brother, Dick? He’s so cute!”), and also becoming familiar with the man’s apartment. It became so commonplace to visit Dick instead of the other way around that the man had bought him a special set of pajamas. Damian would wear it any time he slept over at Dick’s place.

In addition, Dick even bought a booster seat for his car, and ended up driving him to various event centers. Damian accompanied him to the zoo, a trampoline park, (“Come on Damian, just jump, that’s all you gotta do!”) and a mall equipped with a children’s playground. Dick always ended up having more fun than he had, acting like a child trapped in a grown man’s body, and Damian wondered why he was even attempting to nurture relationship between them.

It turned out that Dick was still a member of Bruce’s pack, and that’s when it started to make sense to Damian. It wasn’t that Dick was just hanging out with him for the hell of it, no, he liked him, and wanted to make a connection with him. Damian was not happy to learn this information and tried everything he could to avoid bonding with Dick. In fact, he was as uncooperative as he could possibly be without blowing his cover, and yet Dick still relentlessly endured his quiet treatment.

Damian didn’t like Dick, he tried to make it clear, but maybe something changed after he got sick. Bruce was away on official business, Alfred was also sick in bed, and Dick came over to help pick up Alfred’s load. It wasn’t long until Damian caught whatever Alfred had, and he could barely move throughout his misery. Damian hated being vulnerable, probably would have protested if he had the energy of it, but he remembered how Dick treated him. How the man tenderly wrapped him up in a blanket. Pressed cool compresses to his head, tipped his head to drink water, and sat with him in a rocking chair out on the porch. He also got him some cool air and Vitamin D. Never said much during that time. Damian had heard little except the creaking wood. Going back and forth as Dick sat there with him. Still and meditative.

Damian allowed Dick to scent him after taking care of him, because he was a pitiful creature, of course, and not because he wanted to reward him for his affections.

Dick was elated when it happened, strapping Damian into the car, driving them off to their father’s work building, and then busting into his office to announce the happy news.

Bruce had been puzzled by Dick’s choice of action, intruding upon his workplace without calling him first, but he still thanked Dick for returning Damian that evening (because he’d been at Dick’s house prior). It was then back to usual, afterwards, and Damian was tucked into the den that night. Bruce never let Damian go a few days without smelling like him. Damian simply submitted himself to his father’s will because he didn’t have an option, and definitely not because he liked the feelings it gave him. Damian was not a fan of the nuzzling, chuffing, or any of the affectionate calls.

Damian did not purr back to any of those things, no sir, and he did not like his father’s natural talent for making his heart warm. It was not pleasing one bit.

Damian’s life was full of these delightsome – uh – wretched moments until Jason ended up in the hospital. Damian didn’t even know who Jason was until they had him transported to the mansion. Jason, incapable of doing much after a gallbladder removal, was moody, angry, and hated everything in the world. Bruce was endlessly patient with him. It was fascinating to watch the man render Jason speechless – a blushing red mess – more oft than naught – with his love. Jason hated having anyone help him out, but Bruce always managed to skirt his way around it. It was truly a testament of their father’s charisma.

Jason ended up in the den instead of his bed, which was the place he’d originally taken up, and everyone attended to his needs. Damian, on the other hand, didn’t care for Jason, and tried to avoid him if possible. It wasn’t the most feasible thing in retrospect. Damian ended up in the den every evening after all, and he had been given plenty of time to learn about Jason against his will. Damian thought he should be appreciative of the fact that his father was so attentive to Jason, but the little jealousy spikes had him becoming more compliant than usual whenever his father handled him. Damian suddenly became putty in his hold, started melting in their scenting sessions, and possessively sucked up anything he could get.

“It’s really weird that you had a kid while I was gone,” Jason had commented in one of those moments. Jason had been watching Bruce fix up Damian’s hair and tuck him in.

“Damian was a welcome surprise,” Bruce purred in return, “isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Bruce patted the blanket over Damian’s tummy, and Damian tried not to become like Jason. Weak and red. God forbid. He was far more mature than his older brother, and he ought to act like it. A good plan, he’d thought, until he remembered he was supposed to be acting younger than the adults in the house. He was conflicted because of it, at constant war within his mind. It didn’t help that it was easier to act like a child ever since he’d been claimed by his father’s scent. It was becoming too natural for him, too easy to slip into. This was quickly becoming a situation that was difficult to confront. His mother had told him that he needed to act his age, that it was vital to his safety. To his father’s safety. And yet his pride was at battle with his heart. Damian didn’t want to be babied. Or so he liked to think.

Jason, for reasons unknown, took a gruff liking to Damian, and started sharing his goodies with him. Damian once found his hand sticking into Jason’s potato chip bag, without having thought about it, and quickly snapped it out with a trembling hand full of chips. It was dangerous how adjustable this place was. Regardless, Jason’s sharing became listening to audiobooks together, which became accompanying him on short walks around the house, and then, somehow, they were playing sports without their father’s supervision. Damian went outside to throw stones, play catch, and to dribble basketballs. Jason had to teach him how to dribble, much to his disdain, but it was enjoyable afterwards.

Jason didn’t stick around for the whole month and hitched a ride with Alfred back home. Bruce was reluctant to have him leave, spending a long night of just talking to him about fond memories, but Jason eventually made his exit the morning after. He didn’t go without ruffling Damian’s hair. Said something along the lines of, “I like you, kid. We should hang out sometime.”

Jason wasn’t seen until the following month, when he stopped by because his washing machine broke, and Damian tried to treat him like a stranger despite the many activities they participated in. Jason wasn’t having it. Damian was roped into a milkshake run, arcade hopping, and then returned home on a sugar high. Damian had never had three milkshakes in one day, not for each meal, and he was almost uncontrollable for the night. Jason had never received a fiercer scolding from Alfred. Bruce tried to get Damian to drink a lot of water and told him to sit down.

It’s weird how sugar can make one so hyper and yet completely crash their body. Damian was vibrating on the couch in one moment, and then he was knocked out cold in the next. Jason felt guilty and carried him to bed. It was the first time Damian had woken up in his own bed for months.

Damian recovered quickly afterwards and tried to get back to setting his own pace.

Then, Tim came home to take a break from college. Damian was exasperated to find out that his father had more children, but he was pleased that Tim was not as extroverted as the other ones. Damian didn’t have much of a problem with Tim because the man didn’t exactly go out of his way to make friends. Tim was awkwardness personified. Tim couldn’t even talk to Damian without messing his words up, and he always failed to engage him in any kind of conversation. Damian thought that meant he was free from more bonding, but having Tim join them in the den forced them to get used to one another.

Damian didn’t think that would be much of a problem when they never talked, and he didn’t have to worry about Tim going out of his way to bond. But Tim had a secret that Damian was unprepared for. He was a serial sleep-hugger.

At first, it didn’t bother him because Tim often ended up clinging to Bruce. The warmest heat source in the room. But then Damian woke up one morning and found that he couldn’t move. He was frozen stiff when he realized that Tim had clung to him in his sleep. He couldn’t move until Tim woke up, and Tim was a late riser who hated waking up. He was the grumpiest person alive. He couldn’t even manage to think straight. In fact, Tim lugged Damian around in the den that morning until he realized what he was doing, and then he’d cry out in shock because he was dragging an entire child around the room. Damian took the opportunity to break free, run away, and panic in his own room.

Damian tried to remedy any future incidents by barricading his space with pillows, but Tim somehow still managed to break through barriers just to cling to him. Damian woke up several times with Tim holding onto him, and, at some point, it became so common that Tim didn’t care anymore. He’d just hold on tighter and mumbled into Damian’s hair, “Five more minutes.”

Afterwards, if he roused further, Damian was dragged with him into the kitchen, and then taken care of as if he, too, needed a coffee fix, but he always got hot chocolate instead. Or apple juice. Sometimes, tea, if he was lucky. Regardless, Tim would sit in companionable silence with him, and soon even that became testy. Damian started hearing Tim talk more, mostly to himself, but still, he was talking. He liked to murmur over his project particularly. Damian had no idea what they were, but they often had Tim’s attention. Enough so to consume his energy for the rest of the day and tucker him out by the end of it.

“Hey, Damian,” Tim once slurred sleepily on such an evening, “come over here.”

Damian eyed him skeptically as he approached Tim’s spot in the den. He yelped when Tim dragged him down and wrapped him up. The man sighed, breath rushing over Damian’s head. “So warm,” he had spoken. “You’re the perfect size.”

Bruce liked that Tim stopped clinging onto him every night because he was getting back problems because of it. Damian, on the other hand, was not exactly, as they say, thrilled.

Damian advocated to stay in his own room after that, much to the dismay of his father, and the confusion of Tim. Damian insisted that a growing boy needed his space and that, for some reason, had his father melting, and smiling like he’d heard something cute. “That’s right,” he’d agreed, “you’re a growing boy. My big baby boy.”

“Father,” Damian protested with the tint of his ears.

Damian won, for a short time, but he was still kidnapped on the occasion.

“I think it’s time we thought about enrolling Damian into school,” Bruce decided at breakfast one morning.

Damian paled – thought about being cooped up with twenty other children in a small classroom – studying subjects he’d already learned. Alfred was all for Bruce’s decision to have Damian go to school, but Damian was horrified to follow through with the idea. 

“Sounds like a good idea,” Tim agreed. It was no surprise, he loved education. Damian did too, to some extent, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be stuck with a bunch of adolescent children. “I’m thinking he needs to get outside the house anyways. It’s not good to stay cooped up in here.”

“I could say the same thing to you, Master Tim,” Alfred remarked dryly.

Tim snorted. “It’s not the same. I’m going back to college in a month.”

“Yes, but you haven’t left the house since the previous month.”

“Because I had important studying to do,” Tim protested with a squawk. “Stop messing with me, Alfred. It’s too early for this. Can’t you tell that I’m not ready to banter, hm? Look at these bags under my eyes. Does it look like I’m awake?”

Alfred continued to tease Tim as Bruce hummed at the head of the table, almost like a happy little child who’d won a cookie, thinking about all the schools he could possibly send Damian to, and perhaps even imagining what his son would grow up to be. Dick had become a police officer, Jason worked in construction, and Tim was aiming to become a private detective. (Damian got to watch crime documentaries all the time because of Tim’s fascination with cold cases) Damian might just become a lawyer when he grew up, or maybe he’d become a musician if he showed interest. Bruce could even see him becoming an athlete. It was a wide world out there with different opportunities. It was fun to think about which one Damian would take.

I’m going to be the heir to the League of Assassins.

Damian did not say that out loud. It probably would have made him sound like a child with a large imagination.

“I think I’ll look into prestigious schools after breakfast,” Bruce made known as he finished up his toast. “I don’t want him to go to public school. Jason had a rough time of it.”

“I mean, with villains crashing in every week, yeah, no wonder,” Tim mumbled.

“It wasn’t that bad, not at the time,” Bruce insisted.

Damian had never heard the topic of villains come up until recently. Gotham, unlike many other cities, was lacking a local vigilante, but there were whispers about a so-called Orphan running around.

A vampire, the gossip sites claimed, don’t wander around at night, or the Orphan will find you and suck your blood.

Damian didn’t know more beyond that.

Breakfast ended quickly. Damian went about his own business, trying to find ways to entertain himself, and taking his time exploring the grounds. He stayed outside for the afternoon. Struck gold when he found a hole in the ground leading into a black abyss. Whatever was down there, it was big. Damian had never come across such an interesting find since arriving to Gotham.

Damian wanted to ask questions about his discovery, but he was soon enrolled into an all-boy’s school. It occupied all his time. Damian hated it – hated it with a passion – he wanted out. It was ridiculous that he had to study old subjects, there was no point in it, and the grade hierarchy was perfect for bullies. Damian had never seen so much in-fighting before, not even in his own league, where assassins were trained to retain strict loyalty to his grandfather, and it was annoying that he had to lay low just to avoid a potential wrestling match.

Damian was eventually singled out for being a know-it-all, though, and for being the best at literally everything the school offered. Damian beat his classmates in sports, grades, and overall intelligence. It made people angry that he had a pompous attitude. Thus, did he quickly become a target for inevitable mockery. Damian didn’t care much for it at first, thought it was a mild irritation, but then the months started rolling by. Tim went back to college, Damian continued going to school, and people started doing things to his belongings. Damian found his desk items missing, his locker vandalized, and his gym clothes soiled. It eventually progressed into bumping shoulders, popping fists on his arm, and solid pushes in the hallway.

Damian was tired of pretending to be weak when someone decided to challenge him and attempted to pummel him in the face for having it better off than the rest of them. It wasn’t long before Damian had enough of letting the kid throw his punches in and threw one singular punch of his own. Knocking out a child with effortless strength. It sent the entire grade into a frenzy. The bell rang to call everyone home. Teachers spilled out into the halls to regain control. Damian used the panic to slip out and run.

Damian never was messed with again, not after that display, but he’d been scared. Scared of what would happen if his father found out. Scared to know if his mother was watching him and judging him. His scent grew wild. His pheromones wobbled out of control. Damian ran until he was out of breath and sat himself down on a swing. He didn’t know how long he sat there, but it must have been a long time. He watched the sun go down. Watched the sky turn red as he thought about what might happen to his father if he slipped up again.

It was nighttime when someone found him. Jason did a double take from the street after passing him on a motorcycle. He screeched a U-turn at the neighboring intersection and flew down the road. Pulled the bike to a dangerous halt atop the sidewalk. Fortunately, no one was walking nearby. Damian was the only one present. Asides from Jason, who was pissed. He tore off his helmet with one movement and showed Damian the anger in his blue eyes. Let them rage as he grabbed the boy’s wrist and pulled him off the swing.

“What the hell are you doing?” He hissed. “Do you know how worried Bruce is? He’s been calling up the whole city trying to look for you. Even got in contact with Gordon, of all people!”

Damian whimpered. Jason realized he’d grabbed a little too hard, been a little too rough, and his face fell. The anger faded a tinge, and he released Damian’s wrist. He turned quiet after that. Looked a little guilty, too. Up until his eyes snapped to a bruise on Damian’s cheek. Then the anger was back, and Jason was skimming his knuckles over Damian’s skin.

“Who did this?” His voice was low and dark. “Damian?”

Damian didn’t answer, frightened, a poor thing for him to feel when he was a trained assassin, but becoming a civilian had done so many things to him. He wasn’t acting like he was supposed to. Wasn’t as in control as he’d like.

“Who touched you?” Jason growled out. “Answer me.”

Damian still didn’t respond. Jason stared at him for a long moment. Damian wasn’t fazed by his stare, and it made Jason clench his jaw.

It was clear he wasn’t going to be getting any answers anytime soon.

“Come on,” he beckoned, mumbling because he was in a bad mood, “let’s get you home.”

Damian followed him obediently, let Jason sit himself in front of him, and thought about the inevitable encounter at home. It made him nervous to think about what his father might think of this situation. It furthered his anxiety when he thought about his mother finding out and pulling him aside to lecture him about how bad he’d handled the fight. Damian shouldn’t have overreacted to a bunch of bullies, but he had and –

“Kid, you reek of fear,” Jason murmured, interrupting his thoughts, and Damian startled because of it. Tried to reel it in as they rode through Gotham. Jason didn’t say anything about Damian’s continuous failed attempts and made sure he got the kid home safely. Jason then escorted him to the house, into the entryway, and towards the kitchen for an ice pack. Bruce somehow knew they were home because he found Jason pressing the pack against Damian’s cheek. At first, he shoulders slacked with relief that Damian was home, but then he realized that Jason was pressing up on a bruise. His face contorted into something painful. Worry gnawed on his brows.

“What happened?” Bruce asked.

Jason explained everything, down to the smallest detail, and Bruce looked more pained than before. Bruce then crouched himself down in front of Damian and tried to ask him gentle questions. Damian, terrified, answered nothing, and remained mute. It put a concerned look in his father’s eyes. It also made him realize that this line of questioning wasn’t going to get him anything. Damian was too afraid to answer, and everyone could tell.

“I’ve got an idea, if you trust me,” Jason said.

Bruce furrowed his brows.

“I do trust you, Jason,” he said, “but what’s your idea?”

Jason pulled Bruce aside, out of earshot, and Damian didn’t bother straining to listen. It felt like ten minutes too long before they turned.

Damian was gently pulled off his stool. Bruce stood aside as Jason took over and guided the pup to the den. He was a lot softer now. Something in him changed, as if he’d done it deliberately to calm Damian. Damian still wasn’t buying it, though, and he wouldn’t for a while. Jason would have to do better than that if he wanted any answers.

Jason did do something better than shifting his body language because he ended up laying Damian down in the den. He fluffed up all the pillows for him and made him as comfortable as he possibly could be. Then, he laid down on his side. Tucked his chest against Damian’s back with a rumble.

Damian’s breath hitched.

“You’re safe now, pup,” Jason insisted as that rumble vibrated throughout his back and invaded his senses. It was doing something to Jason’s scent, too, and making an earthy tone smell sweeter than Damian thought capable. “Nothing’s going to happen to you here. This is our den. There isn’t a safer place in the world.”

Jason’s hand reached to turn him, Damian let him, and then his hand was pulling his head in. It cupped the back of his head firmly and remained there as he purred.

Damian’s wild pheromones took a pause the longer he listened to Jason’s purr, and something in him gradually relaxed throughout the next five minutes. Damian calmed, his heartbeat slowed, and then nothing mattered anymore. Damian was with his older brother, his body was convinced nothing bad could happen to him now, and that was his new reality.

“Tell me who hurt you, hm?” Jason’s voice was soft. “Who made your cheek purple?”

Damian looked up at Jason wearily. Bruce, who’d been late to join them, stood underneath the doorway, leaning against the frame, face askew with desire to act, but body restrained with the folding of his arms.

“Need to hear that pretty voice of yours, Damian,” Jason continued when Damian didn’t respond. “I’m not going to learn anything if you stay silent.”

Damian abruptly grabbed hold of his shirt.

“I didn’t mean to,” he begged.

“What?” Jason encouraged. “Didn’t mean to do what?”

“Hurt someone,” Damian said.

That was a concerning statement that had Jason stiffening. “Why would you hurt someone?”

“He was hurting me,” Damian said, “and I was tired of taking hits. I didn’t want to be a good boy anymore. I wanted to do something that would make him stop.”

“He was hurting you?” Jason growled, sending a chill up Damian’s spine. “Were you in a fight at school?”

Damian nodded.

Bruce heard what he needed, pulled out his phone, and walked out into the hallway. Jason’s hand gravitated towards Damian’s back. Put a steady pressure into the middle of it.

Jason growled again but then he tried to reign himself back in. “Okay,” he breathed, “alright.”

Jason tried to collect himself and took in another deep breath.

“Tell me more, hm?”

Damian did, he told Jason everything, and every part of his story had Jason tensing up, wanting to throw a punch at someone. Damian tried not to be fazed but Jason’s body-language was hard to keep up with. He tried to pull away at some point, but Jason pulled him right back in. Apologized softly and rubbed at his wrist where he’d grabbed too tightly. Regret was still in his motions.

“It’s okay, we’ll take care of it,” Jason muttered into Damian’s hair as sleepy pheromones leaked out of his system. Damian thought only parents could lull their pups to sleep, but Jason was proving the impossible by making him feel drifty. Damian gradually relaxed the longer he was in Jason’s hold, and eventually he fell asleep in the alpha’s arms.

Unfair, he thought.

Damian was temporarily removed from school and took his school-work home with him. It pleased his father that he was so disciplined and intelligent. In fact, his father had no ends of praises for his grades, and even hung up his report cards on the fridge. It was embarrassing. It was also gratifying. Damian was happy that someone appreciated his smarts around here.

Damian never heard about what happened to the boy from school, but Dick had not-nice things to say about him when he called them all up on Zoom. Jason laughed when he suggested sending the kid to jail, exaggerating the boy’s crimes, but Dick clearly hadn’t meant it.

Tim was not happy when he heard about what happened and complained about it. Damian listened to his brothers advocate for him and defend him without prompting. It made him think that wow, this is kind of nice, having a bunch of brothers to back him up. Damian never realized this was one of the benefits until now.

Dick didn’t have the premium version of Zoom, so it ended after thirty minutes of screen time. Damian took up drawing to occupy his time afterwards, but the evening inevitably rolled in with the setting of the sun. Damian waited for his father to come find him, was unsurprised when it happened, and he allowed the man to corral him back into the den. Damian was then molded in his hands as he was tucked in protectively and scented with the nuzzling of a nose on his face. Damian pretended not to like it by pushing his father’s face away, but his father simply grabbed his hand with a laugh. He pressed it against his cheek with the fondest of smiles. Infatuated and admirative. Damian had never seen such love on a person’s face before. Not even his mother’s. She was colder than most, he realized in retrospect. His father was the unreachable standard.

Bruce released Damian’s hand to skim his cheek, where the bruise sat, much like what Jason had done just a few days prior, and then traced his fingers upward to move Damian’s bangs.

“Father,” Damian mumbled as the man finally set himself down for sleep. This time, it was Damian who curled up into him. Bruce didn’t have to move a muscle. “I don’t like homework.”

Bruce cracked a smile.

“Me neither,” he admitted before pressing a kiss to Damian’s crown.

Damian closed his eyes to sleep.