Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Danny had a feeling the next several months were going to suck. Out of everyone in his school, he'd been the one picked for the whole "Transfer student," nonsense. With his reputation, you'd think he'd be the last person you'd want to show off out of state.

Regardless, Danny was chosen, and now he was on a plane headed to New Jersey Gotham. "The City of Crime" sounds like a blast and a half. All the rouges and criminals that wouldn't be his problem to deal with. It seemed like heaven in theory, but Danny knew with his luck he'd be getting mugged left, right, and center.

Pressing his face against the window, Danny allowed his mind to wander. To the portal, the friends who wouldn't be here to support him, to the ghosts who didn't want to kill him. Dani and Val were going to pick up the slack back home but that wouldn't help with the rumors no doubt going around about Phantom's disappearance. He could only hope he still had a secret identity when he got home.

Maybe if he did crime against the local vigilantes he'd get sent home early...

No, the rouges and local criminals did that on a daily basis they wouldn't crack from a little trolling. Or maybe they would? Then again, Red Hood used guns and the current Robin ran around with a real ass god-damn sword so trolling was a bad idea.

In all honesty, Robin was intimidating even with the little information he had about him. All he had were blurry, articles from various news outlets and attempted interviews with some ridiculously persistent reporter. Robin sounded more cryptic than he was! The entire concept of a teenager his age manifesting out of the shadows and chasing him with a katana would forever be his biggest concern during his stay in Gotham.

When the plane touched down Danny was left in a busy airport terminal. Vague instructions from his teachers and chatter from the employees trying to get him out onto the street as soon as possible were all he had to go off right now. Also, a brochure that he was 90% sure was all bullshit.

Gotham's air felt closer to smoke than it was anything breathable. Burning his nostrils, a scent of gas and cigarette smoke pretty much engulfed the city. It was so bad the second he took a breath, his core jolted, snapping into gear, not allowing anything to enter his lungs before it filtered. He'd never been so glad about dying until now, and never had he ever been as impressed in a population as he was now.

Danny had only been here for ten minutes or so but he'd already come to the conclusion that Gothamites were as metal as amity parkers. Wandering through the city, Danny tried to keep his face neutral. Not a smile or the slightest tell that he wasn't from here. He'd rather not get mugged before he reached his apartment. Though, maybe a fatal injury would get him sent home early.

Looking down at the map on his phone, Danny drew closer to the apartment building he'd been assigned to stay at. Supposedly, it was closer to the rich kid school he'd be temporarily attending. Why they decided it was okay for a teenager to live by himself in Gotham was a complete and total mystery. He could only hope he wouldn't die a second time during his stay.

Getting the key from the front desk was a much easier process than he'd thought It'd be. But it could never be quick enough. His suitcases were heavy!! And he was so very very tired. When he got into his apartment he tossed his suitcases onto the floor, inspecting the place he'd be staying for the next few months. It pretty good setup, a bathroom with a combined bath and shower, a tiny kitchen for cooking, and a small bedroom with a twin XL mattress. Grey sheets that Danny didn't quite trust were clean.
Danny barely had the time to settle in before he was pelted with schedules, school rules, and uniform requirements.

His uniform as supplied by the school was a navy blue blazer with the school label embroidered on the pocket. A tie striped black and blue tucked into a stuffy-looking dress shirt. Overall it felt more like he was dressing up for one of Vlad's stupid Gala's than it did school.

He wasn't given any time to unpack, not a second to relax or get used to his surroundings. Nope! He was expected to pack up his school supplies and head to school right away! Seriously, not a minute before the front office was asking where he was, as if offended he didn't teleport to school the moment he touched down.

The school itself was intimidating. Twice the size of Casper High, it looked like a private school. It also looked like a school where he'd face severe bullying. Just from looking at the entrance, he could tell this building had proper equipment down to the most obscure of clubs. Kids rushed past him some looking panicked as a school bell rang while others just seemed annoyed.

He strolled leisurely through the school hall on the way to the office. There was no rush, he didn't even want to be here. What were they going to do? Send him home? Oh no, what a tragedy!

Snickering under his breath, Danny scrolled through the avalanche of texts Vlad was sending him. All of them pertaining the same message of "Get your ass to school you're making me look bad!" It almost convinced him to skip but the pissed-off edge to the office lady's voice in their last phone call was enough to goad him into creeping into the office.

A face of thinly veiled annoyance rested on the desk lady's face. He could barely get a word out before a school map and schedule were shoved into his hands. A bare-bones explanation of the school rules was given along with his school ID before he was all but shouted at to get to class.

You'd think there'd be an adjusting period where they'd walk him through everything and let him get settled in at his own pace, but nope! This is Gotham! Apparently, that's not how they roll with transfer students. It's like they wanted him back in amity as much as he did.

He wasn't sure if he liked that or not...

Chapter Text

Minutes ticked by like hours as his English teacher droned on about topics he’d learned years ago. Surface-level information dumbed down to its simplest form. Todd had already given him the assigned book years ago. A classic written sometime in the 1950s. He’d claimed it would be a book he could relate to. He’d quizzed himself, writing an essay to prove he actually read it when Todd came around again.

He guessed that’s why when the discussions of symbolism and deeper meanings started, his interest plummeted. He focused on a worksheet, only half listening as the teacher read aloud. Vocabulary and its context, all of it so dull. painfully easy, but still father wouldn’t allow him to skip grades, nor would the school. Something about him having “Poor social skills,”

Tch, lies and slander. It wasn’t his fault his classmates were too cowardly to speak to him face to face. They’d been the ones to label him as intimidating and cold. If not being a spineless pushover made him intolerable, then he didn't want to be friendly. He wouldn’t allow himself to be taken advantage of, and he sure as hell wouldn’t let anyone talk down to him without facing the consequences.

He didn't need to be social with these hooligans. A waste of time! Plus, he’s certain everyone in class already held a certain distaste for him. It’d be better if he was homeschooled, but father said he needed to be seen by the public so the media wouldn't talk. Journalists and tabloid writers were like vultures they'd squawk regardless if he was in school or not. Father hadn't seen his argument valid so he was stuck with yet another year of this dull nonsense.

A new transfer student from a small town in Illinois should be here today. An outsider spending a whole seven months in Gotham, it should be equal parts entertaining as it’d be inconvenient. The backlash that’d hit them if they let said transfer student die within city borders would be tremendous. He could only hope this Daniel Fenton wasn’t just late and instead backed out like any sensible person would.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case as the teacher stepped outside, coming back with a smile of faux sweetness on their face, waving her hand, signaling someone inside.

A boy with eyes blue like sapphire stones stepped into the classroom. His shoulders lax but the way he fidgeted in place screamed he’d rather be anywhere but here. His features were soft, electrical scaring running down the left side of his face, creeping down the boy’s chin and neck. Hair pitch black with short splotches of white-ish gray framed his face. A small silver necklace shaped like Saturn hung from his neck, a clear dress code violation, but clearly, he hadn’t been accosted for it yet. Their teacher encouraged him to introduce himself.

“Hi, My name’s Danny and I hope I don’t die here,” Daniel joked, his posture jovial despite the morbidity of his words.

“Though, I wouldn’t be shocked if I did,” He finished, earning a quiet chuckle from those who could see the boy’s scars.

Daniel glanced around the front row, eyes landing on the empty spot beside him. Daniel quickly took this spot without hesitation, ignoring the multiple students who waved him over with a simple gesture to the left side of his face.

With a closer view of Daniel's left eye, he could see the slight milky discoloration of the pupil and iris. He's likely blind in that eye, but the circumstances of him being born with the impairment are unlikely, judging by the damage around his eye socket. It had healed well for what he could only infer was a grievous injury. The scar tissue looked fresh, no older than a year or so, signaling this partial blindness was relatively new.

He seemed relieved that the teacher was reading out loud like nobody had offered him any sort of accommodation for his disability. Considering Daniel came from a small town in Illinois, he doubted any school accommodations were made for him besides maybe a week or so off school when he was recovering. Gotham wasn’t much better, but Father poured a decent amount into the city’s healthcare and educational systems.

“Tuck your necklace under your shirt,” He whispered to his new seatmate when the teacher turned her back. “It breaks the dress code, you’ll never get it back if a teacher spots it,” A warning deadly serious, a bit stern for something as frivolous as a piece of jewelry, but Daniel looked as if that simple warning had saved his life. Daniel shoved the necklace under his dress shirt with alarming speed, tucking the thin, bronze chain beneath his collar, making the boy’s neck look deceptively bare.

They both continued their work in silence, mutual respect between the two of them to stay out of each other’s way. When Daniel’s pencil lead broke, Damian offered him a sharpener. When their teacher called on him despite his hand being down, Danny answered instead, giddy that “he” was called on. Giving the English teacher the easy choice of admitting she was targeting students or playing the part of a welcoming teacher eager to have the half-blind kid engage with her class.

Daniel did it on purpose too, that was sure. He made class time more bearable that was certain as well. The way his seatmate engaged the subject in an intelligent manner despite frequent mutters of English not “being his subject,” was admirable.

When brought into discussion, Daniel meshed with his new peers relatively quickly, quick to snap in with a clever quip when the opportunity arose. He was by no means a social butterfly but fell into the rhythm of a conversation with practiced ease.

Often, when not writing he fidgeted, picking at black and white polish on his nails or twirling a pencil between two fingers. He’d rest his face on his palm and pursed his lips when confused. Though his mannerisms were somewhat awkward, some might call them cute.

It wasn‘t long until class was over, the bell calling all the students to coagulate by the door, slowly filing into the hallway. All except him and Daniel, who stared at a schedule and a map with furrowed brows. They shared their next class too, an idea that filled him with an odd giddiness.

Damian pulled a copy of his own schedule from his bag, tapping Daniels's shoulder and showing him their matching second-hour classes.

“It would be easier if we went together,”

Daniel smiled, canines sharpened to a point. His heart boomed in his chest, a strange but…Pleasant experience. It was too early to tell, but he thinks he’ll enjoy having Daniel here for the next seven months.

Chapter Text

“It would be easier if we went together,” Damian offered, saving him from a half hour of wandering through the halls like a bumbling idiot.

Danny beamed, “I think I’ll take you up on that offer,”

“Likewise, administration is pitifully incompetent when it comes to keeping students informed,” He replied promptly.

Harsh but true. He’s ninety percent sure the map they gave him was for a different school, and the braille on his schedule was just a menu for a local fast food chain. If he’d been fully blind, this would’ve fucked him over. Lawsuit levels of fucked over. The lady at the front desk was either making a messed up joke or having a very bad day.

“Yeah… Incompetent is one word I’d use to describe it” He muttered. At least the written words on his schedule were correct.

“…” His seatmate stares at him, piercing green eyes studying the paper in his hands.

“Your map is outdated,”

“Hhm?”

“That map’s fifty years outdated,” Of course it was, Fenton’s luck strikes again.

“I figured something was wrong with it,” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

“You don’t happen to have a spare map on you? This is the only one they gave me,” He chuckled awkwardly, ancients he must look like a moron.

“You’re very calm for the situation you’ve been put in,”

“I’ve experienced worse than a faulty map, this is child’s play!” He reassured.

“I suppose you’re right, but a mistake like this shouldn’t have happened in the first place,”

“Probably not, but at least you’re here so I’m not alone in my confusion,” He smiled, and Damian gave him a curt nod before glancing away.

The two of them continued their walk to class in relative silence. Students passed them by in the hall, a shocked look on their faces as they stole a second glance at the two of them. He’s used to it, his face looks fucking awesome!

When the two of them reached their math class Danny quickly took his spot at the front, Damian taking the seat beside him. The teacher had a lanyard hanging from his neck and a small badge with what he could only guess was the teacher’s name scrawled out on the front. Letters in a font far too small for him to read as the teacher paced back and forth through the classroom.

Other students continued to file into the classroom, but the teacher's gaze lingered on him. Insuring his necklace was still hidden beneath his collar, Danny had a mental sigh of relief. It was, there’s no proof he was breaking any rule of any kind, no reason for a teacher to burn a hole into his skull with their stare.

“Okay!” Their teacher started voice almost shouting as he smacked a ruler onto his desk. It hurt him to admit how hard he flinched at the loud “Thwack!” it made as it hit his desk, only a few inches away from his face.

“As you can see,” He gestured to Danny. “We have a transfer student joining us this year,”

“You are to be kind and respectful to him,”

Oh, Danny hated this already. This teacher wanted him dead. No, this teacher just dug him a grave. Not even a high-quality grave either, it's unmarked and two feet deep. The coffin was just a trash can taped shut.

It may seem dramatic, but a teacher instructing a roomful of teenagers to be “nice and respectful,” to anyone was just begging them to do the opposite, especially if you said it with the same attitude you’d take when addressing a room full of toddlers.

His fate was sealed; he would be single this entire trip.

The worst thing about it was the dude stared down Damian as he said it! The death glare his new friend was giving the adult could curdle milk instantly.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you kicked my ass to spite him,” Danny whispered.

It’d be a necessary evil he’d accept with open arms.

“If I wanted to pursue revenge, I’d target him directly, not you,” Damien replied with a burning determination in his eyes.

“Metal,” Danny nodded.

A worksheet was placed on his desk, the teacher approached from his blind side.

Oh, he was certain, this teacher already didn’t like him. It’s like he’s cursed or something. He’ll never be a straight-A student! Danny glanced over to his glaring seatmate. At least he’d have a witness for this bullcrap.

Chapter Text

The incompetence he bore witness to today rivaled that of which you’d see at an underfunded public school. This is a private school funded to the highest caliber! Damian hadn’t missed the dramatic increase in budget around the time Father enrolled him in the school. He’d been there when the press hounded him about it! The point was, that he knew for a fact that the school had the resources to accommodate a single transfer student!

With how poorly Daniel had been equipped to traverse the halls, one could only question if it were intentional. There was sure to be the inevitable mix-up with a student actually showing up for the transfer program. Usually, all they got was an announcement over the PA that all the potential transfers had not so politely declined the invitation. No rational parent would send their child to Gotham alone unless they were truly desperate, ignorant, or neglectful.

Nothing could ever excuse what he’d seen today. You don’t hand a half-blind student a schedule with braille so radically different from the actual print by accident. It was a bat burger menu for gods sake! Someone had to have noticed when they handed it to him. In lieu of a recent spike of impairments involving vision and or hearing, every schedule had braille on it! Both sign language and braille had become their own optional after-school courses that upon completion, awarded a more than generous amount of extra credit. One didn’t even have to complete the course, all you had to do was pass multiple fluency tests, and then you were finished.

Most teachers knew either braille or some form of sign language, and they all damn well would’ve known that the map was outdated! Fifty years outdated, you’d have to be a moron to hand that out by mistake. Though with what he was seeing now, he’s not quite sure the facility wasn’t primarily composed of scrambling idiots.

Mr. Rivers, ever the annoyance, had taken to only approaching Daniel from his blind side. It became more and more infuriating as class ticked by. The teacher shoved his body between the two of them, violating any semblance of personal space for the sole purpose of inconveniencing Daniel. Every time Mr. Rivers encroached on their personal space, Damian sharpened his pencil. Every time he made the other boy flinch, the idea of launching the pencil like one of his throwing knives became more and more appealing. No harm would’ve come to the teacher, the sight of a wooden pencil embedding itself in the wall mere inches away from his left eye would be more than enough to frighten the man.

He’d face detention or possibly even suspension, but he’d take the punishment with pride. A smirk played on his lips as he tapped his pencil against his desk.

His smirk soon shifted into a scowl as yet another work packet was piled onto his desk. It was irritating, everything about this class was irritating. Daniel let out a dramatic groan beside him, the other boy slumping back in his chair. Worksheets were piled high on the boy's desk, some completed while most remained unfinished.

A ruler snapped down onto Daniel’s desk, a loud thwack! Startling the boy into sitting up straight.

“I guess I deserved that one,” Daniel shrugged.

“No you didn’t,” Damian replied flatly, but Daniel just shrugged it off. Most of the school facility were what most Gothamites would consider normal. Mr. River just had a generally detestable personality.

The man hated teenagers, often spewing complaints of their “rowdy behavior” and “lack of dedication,”. Damian might’ve agreed with those statements if it weren’t for the blatant lies in every word the man said. His classmates were…noisy and rather unpleasant for him to mingle with, but they were far from the “Lazy entitled brats” Mr. Rivers had painted them as. It’d be hypocritical for him of all people to judge the teacher based on being “mean” but the two of them couldn’t be farther apart.

Damian was a hostile presence in the classroom, but he didn’t go out of his way to target and harass people for things they couldn’t control. People could choose to stay out of his personal space, and they could choose to not say dumb shit to his face. A mental or physical condition wasn’t something they could change, nor were they things that verbal and physical abuse would fix. This should've been common sense to anyone with two brain cells to strike together, but apparently, Darwinism had failed once again.

Mr. Rivers targeted Daniel based on his visual impairment. Every question was targeted at Daniel regardless if his had been raised or not. The man punctuated each sentence with a loud headache-inducing smack to his desk. He always struck on the boy’s blindside, never where he could see the ruler come down. Aside from the occasional flinch, Daniel took the abhorrent behavior in stride.

Concerning… It was one word he could use to describe Daniel's indifference. Completely unbothered, like this was just a typical Monday in class for him. Maybe his previous statement rang true, and he soulfully had experienced worse. That in itself was a concerning statement but made sense considering the context to that worse was engraved on his face. Everything the teacher did just seemed to roll off the other boy’s shoulders like water off a swan's back. A muttered comment of “his school counselor being worse than this teacher ever could be,” only serving to exasperate his concerns.

It was distracting… Every time Daniel gave him a reassuring smile, his heart pounded like hummingbird wings. Blood rushed to his cheeks, warming them like he’d just sat in front of a fireplace. As big of a deal as his siblings made of his apparent social ineptitude, Damian wasn’t an idiot.

How was he supposed to read people if he didn’t understand the emotions that drove their behavior? He’s a vigilante! He couldn’t be walking around uninformed about the basic spectrum of human emotion!

This was obviously what people would call a crush.

Grayson had been the one to attempt explaining crushes and relationships to him. It was a painfully awkward conversation to sit through. His brother spoke of love like a romcom, both cheesy and highly unrealistic. It was by sheer dumb luck Grayson had entered any form of relationship before, and a miracle any of them had lasted more than a week. Anyone with a dash of common sense could tell Grayson’s advice wasn’t a viable source of information. The number of times he’d been pulled aside by someone within earshot of conversation was enough for him to conclude his brother's brain was diluted by hallmark specials and fairytales.

Regardless of his elder brother's delusion, the conversation itself had been unnecessary. Romantic feelings had been explained to him from a very young age. From learning how these emotions could affect one's behavior to understanding not all people felt those feelings, and that was normal too. It was crucial for detective work to recognize the entire range of human emotions.

Damian didn’t believe in love at first sight. He believed one could feel physical attraction for a person minutes or merely seconds after meeting, but love? How could you love someone you’ve only spent a minute with. Rushing in with that mindset was how you ended up courting someone you’d despise in the end. Outward appearances could tell you plenty about a person, but it wasn’t often you could read out someone’s entire character by reading their shirt. It could happen, but this wasn’t one of those cases.

He hadn’t even had a proper conversation with his seatmate yet. Rushing in at the first sign of attraction was an idiotic way to hurt himself emotionally. He’d need to tread through this carefully, learn more about Daniel, and proceed accordingly with the information he received.

Glancing up at the clock, he scowled. Students discreetly packed their bags, fidgeting in their seats as they waited for the bell. Nobody liked being in Mr. Rivers's class. He was the type of teacher to pile a month's worth of homework onto any student unfortunate enough to have gotten their work done in a timely matter. Needless to say, Damian found himself with a thick stack of worksheets on his desk every class. Maybe if he were a little less spiteful, he would slack and draw out the original worksheet like everyone else did, but that would imply Mr. Rivers had gotten under his skin.

Daniel tapped a thick stack of papers on his desk. His name scrawled shakily in graphite on each sheet. Much to his surprise, Daniel had completed every single worksheet their teacher had thrown at him. How he’d managed to do so in such a short amount of time was a mystery, but Damian was delighted nonetheless.

The boy grinned, pride and a dash of spite written clear on his face. Damian had watched, enraptured at the subtle wilting of Mr.River’s face with every sheet he completed. The teacher had been far too dull to print out random worksheets for Daniel like he had with Damian. No, every single one of those pages was a part of the required curriculum assigned to transfer students. Work required to be graded and submitted no more than a week after submission.

“Impressive,” Damian commented.

Daniel beamed, foxlike and giddy as he neatened the pile of paper.

“If all that doesn’t go in the grade book, I’m starting a riot,” Daniel muttered. Damian didn’t doubt him. Tomorrow, Daniel would likely be piled with the same worksheets Damian was stuck with, papers that weren’t graded outside the original worksheet.

“I’ll join you,” Planning a riot together would be the perfect activity for him to get to know Daniel more. One's true self tended to be clearer in times of war.

“Hell yeah! Nothing like a less than peaceful protest to bring people together,” Daniel laughed, the bell rang and Daniel’s expression shifted to one of dread.

“I can walk you to your next class if you’d like,” He offered.

"That would be helpful,” A nervous but exasperated smile had wormed it’s way onto Daniel’s face, the other boy subconsciously running a hand through locks of black hair. "I don't think my map would've been all that helpful," He laughed.

Damian inspected their schedules. They shared lunch and a fourth-hour history class, but that was it. Daniel had earth science third hour while he had an art class. A disappointment, but an expected one.

“Since you don’t have a valid map, I’ll come to pick you up around lunchtime,” He proclaimed as they rounded the corner.

“Sounds good,” With that they parted ways, Daniel giving him a quick wave paired with a smile that made his heart thrum before he stepped into the classroom.

With a sigh, Damian headed down to the first floor. Vibrant paintings and impossibly detailed pencil drawings lined the halls surrounding the art rooms. A giant mural around twelve feet across was the art students' prized project. Massive mountains and towering trees for everyone to see. An outdoor landscape painted with warm colors shifted to the cold colors of city skyscrapers and roads dimly illuminated by street lights. The mural itself took up almost the entire hallway. Not an inch of the remaining space remained bare. Overall, the first floor had more color than all the other floors combined.

Stepping into class, the smell of paint filled his nostrils. Watercolor stained the wooden tables, cracking paint and charcoal smears scattered across the workspace. Conversations from the previous classes were scrawled onto tables. A collaborative drawing between several students having been scribbled over with a conglomerate of charcoal and colored pencils.

The seats were the only part of the table that was mostly bare. Only a few pencil scribbles and scratches. Too many students' uniforms had been stained with dusty patches of charcoal and paint before drawing on the chairs was prohibited, and tarps were placed over them.

Art was the one class students were mostly left to their own devices. Given full access to the entire range of supplies, with a vague instruction of showing off their progress at the end of class. A giant bookshelf was set up next to a metal wire shelf carrying baskets of various types of paper. The bookshelf was filled to the brim with any and all books art-related. From beginner to expert, sculpting to painting, realism to cartoonism, a book was there to teach you about it. It was against the rules to draw inside any of the books, but post-it notes were stuck to every page of every book.

Students filtered in like blood slowly oozing from a paper cut. Quiet chatter filled the room, their teacher sitting calmly at his desk. Damian sat with his new sketchbook, staring daggers at the plethora of empty pages. Sounds of cabinets opening and paintbrushes clinking against glass mugs were his background noise. Pencils scratched against paper, soft searching lines filling a blank page, slowly shaping Daniels's features.

From his sharpened canines to the dimples on his cheeks. To the messy way he swept his hair to the side to the light freckles dusted across his face. Drawing Daniel’s scarring proved to be quite difficult. Intricate branches of scar tissue never seemed to look right when he had them on paper, and it frustrated him to no end. When he finally got it right, he could’ve collapsed right there. It was far from the perfection he was aiming for, but he’d have a reference photo by the end of the day to solve that plight.

This drawing would be more than enough if Daniel turned out to be an… unpleasant individual.

Chapter Text

Just like he said he would, Damian walked Danny to his earth science classroom. Guiding him through labyrinth-like hallways with a firm grip on his sleeve. It’s as if he thought Danny would slip through his fingers and be swept away by the crowd of students. Embarrassingly enough, that’s an accurate assumption of both his luck and his situational awareness. If he dared to imagine the future, prison bars, sigils, and the outline of a body immediately came to mind.

Forever he’d be thanking the ancients for Damian expert skills in navigating. Without him, he’d probably be curled up at the bottom of a staircase by now. Or in a death cult keen on taking over the world. It might seem ridiculously pessimistic, but freaky escalations like that happened to him all the time! He’d gone from searching for a gift he’d accidentally knocked into the zone to staging a massive prison break! Needless to say, he appreciated the company.

“Since your map is half a century out-of-date; I’ll pick you up around lunchtime,” Damian declared, curtly waiting for his response.

”Sounds good,” Giving the other boy a small wave and a thankful smile Danny headed into the classroom.

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he read the cheesy geology jokes scrawled onto the board. The jokes were stupid in a way only teachers or dads could make them. Puns that could do psychic damage if you dare read them aloud. It’s beautiful. Leagues above a certain English teacher who butchered slang so brutally the lingo died on the spot.

The typical classroom posters lined the walls. A clear bucket full of rocks just sitting on the teacher’s desk as she started taking attendance. He sat close to the front furthest from the door. His blindside faced the wall, nobody could sneak up on him and he wouldn’t be trampled when the bell rang. Nobody could gawk pityingly at his face this way. Yeah, you could pry this spot from his cold dead hands.

It might seem extreme but people were…Weird when it came down to his disability. Some people treated him like he was utterly useless, incapable of doing anything on his own. They tried to “help” without bothering to ask about his condition or if he even needed help. It was so much worse the first few months after the accident. He was wheelchair-bound for that. -1/10 wouldn’t recommend.

He could say with certainty nobody wanted to be paralyzed. It’s jarring how differently treated him back then. They’d point out the obvious like he’s completely blind. Annoying, but understandable considering how gnarled his facial injuries were before they healed. It looked like somebody shot him in the face with a firework. The fact that he didn’t lose an eye was a medical miracle backed by new ghostly powers.

What wasn’t understandable was the complete lack of boundaries strangers had with him and his wheelchair. No amount of warning could’ve prepared him for the first time someone grabbed his wheelchair and moved him. He thought it’d been a one-time thing but it happened again and again without fail. Somebody would move him out of the way or try to “Help” him get to where he’s going. Several times without so much of a “Hello! Do you need some help,” people he’d never spoken to would grab the handles of his chair and start pushing him.

It’s infuriatingly dehumanizing and their heartbroken faces when he called them out tugged at his heartstrings. So many times he’d guiltily stewed over his responses. Jazz killed that guilt without so much as a thought when she put things into perspective. Even though Jazz had a habit of psychoanalyzing him it felt good when she said his anger warranted.
Nothing would ever feel as good as taking those first shaky steps outside his wheelchair though. The wave of overwhelming emotion when a group of baffled doctors told him his paralysis wasn’t as permanent as they previously thought was unparalleled. He cried a lot that day. Tears of joy, he’s not ashamed to admit that.

Never in his life would he have thought he’d be grateful for Dash’s bullying. But after a full two months of extensive physical therapy and multiple surgeries, he now knew were unnecessary anyone treating him like they did before was a godsend. Dash believed in a twisted kind of equality when it came to bullying, he’d pick on anyone he deemed a loser. For him, it’d been verbal harassment, but regaining the ability to walk gave him confidence. He was extremely cocky, snapping back with sarcastic venom at every dig made at him.

Slowly but surely, people stopped babying him. It was harder to argue that someone was helpless when they were actively picking fights with the star football player. After all the shit he’d involved himself in people treated him like normal. Normal in the sense he was picked on for being a loser with crazy parents.

He’d take that kind of bullying over the underhanded insults drowned in infantilism. As the months passed it felt like everyone forgot about his accident. His classmates would get angry at him when he couldn’t keep up with them and go green with envy when he got extra time for his assignments. People acted like he was getting special treatment just for the sake of it.

Like full body electrocution was something he could just walk off. They didn’t understand how walking and running were easier than standing in place. He was accused of faking it whenever he stood up from his wheelchair. People were offended that he still considered his left side blind when he could still see light in his peripherals.
Everyone he talked to said he was lucky. Lucky to survive, lucky to walk again without aid, lucky to have all the sweet powers, lucky lucky lucky. He didn’t feel all that lucky when his joints locked or when reading gave him migraines so bad he questioned if being alive was worth it.

He knows it could be worse. Dear god does he know it could be so, so, much worse. He could be fully dead. Charred to a crisp without even a blast shadow as evidence of his death. He should’ve been paralyzed from the neck down for the rest of his life. Braindead, hooked up to a machine as his family mourned their loss. The consequences of walking into that portal chamber were so much lighter than anyone could’ve imagined. So he dealt with it.

Things could be worse. At least he wasn’t in Gotham directly after his accident. Slipping through solid objects around people 100x more fearful of their surroundings was a wonderful way to speedrun getting his spine shattered by a guy in a bat suit. Or trafficked. Danny winces as he scribbles on a sheet of lined paper.

Someone is staring at him. The boy beside him was shooting daggers into his very soul. Hadn’t even bothered to hide the way his face twisted in suspicion when Danny turned to look him in the eyes.

“You need something?” Danny probed, praying this was just him misreading facial expressions.

“What the hell happened to you?” The other boy whispered, his tone harsh and accusatory.

“A shocking experience,” His half-assed response earns him a sharp glare and a sneer.

“No really, what happened?”

“Got zapped,” He shrugs, hoping his classmate would take the hint and drop it.

“That’s not what I meant,” The other seethed. “How did you get electrocuted?”

”Electricity,”

“The fact you’re dodging my question makes you look more suspicious,”

“Not trauma dumping on a stranger makes me suspicious?”

“It’s Gotham! We don’t get transfer students outside major cities and we certainly don’t get ones willing to stay for months! What are you planning?” He hisses, voice cracking as he tried and failed to make it sound lower.

“Trust me, if I had a choice to stay home I would’ve,”

“I don’t think I do trust you,”

“That's not my problem,” Danny shrugged. This guy spoke with the delusional confidence only the stubbornest flat earther could rival. He’s not a gothamite by any means but wasn’t the key unspoken rule of the city “Mind your damn business unless you’re a bat,” It’s on par with Don’t dig straight down but this guy clearly hadn’t learned of the former.

“Why do you have fangs?”

”Genetics,” What kind of question was that? Plenty of people had fangs. It’s a common trait, almost every person in amity has it!

”I don’t believe you,”

Heh? What’s the point in asking if he wasn’t going to believe him when he answered? It reminded him of a certain annoyance back home.

“Why do you-“

”Leave me alone!” He snaps. It’s like his classmates doing his best impression of a toddler! “Why?” “Why?” “Why?” Desperately trying to catch Danny in a lie and refusing to believe any response that wasn’t a confession of guilt. World's greatest detective over here, interrogating him for having the audacity to show up to Gotham with “Gasp!” Scars! Oh, the humanity! What a delinquent!

Ancients’ weren’t these prissy private schools supposed to be better than public schools? He walked to school today expecting to be murdered and or indoctrinated into a weird death cult not interrogated by Walmart Batman over here!

What was this guy expecting to drag out of him anyway? Blueprints for a deathray? A secret plot to break everyone out of Arkham? Secret rogue plans? He just got here today! What could he possibly be planning when his apartment didn’t even have toilet paper yet? They hadn’t even hit the 24-hour mark and he already had a conspiracy theorist pestering him.

“Why are you-“ Copycat Wes starts.

”Leave him alone you fucking moron!” A female voice snaps behind them.

“ You don’t understand! He-,” Sputtering to defend himself the girl glowered at him.

“Has done nothing to warrant your harassment,” She finished the sentence for him.

”No! He’s up to something I swear! Just look at him,”

The girl looked him up and down, her hazel eyes shooting daggers into his soul. “He looks like he’s a strong breeze away from a heart attack,”

Ouch.

"There is something wrong with him, you're just too dim to see it," He spits.
 

“Listen here you toe-eyed spaz, I don’t want to have to deal with Lightning Rod over here frying people to death because you wouldn’t stop tormenting him!” She seethed, jabbing her finger into Offbrand’s chest.

“How do you know he’s not going to do that regardless?”

She turns her attention back to him. “Are you going to start doing rogue shit?” She speaks calmly as if she’s asking about the weather.

He pretends to ponder for a second, checking his phone for dramatic effect. “ Nah, My sister says I’m not allowed to be a criminal outside my hometown. It’ll affect her chances of getting into a good college,” To his surprise, that’s an acceptable response for her.

”See, he’s fine.”

“Did you not hear a word he said?” Copycat sputters. “He just admitted to being a criminal,”

“And?”

“What do you mean, and?” The boy is red in the face now.

”That’s not our problem,” She replied bluntly.

“How is it not our problem?”

“It just isn’t,”

“It clearly is “ He emphasizes.

“This is why you keep getting mugged,” She snaps. “You’ve lived in Gotham your whole life, how have not learned how to mind your damn business,”

“I know how to mind my business. This is my business. You’re the one who butted in,”

“I’m a nosy bitch too. But I’m not the one who’s pretending to be Batman.” She’s smirking now, tapping her fingernails on her desk.

“I’m not pretending to be Batman,” He defends, hands clenched into fists. “I’m just doing my civic duty!”

“You’re delusional,”

“Well- at least I’m not a criminal,” Offbrand Wes sneered, whipping around to glare at him.

Oh great, he’s directly involved again.

“What a scathing remark, I’ll be sure to cry about it while I build my deathray,” Maybe he shouldn’t keep antagonizing. Offbrand looked about ready to strangle him.

“Now you’re pissing him off on purpose,” The girl behind them deadpans.

“ I am, thanks for noticing,” He’s giddy, a shit-eating grin on his face that would immediately get him shanked if he were outside right now.

Their conversation continues. The three of them whisper-yelling at each other. Offbrand Wes fumed at every one of Danny’s sarcastic responses, doubling down on his suspicions. With every absurd accusation thrown his way, the girl defended him. But if you listened in for more than a few seconds you could see she didn’t step to his defense for the sake of being nice. She just really hated this kid. Who could blame her?

The argument devolved into the two gothamites insulting each other in a way only rich kids could. Family names Danny barely recognized as important were thrown around like dodgeballs. Maybe if Danny kept up with celebrity drama he’d be able to tell who’s winning?

“Daniel Fenton? ” He almost jumps at the sudden interruption. He’d been so awestruck watching these two go at each other's throats that he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching them. The teacher is staring down at him; he smiles politely. Better to garner goodwill now rather than later.

”I’d like to see you after class today,” Oh god, already? What had he done to peeve this teacher? Did she hear them arguing? Offbrand was grinning, vindicated as Danny stumbled over himself.

“Oh- uh, will it take long? A friend said he’d help me find my classes since my map is a little off.” He offered up the map as proof. A sacrifice in hopes of leniency for whatever crimes he’s about to be accused of.

The woman looked over the paper, her relaxed expression dropping with the growing confusion.

“Can I see your schedule?” Danny hands it over without a word. Slowly, she ran her fingers against the brail of his schedule. The slow shift in her stance as her face paled felt like it’d been ripped straight from the trailer of a horror movie. He’s heard a lot of crazy things in his life but nothing would ever shock him more than what his teacher said next.

“We’re going be sued into the fucking ground,” Her words were barely audible, whispered behind a closed fist. Danny’s stunned silence was a thousand times louder. Teachers could swear here?! Isn’t that illegal? He sits speechless for an agonizing minute, unsure if he’s in trouble.

Wordlessly, she drags him to the front of the classroom. It feels like he’s being walked to the gallows.

“Do you mind if I keep this?”

”Yeah? I need to know my schedule,” Was wandering around clueless detention for Gotham schools? He hadn’t even done anything. Sure, he was a tad bit tardy this morning. That’s the plane's fault, not his!

“You don’t have a school iPad?” She sounds utterly exasperated.

“No,” He’s supposed to have a school iPad?

“Did they at least give you a proper school I.D.?”

”I hope so ” He shows her the plastic card he’d been given alongside his schedule. She scrutinized the card, glaring intently at every word. It’d taken hours to get a decent photo for that stupid card.

“There’s something wrong with it isn’t there?” Screwed over straight from the get-go. He’ll be haunting the front desk for the foreseeable future.

“No, no it’s fine,” She waves him off. “Leave the map with me and drop your schedule off at the front desk when you leave for the day okay?” He nods, that’s all he can do at the moment.

When the bell finally rang their teacher practically shooed his classmates out the door. Students clogged the doorway, a glob of tangled backpacks that slowly oozed into halls separating with miffed expressions. The tile floor couldn’t be more appealing as he waited for the bomb to drop. In a fancy school like this, the punishment for tardiness could be public execution. You never know.

The punishment for seeing the school guidance counselor had been public humiliation with a side of attempted murder. So capital punishment being carried out in schools wasn’t something he’d be surprised about. They’d better have a guillotine, he’s gotten pretty sick of the electric chair.

“Is your friend coming to get you?” The woman asks, still studying the map with a furrowed brow. She squinted at the paper holding out in front of her face like the distance would change the image.

“I think so, he dropped me off here,” Danny pauses, fiddling with the buttons on the cuffs of his sleeves. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”

She shakes her head much to his relief “Somebody’s going to be in trouble but it certainly isn’t you,”

Patterned knocking at the classroom door draws his attention from the woman. Green eyes met blue as Damian quietly entered the room.

“That’s him!” Beaming, he turns back to the teacher. “Can I go now?” She nods wordlessly. With her approval, Danny doesn't hesitate for a second. He darts over to the other boy with a relieved grin on his face.

“How was class?” He asks as they step out of the classroom.

”Unnoteworthy,” Damian hummed.

”Same,” I mean, technically he did get into a fight. But it wasn’t exactly something to write home about. Blows hadn’t been exchanged and he wasn’t gut-punched with a month's worth of detention. Yet.

The walk to the lunch room is heavily crowded. The cafeteria echoed with the chattering of a sea of teenagers. Their navy blue uniform made clusters of students indistinguishable from one another. Sam would hate it here.

“Hey, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate lunch here?”

“Ten. I bring my food from home,” Damian responds quickly pausing afterward as if he’s contemplating a second answer.

“Fair,” He shrugs “nothing beats some home-cooked edible food,” Memories swirled through his brain like he’s a soldier fresh out of war. Reanimated turkeys, living mashed potatoes, gallons of milk that glowed bright enough to light an entire room.

“I reckon your parents’ aren’t the best chefs?” He can barely hold back a wince at the question.

”They try to be…” He sighs “Dad can make some killer fudge but everything else he cooks looks radioactive,”

“I suppose I can relate to that” Damian drawls, “Most of the family is barred from the kitchen without supervision,”

“That’s probably a good idea, learning to cook can be pretty messy,”

” I take it you’re the cook of your family?” Damian asks, eyebrows raised.

“Eh, kind of? I’m not the best but I can make edible food,”

“The bare minimum you know?” He laughs. “My parents are scientists so there wasn’t exactly time for cooking lessons while they were drilling us on safely handling their machinery,”

Damian looks him up and down, eyes locking on his face. “I don’t think those ‘drills’ did you well,”

“They did. I deliberately ignored what they taught me; fucked around and found out,” He shrugs. The past is the past and he’s learned not to change it for his own sake.

“I see…”

“Soooo…” Danny starts, the silence between the two of them awkward. “How would you rate the school-provided lunch?” He reiterated.

”I’ve only eaten the school-provided lunch once but I’d say it’s a four, maybe four point five if I’m being generous,”

”I’d settle for edible,” It’s a private school. Sure, it being in Gotham threw him off a little but what’s the worst that could happen? He dies? A bit too late for that.

“Your standards concern me,”

“Take that up with my school cafeteria; they gave me those standards,” To be fair, his parents contributed to that too. So had Nasty Burger. He had a love-hate relationship with food especially when it’s from a school cafeteria.

Call him paranoid but Casper High fed people dirt and grass plucked from the football field as a “Vegan option” Don’t even get him started on the rocks. Whole ass stones almost as big as his fist. They’d been expected to eat that?! Anyone who’d gotten nailed with one of those suckers when ‘food’ started flying, forever had his sympathy. Nobody was hospitalized but he’d seen the dents in the wall when they made him clean the cafeteria. Rocks were chucked in that food fight.

He’d gathered his lunch without much of an issue. The salad wasn’t sentient and his sandwich hadn’t screamed at him yet. He’d even managed to remember his lunch number at the end of it! Today’s a good day to be pleasantly surprised by the bare minimum. God knows he's gonna need the extra positivity.

Walking through the cafeteria, he spots Damian pretty quickly. The other somehow found himself one of the only empty tables in the whole cafeteria. When Damian waves him over it takes all his self-control to stifle a grin. For a split second, he’d thought he’d overstepped. Thought he’d missed the signs that Damian wanted him gone like Dad missed the signs that Vlad was a psycho.

“Are you really the chef of your family?” Damian questions.

“I am,” he grins, as Damian eyes him skeptically. “Does this-“ Danny gestures at himself. “Not look like the textbook example of a five-star chef to you?”

“Absolutely not,” Damian replied coldly without skipping a beat. “You look like you could burn a bowl of cereal,”

“I can cook, it just took a while to learn how,” You could only learn so fast when every ingredient is contaminated by a mystery cocktail of chemicals.
Even if he wasn’t a master chef he’s better than he was those first months after the accident. So many dishes shattered against the floor. He’d been scolded for each one. Anything he tried to hold slipped from his grasp before the ten-second mark.

“Could you give me any advice?” Damian asked.

“Try out some pasta recipes,” He comments between bites of his sandwich. “They’re hard to screw up and almost every cookbook has about a dozen you can practice,”

“Don’t go with overly complicated recipes straight off the bat. If you’re trying to make a three-course dinner when you can barely make a peanut butter jelly sandwich you’ll end up with a whole lot of wasted food and some scratched pans,” Danny warns, he’s lost count of the hours he’d spent scrubbing the charred food out of pots and pans.

“Alfred wouldn’t be happy about that,”

“Maybe you should ask ‘Alfred’ to teach you,” Danny comments, he wasn’t a tutor. That’s Jazz’s job. Sure, he’d like to be helpful but his journey in the kitchen involved resurrected coleslaw and radioactive dairy products. An experience few could relate to.

“I taught myself with YouTube tutorials, cookbooks, and spite; I’m sure you’d learn better with someone with someone there to give you feedback on what you’re doing.”

“Tch,” Damian glowered, shooting daggers down at his food.

“I’m serious!” He emphasizes, “Trying to wing it straight off the bat just isn’t a good idea,” He knew from experience. Food poisoning isn’t fun. Neither were the blisters you’d get from boiling oil.

“I’m sure many people ‘wing it’ in the kitchen,” Damian insists. “What if I’m a naturally born chef?”

”Didn’t you say you’re barred from the kitchen?” Damian’s cheeks turn a flustered red.

”I said most of my family is barred from the kitchen!” Damian defends like Danny’s ‘accusation’ is a slight against his character.

”Are you included in that ban?”

”…yes” The other boy whispers begrudgingly. He tries, he really does, but there’s no stopping the quiet giggle that erupts from his chest. Damian glares daggers at him cheeks rosy with embarrassment.

”I swear I’m not laughing at you,” He wheezes. It’s a lie and both of them know it.

”Go ahead and laugh, I’m not the one who fried myself,” Damian huffs.

Danny made jokes about his accident all the time. Much to everyone else's dismay his lab accident was his go-to event to joke about. No matter how many times he got scolded for “Making people uncomfortable” he kept it up. This wasn’t the first time someone had made a comment but there’s something about the way he said it. Something about the way he emphasized his words made Danny lose all composure. Collapsing into his folded arms, shoulder shaking with silent laughter.

”Hey…” The other boy’s voice is weaved with concern a guilty lift to his voice. Gently, he pokes Danny’s arm. Any worry drained from his features when Danny lifted his head to look at him.

”I thought I'd upset you!” Damian half shouts.

”Nah, I’ve got thicker skin than that,” He reassures.

”You're the first, Others tell me I come off rather… cold,”

“Really?” That’s a surprise. Danny couldn’t see it, then again he hasn’t known Damian for very long. After all that’s happened, he’d like to think he’s a better judge of character. The other boy didn’t give off Penelope spectra vibes. Nor did he act like a miniature Vlad. If anything, he reminded him of Sam.

“You’re a liar if you think I’m friendly,” He snaps scowling at Danny as if he’d just spat in his lunch or something.

”I’m not a liar, I just have a different definition of friendly than you do,”

“Does your definition of friendly happen to be rich?”

“Fuck no!” He snaps without thinking. Raising an eyebrow Damian stares at him green eyes scrutinizing his expression like there’s deeper meaning in his words. “Eat the rich,” He clarifies, as if that’s supposed to explain anything.

“Friendliness is compassion, a willingness to help, not sugar-sweet conversations with extroverted compassion,” It’s easy to put on a sweet voice while you screw someone over. Even easier to insult someone with a snidely worded ‘compliment’.

“You helped me without hesitation when you could have left me to fend for myself,”

“The situation was ridiculous, I had to help.” Damian defends

“ You didn’t have to,” he points out.

“Listen, I’m not trying to challenge your view of yourself; I’m just saying you’ve been nice to me so far,”

Damian relaxes, staring down at his lunch. “I pity you,”

“Pity me enough to give me a bite?” Danny asks, batting his eyes obnoxiously.

“Absolutely not,”

“Fuck.”

Chapter Text

Daniel Fenton continued to surprise him. The boy was a puzzle, from the way he spoke, so lighthearted yet slightly pessimistic, to the way held himself with confidence batting away Damian’s subtle jabs with a chuckle and a comment of his own; it was… Oddly captivating, in a way he couldn’t possibly describe.

Every word the boy spoke reeled him in further. He hadn’t faultered in the slightest throughout their banter, even when the line had been crossed by Damian’s crude comment. Daniel laughed along with it, not a wisp of bitterness in his expression. As if he didn’t see the scars left as something to be defensive about. 

Really he should’ve expected as much. Daniel had joked about it when he’d introduced himself. If he’d qualms about his past he hadn’t shown it outside the occasional self deprecating comment. Still, Damian’s “joke” was in poor taste. An awful thing to say to someone he’d only just met today. 

The words were spat out of sheer flustered frustration. That smile had sent his heart racing. The way he showed off his sharper canines whenever he’s particularly proud of a smart comment; there’s something so pathetic, yet strangely endearing about it. And those eyes. Blue as a cloud dotted sky, reflecting light like a polished gemstone. 

It may be too early to cast judgment but he could admit he’s optimistic about this transfer student. He’d prove to be a useful ally if he’d been honest in their conversations. 

Compassionate… 

The sentiment shouldn’t have caught him off guard like it did. It’s hardly a word he’d use to describe himself; but the way Daniel explained his thought process struck a chord. Compliments weren’t a rare occurance to him. He’d recived hundreds if not thousand of them over the years. Most were superficial, poisoned by an ulterior motive; the ones from his family were genuine if not thrown with the sheer intent of embarrassing him. 

Daniel wasn’t lying, not about that at least. The boy’s disdain for “the rich,” was blatant but not vague or broad. This hatred was specific, it’s clear to see. The way he’d responded to Damian’s accusation, not a second of hesitation, only pure unadulterated disgust flashing across his face. 

Accusing someone of being a gold digger was usually where a social interaction ended, if it didn’t become outright hostile first. Daniel didn’t get hostile, not towards him. 

There’s something there, and regardless of severity, it’s too early to press further.  

“Hey…” Chin resting on his folded arms Daniel eyed him cautiously, pursing his lips like the words were caught on the tip of his tongue. 

”What?” The word came out harsher than he’d liked. Snippy and irritated. 

“Are you still going to help me get to class?” He whispered hopefully. 

”Yes,” Even if he were upset, father would be dissapointed if he went back on his word when Daniel clearly needed help. 

”Oh,” As if a weight had been lifted from him, the boy’s shoulders drained of all tension. “I thought I really pissed you off,” 

“I wouldn’t still be here if I didn’t tolerate you,” He’d little tolerance for those who annoyed him. Unless interaction with an annoyance was absolutely necessary he avoided them. And if he couldn’t avoid them? He tried his best to keep things short. For the sake of both his sanity and self respect.

Daniel just blinked at his response. Seconds ticked down agonizingly slow as if time itself ran on a broken clock. Blue eyes shifted between him and the table before a grin soft and somber spread across his lips. “Thanks… your help means a lot,” There’s tension in his words, a waver in his tone, and a crack in his voice as he ends his sentence. 

Given what he knew it’s not hard to guess what had Daniel faltering. It’s easy to forget the boy was completely foreign to the city. He hadn’t said much about it; and if it weren’t for his accent Damian might’ve thought he’s a local. 

He adapted to the insanity of the facility's “mistakes” , accepted them, moving onwards like it wasn’t a lawsuit worthy situation. Like he’d expected something like this to happen and therefore it wasn’t something to fuss about. 

Daniel seemed like the popular type. Witty and talkative, the type of person who’d thrive in a group setting. The sudden cut off from his social circle could explain his hesitancy to speak out openly. Still, the lack of outward concern was worrying to say the least.

Though he couldn’t pretend he knew what Daniel was feeling right now, he could empathize. Displacement is an experience he’s all too familiar with. He adapted to it. Though some may debate his results, he fought for his place. 

Father would be outraged when he heard what happened today. Where was the funding going if not to keep the students safe? Embezzlement was the first thing that came to mind but the evidence pointing at malicious negligence was overwhelming. 

The real question is, was this targeted or just another hate crime? This was an obvious act of sabotage that lacked any kind of subtlety. But it hardly seemed like the usual stubborn garbage you’d get from faculty who “didn’t believe in accommodations,” Surely whoever did this had to know they’d be caught.

The map could be passed off as a misprint if they babbled on long enough, but the braille? It was an old bat burger menu! One from when it was just father and Grayson running around. And it was just printed out right next to Daniel’s actual written schedule like an odd practical joke.

Why would anyone risk their position to inconvenience a child in such a strange way? 

”Hey,” Pausing on that thought, he glanced back to the root of his confusion.

“Hmm?” 

“You were staring off into space a bit- or, uh glaring into space would be more accurate,” 

“I was just thinking. Did I look angry?” He had in fact been angry but the other boy didn’t need to know that.

Sucking in a sharp breath he nodded. “ You looked like you were plotting a murder,” glancing over his shoulder he snickers. “I think you scared the piss out of them,” The group of students Daniel referred to looked rather shell shocked. More surprised than frightened. 

“It’s not my fault they’re cowards,” They wouldn’t need to worry about Damian’s glare if they were minding their own business.

“Dude, why can’t my glare do that?” 

“Because you have the intimidation factor of a golden retriever,” As if to prove his point the other boy cocked his head to the side, confusion splayed across his face.

“I think I’m a bit scarier than that,” Daniel muttered under his breath.  

“Not in this city,” To say Daniel wasn’t intimidating was an understatement. He had bright round eyes and a soft face dusted with freckles. To add to that he’s a tourist with a frame that screamed “I’m vulnerable, come and rob me!”

Daniel almost jumped out of his seat when the lunch bell rang. Hands cupping his ears, palms pressing inwards to block out the sudden explosion of chatter. Students scattered throughout the cafeteria, hurriedly packing away their things. Kids’ eating in the courtyard sluggishly dragged themselves inside, the dirt clinging to their shoes smearing against tiled floors as they walked. 

As they left their table, Daniel scampered to clean up his area. Rushing back from the trashcan like he’s afraid he’d lose sight of him. Through the hallways he trailed after Damian, trusting as a baby duckling imprinting on the first thing it sees. When he slows, so does Daniel, always half a step behind him. 

The two of them ushered into the classroom. Taking their seats beside each other just as the teacher began taking attendance. As each name was rattled off, Damian pulled a notebook out from his bag. Scratching lines down onto sheets of line paper. 

”Damian Wayne?”

”Present,” He replied quickly, the stout man seemed to double back when he spotted Daniel seated so close to him. He adjusted his rounded glasses, blinking back surprise when Daniel didn’t disappear in a puff of smoke like the graying history teacher expected. 

Why were people so surprised whenever he interacted positively with other people? This wasn’t the first time someone gawked at him for being “nice” and it was starting to get on his nerves. They acted like he’s a wild animal who’d launch into a vicious attack ending slaughter if you spent too much time with him. Everyone ignored how the fights that ended with serious injuries were the consequence of him defending himself.  

It wasn’t all that hard for him to seethe through an unpleasant conversation or two. His retaliation to insults were mainly verbal. Often he’d just leave with a piercing glare shot in the direction of the perpetrator. Other times he’d shoot back with his own cutting insults just to get someone to shut up.

He’s trained to defend himself from physical blows. Someone politely chatting him up wasn’t the same as someone getting in his personal space and swinging at him. And snapping at someone who tried to use you as an atm for their entire friend group wasn’t a “cruel act of aggression,” like many of his classmates suggested. Those boys had a weekly allowance in the four digit range. They didn’t  “need him” to buy anything. 

Rumors of his hostility and social ineptitude were gravely exaggerated. He’d gotten better at it.

The class started without comment on Daniel’s close proximity to him. Books were grabbed, a worksheet slapped onto their desks after almost half an hour of pointless drivel. 

“Dude, what is the point of making a family tree for the gods? It’s all Zeus!” Someone groans out from the back of the class.

“Yeah, he’s a whore and that causes problems. now shut up and do the worksheet,” Someone else shouts back from the front. 

“Hera literally threw her child off a cliff because it was too ugly.  I don’t think Zeus was the only one with issues,”

“Hey, if I married biological sibling I’d be a little fucked up too,” Daniel chimes in.

”They’re siblings!?” The person in the back shouts out in disgust like that isn’t common knowledge. 

”You didn’t know that!?” Daniel questions, laughing into his closed fist. 

”Fuck no! Why would I?” 

”Maybe if Zeus asked himself that question we’d have less gods to study,” Daniel groans scribbling down names on the worksheet. 

“You’re right, this dude was a fucking animal,” 

“He was also fucking animals,” A girl in the middle row adds with a grin.  

“Aw gross! That’s foul,” A group of boys were making gagging noises. 

“Zeus likes a little fowl play,” Daniel shrugs. Their teacher snorts, giving up all attempts to control his class. 

”Oh, fuck off!” 

”Chronos straight up ate his children,” Someone chirps.

“He what!?” Daniel shoots up in his seat a horrified expression ghosts across his face. 

“That’s the thing that freaks you out?” He questions, the other boy looks at him wide eyed like he’d just learned something terrible about a friend. 

“It didn’t freak me out, I just haven’t heard that before,” He defends. 

”As much as I love the passionate discussion I think it’s time we move on,” Their teacher finally said urging them to actually do the reading. 

After that the class went on almost wordlessly. Homework was passed out at the end of the hour and Daniel and him walked out together once again. 

Father would be pleased he’d made a friend today.

The school day goes by a bit quicker than usual. Normally he’d call that a blessing but he couldn’t help the annoyance that bubbled in his gut. He wanted to talk to Daniel a bit more, learn what he liked or if they even had anything else in common. 

Grayson is at the manor when he gets home. It’s not ideal, but Richard seems occupied speaking with father. He’s talking about an old cold case of father’s. A string of robberies they’d never found a culprit for. The closest they’d gotten to catching them was when evidence was reevaluated with meta-humans in mind. 

He’s sure he’ll find out why it’s become relevant again but for now he’s preoccupied. 

Drake is passed out on the couch, his laptop slowly slipping from his hands. He’s completely lost to the world unlike Richard.

“How was school?” His eldest brother looks at him expectantly like a dog begging for table scraps.

There’s a transfer student,” He begins. “He’s pretty” Suddenly Drake’s laptop clatters to the ground, the idiot almost falling off the couch. 

”I think sleep deprivation is making me hear things,” Tim mutters under his breath. Damian clenches his fists.

”I have eyes, Drake!” He snapped. “He’s pretty that’s an objective fact,” 

“That’s gay,” Timothy comments stupidly like he’s not the one in a committed relationship with a man. Drake looks down at his hands with a baffled expression. “Oh shit, I’m gay,” He whispers, Damian raises an eyebrow. 

“Go back to sleep Tim,” Father orders pushing a probably delirious Tim back down on the couch. 

“I made a friend,” He states, ignoring Grayson’s squeal as he prodded for details he really didn’t need. “He seems harmless but I’ll be careful,” He reassures them. That’s not the information they wanted but Damian knew they’d do a background check regardless. 

“We’ll need to look into the transfer program,” He states as he peers around the dining room. “There was an incident at school so I’m concerned other accommodations might be lacking,” Father hums and Damian continues his search for Alfred. 

He needed to renegotiate access to the kitchen.

Chapter Text

To no one's shock, school was dull. Almost painfully so, but that might just be the nerve damage in his hands talking. Classes droned on like they would on any good day in Amity. Only today the hundreds of new faces that surrounded him belonged to living people. The majority of which didn’t feel like causing problems for him on purpose.

With how territorial the local hero's were you’d think the people who lived here would be cagey too. He might be a little too cocky for someone who’s only gone to school there for a day but the bullying here was…Underwhelming to say the least. 

You’d think in a city where the air might as well be mustard gas, bullying would be completely unhinged. So far, all he’d run into was a conspiracy theorist and a handful of teachers that hated him.

Maybe it’s because he hadn’t done anything too “weird” by Gotham teen standards yet. They weren’t the kid’s who’d been there to laugh at him when his body started shaking like a pigeon with parkinsons in the middle of class. And his parents weren’t here to wreak hundreds of thousands of dollars worth in property damage whenever they felt like it. 

To them he was a completely normal teenager.They treated him with a mix of curious indifference and any hostility stemmed from regular teenage bullshit. It was surreal. A dude from his final class of the day asked if he’d been struck by lightning. Lightning! 

Damian hadn’t so much as blinked when he’d implied a lab accident so it wasn’t a shocking thing to hear from a classmate. But it’s still crazy that the mad scientists he called his parents weren’t the first thing to come to mind when you looked him in the eye. 

The only people here who’re causing problems for him were the staff running the transfer program. And he’d a feeling the one responsible for that would be giving him a call later today. 

Bare walls and floors greeted him when he stepped into his apartment. The hum of an ac unit was the only sound that reverberated through the home. So much for “supplying transfer students with basic necessities,” Every cabinet, every drawer, was completely empty. He didn’t even have toilet paper!

The only thing that proved this was his apartment was the key stashed in his left pocket and what little belongings he had sprawled across the living room floor. It seemed like Gotham’s taking the ‘throw him in the pool, he’ll learn to swim eventually’ methods. But at least there’d be someone coming to check on him every weekend. Just to be sure he’s not dead. 

It’s a good thing he’s not broke like he was back home. Vlad had oh so kindly provided him with a handsome sum. There’re strings attached to it, he knew there would be but he’d deal with those problems as they arose. For now, he’d take it as payment for keeping his nose down and avoiding vigilante suspicion. 

Those guys were a thousand times more competent than the GIW. And when it came to their city, they’re about as hardcore obsessed as his parents were with ghosts. If he were smart, he would’ve gone about forming alliances by now. But the newest robin didn’t seem the type to skip hand and hand with a touring vigilante and Danny wasn’t all that smart. 

Plus, he’s got other more important things to be doing right now. Like…buying food, and soap. He’s got a mental list of what he’s gotta buy for his apartment and it’s about a mile long. There’s no chance he’s getting everything done today. Not without a car, and not without a massive show of powers.

Despite what most might think of him, he’s not stupid enough to take a flight around Gotham just so his chores were less tedious. He was, however stupid enough to use this as an opportunity to practice subtlety.

Pencils and notebooks clatter to the carpet as he shakes his backpack upside down. This poor little bag would be a tardus for all his groceries.

With a grin on his face and the exhaustion of a woman who’d spent the last few decades of her life in a corset he changed into a spare set of clothes. A white shirt with a Nasa logo broad across the front and a plain pair of blue jeans. The outfit’s a rare, saving grace. Not only was it clean, it didn’t have his school logo stitched into it. 

A thin jacket that looked as if he could stash his wallet in it tied the look together. The real valuables stayed tucked safely between his ribs. 

Clutching his phone in his hands he haphazardly googles the nearest grocery store. It’s not that far, but it’s still a hell of a walk. Especially when the smell of car exhaust clashed with whatever wafted from a passing food truck. It’s times like these he’s thankful Tucker’s the one with the freaky sense of smell. 

It wouldn’t be the worst thing he’s smelt, but huffing gasoline wasn't exactly a hobby he’d be proud to pick up. Mom and dad already think he’s a delinquent; they don’t need another reason. 

Thankfully, the grocery store smells a gazillion times better than the open streets. It’s one of those generic super chains that you can find pretty much everywhere. Most of what he needed today would be in this store. 

Lazily dragging a cart behind him, he goes about stalking the isles. The squeaking of the cart's wheels was a calming noise as glanced over shelves and shelves of product. Detergent and dish soap, sponges and brushes; it all goes into his cart without so much as a second glance at the price tag. It‘s great! Why splurge on a yacht or a mansion when you could buy fancy shampoo, conditioners and face washes?

As sarcastic as that thought sounds, he's partially serious. Taking a quick photo of his haul of soaps, he texts Sam.

Allergic2Pink: Bitch, are you buying skin care at the fucking grocery store?!

KingBoo: Yea, How do u feel about my 6-in-1 conditioner?

Allergic2Pink: Stop. Illegal.

KingBoo: It can be used as a body wash and an effective rat poison! :3

Allergic2Pink: I’m killing you again when you get back. 

KingBoo: :(

KingBoo: srsly tho I don’t know what half of this stuff is. Help

Allergic2Pink: Keep the Separate shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. Trash the rest. I’m sending you a care package.

KingBoo: Is this going to be another “menu change,” incident? R u going to send me a rock shampoo? Am I going to go to school with gravel in my hair

Allergic2Pink: No. 

KingBoo: Turfwhiches

Allergic2Pink: Stop.

KingBoo: Mud

Allergic2Pink: It was topsoil!

KingBoo: u still eat dirt? 

Allergic2Pink: Bye.

KingBoo: You’re dodging the question!

With that last text he slips his phone back into his chest. He’s all set in the laundry/hygiene department. Now all that was left was to stack his cart full of “food” to tide him over until he could get his frigid hands on some decent dish ware. For now though, he’d settle with plastic silverware and paper plates. 

Though, what he needed most was something to stuff his face with. He’d eaten lunch just a few hours ago but it already felt like his stomach was gnawing away at itself! But he’s familiar with that sensation; it’s one of the cards that came with his half-dead status. A killer appetite that had him craving double of what a kid twice his size would eat.

You’d think being half dead would make him eat less, but nope! Halfa metabolism burned through everything. It’s one of the reasons he’d learned to cook in the first place. 

Now, a better person might’ve taken this opportunity he’s been presented with to eat healthily. But this is Gotham; and he’s just a boy! A growing boy with adult money and a general cluelessness of what constitutes a healthy diet.

So he tours the aisles, snatching up sweet rolls, Oreos, and pizza pockets to add to his cart. Jazz would be appalled at the contents of his cart and any dietitian would cry if they saw it. It was piled high with all kinds of junk, the sugary, fatty foods he burned through faster than anything else. 

By the time Danny gets to the counter his cart looks like it took a quick jaunt into candy land. The cashier doesn’t even blink at his haul only giving a confused look when Danny start packing his groceries away into his back pack. 

”Is your backpack a fucking tartus?” They whispered under their breath as bag after bag was stuffed into the tiny backpack. 

“Dunno, it’s been like this for a while,” He shrugs. “And it hasn’t eaten anyone yet so I’m not questioning it,”

“Makes sense,” The cashier nods “Would you like your receipt?”

“Yeah, thanks,” With that he’s out the door and rushing his way back to the apartment. Because the last thing he wants is to have to walk home alone at night in gotham. With his luck, the local vigilantes were already armed to the teeth with ghost weapons. They seemed like the type to be prepared for everything. 

The walk back to his apartment is as uneventful as his school day. That meaning he wasn’t stabbed. And because of that, he actually had to spend time putting away everything he just bought. 

Cleaning supplies went under the sink along with the sponges he’d use to clean dishes he didn’t have. In hindsight, he should’ve checked if that store had some plastic dishware. They probably did, but it was too late now. He’d be eating chicken nuggets off paper plates tonight baby!

It’s an hour before he’s finally finished putting everything away. And it takes a full fifty six minutes for him to cook up an entire bag of chicken nuggets to stuff his face with. He doesn’t spare a second to let them cool, instead he scarfed them down, huffing like a dragon as he tried to chew the molten food before it burned off his taste buds.

‘This is the perfect way to end the day,’ a full stomach, a long shower, and to top that he’s going to bed early!

Maybe Gotham wouldn’t be that bad

Chapter Text

Tick…

         Tick…

                  Tick…

         Tick…

Tick…

Eyeing the clock, Damian tapped his pencil on his desk in sync with the repetitive noise. A heavy weight pushed down on him each time the minute hand clicked into it’s next spot. It was still early. The more punctual students only now drifted into the classroom. The seat beside him remained empty as it always did. And if Damian’s face rested fiercer than it had the day before? 

Nobody had the guts say anything. 

Their English teacher sat at their desk, a pen in their hand and a bagel hanging halfway out of their mouth. Daniel should be finishing up with breakfast by now; he should be. It’s not a far walk from his apartment to school. But Daniel has a limp, and an awful sense of direction. 

Visitors and tourists often found themselves the victims of muggings and pickpockets almost as much as your average Gothamite. Regular citizens knew how to lower their chances of getting mugged; they were cautious in a way that looked insanely paranoid to any other city. 

Daniel isn’t a gothamite. He came from a relatively small town where the violent crimes Damian sees everyday are pretty much unheard of.

Right now, Daniel was probably walking to school, wearing their school uniform. A uniform that implied some form of wealth. Even if you’re enrolled on scholarship, the tablets the school assigns was incentive enough for any desperate thief. With how ill prepared Daniel was for maneuvering around on school grounds he can’t imagine they provided him with anything more than a pamphlet to wander the city with. 

He’d warned father about it; the two of them were looking into it. But still it didn’t make sense. Security cameras showed Daniel walking up to the front desk. They didn’t record sound but the second the receptionist moved to grab his schedule the screen went fuzzy; a high pitched dial up screaming from the speakers. Even when the static cleared, the footage looked grainy. Like the photograph taken straight after chernobyl. Deleting the footage entirely would’ve been far less suspicious than whatever was going on here. It looked like a poorly made analog horror story. 

“Is this seat taken?” Daniel stood beside him, his backpack slung over his shoulder and sleep still lingering in his eyes. 

When had Daniel approached him? He didn’t know, but it’s not like he’d been paying much attention to the door. 

“It’s not,” Damian spoke calmly, fighting the urge to snap at his classmates, their faces perking up the second Daniel slumped down next to him. His black hair hung loosely in front of his face, the strands tangled and damp like all he’d done this morning was card his fingers through his freshly washed hair.

“Why does English have to be the first class of the day?” Daniel complained into the crook of his arms. “It’s the dullest subject by far,” 

“Most people say that about math,” He said; noting Daniel’s apparent discontent for reading in his mind.

“Most people have two functioning eyeballs,” Grumbled Daniel. Ah. Well, now he felt mean.

“Right, That would make reading difficult,” Like a moron, he gestures at Daniel’s face. 

The other boy sighed, his lips pitched downward in an expression that mimicked a cat tossed out into the rain. “It’s like the lab accident made me dyslexic!” He groaned quietly. 

Leaning in close, a confident smirk played on Daniel’s lips “If I hadn’t read this book a month ago, I’d be doomed,” He whispered not quite into his ear. There was distance between them; of course there was! Daniel wasn’t tenacious enough as to place his lips so close to Damian’s person. Instead, he’d cupped his hands a pencils length away and uttered this ‘secret,’ without a care in the world.

It’s silly, but Damian found himself copying the gesture. “I’ve read it before too,” He whispers, Daniel grins toothy and wide; a smile that reached his eyes before it fully spread across his face. 

It was that moment a pact was formed between them. Though a shared ‘advantage’ half the class could claim, Damian found reason to speak with Daniel throughout class.

“It’s not cheating if you’ve actually read the book right?” His face crinkled, as if the thought of cheating in school would lead to the world's end. 

“It’s not,” He soothes  “And I doubt your memory is sharp enough to count as an answer key if it was,” 

“Ow?” Daniel laughs into his hands. “Dude, I’m too tired to make a comeback, you can’t do this to me,” He groaned.

“Oh, poor you,” Damian deadpanned, chin resting on the back of his palm. That small interaction had eyes boring into the back of his skull It was if the fact he hadn’t snapped his teeth at Daniel like some wild animal was something to gawk at! 

It’s not like he didn’t understand it to some extent. He’s not exactly known for his friendly demeanor. Perhaps, if he’d been more…adjusted when he’d first been enrolled he wouldn’t be dealing with this right now?

He’s not delusional enough to think his reputation came out of nowhere! It was exaggerated, yes, but even rumors were rooted in some semblance of truth. He’d been hostile to his peers throughout the years. And though he had reason to do the things he’d done; the facts hardly survive when spread by word of mouth. 

Maybe it’s his fault? His expectations for his peers had been placed too high. It’s hard to remember that others didn’t think like him; they weren’t trained to do so. But it’s so easy to hurt someone's feelings and become subject to scrutiny. 

Even considering his past actions, this reaction seemed like an over reaction.

Giggles and whispers were passed around a table of who Damian recognized as the more ‘gossipy’ kids. The same ones who’d post relentlessly about his family. They’d spread mindless rumors about his older brothers’ love lives. Some of them had the audacity to question him about it; like it was any of their business. Nobody needed to hear such disgusting shlop about their siblings. Just thinking about it made his blood curdle.

“Dude, Are you good?” Danny chuckles, poking Damian’s hand with his pencil’s eraser. “You look like you just bit into something rotten,” 

The boy looked…Concerned, but also like he feared Damian was about to transform into some fantastical monster. But, with the expression he’d been making three second’s prior he couldn’t exactly blame him for that assumption. 

“I’m fine,” He assures, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I just remembered something unpleasant,” A glare wouldn’t be enough to silence their brainless chatter; even if it could, it wouldn’t last long. The conversation would just resurface the moment he wasn’t in earshot regardless if they knew well that those words would reach him eventually. 

Intimidation hardly lasts when he couldn’t follow up on a threat like Robin could. 

Father said he can’t start fights without proper provocation. It didn’t matter how much he argued their constant jeering was provocation; father thought differently. He’d proved willing to bench him over it. 

He’d been lax this morning. Usually, he’d spend the morning reminding Damian to be patient with classmates and teachers. This time he’d only called out the normal goodbye as Damian walked out the door. 

Daniel was partially responsible for that. Damian didn’t talk about his friends often; mostly because he didn’t have many. Father seemed proud when he’d talked about his new potential friend. Grayson was elated, pelting him with question after question, a blinding smile on his face. 

Drake was…Well, drake. He was hardly coherent, finally crashing after dozens of energy drinks and days without rest. 

Thankfully, the rest of class went smoothly. They’d spent it scribbling down vocab and chatting quietly at their table. They hadn’t made as much headway in the book as they had yesterday. Daniel hardly had the energy to lead a conversation like he had the day before.

Unlike the day before, Daniel’s the one who invites Damian to walk together.

“How much do you want to bet Mr.River finally managed to pull the stick out his ass?” Daniel asks quietly as they walked side by side. 

Damian only smirked at the insult. “Nothing, it’s jammed up there too deep to be removed without surgery,” 

“Damn,” Daniel laughs, disappointment painted clear in his eyes.  “I thought he was just having a bad day yesterday; he’s like that full time?” 

“Unfortunately, yes,” He lamented. “He’s worked in the building since that map they gave you was relevant.” To say it kindly, the man was old fashioned. A man who’d turned his head at girls who exceeded in his class and often spoke in yearning for the days where smacking some sense into a disobedient child was an acceptable thing to do. 

He wouldn’t dare to actually lay a hand on them. Most of the students here came from money. They had parent that were all too eager to serve the man’s livelihood on a silver platter. 

“That’s just my luck,” Daniel grumbles, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

“For all it’s worth, I share your pain,” Damian states hoping his words might offer a sliver of comfort.

“Yeah, well, you know what they say about misery.,” Daniel sighs. “It loves company”  

“I suppose it does,” He hums, pausing for a second. “Did you not have company before?” Daniel doesn’t seem like the loner type. In fact, his entire personality screamed the opposite. 

His smile was warm and welcoming, his words quick witted and humorous. Sure, some might be put off by the scarring on his face but his eyes were soft, his features pleasant to look at. Talkative, friendly, funny, and pretty he’d all the qualities of the social butterflies who climbed to the top of the social hierarchy from the moment they opened their mouths. 

“I did,” Daniel smiles fondly. “I had a few school friends, but I couldn’t exactly smuggle them here with me”

“They wouldn’t fit in my suitcase,” Daniel adds with a grin. 

“I think that’s for the best,” He comments, Daniel only snorts at that.

“Tell that to Sam,”Shaking his head, Daniel continues. “I swear she wanted to throttle me when she found out I was picked for Gotham over her,” He laughs and Damian can’t hide his surprise. “I only got her to calm down by promising to take some photos for her,” 

“Was there actually a competition for the transfer program?,” Theirs had been uneventful, student’s were signed up for it by their parents and whoever got in, got in and whoever didn’t, didn’t.

“For schools in other cities? Yes.” He stated pointedly. “Gotham’s pick felt more like the draw for the hunger games,” 

That sounded about right. Gotham’s reputation didn’t exactly have the best record when it came down to the safety of its residents, let alone the lives of visitors. With the crime rates and the foul smelling streets, it’s hardly a place parents were jumping to ship their kids off too. 

Most of their tourists were rich, hero fanatics or just plain stupid; sometimes all three. 

“I was volunteered by my parents,” Daniel confesses, his face drooping. “My godfather suggested it to them and they agreed pretty quickly,” If the scowl on the other boy’s face wasn’t enough to tell you he wasn’t fond of his godfather, the contempt that burned in his eyes would paint the picture just fine.

Math class went by relatively quickly despite their teacher’s foul mood. Like yesterday, Mr. Rivers would smack his ruler inches away from Daniel’s face, startling the boy each and every time. 

Every minute that passed the urge to yank that ruler out of the teacher's hands and swat him across him across his bald head grew exponentially. The only thing that stopped him was the fact he knew he’d be suspended. Not expelled; he’d need to do something truly horrendous for the school to give up funding from Bruce Wayne himself.

They couldn’t lay a hand on him.

“Great news!” Daniel chirped the second they stepped out into the hallway. “I got a new map,” Beaming, the boy shows him a neatly folded sheet of paper. “It’s accurate this time, I checked,” 

“I see,” Damian tries his best to keep the disappointment from leaking into his voice. “I take it you don’t need me to guide you to your classes anymore,” However short it may have been, it was rather nice having company for a change. 

“Ah! That’s not what I meant,” The boy sputters, stumbling over himself. “I mean, I don’t need you to walk me everywhere but it would help. That is if you don’t mind,” He backtracks, anxiously shifting from foot to foot. 

It’s pathetic; in a cute sort of way.

“I don’t mind,” He says pausing for just a moment before he spoke again. “You’re not as boring as I thought you’d be,” 

A dorky smile spread across Daniel’s face, his lips pulled thin. “Thanks!… I think?”

Chapter Text

The walk to his earth science class was a short and sweet one. Not boring…

That is a major compliment where he’s from! Was it a compliment in gotham?

Probably not!

But coming from someone like Damian? That was one of highest compliments one could receive. This dude mirrored Sam when it came to personality. Prickly, well meaning, with a high sense of justice. He was the type most needed time to grow accustomed to. And Danny? Danny was ivy up an old brick wall before he even got here! 

Overgrown with fondness for his friends back home he’d forgotten some consider them unsightly. 

Damian looked like the type who’d be overly popular. Pretty with a nice smile most people would call a smirk. Smart and confident about that intelligence. 

It was too early to say for sure but Damian wore his heart on his shoulder in the ways that mattered. 

When he’d seen Danny’s map, his jaw had been set tight, fingers tightening ever so slightly around the paper. When they’d walked to class together his eyes flicked back to Danny constantly, making sure he’d never lagged more than a few steps behind. And when, in the crowded halls Danny clasped onto the hem of his sleeve Damian hadn’t flinched.  

He didn’t ask why Danny needed something to hold onto. Or why he did his best to keep pace instead of dragging a step or two behind. He just slowed his pace without a word. 

People ran into him back home. In the hallway at school. At the store. Even at home! And yeah, Danny was a little clumsy, his shoddy vision was to blame for that. He’d run smack dab into walls and lockers. And there wasn’t a side walk in amity he hadn’t tripped and bled all over.

Accidents came with the territory of being a Fenton. It just so happened he was more prone to them. But he’d take getting laughed over admitting his vision had deteriorated as badly as it did. 

Still, it’d started to feel like people were becoming walls for him on purpose! After his accident, before and after he got out of his wheelchair people rushed past him. They saw a chair, mobility aids or a limp and suddenly became olympic joggers. Like they were so afraid they’d get stuck behind him that they’d run ahead and shoulder check him just cuz.

And don’t even him started on what happened after he “got better” People kept walking like he was invisible! They smacked right into him like they’d assumed he’d be the one to hobble away. 

Sam and Tucker walked with him most days because of this. It wasn’t just an alibi thing. It was a “I’m a klutz who looks really fun to bully plz protect me,” type thing. 

So yeah, Damian was the type of guy who was unashamed of who he was and what he believed in. Just like Sam or even Danny himself. 

Don’t get him wrong!

Damian definitely had secrets, everybody does. But those were more of the “I’m not sharing every tiny bit of my personal life with someone I met yesterday,” It was the basic, ‘don’t provide any information even if you know they could’ve googled it’ Sam warned him about before he’d set foot in Gotham. 

So why had either of them shared anything about their lives yesterday? Nerves mostly. Damian looked at him with that prickly protective expression on his face and he just spilled the beans. Danny doesn’t even like beans!

Damian didn’t share much but Danny knew the dude had siblings and that he spoke fondly of them. That and they’d been barred from the kitchen for unspecified reasons.  

Damian had a low tolerance for bullcrap but he dealt with it far more elegantly than Danny could. People didn’t talk much to Damian when Danny was nearby, just whispering like they saw a ghost (ha!) 

He didn’t blame them though. It’s gotham.

Who’d want to talk to the transfer student with a scarred face and a milky dead eye?

“Are you kidding me?!” A shriek sounds out, loud and incredulous as Danny takes his first step into the classroom. 

Ah right this guy. 

He doesn’t like Danny very much, does he? What was his name again? Caz? Callam? 

Greg? Actually, did he even learn the kids name? 

With all the time he’d spent taunting the guy it hadn’t crossed his mind to ask. Oh well, it's too late to fix it now. 

“How are you still here?!” Offbrand’s fists shook, his face beet red like he’d just been told satan was being released from prison to wreak havoc. And yeah, with how Danny was grinning, he could be satan. 

“Me?” He bats his eyes, raising a palm to his chest and scanning the room like they weren’t the only two in the room. 

“Who else would I be talking to?” 

“The voices in your head.” 

“I’m sane.” The boy spits darkly. “Out of everyone in this school, you’d be the first to end up in arkham,” 

Danny’s face lights up, his lips pulling upward into a giddy smile that had the brunette flinching backward. 

“So we’d be roomies?!” With his hands covering a faux red face. “You’re so forward, asking to move in together already,”

“That isn’t- I’m not,” Danny bounces in place as the other boy stutters. Was this bullying? Probably. Was it warranted? Yes absolutely, without a doubt. 

“So you didn’t mean it?” He sniffles, wiping away an imaginary tear. 

“What the hell are you two dipsticks doing?” Danny turns to the door. It’s exactly who he thinks it is. A short ponytail with strands of blonde clinging to her rounded face. Her hazel eyes stared sharply at them, a deep disappointment settled behind her pupils. Maybe one day she’d be as disappointed in him as his parents were? Perhaps today…?

“He never loved meeeeee!” Danny wails obnoxiously like he’s in a soap opera.

At this point his classmates were starting to filter in from the hall. They quirked their eyebrows at his antics. Some of them shook their heads, ignoring him like nothing was happening. Others gathered round, watching with rapt attention. 

“What are you talking about!?” He blushed. Three minutes before the teacher even gets here and he already looks like he wants to tear his hair out. That has to be some kind of record, right? 

“You said we were going to move in together,” He sobs cupping his face in his hands. 

“NO! That- I never,” He sputters.

Danny smirks, the blond girl patting his shoulder. Her face doesn’t change though it stays utterly unentertained by everything that was happening around her right now. 

“Isn’t that the kid who just transferred here? How is he already breaking up with someone?”

“That’s Mark, isn’t it? Aint no way this is real”

“I’m calling bullshit. No way that lunatic pulled the new kid,”

“They were fighting yesterday, so i don’t think this is real,” 

“He sounds really upset though,”

”In what world are those real tears?” 

Whispers echoed through the classroom but Danny was far too focused to even try to hear them. He had to sell this. He just had to play his cards right. Land a reputation crushing blow that’d embarrass him so bad he’d never talk to Danny again!

“There is no way in hell this is real, I literally saw him hanging out with Damian the other day.”

“No way! I heard that happened but did the Wayne kid actually show him around?!” 

“He did! He showed him around for the whole fucking day,”

“And they ate lunch together!” 

“The transfer student made Damian eat lunch with him?” 

“No. Damian waved him over,” 

“Bullshit.”

“It’s true! But get this… Damian was smiling at him!”

”No fucking way,” 

“I thought it was a murderous smile at first but then he started fucking blushing!” 

“He didn’t,”

“Uh-huh he did! Do you wanna know the best part?” 

“What?” 

 “The new kid didn’t even notice!”

”The fuck!?” 

“I know dude, I think he has some vision problems,” 

“And some hearing problems, the guy hasn’t even looked at us once,” 

“Isn’t he from a small town in illinois?”

“He’s got those farmboy eyes” 

“A bit of an accent too,” 

“Definitely not a big city kind of dude,” 

”Nice observation Lauren! It’s not like anyone could have guessed that when he walked into school and got buddy buddy with Damian Wayne! ”

“I swear to god it was like watching someone let a tiger sniff their hand and then pick it up to cuddle with it,” 

“How did he not get his ass kicked”

”Either Damian’s playing the long game and planning to ruin his life… or he’s actually into him,”

”I think the tactical destruction of this kid’s life as he knows it would be a less frightening concept.” 

“My guy’s got that Clark Kent, farmboy charisma,”

”Shut up I’m trying to hear,” 

“I never said I loved you! I said you’d be the first of our classmates to go to Arkham!” Offbrand spits like that would help his case. 

“Oh shit! I forgot they were breaking up for a sec!”

“First to go to arkham?” 

“Mark’’s kind of a scumbag,” 

“You’re just noticing this now?” 

“Should…Should we tell Damian?”

”Do you want to witness a murder,” 

“I mean…? Yeah? It’s been boring around here lately,” 

“If you jinx us and say those words in that order again I will make a murder scene out of you, and then your parents so your ghost becomes a witness,” 

“Damn Kathy, calm down,” 

“No. I refuse to be the victim of a gas attack because of someone else's hubris.”  

“Yeah! We’d be roomies!” Danny chirps. “I mean, you seem to think I belong there and for what? Because my parents sent me here?” 

“You’re literally putting on a scene to make me look bad right now!” 

“Is that not the Gothham welcome?” Danny tilts his head curiously. “Because yesterday before you even said hello you accused me of planning mass murder and said my scars were proof,” 

“That’s- thats,”

“Oh. Are you the only one here who’s allowed to pull insane lies out of the blue?”

Dude what is this? 

I fucking knew it was fake.

What the hell?

Shit that’s scary.

He’s fucking smiling, that’s hardcore

I mean, it’s not hard to outsmart colin but damn

Did he really accuse him of murder yesterday?”

The real question is- did Mark really try to pin Danny’s secret criminalsona by looking at his face?

With that said, Danny steps back to his desk pausing with a grin before he sits down. “Oh hey, I almost forgot! I’ve got a birthmark on my left cheek, ya wanna guess what felony that’ll make me commit?”

“No.” Face red, he hides his face in his elbows.

The chatter doesn’t simmer down now that their spat is over. It just shifts into smaller clusters as their class goes on unsupervised. Had their teacher been possessed? No, that didn’t fit the Gotham vibe. 

Had she been murdered? 

Nobody knew but by god were they doing all they could to make sure she was- Wait a minute. Nope! Everyone was goofing off.

Good job guys!

Anyways, it’s not like he’s doing much better. And who would be better at recognizing a concerning situation? A tourist from a ghost town, or a native gothamite? 

All he could do was sit in the same spot he did yesterday and wait.

And apparently, he didn’t need to do that either as the seating was less assigned than he’d previously thought. The girl who’d argued with Offbrand yesterday sat next to him scrolling mindlessly on her phone.

“Morning,” With a smile, he greets his seatmate. 

“Piss off, you drama queen,” She scowls.

“You say that like you weren’t right next to me the entire time giving him the evil eye,” Tapping his pencil on his desk Danny’s gaze flicks between his peers and the door. 

Seriously, where was the teacher? She should be here by now. 

“He was shouting right next to my seat! I didn’t want to hear that shit,” 

“My bad,” Danny shrugs. “Next time we fight I’ll just deck him,” 

“Hmmn, please do. It would save us all the hassle of hearing either of you talk,” Danny watches over her shoulder as she takes an ipad out of her backpack. 

“I can hear you!” Offbrand snaps his fists clench. 

“Who are you again?”Danny asks. The blond girl smirks into the palm of her hand as Offbrand sputters. 

“You don’t even know my name?” He gawks slapping a hand to his chest as if clutching an imaginary set of pearls. 

“Neither of you bothered to introduce yourselves. Was I supposed to guess?” If he had asked there’s no doubt in his head Off Brand would’ve 

“You look like a Kyle, maybe a Kevin if we squint,” Grinning he watches the brunettes face contort further in pure rage.   

“You’re sabotaging me and you don’t even know my name?” Sabotage? When did Danny- oh. Right, yeah. He did do that less than five minutes ago. Oops. 

“Do you even know my name?” Danny counters. 

“Daniel Fenton.” Without a second of hesitation both of his seatmates replied. 

“Damn it!” He curses.

“The teacher literally said it out loud yesterday, you dipshit,” The girl beside him spat. 

“I was hoping he’d forgot it, like his common sense,” Danny sighs.

“I have sense!” Offbrand emphasises tapping out each word on the table. “It’s you two that are dense,” 

The girl pays no attention to the insult, just brushing the hair away from her face and staring Danny dead in the eyes. “Just because you have the memory of a toddler doesn’t make this school preschool.” She deadpans. 

“He was acting like a toddler! It was a reasonable assumption!” He defends, palms flat out.

“Nothing about either of you two is reasonable,” She rolls her eyes. 

“That’s fair,” He shrugs eyeing the two of them. “But I still don’t know who you guys are. And if you don’t want a permanent and unflattering nickname, I suggest you tell me now,” This was a threat now. He was tired of referring to people he’s clearly stuck with as ‘the girl,’ and  ‘Dollar store Wes Weston,’ It’s just so impersonal.

“Mark Florias,” Green eyes narrowed, the boy reveals his name with such hesitation you’d think Danny planned to steal it. 

“Taylor,” The girl states plainly. “You don’t get my last name. I don’t want to give you any opportunity to find me outside class,” 

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Danny chuckles. “I barely made it to the grocery store yesterday. I can’t even fathom the stupidity It’d take to stalk someone,” 

This was the city where pretty much everyone was packing heat or sometimes worse. There was an non-insignificant amount of people who were caught carrying around weapons that violated the Geneva convention. Most of those people weren’t even goons for the big rogues. And don’t get him started on the Bats.

The bat’s would and have broken people’s bones for lesser crimes. And Danny was planning to stay under radar from both Criminals and Vigilantes alike. 

Knowing things in this city could both get you killed or save your life. It all depended on the information you got and who knew you had it. Danny wasn’t planning to be an information broker. Nor did he plan on getting interrogated by the bats or shot 24-7. 

He’d like to stay stupid and unstabbed please. 

Tucker bet twenty dollars he wouldn’t make it out of Gotham with all ten fingers and toes and Danny really can’t afford to be wrong right now. He’d never hear the end of it. 

“First shopping trip in Gotham eh?” With a smirk she rested her face on her palm. “Did you get mugged?” 

“Surprisingly? Nothing happened. But I don’t think that’ll last,”

“That’s funny,” For the first time, he hears Taylor genuinely laugh. “Most tourists seem to think they’re invincible,”

“Yeah well, bad things tend to happen around me. I’ve learned to expect it at this point,”

The clock ticks onward and so does their conversation. Ten minutes after class was supposed to start, their teacher walks in, a scowl on her face and a an stack of something in her hands. 

“Daniel?” Their teacher, Mrs.Graves b-lines it for him immediately. And where Danny expects to be scolded he is instead met by a sleek new I-pad being placed in front of him. 

“You’ll need this for your classes.” Fancily the tablet nests securely in a sleek black case. Durable, he’d have to try to break this one. Not that he planned to break it. 

On the back of the case, in printed bold font was the school district, a logo and a return address.

“Your schoolwork should show up here,” She explains, opening up what he’d assumes is this school’s ‘homework app,’ “If you’d like a paper copy for any of your assignment’s, there’s a bin up at my desk you can pick them from,” She continues, pointing out a clear bucket sat plainly at the edge of her desk. 

It’s weird having a teacher be this nice to him off the bat. Even Lancer had that freaky favoritism thing going on with all the popular kids. But it wasn’t like the change was unwelcome so he just nods along. 

“If something is hard to read, you can change the text size or font of our textbooks here,” Scrolling through the settings she shows him the variety of larger, thicker fonts. 

“There’s also a screen reader you can use as long as you wear headphones,” With that she hands him the tablet, smiling softly as Danny gawks at the device. 

“Um, I won’t be docked points for using this, will I?” This wasn’t another ‘secret lesson’ was it? A trap to catch all the kids who didn’t pick up the textbook..

Mrs. Graves tilts her head at him,  next to him raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“The screen reader,” Danny clarifies. “Kind of feels like cheating doesn’t it?” It’s not like he’s completely blind. Reading and writing weren’t impossible tasks for him. Surely there were people who needed this more than him?

This seemed like another one of those “ Accommodations,” that’d be taken away the second someone complained about fairness. That’s one of the reasons he couldn’t leave five minutes before the bell rang anymore.

“Your vision is impaired dumbass, it’s quite literally installed for people like you,”  

“Taylor!” Mrs. Graves scolds harshly.

“Sorry,Sorry,” Half-heartedly she placates.

Their teacher seems to accept that apology. She hovers over his shoulder, making sure he knows what he’s doing before heading to the front and finally starting class. 

For them however, the conversation has just begun. 

“Screen readers have literally been a thing since they started handing out ipads,” She mutters “What kind of fucked up place do you live where a screen reader is considered cheating?”

“Illinois, Amity Park,” 

“Where?”

“It’s a small town, Vlad Masters is the mayor,

“That explains so much,” Both Taylor and Mark exclaim. 

“That guy is one of the sketchiest people on the planet, I’d bet my life he’s a literal supervillain,” For the first time since he’s got here Mark starts theorizing on someone who isn’t him. And he’s 100% correct this time.

Lips pulled tight, Danny debates his next move. Just thinking about defending Vlad made him feel like throwing up. Vlad wouldn’t out him for talking shit, would he? 

Yes. Without a doubt he would. The man had an ego as fragile as a spaghetti noodle. But Danny didn’t care to think about future consequences. Vlad’s been fucking him over for ages. He’d be damned if he missed an opportunity.

“Dude, that’s the safest bet anyone’s ever made,” Danny laughs. 

“Finally, I agree with you two about something” Taylor groans. 

“Is it true that everybody voted him in as mayor,” Vlad really dropped the ball on that one. Probably one of the top ten most suspicious things he ever did. It’s like plagiarizing wikipedia word for word and hoping nobody notices. Like, at least tweak the word choice a little bit. Change the font to match the rest of the text before you turn it in. 

Really, it was the most obvious case of voter fraud in the history of ever! But for some reason, it only appeared obvious to non-Amity Parkers!

All kinds of crime went unreported or un-discussed back home. Mostly because of mind control or blackmail. Turns out, when most of the town was committing some form of tax evasion, they weren’t all that eager to report a crime that huge. . 

“Yeah, everyone who could vote chose Vlad,” He affirms. “Most of them don’t even remember filling out their ballots,” He muttered under his breath.

“So like all of his early business deals?” Mark asks.

“And his recent ones too” Danny nods

“Have you seen how that man acts at galas?” Taylor scowls, clenching her fists. ”I don’t care how much they try to paint him as wisconsin's version of Bruce Wayne that man is a supervillain I swear to god,” 

“He doesn’t even know how to do philanthropy,” Danny complains. “He just throws money at shady sources and it fucks everything up so badly,”

“ I guess you’d know all about that considering he’s your mayor,” 

“Yeah! You want to know what one of the first things he did was?” Danny would not be holding back on this one. 

“What?” Both of them looked entranced as Danny ranted.

“A four pm curfew for any one under the age of eighteen!”

“Dude what the fuck?” 

“I had people from other school districts giving me crud for that because the fruitloop lied and said I was the one he did it for in his little speech,” 

“Wait hold on,” Taylor lifts a hand “Why would he say he did it for you?”

Danny shrinks in his chair, his expression wilting. He wanted the earth to consume him whole. Never in his life would he want to admit any relation to Vlad blood or not. “Because he’s my god father,” Danny mumbles with a sorrowful look on his face.

“Wait! You’re the one he shot!?” Mark whisper-shouts.

And wow. That story got out of Amity? Did Vlad fail to keep it under-wraps or was this just a case of Mark being a conspiracy theorist. If they knew about that, did they know about Phantom too? If regular people knew about Amity’s situation why hadn’t any older hero’s checked up on them?

”I knew your name seemed familiar,”

“Show us the scar! Mark demands grabbing Danny’s arm excitedly. 

“He got me in the tit so i’ll have to pass.” Danny swats the guys hand away. Mark wasn’t his friend, he’s a prick Danny would torment into a redemption arc.

“You got hit on purpose didn’t you,” Taylor accused. “There’s no way you just happened to be behind his car when he was shooting at it,”

“I was keying his car,” Danny lies. “Protesting his bullcrap rules, me getting shot was what got them reversed,” 

“Why did he shoot at the car in the first place?” Mark questions and for some reason he doesn’t mention Danny’s totally real crime. 

“Didn’t you see the footage?” Danny quirks an eyebrow. How did they know what happened if the footage didn’t get out? Any article that got out should’ve included something about ghosts or Phantom. 

”Dude, all I got is screenshots of news artical and all of those news articles were clipped to high hell. Masters did his best to bury whatever he did,” 

“Yeah, it did not look good for him, my mom was pissed at him,” 

“But why did he shoot the car?” Mark asks again. 

 “It was a publicity stunt, nobody knows why he did it.” Shrugging Danny starts skimming through the online textbook. He didn’t want to get in trouble with this teacher already. Even if it seemed like she didn’t care if the three of them talked. She’d definitely care if they tanked this class.

 “If I were to guess. He was probably trying to win some favor with the teenagers he pissed off before they decided to pull a france and bring in the guillotine,”

“Honestly, I did see a clip of one of his speeches before it got taken down, and that man was targeting you 100%,”

“I am not his favorite godchild,” That was a lie, Vlad just had a fucked up way of showing interest.

“I wonder why?” Taylor said sarcastically. 

“The world may never know,” Danny grins “I personally, find my company delightful,” 

Taylor rolls her eyes. Mark looks like he’s about to pop a vessel.

“You’re about as delightful as a rash on my backside,” He spits.

“You should tell your doctor about that, we don’t need to know that,” Taylor states with a flat voice. The look of disgust on her face almost makes Danny lose it. 

“That’s not what I meant-“ He sputters “ I was making a comparison!”

“Tmi dude” Danny laughs into a closed fist. 

“I don’t actually have a rash on my backside, It’s a birthmark I promise,”

“Please stop talking, I didn’t think it was possible for someone to sound more pathetic but you’ve done it,”

As if God himself was listening. The bell took pity on Mark, ringing loud and high pitched. Students rushed out the door like dogs with snapped leashes.  

”We’ll talk about this later,” Mark snaps, his face flushed. 

“The rash?” That did not sound like a fun use of time. It sounded like a conversation that one band kid who followed Valarie around would have. 

“No- ugh why are you like this?” Raising his hands they fall at his side in closed fists. 

Danny takes this as an opportunity to leave. Damian was probably waiting at the door for him. This wasn’t home. He wouldn’t let anyone turn him into an unreliable friend.

But Mark doesn’t take the hint. Of course he doesn’t. Why would he start now? Instead he grabs Danny by the shoulder. 

The shoulder with scars trailing down to the tips of his fingers.

It doesn’t hurt as badly as it would’ve straight after the accident. But the firm grip sends a searing pain down his neck and chest that has him yelping. Mark’s nails dig into the fabric of his blazer, Clamping down on skin too fragile. 

“Daniel?” Mark freezes at the voice and Danny’s about to say something stupid to fan the flames before he also recognizes the voice.

“Damian!” Danny beams at his friend, but it seems Mark has the opposite reaction to his presence. If anything, it’s like an allergic reaction. The way he stumbles backwards, gaping like a fish and scrambling over half coherent sentences.

Damian takes a bold stride towards them, his eyes narrowed into a dark glare. The boy pries Mark’s hand off Danny’s sleeve, squeezing the offending limb until it went pink before he released him.

Mark scrambled out the door, his sneakers squeaking as he ran. 

“You’re a lifesaver, dude” Danny laughs awkwardly as Damian inspects his arm, brushing away imaginary filth when he doesn't find any injuries. “Has anyone ever told you ya have the best timing?” 

“Many people,” Damian hums. “Do you know why he was pestering you?” 

“Yeah, he figured out who my godfather was, and was pretty eager to talk about him after class,” Shrugging, Danny slings his backpack across his other shoulder. “But uh,” he murmurs “My godfather’s a total fruitloop, and I don’t like Mark enough to hang out with him, sooooo” 

“We didn’t exactly get along,” Danny laughs, his lips pulled tight. “But I didn’t pick a fight or anything. He started it,”  

“I don’t doubt that,” Damian agrees. “Mark’s a pest who doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut,” The sheer venom that drips from Damian’s mouth is almost startling, like a personal vendetta popping out of nowhere. Except it’s not out of nowhere it’s just Damian having an opinion on one of the classmates he’d known for years.

“Did… He accuse you of being a villain too?” He asks, letting the boy lead him out the classroom. 

”Excuse me?” Damian pauses, eyes disappointed in the world and his tone dumbfounded. “No, he’s been spreading filthy rumors about my fathers ‘external affairs’”

”Oh, gross!” Damian had it worse. There is not a world where that wouldn’t be torture to hear. Nobody needed to hear talk like that about their family.

“Did he actually accuse you of being a criminal?”

“Well, today he said I’d be the first here to end up in Arkham,” 

“What?”

“Apparently, he doesn’t like my face,” Danny scoffs. What else is new?