imagine being a young teacher at gotham prep and being the only member of staff that had a somewhat amicable relationship with the youngest wayne. you weren't the type to try and curry his favor like some teachers but you didn't outright butt heads with damian like most teachers did. on the first day of your class, he figured you just didn't have the spine or tenure to defy the blood son of bruce wayne.
and damian wasn't at all shy in proclaiming this to you.
imagine the utter disbelief he feels when you don't even blink when he curtly addressed you by your surname with no title. your smile doesn't waver, but you cock an eyebrow at the boy with your hands on your hips.
"alright, wayne, will you be taking a seat?" it wasn't unkind or mocking, but the snicker from the other students made damian decide you were disrespecting him.
imagine how much damian acts out, seemingly in your class more than any other teacher. but it's not even the normal way a child acts out, like talking during the lesson, being disruptive, or refusing to do course work.
no, it was like everything was a direct challenge to damian.
imagine the building tension in the classroom, day after day. although he was obviously intelligent, damian made it a point to defy, to criticize, or outirght argue with you. it wasn't even in the same way a rebeliious child who thought they knew everything. it was almost like a show of dominance, every scathing remark he had for your lessons, your intellect, your position, and everything in between.
imagine how frustrating it is for damian when you barely break a sweat, always answering with a quick witted reponse.
"ah, looks like you did your research, wayne, however that thereom was discredited years ago-"
"oh? has the lesson bored you, wayne? well, you don't have to participate. giving you a zero is much easier.
"wayne, if you think if i don't have anything of value to say, let's talk about what is important then?"
imagine damian always coming back to your classroom, even during lunch or after school. to him, damian is just refusing to let you win these arguements, returning to assert his superiorty.
but to you? it was an outcast gravitating towards the only one that treated him like a person.
imagine damian eating lunch in your classroom. not because he has no one else to eat with, of course, it was because the sniveling masses never had anything to say except incessant boot licking or posturing. and, even if he refused to admit it, damian found your prescence less irritating than most people. as the lunch hour passed, you'd grade papers or prepare for the next class while damian watched you.
"...i must admit," damian started haltingly one day before pressing forward, "although your lessons are juvenile and insipid...you at least have some a level of astuteness"
"my, damian wayne, was that a compliment?" you quipped back so quickly that he regrettes saying anything, his cheeks warming even though your back was to him.
but before he could retort in indignation, you look over your shouder at him and smiles fondly.
"guess i'll work hard to meet your expectations, huh?"
imagine bruce noticing how damian gradually started to change. his overt hostility began to subside, even if his curt nature didn't, but that all seemed to happen once he started school. though he was devoted to his work as robin, damian would linger at school for sometime after students should have been let out already. and when alfted drove him home, he wouldn't be scowling as much as he usually did.
imagine bruce being called to a parent teacher conference at the school. it was expected of him, of course, to see the acadmeic progression of his mysterious blood son who had no other school records and waa severely behind socially. and the teacher's all say more or less what he expected them to. they rave about how "independent" and "gifted" damian is, with even the teachers damian antagonized tactifully referring to him as a "willful student". none of them spoke about any friends he had or what he was enjotying at school.
imagine bruce's fake smile never faltering at the equally empty words. not until he meets you. your younger than him, maybe around dick's age at a glance, but the glint in your eyes screamed experience.
"ah, mister wayne, it's nice to meet you" you greeted him passively, like he was an afterthought.
"the pleasure's mine mrs..?"
"miss, actually" you corrected and bruce saved that detail for later. "shall we begin?"
imagine bruce wayne, the billionaire philanthropist that moon lit as a masked vigilante, sitting across from your desk in a plastic chair while you dutifully went over damian's grades, interests, strengths, and weaknesses. you barely spare him a glance as you scanned damian's records and spoke about his education at gotham prep.
bruce notices how you trail your fingertips along the paper as you consider his son, how your soft lips formed each word and your eyes traced each page
"he is an intelligent boy, that's evident by his the standardized testing he took at the start of the. enough to skip some grades if he wanted to because he seems to already know advanced mathematics, world history, natural science and..."
you trail off when you glance up at the man, who is staring fixatedly at you and seemingly not listening to a word you say.
you clear your throat and bruce blinks from his trance.
imagine bruce slipping into his civilian persona instinctively and picking up where you left off smoothly, asking if there was anything else he should know. you pauses a moment and your eyes narrow slightly, before you say, very bluntly,
"he's a smart kid, but his social development is lacking"
bruce's smile dims a little, and he asks you to explain.
"students, kids, at this age should making friends. some might not be social butterflies, but damian hasn't made a single friend, started any extracurriculars, he doesn't even eat with the other students" you speak sharply, almost accusingly, with concern lacing each word.
imagine bruce being astonished at this young woman, the same age range as his oldest son, staring him down for damian's sake. he straightens in the chair to look down at you more authoritatively, but you don't even blink.
"...and then there is the matter of his bruises. i've had to break a few fights up between damian and other students, but some days he comes in bruised before school even starts."
you narrows your eyes in suspicison.
"is there be anything I should be made aware of mister wayne?"
he clears his throat and tries to assuage your worry.
"i assure you, ma'am, damian has just been having trouble adjusting from homeschool to traditional schooling."
bruce's eyes soften a bit, "...but thank you for the concern"
you sniff suspicously and look back down. the conference ends.
imagine damian entering the batcave to see bruce at the batcomputer, in costume with his cowl down. on the monitors are countless pictures of you.
imagine damian's hackles rising to attention. were you connected to a criminal case? a witness? possible target (his gut twists at that thought) or...
"father what are you doing?" damian all but demands.
"research" he answers back stoically, even as his eyes drink in you image.
imagine how dissatisfed his answer is to damian, who remains behind him as he digs into your past. according to records, you were a gotham prep alumnus, but not in the traditonal sense. you didn't belong to any wealthy gothamite family, instead you were a scholarship student who had been homeschooled up until ten years old in various foster homes. right now, you were still a new teacher, two years from getting tenure, but you were known as a dedicated and devoted teacher.
imagine that night, seeing the silhouette of gotham's caped crusader on a rooftop across from your apartment. you close the blinds of your window but still feel his gaze.
imagine bruce wayne finding every reason to come see you. damian got into a fight? he'd come with a sheepish apology. your running a fundraiser? he'd always make a generous donation. pta meeting? he'd rival the presdent with how often he attended.
imagine the whispers and rumors when bruce starts openly pursuing you. news tabloids have dozens of pictures of you two, even when you swore there was no one else when the billionaire blind sided you. some are innocent and idealistic, the billionaire falling head over heels for a school teacher. others paint you as an opportunistic upstart who decided teaching wasn't enough.
you don't dignify them with a response, letting the prickling whispers slide off you as you walk past the staff in the teacher's lounge. honestly, you expect teachers to be above petty gossip, but some people never grow out of it.
imagine a field trip for your class rearing it's head and, unfortunately, bruce wayne insisted he volunteer as a chaperone. and of course he's the only one who did, so now you were forced to corral a whole class with him. it was a simple trip to the gotham art museum, but damian seemed to be looking forward to it, in his aloof way, so you bit your tongue.
imagine bruce standing far too close as you watch the children explore the museum. you focus more on damian, who was interested in the art gallery more than the tactile children's exhibits. you don't trust the man, not in the slightest, but damian seemed to hold his father to a high esteem.
imagine immediately doubting that esteem when he all but dissapears when armed men run into the museum with guns.
imagine the fear that runs through your veins, which you refused to let the children see as they huddle behind your outstreched arms. your alone, shielding them with your body as the men shout out for everyone to get to the ground.
imagine softly sushing the whimpering and crying children as you kneeled with them while the men ransacked the museum. you take a quick head count and your heart drops as you come up one short.
you whip your head to just in time to see damian being roughly grabbed by one of the masked men.
"damian!" you cry out as he squirms and tries to break free, like an animal in a trap, and the man raises his pistol-
imagine how stupid it is, to dive for the boy, catching the butt of the pistol on your temple and crumpling to the ground. you both fall to the ground, you holding damian and him pinned underneath your weak body.
imagine the skylight breaking above just in time, and batman landing in front of you all, seeing your crumpled, bloodied form shielding the young boy in your arms.
