Four things that Damian Wayne most certainly did not do.
Shuddup I'll go back to cleaning later. Besides I only took half hour off to whip this up -- no Beta.
I'll stop writing this pairing when they stop being the cutest thing to ever grace the earth with it's existence.Â
There are four things that Damian Wayne under no exception will ever do.
The first was nicknames. Damian Wayne most certainly did not do nicknames. He was Damian Wayne. That was the name his mother used. That was the name his father used. And that was the name he expected you to use.
Dick had learned the hard way, sporting a particularly spectacular pair of panda bear eyes after trying to grace Damian with the nickname âHatchling.â Jason and Tim got away with calling him âDemonâ because even Damian couldnât harm both of them, especially since the two had worked up some kind of truce against him.
On one occasion a girl at school had approached him chipperly and asked if she could call him âDaims.â He had glared and snapped âI donât do nicknames,â before strutting â he would say he walked, but it was a strut â away.
This, however, did not stop a certain red head from braving the glares, the growls and the âwill you stop that?!â from the dark haired boy, continuing his habit until Damian no longer objected.
Damian perched himself on the fence outside Colinâs school, staring intently at the doors. He had gotten out of school early today and rather than waiting around the block for Colin like he normally did he was waiting at the school gates â which, in fact he was banned from doing after his previous presence had started a rather large brawl. The bell rang shrilly but Damian didnât flinch, scanning the crowd for the bobbing mess of red that was his friend.
Colin walked with his head bent, watching the ground like he thought he might trip on the smallest crack. People bumped him like he wasnât there, not pausing to apologise and Damian felt his mouth twist into a snarl at the sight. He jumped swiftly from the gate, landing gracefully, standing out easily in his private school blazer.
âColin,â he said shortly, catching the boyâs arm as he passed.
âDami? What are you doing here?â Colinâs eyes shot wide, but not from fear or shock. He was honestly excited to see Damian, a smile falling easily on to his lips. Then the fear spat through him.
âYou canât be here! Youâll get in trouble!â Damian snorted with smugness that a ten year old should not have held.
âI would like to see them try. Come, Alfred is making the cookies you like.â Colinâs smile got a little wider and he bounced on his feet as he walked with Damian to where the car was waiting.
The second was hugs. Damian did not do hugs. Dick had been trying for five years to get a hug that didnât end in Damian squirming from his grip.
âHey Colin. How are you?â A natural smile fell onto Dickâs face as the bubbly red head bounced through the door. Even at fifteen the kid still acted like a buddled puppy of joy.
âGood. Got a B on the math exam, I reckon Dami will be pretty happy since he helped me so much. Where is he?â
Oh and the dark cloud descends.
âHeâs in the gym. I have to warn you Colin we⌠we had a bad night -- werenât able to save some people we should have been able to save. Heâs beating himself up about it.â
Colinâs face fell before setting determinedly.
âOkay. See you later Dick.â
Really it was in Colinâs best interest that Dick followed him to the gym, although he was silent in his movements.
Damian was in the process of thrashing the hell out of their punching bag. Heâd been at it for a while now, his movements becoming strict and robotic but nevertheless powerful. Colin approached carefully.
Dick almost winced, knowing that it was a really bad start using a nick name. Damian didnât flinch however, just continued pounding away.
Colin moved a little closer and Damianâs punches grew weaker on the bag until Colin was pressed against him, arms wrapped around his middle and he was breathing heavily.
Dick was positive Damian was going to kick Colin on his ass.
He relaxed into Colinâs grip almost instantly, melting against the red head and letting his head fall back against Colinâs shoulder while Colin whispered apologies and reassurances in his ear.
âI should have been able to save him Colin,â Damian whispered, âhe was right there. He was only five. I looked him up.â The taller boy twisted in Colinâs grip, wrapping his arms fully around the ginger, almost engulfing him.
ââS not your fault Dami. You tried.â Damianâs hands clutched at Colinâs shirt.
âI should have tried harder.â
âIf you hadnât been trying your hardest to save him you wouldnât be in the gym attempting to improve more to avoid a repeat, would you? Youâd be wallowing in self-pity somewhere.â Damian pushed his head into the crook of Colinâs neck, his voice becoming thick and muffled.
âYou have flawed logic.â Colin grinned over Damianâs shoulder.
Dick backed out of the gym, leaving the younger boys to their moment.
The third was nightmares. Damian Wayne does not have nightmares. He is too mentally prepared, too mentally fit to be attacked with such trivial things. Never in seventeen years had he had a nightmare.
For the first time in his life he woke to Dick, shaking him while he fought.
âGrayson?â he questioned awareness was returned to him, âwhat are you doing? Get out of my room!â
âDamian you were screaming,â Dick said slowly, his face stricken. Damian felt his heart crashing in his chest and knew he was sweating.
âYou were having a nightmare.â
âNonsense I donât have nightmares.â
âItâs Damian,â The boy growled harshly. He didnât need that, not when the image of Colin, still and unmoving and bloody was so fresh under his lids. Dick pursed his lips.
âWhat were you dreaming about then?â
Colin dying too quickly for Damian to save him, crying out and stretching his hand, begging for Damian to please, just a little further, help me!
But Damian couldnât reach. Something was stopping him. And he was screaming for Colin to hang on, just a second longer, he would save him, he was a hero if he couldnât save Colin what was the point?!
He fixed Dick with a steely glare.
The fourth thing that Damian Wayne most certainly did not do under any exception was allow an exception to his first three things.
Colin caught his fists, settling himself on top of the other boy. He had to face it â at twenty Damian was larger and stronger than himself. But that didnât stop him from holding Damian down when the nightmares struck.
Colin fought to keep his place on top of the boy, pinning Damianâs arms to the bed.
âWake up, youâre DREAMING!â Damian gasped at the air like heâd been drowning, his eyes shooting wide. It took him another few disoriented moments, struggling in Colinâs grip before he was completely aware of his surroundings. His chest was heaving and he dripped with sweat.
The other boy sank against him, releasing his wrists.
âYou were having another nightmare.â Damian wrapped his arms around Colinâs waist and pulled him tighter, pushing his nose into the other boyâs neck and breathing in the scent that was so completely Colin, alive and happy and always, always smiling.
âIâm sorry. Did I wake you?â
âDonât apologize. âS not your fault.â Damian wanted to argue that it was his fault, that he should be in control of his mind and his body at all times, even in sleep.
Instead he just pulled Colin tighter and rested quietly there, comforted by the other boyâs familiar weight.
âGo to sleep Dami. Iâll keep the nightmares away like Rory does.â
Damian Wayne did not do nicknames. He did not do hugs. He did not do nightmares. And he most certainly did not do all three.
And if Colin did it, which means Damian sorta did too.Â