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“How does he know it's his?”
Damian clenched and unclenched his fist. An older woman wearing a sparkling red dress with a neckline that dipped too deep for a woman of her age. She pointed a jagged finger at Damian before whispering to her friends.
“He doesn’t even look like him. I mean look at his skin?”
Damian took in a deep breath before exhaling into his glass. He knew Grayson and father would have the woman’s head if they heard her comments, he could picture Grayson whispering vague threats to her, the woman’s skin would turn whiter than snow with each and every word. Father in his ‘Brucie’ persona, as Grayson so eloquently put it, would simply dump his red wine down the woman’s cleavage before kicking her out of the party. As much as he would love to see the woman humiliated and destroyed in front of the rest of the Gotham elite this was not their battle to fight.
“I heard his mother was a prostitute who Bruce paid to not go public.”
“I heard she was a junkie like the other one.”
Damian felt the stem of his glass shatter, the shards dug into his skin, the ends turned pink with blood. It wasn’t a deep wound, it barely broke through the skin, it wouldn’t scar and was not something worth mentioning to father. He took another deep breath breath in, father would be disappointed if he had to use violence to get his point across. He tossed the broken glass into the trash before wiping his hand on a towel.
He sometimes wished he was Grayson, who seemed to float effortlessly through the crowd, charming ladies with his wit and flirtatious manner. Or even, Damian thought with despair and dismay, Drake, who for all his flaws seemed to invigorate and reinspire the elders into telling tales of their youths. Father met his gaze across the crowd of elites, his face shown of boyish intent as he listened to Mrs. Smith, but his eyes betrayed boredom.
“I just don’t understand it? I mean really a man of his stature can pay off any cheap whore without the need of taking on a worthless brat.”
“I bet she threatened to go public if he didn’t take the little terrorist.”
Damian knew they were right. While he was a child at the time he still killed and plotted with his mother and grandfather. He planted bombs and killed political leaders so his grandfather would stay in power. He was a terrorist.
“Hey Dami, how are you feeling?” A warm head rested on his own. Hands reached down to cup his wounded one. He did not wince as Grayson poked and prodded against the wound. Damian did not wince for he faced worse injuries under the care of his mother. “That’s a nasty cut buddy, why don’t we get Alfred to look at it.”
Grayson grasped his hand around Damian’s, his hand felt cool against Damian’s sweaty palm. He tugged at his younger brother, gliding through the ballroom and over to father and Drake who were conversing with Stagg.
“-which is why I think that a partnership between Stagg Enterprises and Wayne-”
“Excuse me Simon,” Father interrupted, his eyes swept over the pair as they traversed toward his side. “But I must attend to my children.”
The older man straightened at the blatant dismissal, his hand ran through his white hair. Drake tapped his forearm and led him to a small corner where they could talk more about his ideals.
“It looks like Damian got a cut on his hand, probably needs Alfred to look at it.” Father held the same look he had after completing a difficult case, the pure ecstasy washed over his features before he controlled himself. Damian could feel Grayson laugh quietly against him.
“I guess as my duty as his father I should be the one to take care of this. Please do send the host my regards and tell them I must take care of my youngest son.”
Father placed one of his large hands on Damian’s shoulder, leading him into the crowd and towards the door. The older practically skipped with glee as he pushed Damian through the bustling well dressed Gothamites.
“He is practically shoving him out the door. I would too if I had a dirty terrorist staining my image.”
Father froze, his eyes narrowed on the woman from earlier. His nose flared as his grip tightened and released around Damian’s shoulder. Damian looked up at the older man, his jaw was clenched, he was like a tiger, his gaze narrowed on prey, watching and ready to pounce at any moment.
“Excuse me ma’am, can I have a word with you?” Grayson poked his head up from around an older gentleman. His face held a sort of calm, the type he had when he saw Todd’s back or when Drake described his childhood. The type Damian had only seen on film once.
It was under his file and showed a much younger Nightwing beating and breaking the Joker. The screams filled the batcave as the video continued, the Joker pleaded and begged for mercy as Grayson broke his arm, blood caked the man’s suit, his blue insignia shown red in the security camera’s light. If father hadn’t shown up in time then the Joker would be nothing more than a pile of bloodied limbs.
“Oh, Mr. Grayson.” The woman stammered, Damian could smell the alcohol from here. “I did not see you over there, what seems to be the problem?”
Grayson’s eyes practically glowed with vengeance, Damian had to stop this before it became a blood bath. He tried to step forward but father pulled him into his chest, his hands wrapped around his son’s under arms before lifting him into his chest. Damian tensed in the hold but this did not stop his father, who hoisted him up higher so the eleven year old rested on his waist.
“My problem is that you called my little brother a terrorist. My problem is that you are a vapid whore who could never dream of accomplishing half the stuff Damian ever could. My problem is that you made my brother feel uncomfortable.” Grayson growled out, his finger pointed at the woman’s exposed chest.
Any sane person would have apologized and left before this could get any worse. The woman proved to not only lack in sanity as in brain cells for she continued her tirade. “It's not like we weren’t all thinking about it. You know how those people are.”
She staggered, the wine in her cup sloshed over her dress. “Look what you made me do you gypsy-”
“Enough.” Father interrupted. Drake appeared at his side, the long haired teens face was red with rage as he glowered at the woman. Father handed Damian off to Drake, his bony fingers pressed into the younger's skin as he watched as the woman took another swing of her glass.
“No, not enough. You bring your filth-”
“Mrs. Stagg?” Drake questioned “I hope you are well aware you just lost your husband and the rest of Stagg Enterprises any past and future business deals and operations.”
Grayson stormed over and pulled him into his arms. Where Drake was bony, cold and full of ice, Graysons hugs enveloped him in warmth, his arms wrapped around to protect and defend him from anything that would dare threaten him. Drake still held Damian’s hand in a vice grip, his eyes steel.
“Mr. Wayne.” Mr. Stagg started his eyes wide at his foolish wife “I do insist that you forgive my wife for her drunken mistake-”
“She insulted my sons. I don’t know how you raised your family but I take any offense against my children as a capital offense.”
“Mr. Wayne-”
“You are no more worth our time than your wife. Boys,” He turned, his gaze softening on the three of them. “Please pull the car around. I will be right out.”
Grayson nodded, his gaze not leaving the enemy until they were well out the door and around the corner of the Crowne manor. Drake slid into the driver seat, starting the car and adjusted the mirrors so Damian and Grayson were in his line of sight. Dick placed Damian into the seat next to him, his warm arms never leaving from his shoulders.
“So.” Drake spoke, his hands thrumming against the steering wheel “Are we going to talk about the fact that none of us noticed Stagg’s racist tendencies.”
“I should have punched her.” Grayson rubbed a hand against her back “I should have torn her tongue out for uttering that filth.”
“Grayson. Stop.” Damian pulled himself from Grayson’s arms. The older brother’s eyes held nothing but concern. “Just stop.”
“Why? What's going on in that big head of yours?” He rubbed a hand through Damian’s gelled hair.
“This was not your battle to fight. I could have handled it by myself.” Damian pushed the hand away from his hair, his arms crossed as his gaze sank into the leather seats below him.
“No offense Damian,” Drake said, his neck craned around so he could face Damian “But you are a part of this family. This is all of our battles.”
“No it's not.” Damian couldn’t understand what they didn’t get. This was him repenting for his past deeds. He did not need them to be burdened by his past failures. “You could not understand.”
“Damian, I am Romani.” Grayson reached out and stroked Damian’s blooded hand, a bandage wrap held in the other hand as he rubbed a thumb against his skin “I was called every name under the sun and you know what Bruce did? He ruined every single person who uttered a word against me. He raised hellfire and burnt empires to the ground.”
Drake tapped on the armrest of his seat. “Mother and father took me to a gala when I was younger and I watched Bruce tear into the Sulken family for calling Jason a wall hopper. The next day the Sulkens stock crashed and were a pariah in any social circle. Mother told me this was a valuable lesson on focusing where a man held his values. Some held them in wealth while others held theirs in the family.”
Damian refused to meet their gaze. “Damian, we love you.” Grayson pulled him into his chest. “All of us, me, Tim, Jay, Cass, Duke Steph, Bruce, Alfred. We care so much about you.”
“Why.” Damian broke out, a sob bubbled into his throat but he refused to cry “Why do you love me? I am a terrorist, you heard what she said.”
Damian released a wet sob, the guttural sound tore through his lips and filled the car with despair. Grayson shushed him, humming a soft lullaby filtered into the air and fluttering around and drowned the younger's agony.
“Damian, you are not a terrorist.”
“But I am. I hurt people and killed people so Grandfather could gain political prowess.”
“You were a child. The only people responsible were your mother and Grandfather. You did nothing wrong.”
The door swung open and a disheveled father leaned his head into the car. He sported a black eye and his knuckles were covered in blood.
“If Cass asks we still are not allowed to punch people in public.” He huffed, as if he ran ten marathons and back. “Also Tim, destroy the Staggs. I want them out of Gotham and in ruins by the end of the week.”
Damian felt large hands grab his body and pull him into a much broader chest. His father’s heartbeat felt steady and soothed Damian. The car lulled as Tim pulled them out of the driveway and into the twilight street.
“Son.” Damian tilted his head up, his father’s baby blue eyes met his own. “If anyone speaks to you like that again let me know. That is an order. Understood?” Damian nodded, a soft kiss pressed against his head.
~~~
The drive back to the manor was silent. Dick and Bruce played tug of war with Damian’s body. Both wanted to hold the child and protect him from the hatred of the upper class. Tim parked the car before heading out to meet Jason and Cass in the driveway. Dick had texted them about the incident but they already knew. Some influencer live streamed the entire event including Bruce beating Stagg into a bloody pulp, his wife screaming at him to stop and calling his children another round of slurs.
#PapaBear was trending on twitter as well as several other tags about the Waynes. Overall Dick thought tonight could have gone worse. Although he paused, his eyes glanced at the wilted form of Damian, it was a pretty crappy night.
“Why does Bruce get to punch people but I don’t?” Cass signed, Jason sniggered beside her his arm wrapped around Tim who was tipping furiously on his tablet.
“Destroying them already?” Tim nodded his gaze not leaving the screen. Dick glanced at his younger siblings; Jason was pissed but hid it well with humor, Cass was signing to Bruce about how he had to stay home for the ‘public image’ something he told her after she clocked Lex Luthor, Tim was doing what he did best, destruction and mayhem and Damian… he looked like he didn’t know how loved he was.
“Family movie night!” Dick shoved his siblings into the house before snatching Tim’s tablet “No electronics, no talks of patrol. We are going to watch Disney movies and we are going to eat a ridiculous amount of popcorn because we are a family and this is what families do.”
Tim whined but settled into the movie room, his feet swung as he curled into Jason’s side, his lap was being used as a footrest by Cass. Dick settled into her other side, pulling Damian into his lap and making room for Bruce. Steph, Duke, Kate and Harper were all on patrol and wouldn’t be back for a couple more hours.
Damian grumbled but settled in as the opening to Lilo and Stitch started. Alfred settled in onto a chair beside them and passed out a bowl of popcorn. Dick looked down and rubbed Damian’s shoulder.
“Do you know why we’re family?”
“Because father has attachment issues and adopts every orphan in sight?” Dick laughed before squeezing Damian closer to him.
“No. We’re family because we love you. Spikey parts and all.
Damian was silent for a beat before whispering. “Grayson?”
He was quiet, afraid of being rejected “I love you too.”
“Oh Dami,” Dick rocked him back and forth. “You are wonderful and I am proud to call you my brother.”
They settled into silence, one by one the family fell asleep, the movie playing in the background.