Chapter Text
Damian al Ghul-Wayne has never dreamed he was anywhere else. Not of green and orange.
He never wished for safety, or looked for protection from someone who wasn’t there. He never called out for siblings he didn’t have in his weakest moments.
Even if he did… things like protection didn’t exist in the League, and Damian was smart enough to learn that sooner, rather than later.
In fact, Damian himself was a prodigy. He took to the shadows like he was born there, something to be expected with his parentage. Then there was his fighting ability. A chaotic mix of styles that most of the League could never predict—things he was never taught, yet was a master of its arts. Truly a genius, truly a visionary. And despite his young age, he has far surpassed most of his peers.
With his katana, he could cut down anyone in his path. While he was trained to be proficient in many weapons, his mother and grandfather preferred his use of the blade, even when Damian felt more at home wielding a kusarigama.
He is so skilled, so talented, that his mother sends him away earlier than even she predicted. As a result, she didn’t have time for any extravagant plans to introduce Damian to his father. Which is why the two of them are at the Gotham docks, waiting for the man to appear.
Damian is… not nervous. He refuses to be. He is standing stalk still, refusing to even twitch. He must make a good impression on his father.
The man descends upon the two, standing at nearly twice Damian’s own height. His mother steps forward, leaving Damian in the shadows. “Batman.”
“Talia. What do you want?” His voice is cold. Which is to be expected, Father sounds almost like Grandfather. It is good he knows what to expect.
“I would like you to take in our son,” Mother says, stepping to the side to reveal Damian. He puffs out his chest, trying to project confidence. Father goes rigid. “I’m afraid without a father’s hand, he has grown rather soft.”
“Our… son?” He glares at Mother. Though she is not so easily cowed.
She sidesteps, holding out one arm. Damian stays rooted to the spot. “Damian, come greet your father.”
Damian silently approaches his mother, inclining his head to avoid eye contact with his father. “Father.”
“He’s—” Whatever his father was going to say is cut off by Mother.
“Trained in the League. He is well beyond his years. Many call him a prodigy.”
Father looks as though he ate something rancid, his face pinched into something upset.
“I may be young but,” Damian starts, voice steady despite the shake in his nerves. He has to stand his ground. Failure is not an option. “I will be an asset to you, despite my age.”
Making eye contact with Father, Damian projects all his confidence. If there is one thing he knows for certain, it’s that he can fight.
Father breaks first, motioning away from the docks. “Come on then, Damian.”
“Go join your father,” Mother insists, smiling down at him one last time. “Make us proud, Damian.”
Damian nods once, before walking after his father. He wishes, not for the first time, that his legs were longer. He must take more and faster steps just to keep up with his father, and yet he still trails behind.
He is directed into a car, something very extravagant. His fingers itch with the urge to press all of the buttons lining the dashboard. But he refrains.
They pull into the Batcave, and Damian wants to touch everything. He thinks about how much fun climbing the T-rex would be. Or rolling on the giant penny.
Father requests a DNA sample, to prove his mother’s words right. Damian, of course, allows him to do so. He knows that he is Batman’s son.
Waiting for the results, Damian fists his hands into the material of his pants. He cannot move, cannot show weakness. The sound of footsteps has him moving into a fighting stance. He will not be bested by those planning a sneak attack.
“They aren’t a threat,” Father commands, his voice booming through the cave, making Damian feel extremely small.
He forces his hands to his side once more. Stiffly staring as three boys topple into the cave, laughing and playfully shoving at each other. He knows the three. Grayson, Todd, Drake. The ones Father took in before him. He doesn’t feel envious, watching the three. There is no reason for him to. He doesn’t belong with them.
The three’s laughter slowly dies out as their eyes land on Damian. They must know he’s a threat, already. At least they have proper instincts.
“Bruce, again? ” Grayson, his competition, asks. Mother and Grandfather showed him all of the residents of Wayne Manor, the only one he has to worry about is the first, Robin. The others are pity cases at best.
“Kid,” one of the insignificant ones, Jason Peter Todd, kneels down to his height. “You shouldn’t follow Batman to secondary locations. That’s how he got me.”
The last one doesn’t say anything, just observing.
“Boys,” Father says. The three do not jump to attention, instead they glance up at him. The blatant disrespect makes Damian want to vomit. Even worse, Father does not see it as such. “This is Damian al Ghul. His mother claimed that I was the father. The DNA test came back positive as well.”
Damian holds back a wince. al Ghul. Not al Ghul-Wayne. Of course, he has not been claimed by Father yet. He will simply have to work harder to show he is worthy of the Wayne name.
“B, you slut,” Todd says, which makes Damian reach for the sword on his back. How dare he call Father something so despicable. “He looks just like you.”
He doesn’t get to use it as Drake smacks Todd on the back of the head. “Don’t say that in front of a kid!”
Father sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “You three keep an eye on him while I explain everything to Alfred.”
Pennyworth. The servant of the household.
He watches as his father walks away, up into the actual living area. Now that he’s gone, Damian can unsheathe his sword.
Damian points his sword at Richard Grayson, uncaring for how the others’ hackles raise.
“Richard John Grayson,” Damian addresses. The others mean nothing to him. Grayson is the only hurdle. “You are unworthy of the mantle of Batman. I was trained for this, and am no doubt more skilled than you. Relinquish your title to me.”
“I—how old are you?” Grayson asks, no doubt quaking with fear.
Damian straightens up, “I have just turned seven years old.”
“Look, uh, Damian,” Grayson says, pushing the sword out of the way. “I have no intention of taking up Batman. I am perfectly fine with Robin.”
“But—Mother and Grandfather said—”
“Damian,” his fathers voice booms, sending Damian in a scramble to stand up straight. “We do not point swords at others in this house.”
That… is a strange rule. In the League he would have to be ready for an attack at every moment. Even when he slept, he had to be at the ready. But his father is the one who creates the rules here. He bows his head. “Yes, Father…”
He is forced to leave all of his weapons in the cave. Though Damian sneaks in a small dagger, just in case this is another test from Mother. Just in case they decide that he is not worth the trouble.
Damian is brought up with them, this time introduced to Pennyworth. Apparently calling him a servant is an insult that no one found proper. Even though… isn’t that what he is? They argue that he is family. Damian thinks that’s stupid, and says as much.
That leads to two weeks of Damian having to assist Pennyworth in the kitchen. Starting with breakfast tomorrow.
He doesn’t sleep that first night, hands clenched around his dagger as he waits for someone to test him. Once the sun begins to rise, he wanders down into the kitchen.
Entering the kitchen, Pennyworth is already there, whisking something together.
“Master Damian,” Pennyworth says, without turning around. “Master Bruce did not mean you had to wake up this early. If you would like to go back to sleep, I will wake you up once I have something for you to help with.”
“That is unnecessary, Pennyworth. I was told to help, and so I will,” Damian insists. He will prove his worth to Father.
Pennyworth stares at him for a moment, before nodding. “Very well, I will be making chocolate chip pancakes, seeing as Master Jason has a large test today. If you would like to help me mix them in. It will be a while before you are allowed near the hotter surfaces.”
With a nod Damian attempts to reach for the chocolate chips on the counter. Unfortunately, he has not hit his maximum height yet.
Pennyworth clears his throat, pushing a stepstool towards him. “I apologize for not being more clear, use this.”
“Of course,” Damian nods his thanks. As it turns out, he truly was just mixing the chocolate chips into the pancakes. Nothing else.
Damian doesn’t understand how this is a punishment. It’s enjoyable. And once he’s done, Pennyworth has Damian sit at the table.
He didn’t realize he dozed off until Pennyworth was setting a plate in front of him. Along with others around the table.
“After we finish breakfast, you can help me with the dishes,” Pennyworth says.
As the others eat, he thinks of ways he can make chocolate chip pancakes even better. Like tabasco! Or even frozen peas! Damian will have to bring it up to Alfred next time.
As it turns out, Pennyworth’s company is preferable to anyone else’s. Not just because the other three are extremely close, which makes speaking to them intimidating. Or that he’s sure that Father hates him.
Pennyworth is just an exceptional man. He is patient as he explains things that Damian doesn’t know, and his tea is truly delicious.
After faking a stomach bug, Damian is sent to his room once again.
That night, when the others leave for patrol and after Pennyworth checks in on him—he is seven, he does not need to be tucked in—Damian leaves through his window, scaling down.
Damian is sure that this is all just a test. And he will not let his guard down. He just has to prove that he is worthy of being Batman's successor.
Getting out of the manor is easy. It is finding the rest of the vigilantes that is difficult. Navigating Gotham is harder than it looks.
The first vigilante he runs across is Batgirl. A redhead with a purple suit. “Are you… Damian?”
“Yes,” Damian rolls his eyes. “I assume Father told you about me.”
“Actually, it was Robin. He knew you were gonna try and sneak out eventually,” Batgirl says with a laugh. “It seems like that was more true than I thought. Come on, let's get you back before Batman finds out.”
She reaches out a hand, which Damian subsequently slaps away. “I will not be going back! I must prove my worth to Father!”
A sound of commotion keeps Batgirl from responding. “Okay, just—stay here.”
She takes off running. Damian waits exactly five seconds before following. Batgirl has two opponents. One she is dealing with rather effectively. His father must have trained her well.
Unfortunately, the second man does not seem to think the same, holding out a gun towards Batgirl. This is it. This is the chance to prove himself to Father! By saving one of his less talented partners.
Damian jumps onto the man, despite the size difference, Damian knows how to take down men twice his size.
“Wh-Damian?” Batgirl asks, flinching back as Damian knocks the gun the man was holding from his grip.
Damian knocks the man to the floor, hitting him again, and again. To keep him down.
When his eyes have finally become unfocused, Damian slips out the dagger.
His hands are raised, the blade clenched between his fists, ready to come down and end this pathetic squab's life.
“Hey!” There are hands on his shirt, yanking him away from the man. “No! We don’t do that here.”
Damian hisses at her, unable to extract himself from her grip.
What follows next is perhaps the most mortifying experience in his life. Batman yells at him for exactly twenty minutes and thirty-two seconds before finally allowing Damian to speak. He… is still not quite sure what he did wrong, besides sneaking out.
“He was going to end her life! Now he will end someone else's!” Damian explains to the best of his ability. “You kill them before they kill you, that is… that’s how life is.”
“Not here,” Batman growls, and Damian can no longer hide the flinch at just how angry he sounds. He doesn’t understand. “While you are here, you live under my rules, and that means no killing. Understand?”
Damian nods slowly, looking down at his feet. Batman’s patience is running thin. Damian thinks about what he would do if Batman decides that he’s not worthy… “Yes, Father.”
He is sent to his room immediately. Damian doesn't answer any knocks at his door. Instead he shoves his face into his pillow, allowing it to absorb the tears that aren’t allowed to fall. That night, he dreams of three figures in blue, red, and purple. They smile at him, they hug him, they protect him…
Damian wakes up with crusty eyes and a distinct feeling of longing for something he never had.
He washes his face that morning, trying to get rid of all of the feelings weighing him down. He scrubs until his face is red and raw, yet he still feels indescribably heavy.
Damian goes downstairs to join Pennyworth in the kitchen. He missed yesterday's punishment, but that doesn’t mean he can continue to avoid it. Before he enters the kitchen he inhales sharply, projecting confidence. “Good morning, Pennyworth.”
“Master Damian,” Alfred greets, not turning around from the cutting board. Damian’s stool is in front of the sink. He takes the hint and washes his hands. “It is good to see you are feeling better this morning.”
While the words seem pleasant enough, Damian knows what this is. An opening for Damian. “I apologize for missing out on my punishment last night, Pennyworth. I will make up for it however you see fit.”
Pennyworth pauses in his movements. Damian wonders for a brief moment if he misstepped. Then Alfred continues to mince the vegetables. “Nonsense, Master Damian. You simply weren’t feeling well. Though now that you’re here, why don’t you come crack these eggs into a bowl. I will be making omelets for breakfast.”
They both know that Pennyworth knows the truth. It is a pleasant feeling to know he will not bring it up.
Damian nods, pushing his stool over to the counter where the eggs and bowl sit. There are a lot of eggs. Damian doesn’t want to do it wrong. “All of the eggs?”
“Yes, Master Damian. Thank you for asking for clarification.”
Damian works in silence, cracking what feels like an insane amount of eggs into the bowl. He does get a few shell pieces in there, which he then struggles to get out. Once that’s done, Pennyworth hands him a whisk.
Damian whisks the eggs to the best of his ability, but the bowl feels gargantuan to try and hold onto. But he manages.
“Have you ever thought about adding thin mints into the omelets?” Damian asks as he attacks a particularly stubborn yolk with the whisk.
Pennyworth does not respond. Probably in awe at his intelligent use of flavors. “I’m afraid we don’t have thin mints.”
“Then we can just add mint and chocolate separately,” Damian suggests, forcing down a smile. He’s glad that Pennyworth is taking his suggestions.
Alfred hums. “I don’t think that would be the best idea for an omelet. Perhaps for dessert we can do something with mint and chocolate.”
“What about gummy bears then?” Damian shoots out. “It works well with waffles.”
Alfred hums. “You are extremely creative, Master Damian. Though unfortunately we don’t have gummy bears, either.”
The omelets are nice, he still thinks they would have been better with gummy bears, but alas. As he eats, he realizes that Damian has never tried thin mints or gummy bears. For all intents and purposes, Damian shouldn’t know what they are. But he does… because of his dreams. His dreams that are starting to feel more and more like memories.
As the days pass, he adapts to his new life. His dreams are more vivid than ever, of a family he never had. And a father, a sensei, a papa. He was strict, but he was kind, loving. When he looked at Damian, there wasn’t shame in his expression.
Damian admits, only to himself, that he likes this ‘Mikey’s’ life more.
Suddenly, calling his father ‘Father’ leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. It doesn’t feel right.
“Father,” Damian says, during breakfast. “Why do the others call you ‘Bruce’ when you have adopted them?”
The table goes quiet as the others stare at him. He leans into his seat, trying for nonchalance.
Father smiles at him, the kind gesture tugging at Damian’s chest. “Well, to put it simply, it’s what makes them the most comfortable.”
“Also because if I call him ‘Dad’, he starts getting misty eyed,” Todd teases. Father levels him with a glare that is ineffective.
“I see,” Damian furrows his brows. “Then, if I wanted to call you something other than Father, would I be allowed?”
“Of course, Damian,” Fa—Batman says.
“Thank you, Bruce.” That… was worse than ‘Father’, Damian thinks.
Batman also seems to not like that. Both Grayson and Todd have to hide their snickers.
Damian attempts to think through his options. What could he call his father that isn't ‘Father’? He feels as though most of the good options are taken. Though…
“Um, Dad?” he asks, blinking in surprise as Batman actually looks up, his mouth morphing into a smile.
“Yes?”
Damian shrugs, looking down at his empty plate. “I just wanted to see how it felt…”
His dad hums slightly.
“We’re seeing progress in real time,” Grayson says. “How cute.”
Damian snarls, and the only reason he doesn't throw his butterknife through Grayson’s skull is that it would be an affront to Pennyworth’s hard work.
Damian realizes later he still needs to prove to his dad that he can work with him. So, of course, he asks his dad to let him out on patrol. Everyone else in the family has a place on patrol. Even Drake, who is apparently the communications officer. He goes by ‘D’ which is confusing because Grayson’s preferred name also begins with a D. Meanwhile, Damian is the only one whose name actually begins with the letter.
The response to his inquiry is short and sweet. “No.”
“Why not? I am more than ready!” Damian complains. He has been trained for this.
His dad sighs. “Damian. You are seven.”
“That’s not fair!” he yells. In the back of his mind, he knows he shouldn’t be yelling at his dad. That never went well before. But this was just too different. Nothing is what he expected, and it’s stressful.
“Damian,” Dad snaps. Damian clamps his mouth shut. His dad sighs. “Come with me.”
Oh no. Damian follows him, mind already reeling with ways to apologize for speaking out of turn. This feels as though it is the worst case scenario. Dad leads him into the Batcave.
He’s saved from groveling as his dad presses a pair of nunchaku into his hands. “Once you master these, you can come out with us.”
The League does not care for the weapon. It is considered unwieldy and impractical. His mastery of them was not a priority.
“Really?” Damian asks. The nunchaku sit comfortably in his hands, perhaps more comfortably than any other weapon he’s wielded before.
Dad nods, stepping out of his space. “Don’t feel bad if you can’t do much on your first try, okay?”
Damian was a little rusty at first. But he knows how to use these. It’s deeper than muscle memory. Even with minimal training, he takes to them like a fish to water. By the time he was done, Dad already sent in a suit to be made.
Grayson, Todd, Drake, and Brown (who stops by from time to time, for some reason) all but fall to the floor in a pile, cackling at his dad’s exhausted expression.
“Looks like the League got some new skills,” Todd wheezes from his position on top of Drake.
Instead of his swords, Damian is only allowed to use the nunchaku, because it lessens the chance of Damian stabbing someone.
His first night out, also set him against his first opponent. The others were busy focusing on the ‘higher’ level villains. And with Dad stuck at WE for some emergency meeting, it’s all hands on deck. Damian will not disobey his dad’s orders. Not when he just got the chance to prove himself.
“How old is this kid?” his opponent, Killer Moth, asks. With the others all busy with their own assailants, there is no one to answer that question.
Damian twirls his nunchaku, a grin overtaking his face.
“Hey, I don’t know if I feel comfortable fighting—”
Damian doesn’t give him a chance to answer, charging him with everything he has. He leaps towards the man, letting out a battle cry from his heart. "Booyakasha!"
His nunchaku connects with Killer Moth’s face, sending him flying into a brick wall. Damian shifts into position, ready for him to get back up. He doesn’t…
Damian doesn’t think he hit him hard enough to kill him. Before he can go and investigate, Robin appears in front of him.
Damian squints in confusion. “Robin? Is everything alright?”
He can see Batgirl and Nightwatcher locked in their own fights still. If Robin finished he should have gone over there.
Damian jolts as Robin falls to his knees in front of him. Is he injured? Robin’s hands come up to wrap around Damian’s shoulders. “Mikey?”
Damian freezes at the name. He… that’s supposed to be a dream. Mikey is supposed to be an unachievable dream for Damian.
“Mikey, look at me,” Robin begs, voice shaking. Damian has no choice but to obey.
Damian looks into Robin’s eyes, no longer seeing Richard Grayson. No longer seeing an obstacle. All he can see is— “Ani?”
Damian is being yanked against Robin-Grayson-Leo’s chest. A sob leaves his mouth, tears overflowing.
“Otouto,” Leo whispers, like a prayer. “Otouto.”
“Robin, is he injured?” Nightwatcher says from behind them.
Leo sniffles, presumably looking at Nightwatcher. “Raph, it’s Mikey.”
“Shit,” he mumbles. “Mikey?”
Damian shifts, trying to face his other brother. “Raphie…”
Raph all but collapses into the hug, squishing Damian between the two bodies. He barely registers everyone saying goodbye to Batgirl, in lieu of a family emergency, cashing in a favor to not tell B.
“Come on, Donnie is waiting in the Cave,” Leo says, lifting Damian into his arms. Donnie was here too?
Damian leans into the warmth, reminding himself over and over that this isn’t a dream.
Once they return to the cave, Donatello—the nerd chose his own name—all but yanks him from Leo’s arms and pulls him into his own.
It’s strange, being so much smaller than all his brothers. He’s supposed to be closer to their height. But he still clings to Donnie the best he can. Even though his arms can barely fit around him.
Stephanie barges into the cave moments later, hand clutched around a hockey stick. “You said you guys found Mikey?!”
Damian stares at the hockey stick, his mind working. “Casey?”
“I know you know my hero name—”
“Casey!” Damian shouts. “You’re a girl!”
Stephanie’s jaw drops. “And you’re tiny! It’s great to have you back, Mikey.”
Damian basks in the warmth of his re-found family. He hasn’t felt this content in—well, since his last life, he supposes.
“Guys?” Damian asks, voice quiet. “Do you think Dad would send me away if I decided I didn’t wanna fight?”
“Oh Mikey,” Leo says, voice thick. “You aren’t leaving this house until you’re fifteen.”