Just Here For The Likes

Finally, Damian looked up and surveyed the room he found himself in, something that he normally would have done before anything else. His soulmate's bedroom was small and messy, scattered carelessly with clothes, trash, and discarded homework. They would require a firm talking-to about cleanliness, although not right away. The lack of medical equipment implied that the condition, whatever it might be, was either stable or new; Damian leaned toward the former.

He looked down. The comforter on the bed was space-patterned, and there was a wall dedicated to model spaceships, as well as several posters. Clearly, his soulmate had a primary interest.

There was no note on the nightstand or desk, and the phone he found charging on the nightstand was locked. There were four notifications: two from 'Inquisitor' asking if his ears were still ringing and if she needed to come home and run interference, one from 'Sam' reminding him about an upcoming history test, and one from 'Techno-Luddite' telling him about the release date of an upcoming game.

After the nightstand and the phone, the most common place to leave a note for a soulmate was on the computer. There was a desktop in the corner of the room, in good condition but several years old. Damian got to his feet, ginger and careful, and made his way over there without incident.

It was already on, he observed. He woke it with a flick of his wrist, and the screen lit up, showing a chat window. He crossed his arms on the desk and examined it, frowning.

napstablook: ringablingblingbling

napstablook: my ears are bleeding again

TF (Too Fine): i thought the fenton phones were helping?

napstablook: they were

napstablook: until they started testing a new frequency that cuts right through them

TF (Too Fine): shit

TF (Too Fine): okay bring a pair to school with you and i'll see what i can do

napstablook: thanks tuck. i owe you one

TF (Too Fine): you owe me many

Damian made a note of the requested item, a pair of 'fenton phones,' and moved on. It was tempting to scroll up and get more context for the interaction, but not now. He minimized the window, the browser underneath, and Steam before reaching the desktop, where he was able to quickly locate the expected file.

soulmate_readme.docx

Perfect. Damian opened it and scanned the note his soulmate had left for him.

Hey, partner. You're lucky I'm older, or you would've just gotten [pleasantries and stuff] at the beginning of this.

I'm Danny Fenton! I'm 17 right now and you're in Amity Park, Illinois. I'm really passionate about space, and I also like video games and concerts. I used to want to be an astronaut but my life plans got thrown off-track a few years ago, and I'm still figuring out what to work toward instead. I'm kind of jumpy by nature, please don't take it personally if I'm like that with you at first, but I can be a bit of a gremlin too. And if it's okay, I'd really like to go stargazing with you when we meet, before we go to sleep.

I'm excited to meet you! I really am. I'm getting the idea that we have a lot in common, so I kinda geared this list in a certain direction. Hopefully I'm not misreading things too much. The rest of this is all warnings, don't skip any of it. I'm sorry, this probably won't be very fun for you.

First: I'm also a metahuman. Synthetic. My parents don't know, please do not tell them. I don't know how much of my control will stick with you through the swap (online reports are kinda inconsistent) but Sam, Tucker, and my sister Jazz should be able to help you if something happens. The main concern is phasing through things by accident, but you might also turn invisible sometimes or notice some ice slipping out, especially if you get worked up.

Second: Amity Park is not really safe. You probably know that already. There are frequent extradimensional attacks and the beings behind them are pretty strong. Avoid them if you can, but they might seek you out. You'll know when they're around because your breath will run cold.

There's two weapons in the bottom of my closet. One of them is a wristband with a plasma gun in it, the other is a lightsaber-style bo staff that splits into two if you prefer. Take both and use whichever you're more comfortable with. If you're not experienced, I recommend the blaster. The thermos is a capture device. Take the cap off, point, and shoot.

Do not go downstairs. Take the rope in the bottom of the closet and leave through the window if you can. I am so serious. My parents mean well, but as soon as they know it's you, they'll give you a bunch of stuff that may or may not be safe with my meta abilities. If they try to put a metal belt on you, do not let them. If you can't leave through the window, call Sam or Tucker. My phone's passcode is 990198.

First aid kit is under the bed if you need it. Sorry again. Drink one of the green vials if you're injured. If you're really injured, use a syringe and drink three vials.

Sam and Tucker should be able to give you the rest of the rundown, whatever info is up to date. We've been planning this for a while. Call when you can and we can talk about what travel arrangements make the most sense.

Good luck. And happy birthday.

Damian sat back, crossed his arms, and frowned at the screen.

First: it seemed his assumption about Danny being a vigilante had indeed been correct, and Danny had deduced the same about him. That was good; it meant his soulmate was intelligent. He also seemed rather excitable, given the tone of the first few paragraphs. Should Damian have included more information about himself as well? He shook the thought off impatiently.

He also went by a nickname. Using it would be Damian's first major concession to the relationship.

Second: it was unusual for non-alien metas to have more than one or two powers, and Danny had listed three. Then again, 'synthetic metahuman' was a broad category that could include any number of inciting incidents. Damian would have to inquire into the details later. At least it explained why this body felt so… strange.

Third: he clearly considered both his home and his hometown at large to be an active hazard to Damian. And since Danny was the older, he hadn't been able to arrange for Damian to wake up in a safe location. That was unfortunate but understandable. It mattered little, since Damian was more than capable of taking care of himself with the information and tools provided. Still, with the note that extradimensional beings were likely to seek him out, it would be best to rendezvous with 'Sam and Tucker' for more information.

Decisively, Damian turned away from the computer and moved toward the closet, careful not to stumble in his soulmate's altered body. His center of balance was unnaturally high; Damian would need to practice some maneuvers before attempting serious combat.

Upon opening the closet, Damian discovered that Danny had an appallingly casual sense of style. That would have to be fixed. Damian's soulmate needed to own clothes outside of jeans and t-shirts. He picked a pair of black slacks and a navy blue button-down, then turned to the bed and laid them out.

He knelt down and pulled the first aid kit out from under the bed. He opened it, then faltered at what he saw. The cold spot in his chest seemed to magnify.

Five corked vials and three capped syringes of glowing green fluid. Lazarus water. Where… how…

Damian took a deep breath and forced himself to focus. He knew of no use for Lazarus water in small quantities, despite having grown up around people that actively studied it. There were multiple things in nature that glowed bright green; radium did, after all, as well as the Green Lanterns' constructs. He picked one up and tilted it, baffled to discover that it was viscous, like honey.

Would it be better to be suspicious, possibly denying his soulmate's altered body a necessary supplement, or to trust his soulmate blindly, consuming a substance he didn't even know the name of?

He drank it. It had a peculiar taste, like a hyper-concentrated electrolyte mix, but Danny's body responded positively to the flavor and swallowed eagerly. Damian grimaced, set the vial on the nightstand, and forged on.

The injury on his soulmate's arm appeared to be a knife wound, quite deep and clumsily stitched with an odd glowing suture; it seemed likely that Danny had done it himself, with his left hand. No antibiotics or antiseptic - allergy or oversight? He rewrapped the injury and moved on. The injury on his right thigh was a second degree burn, most likely from a plasma gun judging by the uniform shape. There didn't seem to be any decreased sensation either; it was quite painful. He applied burn cream from a nearly-empty tube and rewrapped that as well.

Finally, he manually tested the sensation in his left hand, flexed it experimentally, and then decided that was enough. He dressed, fetched the three remaining implements from the bottom of the closet, and picked up the phone.

Since Bruce was… unreliable, on the topic of personal boundaries, Damian had gone to Dick for advice on this matter. Dick was very firm on his suggestions: Damian was not to go through his soulmate's messaging history, internet history, photos, or any diary or journal he might find. Under the circumstances, Damian should probably not linger too long at all and instead move on as quickly as possible.

Damian hesitated, then unlocked the phone and checked the notes first. There was another copy of the readme there - useful. Several other notes included a short review of first-aid procedures, a list of locations where a local organization would perform stake-outs, a list of locations where his soulmate had stashed go-bags (making heavy use of his meta abilities, it seemed), and some computer game-related notes.

Finally, Damian went to the browser, and searched 'Amity Park vigilantes.' No relevant results were returned.

He searched 'Amity Park.' There were several cities by that name, none in Illinois.

He left Google, and performed the same searches on Bing, DuckDuckGo, AOL, YouTube, X, and Bluesky. None of the search results indicated that a town called Amity Park existed in Illinois, nor did one with any known vigilante activity.

Amity Park, it seemed, had been delisted from everything.

Well. This was a problem that could be addressed later. Damian pocketed the phone, took the rope from the bottom of the closet, and fastened one end to a curtain bracket above the window.

The rope was knotted, as to facilitate cautious descent and easier climbing. Damian made the decision not to be offended by this, and swung out the window, dropping down a few knots at a time.

Okay. That was… fine. That was great, even - he was starting to worry. Most soulmates were born within three years of each other. Apparently he and his soulmate were at about two and a half. Good to know.

He'd apparently forgotten what it felt like to have a normal human body. That was also fine. It would probably never matter again after today, because he didn't have one of those.

And his parents weren't working on anything too awful! The frequency weapon was aggravating, but even if his soulmate got caught in range of it, he wouldn't get seriously hurt or anything. That was good.

…They really needed to meet up, like, as soon as possible.

Danny pushed himself upright with a wince and finally took in the room. It was huge, he realized - at least as big as Sam's room, maybe even bigger, and just as richly decorated. There were swords on the walls, some paintings, a couple of bookshelves, and some massive windows. Apparently his soulmate was from a wealthy family. Weird. There was a notebook on the nightstand, flipped open to a simple note.

Bonded.

I am Damian Wayne. I expect you to be normal about this.

Refresh yourself in the bathroom in the northwest corner. My phone's passcode changes on the hour, the key is underneath the top drawer of the nightstand. Wear any clothes you like.

Whatever your own circumstances, you are in no danger in this home. I have a father and an appalling number of siblings, listed below in order of seniority with some notes. All of them save Todd are likely to be present, as they are extraordinarily nosy. Father and Richard should be waiting for you in the living room downstairs. Head there when you are ready and you will be given breakfast.

When you are ready to make arrangements, call. If you do not, I will do so myself.

Bruce Wayne - My father. Despite what he shows the public, Father is a sharply intelligent and goal-oriented man. Be respectful of him.

Richard Grayson - I would advise you to stick close to Richard, as he is the most sane and will do his best to protect you from my siblings' nonsense.

Jason Todd - Can be temperamental. Put space between yourself and him if necessary.

Cassandra Cain - Semiverbal but extremely observant. She communicates primarily in ASL.

Timothy Drake-Wayne - No notes.

Stephanie Brown - Intentionally annoying.

Duke Thomas - Enhanced vision.

Danny lifted a hand to his mouth, stifling an incredulous laugh. Okay, so Damian was kind of funny - super formal, clearly, and his exasperation with his siblings bled clearly through the page. He was a little disappointed that he hadn't written more about himself, but that was okay. They'd have time to talk, probably, if Damian forgave him for the situation he woke up in.

Anxiety bit at him again. He hoped Damian made it out alright. He'd been so sure, with the levels of danger that Damian regularly got into, that his soulmate had to be a vigilante. But the Waynes were in direct danger all the time, weren't they? Because of rogues and stuff. Heck.

And that was the other thing: Danny had to admit, he was sort of uncomfortable with the idea of being in the Wayne family's orbit. Not that they seemed like bad people or anything, but he just didn't need that much attention on him.

Well. Not like he was getting out of it now. He'd figure something out one way or another, right? And he and Damian had to be soulmates for a reason. Even if they didn't click romantically, they'd probably be good friends. Hopefully.

Danny did his best to shake off the creeping anxiety and followed Damian's instructions, going to the bathroom before he went to check out the closet. It was, like Damian's writing, really, really formal. He picked out a polo shirt and a dark pair of jeans, wincing at the creak of cracked ribs.

The sharp spike of pain made him pause. Cracked ribs. Why would a random rich kid have cracked ribs? He silently put the vigilante hypothesis back on the table.

Finally, he dug the passcode key out of Damian's nightstand and worked it out, unlocking Damian's phone after almost five minutes. He wanted to text Sam and Tucker, but hesitated - Damian probably wouldn't want Danny giving his number to people he didn't know, right? That was the sort of thing public figures worried about; Vlad was pissed when Danny gave out his number (which happened pretty regularly.) But Discord used two-factor authentication, and he didn't have his phone.

He sighed, went to email instead, and logged in one of his accounts. He wrote a quick email to Tucker, explaining what had happened and asking him to stay on standby and go to Fentonworks at eleven if he hadn't heard from Damian by then. Then he emailed Jazz to let her know too, and ask her to come home soon if she could. Then Valerie, asking her to cover.

After a moment of thought, he opened Chrome and Googled each of the names on Damian's list. It wouldn't hurt to recognize them once he saw them. They were public enough figures that they probably expected him to.

He put the phone and the passcode key in his pocket, took a deep breath, and tried to shake the nervous tension out of his shoulders. With all of that done, there wasn't anything left to do but go and talk to Damian's family. Right? And he'd talked about this part with his sister before too. Before he knew it was the Waynes.

Danny exhaled harshly, then pushed himself forward and out the door.

The Waynes were more understated about their wealth than Vlad was. The wall trimmings were simpler and more elegant, the furniture Danny could see was more well-made than opulent, no gold anywhere. That wasn't a huge surprise; Vlad liked to show off.

He was worried he was going to get lost trying to find his way downstairs, but luckily it only took two turns before he could see the loft. He made his way over there and leaned against the railing to look around. The loft overlooked some kind of ballroom; an expensive-looking chandelier hung from the ceiling, there was a fountain in the center of the room, and the walls were edged with elegant carvings that looked difficult to keep clean.

"Need some help?"

Danny jumped a mile and instinctively jerked away from the unexpected voice, turning to face him as he took a few steps away. It took him a moment to place the face of the man in front of him - Richard Grayson, giving him a friendly smile that looked… not fake, but rehearsed. He didn't move any closer, letting Danny put space between them.

It took Danny a moment to process what Richard had said, and then he ducked his head uncomfortably. "Yeah, if that's okay. Um, I'm Danny." Luckily, since Damian was younger, they were probably ready for this to happen. Even his parents had taken the day off when he and Jazz each turned fifteen.

"Hey, Danny. Call me Dick." Richard - Dick - held out his hand, and Danny hesitated before scooting closer to shake it. Dick let go after a moment, still smiling amiably. "Let's head downstairs. It's just Bruce and Alfred for now, so we should have some time to talk before the others can't help themselves anymore." Danny smiled a little and followed him toward the stairs, a few steps back. Dick half-turned to face him without missing a beat. "So, do you have any questions you want to start with? I know this must be a bit of a shock for you."

Danny could see why Damian had instructed him to stick close to Dick; it was obvious he'd been assigned the role of settling Danny in. He thought about it for a moment and then shrugged.

"I don't know how this stuff gets handled with high-profile people," he admitted. "All the examples I can think of are like, child stars and stuff." He'd seen some stories in passing, and most of them talked about arranging a meeting through their agents, which wouldn't be the case here. Right?

Dick gave him a smile that looked genuinely pleased, so apparently Danny had said something right. "We'll talk about that soon," he promised. They turned down the stairs, but Dick kept facing Danny, not missing a step. "Okay, is there anything you want us to know up front? Any warnings, concerns, special circumstances?"

Danny reached up and ran his thumb along the line of his jaw without thinking. Damian's jaw felt different from his. Sharper. "Um…" He grimaced. "We should probably go get Damian soon."

"You're not safe at home, right?"

Danny froze. Dick took a few more steps down before turning to face him completely, raising one eyebrow without faltering.

"You don't have to hide it," Dick said, when Danny didn't respond. "Damian's been keeping track. And that's why you're worried, isn't it? Because he's swapping into the circumstances that you've been living in?"

Dick's eyes were too sharp, too observant. Danny looked away, crossing his arms tightly, and continued walking down without answering. Dick didn't push, turning to continue the walk downstairs in relative silence. They hit the marble floor, and Dick directed them toward a side door.

"Don't worry," Dick said at last, pausing just outside the door to meet Danny's eyes. "Damian is pretty good at taking care of himself. He'll be alright."

Shows what you know, Danny wanted to say. He held his tongue.

Dick maintained eye contact for a moment longer, then turned away and pushed through the door.

Going down the hall led to a living room that looked almost normal. It was big, sure, and richly decorated, but it had couches and armchairs and a television, a coffee table, some bookshelves, a large high window. It was nice. By the coffee table, Bruce Wayne was on one of the couches, using a tablet. An older man, like, retirement age for sure, hovered nearby, already looking their way. Danny smiled fleetingly when their eyes met, then dropped his gaze again.

"This is Danny!" Dick announced as they came in, drawing Bruce's attention up to them. "He's a bit jumpy so go easy on him, and he also wants to know how we're planning to handle this process since he knows it'll be different from the norm."

"I see," Bruce said, and gave Danny a warm smile, gesturing to the couch across from him. "Take a seat anywhere and we can talk things over. Are you hungry?"

After considering his options for a moment, Danny sat in one of the closer armchairs instead, then drew his feet up and crossed his legs. He grabbed the hem of one leg and rubbed it between his fingers, braced his elbow on that knee to ease the weight on Damian’s cracked ribs, then shook his head. He felt more than saw Dick and Bruce exchange a look.

"Something small, then," the older man cut in, approaching with a kind smile. Damian's family seemed really nice, Danny thought distractedly. "Does anything sound palatable?"

"Oh, um…" Danny glanced up, startled, and met the man's eyes. Alfred, he realized belatedly. Dick said Bruce and Alfred were waiting for them. "Fruit is okay, I guess. Thanks."

"Of course," Alfred said warmly. "I'll be back in just a tick, then."

Danny smiled briefly, then looked back at Bruce. Dick had sat on the couch across from him, leaving Danny slightly more on Dick's side than Bruce's, but both of them a comfortable speaking distance away. Almost as soon as it registered, though, Danny frowned again, looking down to pick at the hem again.

"Really though," he said after a moment. "We should go get Damian soon."

"About that," Dick said, and when Danny glanced up he wasn't smiling anymore, though he didn't look angry either. "What exactly are you worried is going to happen?"

Oh, that was… a bad question, but fair. Danny grimaced. If they weren't going to believe him until he explained, though… "Well… I guess the first thing is the house." He bit his cheek, trying to decide how to explain, then stopped quickly. Not his body. He rubbed the cuff of Damian's jeans harder. "I'm… a meta. And my parents are inventors. And they keep making stuff that hurts me by accident. And Damian doesn't know what's safe for me to handle and what's not, so he really shouldn't be in there, in my body, by himself." He shrugged uncomfortably. "I told him to leave through the window instead of going downstairs, but I don't know if he'll take me seriously."

There was a heavy pause. Danny squirmed. This really wasn't a great start.

"You told him to climb out the window rather than risk coming into contact with these inventions?" Bruce asked, with a dangerous edge to his voice that made Danny flinch.

"Sorry!" he yelped, scooting back, away from him. He clamped his hands around his elbows, squeezing tightly. "I, I didn't know when it would happen, so I wasn't sure what they'd be working on when it did! And I guess it's just the frequency weapon, and that wasn't that bad, but I was worried it'd be one of the aerosols, because those always make me really sick, or one of the auto-targeting weapons and he doesn't know to look out for those, or, or…"

"Easy, Danny," Dick cut in, low and soothing enough that Danny blinked, glancing up in confusion. Dick wasn't smiling, his eyes dark, but his tone was carefully modulated. "Bruce isn't mad at you. Damian won't have any trouble climbing out a window, and he knew he was walking into a dangerous situation, so I'm sure he looked hard for any notes you left him. It's just very concerning that you're in regular contact with something so dangerous for you."

"Oh- it's okay." Danny tried to relax, but ended up just squirming backward some more. He let out a shaky breath, wincing as his ribs protested, and eased over enough to take the weight on his elbow again. "I mean, I do know what would hurt me, so I can usually avoid it."

"I'm sure you can," Bruce agreed, more calmly. "So, assuming he escaped your home unscathed, what else are you concerned about?"

"Well…" Danny loosened his death grip enough to pluck at his shirt. "Rogue attacks, I guess. The Red Huntress should be out on patrol today, but they’re still frequent enough to be a concern.”

"He'll be fine," Dick said, firmer than Danny would have expected. Huh. Did that mean Damian's family knew what he, maybe, did? Danny relaxed a little, letting out a soft breath, and nodded. Dick continued, "Rogue attacks, huh? Where do you live?"

"Amity Park, Illinois," Danny said, settling enough to go back to rubbing the cuff of Damian's jeans. "Don't bother looking it up though. It's been delisted from pretty much everything. Even the mail goes through a relay now. Every time I look on Google Maps I'm surprised it's still there." The following pause was so heavy it made him look up. "What?"

Both of them were frowning again. Danny cocked his head, uncomfortable.

"…Do you know why that is?" Bruce asked at last. Danny's mind flashed back to Damian's note.

Despite what he shows the public, Father is a sharply intelligent and goal-oriented man.

Instead of scoffing outright, Danny huffed softly and pulled his knees closer, tucking his feet under him. He spared a moment to be glad that Damian seemed to have a similar build to him. "The GIW doesn't want the Justice League catching wind of what they're doing, probably."

"I can make that happen." Bruce's gaze was intense. It occurred to Danny that actually… he probably could. Even Vlad wouldn't be able to do anything about it until it was too late.

"That's right," Alfred confirmed with clear warmth, and then pushed a glass of water into Danny’s hands as well. “Master Damian had an accident recently; I assume you’re feeling sore this morning.”

Startled, Danny looked down at the plate, and found two aspirin sitting on the edge. “Oh. Thanks.”

It had been a while since he bothered taking painkillers; they barely worked on his human form. He swallowed both, then downed the rest of the glass of water as Alfred addressed Bruce and Dick.

"I think that's enough business for now, isn't it?” Alfred said, subtly pointed. “I do believe both of you agreed to ask the young man about himself, not his circumstances."

Both men looked rather sheepish at that. Danny ducked his head to hide a smile and looked down at his plate - slices of peach and orange, strawberries cut in half, some blueberries and blackberries. It seemed like a lot for a vague request for some fruit. He picked up some blueberries and started eating.

"We did get a bit sidetracked, didn't we?" Dick chuckled, seemingly embarrassed. "So, Danny, how old are you?"

Danny hesitated, shifting uncertainly. The berries were perfect, but his stomach churned nervously. "I really think we should go," he tried again. They didn't know the full extent of what was at stake, after all. 'Rogue attacks' didn't exactly cover it.

"Did you direct Damian to somewhere safe?" Dick asked. Danny nodded. "Where did you have him go?”

“…To my friends,” he admitted, embarrassed not to have anything better for them. “They’ll be able to catch him up on anything I couldn’t put in my note.”

“Then he'll be fine for a little while,” Dick insisted. “Alfred can get the plane ready and we can head out after you eat, alright?"

"…Okay." Danny went back to eating and tried to reassure himself as Alfred headed back out. Sam and Tucker would keep Damian out of harm's way until they met up, he was sure.

Dick smiled at him. It was nice. "Then let's start with an easy one. How old are you?"

Danny swallowed his food and played with the pile of berries with his thumb. "Seventeen." He thought of the obvious problem and winced. "Um, and closer to 'just seventeen' than 'eighteen."

"That's good to know," Dick said amiably, not seeming bothered by the slight age jump. "What are your career plans?" Danny hesitated, and Dick added, "It's fine if they're still loose, nothing wrong with that."

Danny relaxed a little and shrugged again, picking through the berries to avoid looking up. "They're… yeah." He sighed. "I wanted to be an astronaut, but I had a major accident about three years ago that really threw things off, and I'm kind of still… figuring things out. I'll do engineering, probably, since I'm okay at it."

Dick hummed in surprise. "Hang on… three years ago?" When Danny glanced up in question, Dick was looking at his phone, scrolling for something. "…August second?"

What? Danny blinked, and then winced with the realization. "Oh. That was probably pretty hard on Damian, huh? Sorry." The whole lead-up to that, with Danny approaching the plugged-in portal and then actually going inside, like an idiot, must’ve been horrific from Damian’s side. He couldn’t even imagine what Damian had felt while Danny was actually dying.

Then again, he was certain that Damian had at least come close a few times himself.

"It was the most worked up I've ever seen him," Dick agreed, not seeming upset. "An accident, you said?"

Danny shrugged and nodded, biting into a peach. "I got a pretty bad shock from one of my parents' machines. It put me in the hospital for a few days and there were some, um, lasting effects." He paused. "That wouldn't happen to Damian. I did something stupid."

Dick hummed noncommittally. "Is that how you got your meta abilities?"

Danny flinched so badly that he jostled his ribs again, and had to hold his breath for a moment before he could respond. "Y-yeah. But it's… complicated. I don't really want to talk about it. Um, can you tell me how this is going to work?"

Bruce and Dick exchanged a look, and Danny looked away, wrapping an arm around his torso.

"That depends on a few things," Bruce said at last, shifting his focus to Danny. "You know that it isn't uncommon for abused children to move in with their soulmate's family after the switch, yes?"

Danny went still, a cold weight falling over his shoulders.

"Sorry. I should've been clearer." His voice came out wooden. "My parents aren't abusive. They would never hurt me on purpose. There's just… a lot of accidents."

It sounded lame, and he wanted to snap and insist to them that it was true, there was nothing wrong with his parents, it was just that Danny was such a mess- but it would sound like a lie. They’d understand later, he promised himself. When they met.

Bruce studied him for a moment, and Danny squirmed under the scrutiny, fixing his gaze on the coffee table.

"You would prefer to stay with your family?" Bruce clarified after a moment. Danny nodded, hard. "Alright. I understand. In that case, I would like to stay for a few days and speak with your parents before finalizing any arrangements. Do you think they'll be amenable to that?"

Danny let out a relieved breath and nodded. "Yeah. There shouldn't be any problems once I'm the one in my body. They're really very nice." Of course, then he'd have to explain to them why he didn't want Damian around them in his body, but it wasn't like they could deny how often accidents happened.

Bruce hummed. "Most likely, the two of you will stay in your separate cities for the moment. We'll arrange for a set number of in-person visits every month as well as any online or phone communication you agree on. From there it will be up to the two of you."

Danny smiled a little, quietly pleased by the image Bruce painted.

"That sounds good to me," he said, picking at the fruit again.

The sound of footsteps made him look back up, and he only jumped a little as more people emerged from the hallway - Damian’s other siblings, Danny realized. Tim, Stephanie, Duke, and Cassandra. Tim had a laptop under his arm, Stephanie looked avidly curious, and Cassandra lagged a few steps behind, her eyes already set on Danny. Duke’s eyes were intense, boring into Danny, and he looked away quickly, flustered.

“So who’s your favorite Gotham vigilante?” Stephanie asked him, as soon as their eyes met.

“Um…” The question felt oddly like a trap. Was this a Gotham thing, like asking people to pick between Phantom and the Red Huntress? He cast a wary glance across everyone, but they just looked expectant, and he shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t know. I mean, at this point they’re all really experienced and good at what they do. Nightwing, I guess? He does a really good job of balancing being competent and friendly, and it makes him a great point of contact between the Bats and, you know, everyone else.”

Their expressions quickly shifted from expectant to appraising, which was, if anything, even more uncomfortable. Dick’s eyebrows rose, and Bruce’s eyes gained a calculating edge. Danny ducked his head away from all of them, picked up his plate, and leaned forward to set it on the table. By the time he sat up again, their expressions had cleared.

“You’re interested in heroes, Danny?” Bruce prompted, amiable again. Danny instinctively distrusted it, and he wished he could turn that off. It wasn’t helpful right now.

What was it Jazz had said? His soulmate’s family wouldn’t be looking for reasons to separate them. They were just making conversation, getting to know him. Something something optimism.

It didn’t feel like that. It felt like something else. But maybe Damian’s family was just… intense. He’d implied that in his note, hadn’t he? Without meaning to, he glanced at Dick pleadingly, and Dick gave him a kind smile that made Danny’s shoulders loosen.

“That was just a very thoughtful remark,” Dick explained, loose and relaxed. “Most people don’t think about how heroes present themselves.”

Well, most people weren’t heroes. Danny’s mouth twitched, and he leaned back again, forcing himself to settle.

“A bit,” he conceded at last, carefully. “Amity Park has a couple of heroes that manage its rogue activity too, but it’s only been a couple of years, so they’re both really inexperienced compared to Gotham’s. The Bats are old guard, you know?”

He shrugged again, hyperaware of everyone’s eyes on him. There was something he was missing here - weight to this conversation he didn’t understand the meaning of. Weren’t there rumors about Bruce Wayne and the Justice League? Some connection? He wished he knew.

“That’s understandable,” Dick said agreeably, also not acknowledging the elephant Danny couldn’t see. “People that live around heroes do tend to regard them a bit differently.”

The others settled down around the room, picking armchairs and couch spots.

“What are the heroes in your town like, then?” Tim asked, his eyes too intense. The calculating edge had never left them, Danny realized, assessing Danny for some reason or another.

“So weird to see Damian squirm like this,” Stephanie muttered, and got elbowed by Cass.

“Well, there’s two,” Danny said, slow and careful. How could he even talk about this without bringing up ghosts directly, or explaining the portal his parents had built? Damn it, how was he supposed to explain the portal? “Phantom and the Red Huntress. They work together now, although they didn’t always. The Red Huntress is human, and Phantom is the same… kind of meta as the rogues.”

“It’s an alien situation,” Tim concluded immediately, making Danny flinch. “Did something happen?”

So, months go by and Bruce is trying to slowly coax "Jason's" ghost into revealing himself. Danny is elated that the grieving man seems to be getting better - smiling occasionally, not hiding away in the creepy basement (Danny never goes down there because what if it's a Vlad scenario?? He'll never willingly go into a basement again, no thanks), and actually setting out a dinner plate for Danny! Even the butler seems to be taking Danny's presence in stride, calling him "young master" and setting out cups of tea. He appreciates it, even if they sit there and get cold. It's nice to be noticed, included, regardless if he can't participate. Maybe it's because he's been exorcised from his own human body, but he's totally invisible, intangible, and can only communicate via Ghostspeak.

Maybe Tim Drake never approaches Batman because he doesn't act violently, doesn't become the monster who lashes out due to the loss of his youngest child. Sure, the absence of Robin is noticed, but maybe Tim decides he'll intervene only if Batman seems to really, really need help. Except... he doesn't. Bruce's "son" is still with him. They can still sit together at dinner, "Jason" mostly stays in the library, and Bruce engineers infrared/ultraviolet glasses so he can see where his son is. The manor almost starts to feel... homey again. Bruce notices Jason never, ever goes into the basement and thinks he understands: after all, why would Jason want to be reminded of vigilantism when it got him killed in the first place? (...that Bruce couldn't save his own son from Batman's villains? That it's Bruce's fault Jason died in the first place?)

And then Red Hood comes into the picture.

The final confrontation comes where Red Hood takes off his helmet, snarling about how Bruce chose the Joker over his own son, and Bruce just... stops.

"Jay, why aren't you at home?" Bruce asks. He's baffled - he can't think past how did his ghost get here? How is his son's ghost alive?? Jason, however, is equally baffled. The stand-off ends with Jason somehow coming back to the Manor, which apparently now has infrared scanners everywhere? ("For you," Bruce said quietly. Why the hell would he need a scanner? The fu-)

And then they both pause while looking at the scanner. Because the ghost is... still there. Curled up in Jason's spot in the library with a still-hot cup of tea Alfred delivered moments ago.

So, months go by and Bruce is trying to slowly coax "Jason's" ghost into revealing himself. Danny is elated that the grieving man seems to be getting better - smiling occasionally, not hiding away in the creepy basement (Danny never goes down there because what if it's a Vlad scenario?? He'll never willingly go into a basement again, no thanks), and actually setting out a dinner plate for Danny! Even the butler seems to be taking Danny's presence in stride, calling him "young master" and setting out cups of tea. He appreciates it, even if they sit there and get cold. It's nice to be noticed, included, regardless if he can't participate. Maybe it's because he's been exorcised from his own human body, but he's totally invisible, intangible, and can only communicate via Ghostspeak.

Maybe Tim Drake never approaches Batman because he doesn't act violently, doesn't become the monster who lashes out due to the loss of his youngest child. Sure, the absence of Robin is noticed, but maybe Tim decides he'll intervene only if Batman seems to really, really need help. Except... he doesn't. Bruce's "son" is still with him. They can still sit together at dinner, "Jason" mostly stays in the library, and Bruce engineers infrared/ultraviolet glasses so he can see where his son is. The manor almost starts to feel... homey again. Bruce notices Jason never, ever goes into the basement and thinks he understands: after all, why would Jason want to be reminded of vigilantism when it got him killed in the first place? (...that Bruce couldn't save his own son from Batman's villains? That it's Bruce's fault Jason died in the first place?)

And then Red Hood comes into the picture.

The final confrontation comes where Red Hood takes off his helmet, snarling about how Bruce chose the Joker over his own son, and Bruce just... stops.

"Jay, why aren't you at home?" Bruce asks. He's baffled - he can't think past how did his ghost get here? How is his son's ghost alive?? Jason, however, is equally baffled. The stand-off ends with Jason somehow coming back to the Manor, which apparently now has infrared scanners everywhere? ("For you," Bruce said quietly. Why the hell would he need a scanner? The fu-)

And then they both pause while looking at the scanner. Because the ghost is... still there. Curled up in Jason's spot in the library with a still-hot cup of tea Alfred delivered moments ago.