#dickanddamiweek2019

That was the first thing Dick noticed.  Aside from his own internal panic of shit shit shit the kid’s been shot, of course.  Even though it was just with a dart of fear toxin and not like, an actual bullet, it still got Dick’s heart racing just a little quicker.  

But Damian wasn’t screaming.  Dick had seen each of the other kids on fear toxin, as well as hundreds of random civilians.  There was always screaming.  Crying, shouting, screaming.  And yet, Damian was doing none of that.  

Keeping the kid in his peripherals, Dick finished taking out Scarecrow and tied him up nice and pretty for the GCPD.  It was actually fairly easy, since he, too, was unnerved by Robin’s lack of screaming.  The tiny little 10-year-old’s apparent lack of fear.  

“Robin?” Dick asked as he slowly approached.  It was clear Damian was hallucinating.  At least, Dick thought it was.  Since Damian had quit fighting and was standing there, stiffly. He just wasn’t scared.  

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, kneeling down in front of Damian as he did a visual scan of the boy, his hands hovering an inch or so from Damian’s body, afraid to touch him and risk setting him off, “can you hear me?”

In response, all Damian did was take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, through his nose.  A move Dick recognized as meant to calm one down.  To slow a heart rate and keep panic at bay.  

The first time Damian hears the story of Nightwing and Flamebird he’s too drugged out to really follow it. He’s lying on a stretcher down in the batcave, an IV strapped to his arm, bleeding out from seventeen different wounds. The severe blood loss makes his head feel light and he only catches a word here and there, while Dick’s voice lulls him to sleep.

He doesn’t understand why Grayson’s telling him all that useless stuff about these old Kryptonian’s heroes who have nothing to do with the two of them. He knows Grayson still holds an inexplicable affection for his previous identity as Nightwing, but that too is hard too comprehend to him: Grayson should be happy to be the Batman now, because being Batman is so much better than the secondhand identity he had conjured up when Father had taken away Robin from him ― although Damian’s not so sure anymore that this is how the story went: Mother’s always told him that Father expected only the best from his partners, and that if they proved not to be good enough for the job he would not hesitate to find others, which is why Batman had so many different Robins over the years. Damian, of course, would’ve solved that problem once and for all by being the perfect partner his Father deserved. That’s what Talia used to say, and Damian never really had a reason to doubt her until now.

Still, the facts remained: Grayson was Batman now, and Damian was Robin, and they were perfect, better than any other Batman and Robin before (and that wasn’t Father’s fault, of course, but of his Robins’. Even Grayson had admitted that when he was Damian’s age, he was not as well trained as him). Nightwing was a relic of the past to which Grayson insisted on clinging on for no reason whatsoever, only out of a stubborn sentimentality that, in Damian’s opinion, he should have overcome already.

And he would like to say all of that out loud, explain to Grayson why he doesn’t need those stupid fairytales he’s sputtering out, but he’s too weak, too tired, and he just wants to rest.

a/n: Dick and Dami week day 2's prompt was paparazzi. I hope you guys enjoy :3

Dick laughed, walking with Wally to his place as he dramatically retold a story, cup of coffee in hand and shades hiding his eyes.

“Uh, Dick?” Wally paused in his storytelling, squinting at something behind Dick.

“Yeah?”

“We've got company.”

Tensing, Dick very pointedly did not let the smile on his face drop, and did not turn to look behind him. Instead he grabbed Wally's arm, tugging on it once.

“What kind?” he hissed through his tight grin.

Wally waved a hand in the air, getting Dick's cues and laughing like Dick had said a joke. “The creepy stalker Tim kind,” he answered after the fake laughter.

“Oh my God,” Dick groaned, hiding his face in his unoccupied hand. “That's the fifth time this week, and it's not even Wednesday yet.”

His best friend genuinely laughed then, and Dick grabbed his arm and speed-walked to try and lose the paparazzi.

“And I hate that I got what you meant when you called them the creepy stalker Tim kind.”

“Is it not accurate?!”

“Wait ‘til I tell Tim.”

“Wait for me to tell him you got it.”

...

Damian sighed lying on the grass of the Manor's vast yard with Titus and Jon. Titus was dozing to Damian's left, and he pet his dog distractedly as he spoke with his teammate.

“We're friends, Damian!” Jon insisted, sitting up and looking at Damian.

Rolling his eyes, Damian tutted. “We are not.”

“Am I really that unlikable?” Jon whined, flopping back on the grass.

Damian sighed, closing his eyes. “No,” he gritted out. “You are an acceptable companion, Jon.”

“So we're friends then.”

“We are teammates.”

“I'm taking that as a yes.”

Only a few beats of silence lasted before Jon spoke again, and Damian was tempted to sigh once more.

“Hey, Damian?”

“What?”

“Who's that?”

Sitting up, Damian looked around. “Who?”

Jon straightened and pointed toward the bushes around the fence of the Wayne estate.

In an effort to make out what his friend was talking about, Damian squinted, leaning forward a bit.

A glint caught his eye and Damian hissed, jolting to his feet.

“Nosy undesired stalkers,” Damian answered. Turning sharply, Damian started back for the manor, Titus at his heels. “Come, Jon. I believe Pennyworth should have snacks prepared.”

“Your butler is the best! Can I borrow him?”

“No.”

...

“You know,” Dick said, flopping backwards on the couch in Bruce's study. “Sometimes I wish you weren't rich and famous.”

Bruce raised a brow and looked up from the papers he was working on. Dick was staring at the ceiling, so he couldn't catch his son's eye, but he still looked over nonetheless.

“Why do you say that?”

As Dick opened his mouth to respond, Damian threw the door open, a greatly displeased air around him.

Sighing a little, Bruce looked over at Damian and asked, “Yes?”

“Father, I demand you file restraining orders against the photographers that continue to interrupt my day anywhere I go. They hover around my school!” he hissed, tossing his book bag at the couch and hitting Dick in the gut with it.

At Dick's low “Oof,” Damian looked over at him and raised a brow.

Bruce's own were furrowed and he asked, “What were you going to say, Dick?”

“Well, actually, it was something along the lines of what Damian said. I wasn't going to ask you to get restraining orders, though,” he answered as he sat up. He smiled at his little brother. “Hey, Dami.”

Damian nodded. “Grayson.”

Bruce frowned. “I'll see what I can do, boys.”

“Thank you, father.” With that, Damian was walking out of the study for his room, presumably to change out of his uniform if Bruce knew his son well enough.

Dick smiled. “Thanks, B.” He hugged Damian's bag close, resting his chin on it, and said, “So. What're you working on.”

Bruce shook his head, a smile twitching at his lips. Looking back at his work, he humored his eldest by informing him on the newest developments in the company.

...

“This is ridiculous, Richard. You look like an old man.”

“I used to do this with Jason when he was a kid!”

“I fail to see how that argument helps. Todd is a nonsensical fool, I am not.”

“That's mean, Dami, and I don't think you're giving him enough credit, but we're not discussing that right now: Just put the wig on!”

Damian's glare intensified, and he narrowed his eyes. “You have yet to explain your reasoning for this,” he said.

Dick rolled his eyes and shoved the blond wig at Damian along with the baggy clothes and shades, wearing a grey wig, fake moustache, and oversized clothes himself.

“To dodge the paparazzi, Damian.”

Damian opened his mouth, light pink dusting his cheeks and ears as he closed it and accepted the clothing and wig.

“Fine,” he muttered, entering the bathroom and emerging minutes later with everything on.

“Whose clothes am I wearing?” Damian sniffed, looking down at them.

“Oh, that's just stuff I found in the guest room,” Dick answered dismissively. “I raided Jason's closet for my clothes.”

Damian gave Dick the most unimpressed look, adn Dick grinned.

“You look adorable, by the way.”

His little brother flushed, scowling. “Tt. Are we going to watch a movie or not, Grayson?”

Dick laughed, hugging Damian quickly before leaving to find an inconspicuous car.

As Damian walked with him he asked, “You did this with Todd, when he was younger?”

“Oh yeah, whenever I visited. We'd dress up and see who could make the worse outfit.” Dick smiled thinking back on it. “I won almost every time, but we'd go out and do fun normal stuff. Go to the arcade, get ice cream, watch a movie…”

Damian nodded, but noticed Dick's smile start to slip. He frowned. “Grayson?”

“I… We didn't do it much, actually. I was still angry with Bruce, and, really, I only got close to Jason a few months before he… died.”

Damian didn't like the pained look on Richard's face so he said, “You can make up for lost time now that he has returned. Stop being sad, we are going to watch a movie and eat popcorn, and I look abhorrent.” He again looked down at his clothes. “Who makes clothes look baggy on purpose?”

Dick laughed a bit. “People who like it,” he answered. “And you're right, Damian. Thank you.”

“When am I not?”

Day 2 of DickandDamiWeek2019. Theme Paparazzi.

They're outside of a Wayne charity gala, Dick is grabbing one of Damian's arms to prevent him from throwing a small knife at a particularly annoying reporter.

Title: Carried by Haters, Spread by Fools, Accepted by Idiots

Word Count: 1,937

Author’s Note: Uh… not much to say. I’m gonna complete these prompts no matter how long it takes :/

Trigger Warning: Implied child abuse. Didn’t actually happen, they’re just ugly rumors, I promise. Implied only by the haters, fools, and idiots ✌🏾

—

YOUNGEST WAYNE THROWS TANTRUM IN MALL

It doesn’t matter.

NEW WAYNE, NEW PROBLEMS: NEWEST ADDITION TO THE BROOD COST THOUSANDS IN DAMAGE

It doesn’t matter.

WAYNE’S BRAT ASSAULTS MAN, DESTROYS STORE

They don’t know anything.

BRUCE WAYNE ABSENT AS CHILD WREAKS HAVOC: WHERE IS HE?

Ignore it.

DAMIAN WAYNE: GOTHAM’S NEWEST DEMON

Ignore it.

BRUCE WAYNE: IRRESPONSIBLE PARENT

Ignore it!

It took everything within Damian to keep the words inside his head. He could feel them burning in the back of his throat like bile, a mantra that would be ineffective until he could hear them with his ears. With a stubborn grunt, Damian kept his lips firmly pressed together. If he spoke, he feared he wouldn’t be able to stop and Grayson might hear. Then Grayson would come and see the various articles opened on Damian’s phone and he would know exactly how much they bothered Damian.

They shouldn’t bother him at all.

Damian squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly, but it didn’t help. He could still see the words on the inside of his eyelids, could feel his body tingling as if the words were imprinting themselves into his skin, permanent tattoos to remind the world of his failures.

Tantrum. Problems. Brat. Havoc. Demon.

Every letter tormented him in a way that nothing ever had. He was Damian Wayne, heir to the Demon and son of the Bat. The opinion of a few sniffling, gossipping leeches should’ve meant nothing to him. But something about the words itched his skin, tearing at his very soul.

Tantrum.

Brat.

He was not a brat. He did not throw tantrums. He wasn’t a child. He was a protector and he was defending his stupid “brother’s”  honor, something that everyone would know if anyone had bothered asking him about what happened. Not even Grayson had cared, instead opting to march him to the nearest shelter - Wayne Enterprises - and leaving him in his office with a sharp “Stay” before going off to do damage control.

And stay he did, with nothing but those damning titles on his phone and a faint buzzing in his head.

Damian squeezed his eyes tighter, counting backwards from 10 in hopes of quieting his mind, but the buzzing only grew. The words swam in his brain like angry bees and Damian let his phone drop as he clamped his hands over his ears.

Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it!

The more he tried to erase the words in his brain, the more prominent they became. The buzz in his head grew louder and louder until it was a roar and then-

“Fuck!”

Damian jumped, eyes snapping open and hands falling to his side as Grayson stormed into the office. If the curse word wasn’t alarming enough, the rage behind the man’s usually cheerful blue eyes was enough to make even Grandfather’s most loyal ninja run for the hills. Damian stumbled back as Grayson blew through the office like a hurricane, not stopping until he reached the wall of windows on the other side of the room. “Just what we need! Fucking paparazzi!”

“Huh?” Damian asked dumbly. It wasn’t until then that he realized that the roar in his head wasn’t in his head at all, but was actually coming from the other side of the windows. Feeling somewhat dazed, Damian stumbled towards the window and peered out.

It was chaos, pure and simple. A mob of people swarmed outside of Wayne Enterprises, the crowd dotted with the frequent flash of cameras. Riot would be another good name for it, with all the police and W.E. security guards trying to push the hoard back. Damian swallowed painfully, his throat suddenly dry. He had fought many crowds but this was something else. They were here for him: here to rip him apart, here to expose every flaw and immortalize them for all of Gotham to drool over. One look at Grayson’s thunderous face and dread filled Damian’s stomach. He wasn’t sure if he could count on the man’s protection or not.

“Stay here,” Grayson snapped and, dammit, would he say something else!? Stay, stay, stay, like Damian was a dog or something.

“Where are you going?” Damian asked, pushing himself away from the windows as Grayson stalked back across the room.

“To deal with the crowd.”

“You cannot go out there! Those vultures will swallow you alive!”

“This isn’t my first rodeo, kid, and they won’t leave until they get a couple of statements. They’re like high society policemen, really. Dirty officers that will make up things to get their win, unless you disprove them with the proper evidence. Or words in this case…”

Damian raised an eyebrow as Grayson trailed off into silence, his brows furrowed in concentration as if he was examining a complicated case. Eventually, he gave a one-shouldered shrug, as if whatever he was thinking about was satisfactory enough, and moved to open the door.

“Okay, then I will accompany you! My word will be the greatest of evidence!” Damian exclaimed, puffing his chest out in a show of false bravado.

“Damian…” and the way Grayson said it had Damian deflating before the word was completely said. Grayson’s voice had lost the frustrated edge and icy tone, replaced with a bone-deep weariness that made Damian’s stomach twist with guilt. “Haven’t you’ve done enough for today?”

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.

Except it did. It shouldn’t but it did. Grayson was disappointed in him, again, just like he had been when they first started three months ago. It felt like a huge step back, one that made Damian want to punch something. But he couldn’t. That’s what got them in this situation in the first place.

“Oh no, Dami, please don’t cry!”

The sentence came like a punch to the gut, making Damian suddenly all too aware of the wetness on his cheeks. Grayson’s tone had changed again, this time to pity. He moved forward, arms reached out for the first time since the incident, eyes wide with regret and - no! No! Damian ducked out of reach, scrubbing at his eyes furiously. This was not allowed! Pity was the last thing he needed, the last thing he wanted. If Grayson was going to be mad at him then so be it! Any punishment would be better than this!

“I didn’t mean it like that, buddy, I swear,” Grayson continued and it only made Damian want to scream. Mean it like what? “It’s just not a good idea for you to go out there.”

“But–“

“Damian, you sent a man to the hospital. You destroyed a store. Nothing you say is gonna make this better. They’ll twist your words, paint you in a worse light. Let me handle this-”

“But you do not even know the full story!” Grayson paused for a second, taken aback by the outburst. Damian quickly continued before the man could stop him. “You didn’t hear what he said about Father! What he said about you!”

“It doesn’t matter what he said–”

“He accused Father of committing horrendous acts on you and Todd and Drake! He said that Father was behind Todd’s death, that it was a cover-up because Todd was going to go to the police and tell of Father abusing him! He called you incompetent, was spewing derogatory insults… he - he said that you were nothing but Father’s boy toy.”

At that Grayson simply sighed and shook his head, but it didn’t seem like he was going to interrupt. Damian knew he should stop by the words kept coming.

“I did not mean to attack him. I do not recall doing it, either. One minute I was simply waiting for you, then I heard him and everything went red. The next minute, there were people everywhere. They were touching me, Grayson. Pulling me out of the store like they wanted to hurt me. I did not intend to destroy the establishment, I was simply trying to get away. I could not find you and… and, I did not want them touching me.”

The room fell into silence as Damian finished, nothing but the roar of the paparazzi ringing in their ears. Damian felt small and pathetic, eclipsed by Grayson and lost in the huge room. Grayson was looking at him, regret and pity still shining bright in those blue eyes. He reached out a hand, as if to put it on Damian’s shoulder, but then hesitated before letting the appendage drop back to his side.

Both their shoulders slumped at once. Damian wouldn’t say it, but he didn’t mind Grayson touching him. Maybe Grayson had conditioned to it, but… well, Damian wouldn’t mind a hug right about now.

“Damian I’m sorry. I… I should’ve prepared you for this. Legally, it doesn’t matter what that man said. Freedom of speech and all that, y’know? You could be arrested for what you did. Socially… well, socially, this is the norm, I’m afraid. Those rumors are popular amongst the high society crowd. No matter what I say or how many punches you throw, that’s not gonna change. The rich will always be looking for the newest drama and those rumors are the only way their sick, twisted minds could rationalize playboy Brucie Wayne taking in a young, poor circus freak and a street rat. They don’t understand how the richest man in the city could lower himself to that, I guess. Therefore, Bruce must have a secret. Then Tim got roped into it: he was the heir to a fortune but the rumor wheel had already been spinning for years. Plus with all the bruises me and Jason had, especially around the legs… you can see where I’m going with this. I should’ve warned you. I guess I just assumed I had until your first gala, at least, before you heard something.”

“But that’s not right! Father would never–”

“I know he would never. You know that too, and that’s what’s most important. Maybe once upon a time we could’ve changed public opinion but the gossip rags are persistent. I like to believe that it’s the minority that buys into the bullshit. After all, Brucie Wayne is still Gotham’s sunshine child. As long as he stays on their good side and their good drama somewhere else, you won’t hear a word about those rumors. But there are people that truly believe it and you’re just gonna have to learn how to keep your cool around them. Violence will only make it worse. You understand?”

Damian stood there, stoic and pensive. His eyebrows nearly kissed as he scrunched up his forehead and his body slightly shook from how taut his muscles were. “Dami…” Grayson singsonged. “Dami…”

“Tt. Fine.”

“Great. Now come on.”

“Huh?” Damian eyes widened as Grayson held the door open for him. “I thought you said I had to stay here?”

“You was right, Dami, they don’t know the full story. While hearing it may not help, they should know that it’s their fault. That it’s their rumors that started all this. And I think you should be the one to tell them, if you want. A chance to defend yourself. But only if you’re comfortable with it. It’s a pretty big crowd…”

“I want to do it. I will show them what happens when you slander the name of a Wayne!”

Grayson snickered. “Damian…”

“With my words, of course. Promise.”

For Dick & Dami Week, Day 4: Music