( it's a few hours after bruce has laid himself down when damian silently leaps up onto the top of his headboard from his bedroom's window. the soles of his boots are padded specifically to make himself as quiet as possible when he's trying to be, and it works well for him in cases like this: when he's sneaking from one area of the penthouse to the other from outside of it, checking on bruce before he makes any real effort to get his attention.
he crouches down low, enough that the strings at the front of his hoodie brush against the wood of the headboard when damian squints down at bruce's face. his face is still a little banged up, but it's, as he said after the incident, less bothersome than a paper cut on one of his hands that he's currently nursing. and that's why he's here, isn't he? damian is with bruce, nothing is happening to him without his father knowing. as much as he dislikes being babied, he's intentionally staying nearly to soothe that protective instinct he knows bruce is struggling with.
but that's not why he's crouching so close to his face. no, he's waiting to see if bruce is awake; if he's staying in bed to pretend he's getting sleep, or if he's tired himself out enough to get some rest. )
( he's not sleepingβ well. he tried to, but. he'd been unable. since the destruction of his plushβ since he'd witnessed the death of his mother, again, sleeping hasn't come easy to him. he knows it wasn't her. that is was just some twisted version meant to hurt him in any way that it could and yet... seeing her again... seeing her like that... it hasn't been easy to sleep.
the moment damian slips in, he knows. listens to the so very soft way he moves about. just... lays there. beneath the sheets of the large bed he has for himself here. on his side. quiet. staring off across the room in the dark. he can see. of course he can. with how long he's spent lurking within the darkness in gotham, he can see as easily as if it were day.
after a moment, he speaks. voice low. rough. not bothering to move or shift. just laying there. head on the pillow. )
( awake, then. that's what he'd assumed, especially given this bruce's inclination to not sleep. damian understands. he's done the same thing more than once; he avoided sleep because he had too much to do and didn't want to deal with what may happen after he closed his eyes. he's perfected taking micronaps, but they only get one so far.
damian doesn't answer at first, and instead sits himself down on the headboard to start removing his boots. pulls them off his feet to drop them onto the ground close by but still out of the way. )
When I was younger, one of the nursemaids would make me congee when I was having an... off day. ( when he wasn't good enough. when he fought hard but still couldn't gain mother's approval. it'd been pleasant. at least, up until the nursemaid had been dropped at the bottom of the ocean. damian can't even remember her name; it hadn't been important. ) There's some in the kitchen.
( it's an offering, but not the only one damian came here to make. but the second one is quieter, more hesitant. he'd gone through several nursemaids as a child, tutors, trainers, but never had any of them been allowed to treat him as a child. he was an al ghul. and he isn't - trying to baby his father, not really. but it also isn't something damian has much experience with. it feels awkward to ask. )
( he listens. quiet. gaze lingering on a chair in the darkness. one where he's dropped a backpack down on, stuffed with a few things like clothes and a first-aid kit. the batsuit remains nearby as well, but not as out in the open. he hasn't worn it for a few days now. hasn't left the tower either. hasn't bothered to go back down to wayne terminus beneath everything above since...
damian makes the offers to him. one for a meal and the other for company. any other time, he might slowly turn to stare at him. not entirely in disbelief, but more in gentle consideration with a touch of surprise. instead, he remains silent. still. lack of both surprise and consideration there on his features somewhat hidden by the sheets and pillow.
rather than say anything, he just lays there. staring. trying not to be swept up in the thoughts that threaten to drown him if he does. )
( he's good at reading bruce. at understanding what the small gestures and movements he makes mean. at hearing what he isn't saying, finding answers in the silence. it's one of the important parts to being robin: knowing what batman wants regardless of how well he verbalizes it, but also knowing exactly what he needs even when it isn't that.
this isn't the man damian had learned how to counterbalance. he's younger, easier to hurt in some ways yet more difficult in others. there isn't an inkling of a reaction to his words, and he should have anticipated that. should have known convincing bruce to accept either after watching the boy who may become his oldest son rip apart something that looked so similar to his mother would be near impossible.
it wouldn't be difficult to force his way into bruce's space regardless, but it wouldn't help anything. so damian - settles for something close to middleground. his legs press close to his chest while he remains on top of the headboard, and both arms move to wrap around his shins. damian slouches forward, resting on the pillow made by his knees, and keeps his gaze turned in the same direction as bruce's own. not imposing himself on bruce more, but not leaving him alone either. )
( the silence between them stretches. movements still. breathing slow. it feels as if time itself somehow slips away here within the darkness of this room and then bruce is shifting beneath the sheets. rising. sitting up. pressing his head into a hand, bent over just slightly. he can feel a headache coming on to the point where it's discomfort is distracting him and so he reaches over. blindly. for the water and bottle of pills he has there on the nightstand. the sound of them rattling around fills the silence between them as he slowly twists the cap off and drops a couple into his bandaged palm.
he pauses. stares at the bandage there and the gentle shades of red he can see peeking through it. not enough where he needs to change it just yet, but. he could if he wanted to.
knocking the pills back with a swig of water, he swallows them. lets blue eyes fall shut for a moment. then sets the bottle of pills back on the nightstand along with the water, rubbing at his eyes with the pads of his fingers as he sits upright. just... needing a moment. )
( he would tell bruce how terrible those are for his liver and kidneys, but it's an unnecessary comment. damian isn't good at making it quippy like grayson is, nor is he much good at forcing the matter like todd. he's intelligent, but drake laps him in his ability to find clever ways of pulling his father out of his head. they're comparisons he's run through his head hundreds if not thousands of times. once he's heard run against them plenty by others, too. he is not his brothers, there are ways he won't measure up to the robins who held the name before him, and he's all too aware of it. insecurity has driven many of his actions over the years, but damian won't let this be one of them.
where he might have usually stopped and considered what dick might do, if he'd been left in this position - damian doesn't let the thought consume him this time. instead, he does what damian would do and gives bruce his space. not enough for him to run off on his own and push himself over the edge, because damian is still here--but enough he has time to breathe and work himself up to figuring out what his next action may be. damian remains silent in the meantime: a guardian watching over his charge, a gargoyle keeping his gaze over the ledge, but quiet enough to be forgotten if one decided they needed to.
maybe it isn't very damian-like at all. maybe he wouldn't have waited quietly, peacefully. he could think of a time when his first instinct would have been to lean over bruce and tell him to get up, to get his batsuit back on, and find someone who required a reminder of who batman was so that bruce, too, would remember. he could think of a few individuals that might need reminding - or learning in the first place. there may have been a time when he would have awoken his father up with a blade, taken the middle man out, and reminded bruce himself of who he is. maybe this is more what bruce would have done, the waiting. but it's who damian is choosing to be in this moment, whoever this is, whoever waits.
each breath comes steady. a soft, quiet pattern of in for five seconds, out for five. he doesn't move; a stillness that might have seemed unnatural in most others, but damian isn't just anyone. he's the son of batman; blending into the darkness is nothing. )
( after a moment, he slowly lays himself back down. curled in on his side. buried within the sheets, as if hoping to disappear within them as he so does when in the shadows around gotham. it's been difficult, the past few days. the images of his mother still so very clear there within his thoughts, while her words gently drag him down further, and the whiplash of everything felt still quietly cling to him in ways he has a hard time shaking off. he hasn't felt this wayβ really felt this way since his parents died when he was ten and bruce wayne, himself, slowly died along with them.
alfred's not here to get him up and at 'em. to remind him he needs to eat, to shower, to do something that isn't this. he worries about him. still there in the hospital back in his own gotham. unsure with whether or not he'll pull through and if this... all of this right here in this resemblance of wayne tower, is how his life will be without the man he considers his adoptive father.
you're not my father, he said. i'm well aware.
how long before he says something similar to damian? only to be unable to take it back. to wish he had. wish he had been better while he still could. yet despite the thoughts, he still lays there. motionless. numb. unable to find the care with wanting to get out of bed.
the silence between them stretches again. not an uncomfortable one, but not as it usually is between them either. bruce is closed off. hidden within himself and the sheets. damian there. watching over. it's only after a moment that he speaks again and, unlike before, his voice is soft rather than rough. )
I know it wasn't her. ( his mother, he means. ) But I don't want you to... ( pausing, he swallows. ) ...she wasn't like that. She wouldn't...
( he just doesn't want to damian to think badly of her. to see and think of that when it comes to his mother. damian's grandmother. )
Martha Wayne was an honorable woman. She used her status as a Wayne to help others. Were she to arrive here, I don't anticipate my grandmother attacking anyone like that thing had.
( comparing her to it wasn't something damian had any intention of doing. just as if his own had come to life and impersonated his father - it wouldn't have been him, and therefore, there would be no reason to compare the two. but he understands where his father's fear comes from. damian doesn't have any live comparisons to work with when it comes to his father's parents. they had died long before he was even a thought. they hadn't been anyone he'd thought much of, before meeting his father. he knows the story, knows their history, but there hadn't been an emotional connection to them. and damian knows how much these two specific individuals have defined his father's path.
bruce has already laid back down, and damian - takes it as a sign to drop off the headboard to the side of the bed. grabs onto the edge of the sheets with a hesitant look on his face, before damian just - goes for it, and sighs softly as he shoves himself between the sheets and curls himself up against bruce. if he wants to disappear, he can take damian along with him. )
( damian's words gently reassure him and his gaze softens some as he recalls his mother. his real mother and how she was. memories that are more like worn photographs now, having been so long...
that's when he sees him. slipping beneath the sheets. laying down alongside him. curling up. hiding away. right there in front of him and bruce just... stares to damian. quiet. blue eyes wet but no tears to fall from them. he swallows, slow. breathing soft and steady, much like his heartbeat, and even in the darkness of the room, he can see the way damian looks to him as he curls in closer. )
Do you think he would have froze, too? ( words soft, he licks over his lips. ) Your father? Seeing her?
( it's not an easy question to answer. bruce doesn't tell damian to move, so he assumes he's made the correct assumption in that - bruce needs the physical reassurance right now. damian presses in close enough that when he curls up onto his side, his knee hits against bruce's abdomen, but doesn't move any closer.
instead, he pulls the pillow under his head and presses his lips together. )
My father is complicated. ( obviously. just look at this bruce. ) He defines himself, his cause, based on the tragedy that happened to him as a child. This is not a fact that has gone unnoticed by his enemies. His mother and father have been used against him countless times, as have his losses. I've seen him falter when faced with similar circumstances.
Grayson and I had to carry the bones of my grandmother, grandfather, and father home once. It wasn't actually my father, as we had later discovered, but it not being him wasn't something I was - considering at the time. But I froze. Death has been part of my life since I was a child, but I still froze when faced with the remains of... family. I'd only had a short time with my father before we had buried what was assumed to have been his body. It didn't matter.
( he'd tried hard to justify his slip up to grayson then, while grayson carted around the corpses of what had been the wayne family. damian closes his eyes, tries to settle onto the bed. )
It's different when it's one of your own. Regardless of if it's real or not. You were looking for anything that'd make it real, because you miss her. You were not looking for all the signs it wasn't. I would do the same. It makes you human, not weak.
( as before, there's silence. so much silence. but within that very silence, so much is said that only those who know bruce and how he is, can understand what's being said over what isn't.
he watches as damian closes his eyes β as he makes attempts to settle there in bed with him. beside him. beneath the sheets. taking it upon himself to be here with him when he doesn't need to be. gently, he reaches out with a hand. sets it on damian's head, fingers soft and careful there against his ear, thumb resting at his temple. staring at him. quiet. )
( he feels bruce moving, but doesn't respond in turn. his eyes stay closed, a sign of trust, one that he manages to keep up when that hand presses against the side of his head, even as the touch causes him to stiffen. it's not bruce, it's just - habit. instinct, even. he has his back out to the world instead of pressed firmly to a hard cot like he would have preferred. his guard is down, and it leaves him vulnerable in ways damian generally works hard to avoid.
i'm proud of you, bruce ways, and damian's mouth presses into a hard line. lets that sit between them for several moments. before he opens his eyes again and looks straight into bruce's own. )
He is.
( sometimes. sometimes, damian manages to find ways to disappoint his father even after all these years of progress between them. but he's been trying. he has friends now. his team, his own superboy that he's working on training. damian has made progress; he's no longer the child assassin he had been when talia had dropped him off with bruce. he's robin. )
( when damian's eyes open, he looks into them with his own. soft. curious. searching. not for the parts of himself within a boy who may one day very well be his own, but for who damian is. the boy he's come to know over the past few months he's been here... that they've been together. tower or manor. a constant here in this place he didn't know he needed... and now isn't so sure he'll know what to do without.
hand still there, cradling the side of damian's face, he sighs. soft. )
I'm glad you're here.
( words so soft, so vulnerable, they're meant to be kept between just the two of them. )
( bruce sighs, and damian shifts forward and hunches over a little more to press his face against his father's chest. hides the evidence of the little smile growing on his mouth against him. )
I told you. Batman always needs a Robin.
( a partner. someone to watch over him, to ensure he doesn't let himself sink too deep into the darkness. to be the light who guides him out of it when he starts feeling himself slipping. especially when he's this young, this vulnerable. without anyone beside him, bruce is a sinking ship with no land in sight. damian isn't alfred, but he can try to remove enough water to keep bruce from falling under. )
Even if you haven't had one yet.
( he hopes he will one day, even if damian knows how morbid that line of thought is. all of them, every child bruce has taken under his wing, had ended up there after suffering. he wishes he could find a way to save them from that; to keep grayson from watching his parents fall, todd from ending up alone in the bowery, drake from--well, drake's fine. but damian also knows how terribly everything else would be without them. where would damian be, if dick hadn't offered him the robin uniform? where would todd be, if his father hadn't ended up in prison? if his mother hadn't died? he assumes grayson be. . . happier if he'd grown up with his parents. it would have been better for him, but so much worse for the rest of the world. maybe hoping bruce will find dick makes damian a bad person, but he's been called worse. )
( damian presses in closer and bruce lets him, hand dropping to rest at the back of his head instead. he had told him such a thing, earlier on when they first met β when damian had taken it upon himself to be around him almost daily. at first, he scoffed at the idea. save for gordon and alfred at times, he worked aloneβ preferred it that way. yet with his being here and having been here for a handful of months now... he doesn't know. all he does know is that he's grown used to damian's company around him and as he had quietly confessed, he's glad to have him here.
a sigh leaves him. slow and soft. fingers gentle in the way they press to damian's head, keeping him close here in the darkness of the large room for himself. )
( attachment is a weakness. it's one of the things he'd been taught since he was small. every time he had a tutor and had outgrown them, had learned all they could potentially teach him, they'd gotten thrown into the ocean. any potential pets would have been called distractions and been disposed of. his father let him bring home a cow, gotten him a dog in hopes titus would give him something else to focus on. allowed pennyworth the cat to roam the manor. had given him a family he'd grown to love. taught damian that he didn't need to treat everyone like a rival or an enemy. that there was something else. )
Batman.
( just like this: damian has grown comfortable with the occasional hug, but he'd never allowed himself to be coddled or held. it was above him. he never needed it as a child, he doesn't need it now. but he lets it happen regardless. because he doesn't dislike it, even if it does make him feel - vulnerable. )
( affection like this is... not something he's used to giving or receiving. at least not for a very long time and yet... he gives it to damian. slow. gentle. careful. tries his best to in ways that might not feel uncomfortable to either of them. it's... a little easier. now. than it was when they first metβ than the first time when he had reached out and held damian against him after that nightmare they'd both been in. it's easier and yet he still doesn't know if he should. especially after what that thing wearing his mother's face had said.
still, he holds to him. lays there with him. quiet again. mulling over that short and simple answer given before he presses his cheek a little more into the pillow. lets his gaze wander around the dark room. )
( what does he need. it's a loaded question, with a loaded answer because damian - doesn't know. he's still working on figuring that out for himself. figuring himself out. he was damian al ghul, when he was young. had completed the year of blood, as was required of an al ghul. he is damian wayne now and has done his best to make up for the damage he did to others before he'd taken on his father's name. he's worked hard to become someone better, even when choosing the better path proved more difficult. and he's here now, helping a younger version of his father. allowing him to hold onto him while he works through all that has happened. )
I don't know.
( it's soft, but honest. damian raises a hand to curl fingers into bruce's shirt, holding onto him. )
( a soft admission with what it is bruce wayne needs.
gently, he lets his hand drop away from the back of damian's head and just lays there with him instead. quiet. breath slow and steady. cheek pressed to the pillow. eventually, his hand moves to rest between damian's shoulder blades and settles there. loose and capable of being moved away if damian wants it to be.
being here... like this... it's new. very new. yet the doesn't turn away from it β doesn't shrug it off and disappear under the sheets by himself. instead he lays there with him β lets damian hold to him as he wants. just the two of them. together. like this.
( the bed is softer than what he would generally prefer. but like this, he can feel bruce breathe, knows he's here and safe which is plenty comforting all on its own. damian can settle in here for a while, even if he doesn't have any intention of falling asleep. he just - wants his father to rest for a little while, to know he's safe, that he doesn't have to worry about anything horrid happening because damian's right here
but he doesn't say any of that. instead, he grumbles softly, )
If you tell anyone else about this, I'll show you first-hand how behind your training is in comparison to mine.
( soft as it is, there's a smile that touches his lips there in the darkness. one that can possibly be felt in the way he speaks, shifting ever-so-slightly there beneath the sheets as he does. an attempt to let himself relax a little more into the bed. with damian there. )
( they're not friends yet, but his father will, eventually, find friends he can relate to. not that damian suspects this would be something that comes up in conversation with anyone outside of grayson himself, but.
bruce tries to get himself comfortable, and damian - raises his arm to throw it over his midsection. )
I don't let Richard coddle me. He would whine endlessly if he found out.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tower.
he crouches down low, enough that the strings at the front of his hoodie brush against the wood of the headboard when damian squints down at bruce's face. his face is still a little banged up, but it's, as he said after the incident, less bothersome than a paper cut on one of his hands that he's currently nursing. and that's why he's here, isn't he? damian is with bruce, nothing is happening to him without his father knowing. as much as he dislikes being babied, he's intentionally staying nearly to soothe that protective instinct he knows bruce is struggling with.
but that's not why he's crouching so close to his face. no, he's waiting to see if bruce is awake; if he's staying in bed to pretend he's getting sleep, or if he's tired himself out enough to get some rest. )
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the moment damian slips in, he knows. listens to the so very soft way he moves about. just... lays there. beneath the sheets of the large bed he has for himself here. on his side. quiet. staring off across the room in the dark. he can see. of course he can. with how long he's spent lurking within the darkness in gotham, he can see as easily as if it were day.
after a moment, he speaks. voice low. rough. not bothering to move or shift. just laying there. head on the pillow. )
What?
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damian doesn't answer at first, and instead sits himself down on the headboard to start removing his boots. pulls them off his feet to drop them onto the ground close by but still out of the way. )
When I was younger, one of the nursemaids would make me congee when I was having an... off day. ( when he wasn't good enough. when he fought hard but still couldn't gain mother's approval. it'd been pleasant. at least, up until the nursemaid had been dropped at the bottom of the ocean. damian can't even remember her name; it hadn't been important. ) There's some in the kitchen.
( it's an offering, but not the only one damian came here to make. but the second one is quieter, more hesitant. he'd gone through several nursemaids as a child, tutors, trainers, but never had any of them been allowed to treat him as a child. he was an al ghul. and he isn't - trying to baby his father, not really. but it also isn't something damian has much experience with. it feels awkward to ask. )
Would you sleep easier, if I laid down with you?
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damian makes the offers to him. one for a meal and the other for company. any other time, he might slowly turn to stare at him. not entirely in disbelief, but more in gentle consideration with a touch of surprise. instead, he remains silent. still. lack of both surprise and consideration there on his features somewhat hidden by the sheets and pillow.
rather than say anything, he just lays there. staring. trying not to be swept up in the thoughts that threaten to drown him if he does. )
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this isn't the man damian had learned how to counterbalance. he's younger, easier to hurt in some ways yet more difficult in others. there isn't an inkling of a reaction to his words, and he should have anticipated that. should have known convincing bruce to accept either after watching the boy who may become his oldest son rip apart something that looked so similar to his mother would be near impossible.
it wouldn't be difficult to force his way into bruce's space regardless, but it wouldn't help anything. so damian - settles for something close to middleground. his legs press close to his chest while he remains on top of the headboard, and both arms move to wrap around his shins. damian slouches forward, resting on the pillow made by his knees, and keeps his gaze turned in the same direction as bruce's own. not imposing himself on bruce more, but not leaving him alone either. )
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he pauses. stares at the bandage there and the gentle shades of red he can see peeking through it. not enough where he needs to change it just yet, but. he could if he wanted to.
knocking the pills back with a swig of water, he swallows them. lets blue eyes fall shut for a moment. then sets the bottle of pills back on the nightstand along with the water, rubbing at his eyes with the pads of his fingers as he sits upright. just... needing a moment. )
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where he might have usually stopped and considered what dick might do, if he'd been left in this position - damian doesn't let the thought consume him this time. instead, he does what damian would do and gives bruce his space. not enough for him to run off on his own and push himself over the edge, because damian is still here--but enough he has time to breathe and work himself up to figuring out what his next action may be. damian remains silent in the meantime: a guardian watching over his charge, a gargoyle keeping his gaze over the ledge, but quiet enough to be forgotten if one decided they needed to.
maybe it isn't very damian-like at all. maybe he wouldn't have waited quietly, peacefully. he could think of a time when his first instinct would have been to lean over bruce and tell him to get up, to get his batsuit back on, and find someone who required a reminder of who batman was so that bruce, too, would remember. he could think of a few individuals that might need reminding - or learning in the first place. there may have been a time when he would have awoken his father up with a blade, taken the middle man out, and reminded bruce himself of who he is. maybe this is more what bruce would have done, the waiting. but it's who damian is choosing to be in this moment, whoever this is, whoever waits.
each breath comes steady. a soft, quiet pattern of in for five seconds, out for five. he doesn't move; a stillness that might have seemed unnatural in most others, but damian isn't just anyone. he's the son of batman; blending into the darkness is nothing. )
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alfred's not here to get him up and at 'em. to remind him he needs to eat, to shower, to do something that isn't this. he worries about him. still there in the hospital back in his own gotham. unsure with whether or not he'll pull through and if this... all of this right here in this resemblance of wayne tower, is how his life will be without the man he considers his adoptive father.
you're not my father, he said. i'm well aware.
how long before he says something similar to damian? only to be unable to take it back. to wish he had. wish he had been better while he still could. yet despite the thoughts, he still lays there. motionless. numb. unable to find the care with wanting to get out of bed.
the silence between them stretches again. not an uncomfortable one, but not as it usually is between them either. bruce is closed off. hidden within himself and the sheets. damian there. watching over. it's only after a moment that he speaks again and, unlike before, his voice is soft rather than rough. )
I know it wasn't her. ( his mother, he means. ) But I don't want you to... ( pausing, he swallows. ) ...she wasn't like that. She wouldn't...
( he just doesn't want to damian to think badly of her. to see and think of that when it comes to his mother. damian's grandmother. )
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( comparing her to it wasn't something damian had any intention of doing. just as if his own had come to life and impersonated his father - it wouldn't have been him, and therefore, there would be no reason to compare the two. but he understands where his father's fear comes from. damian doesn't have any live comparisons to work with when it comes to his father's parents. they had died long before he was even a thought. they hadn't been anyone he'd thought much of, before meeting his father. he knows the story, knows their history, but there hadn't been an emotional connection to them. and damian knows how much these two specific individuals have defined his father's path.
bruce has already laid back down, and damian - takes it as a sign to drop off the headboard to the side of the bed. grabs onto the edge of the sheets with a hesitant look on his face, before damian just - goes for it, and sighs softly as he shoves himself between the sheets and curls himself up against bruce. if he wants to disappear, he can take damian along with him. )
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that's when he sees him. slipping beneath the sheets. laying down alongside him. curling up. hiding away. right there in front of him and bruce just... stares to damian. quiet. blue eyes wet but no tears to fall from them. he swallows, slow. breathing soft and steady, much like his heartbeat, and even in the darkness of the room, he can see the way damian looks to him as he curls in closer. )
Do you think he would have froze, too? ( words soft, he licks over his lips. ) Your father? Seeing her?
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instead, he pulls the pillow under his head and presses his lips together. )
My father is complicated. ( obviously. just look at this bruce. ) He defines himself, his cause, based on the tragedy that happened to him as a child. This is not a fact that has gone unnoticed by his enemies. His mother and father have been used against him countless times, as have his losses. I've seen him falter when faced with similar circumstances.
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Guess we have that in common then.
( to falterβ to stumble when faced with grief and tragedy. with loss. )
I should be better though.
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( he'd tried hard to justify his slip up to grayson then, while grayson carted around the corpses of what had been the wayne family. damian closes his eyes, tries to settle onto the bed. )
It's different when it's one of your own. Regardless of if it's real or not. You were looking for anything that'd make it real, because you miss her. You were not looking for all the signs it wasn't. I would do the same. It makes you human, not weak.
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he watches as damian closes his eyes β as he makes attempts to settle there in bed with him. beside him. beneath the sheets. taking it upon himself to be here with him when he doesn't need to be. gently, he reaches out with a hand. sets it on damian's head, fingers soft and careful there against his ear, thumb resting at his temple. staring at him. quiet. )
I'm proud of you. I hope he is, too.
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i'm proud of you, bruce ways, and damian's mouth presses into a hard line. lets that sit between them for several moments. before he opens his eyes again and looks straight into bruce's own. )
He is.
( sometimes. sometimes, damian manages to find ways to disappoint his father even after all these years of progress between them. but he's been trying. he has friends now. his team, his own superboy that he's working on training. damian has made progress; he's no longer the child assassin he had been when talia had dropped him off with bruce. he's robin. )
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hand still there, cradling the side of damian's face, he sighs. soft. )
I'm glad you're here.
( words so soft, so vulnerable, they're meant to be kept between just the two of them. )
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I told you. Batman always needs a Robin.
( a partner. someone to watch over him, to ensure he doesn't let himself sink too deep into the darkness. to be the light who guides him out of it when he starts feeling himself slipping. especially when he's this young, this vulnerable. without anyone beside him, bruce is a sinking ship with no land in sight. damian isn't alfred, but he can try to remove enough water to keep bruce from falling under. )
Even if you haven't had one yet.
( he hopes he will one day, even if damian knows how morbid that line of thought is. all of them, every child bruce has taken under his wing, had ended up there after suffering. he wishes he could find a way to save them from that; to keep grayson from watching his parents fall, todd from ending up alone in the bowery, drake from--well, drake's fine. but damian also knows how terribly everything else would be without them. where would damian be, if dick hadn't offered him the robin uniform? where would todd be, if his father hadn't ended up in prison? if his mother hadn't died? he assumes grayson be. . . happier if he'd grown up with his parents. it would have been better for him, but so much worse for the rest of the world. maybe hoping bruce will find dick makes damian a bad person, but he's been called worse. )
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a sigh leaves him. slow and soft. fingers gentle in the way they press to damian's head, keeping him close here in the darkness of the large room for himself. )
And what does Robin need?
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Batman.
( just like this: damian has grown comfortable with the occasional hug, but he'd never allowed himself to be coddled or held. it was above him. he never needed it as a child, he doesn't need it now. but he lets it happen regardless. because he doesn't dislike it, even if it does make him feel - vulnerable. )
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still, he holds to him. lays there with him. quiet again. mulling over that short and simple answer given before he presses his cheek a little more into the pillow. lets his gaze wander around the dark room. )
And Damian? What does he need?
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I don't know.
( it's soft, but honest. damian raises a hand to curl fingers into bruce's shirt, holding onto him. )
I'm still figuring that out.
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( a soft admission with what it is bruce wayne needs.
gently, he lets his hand drop away from the back of damian's head and just lays there with him instead. quiet. breath slow and steady. cheek pressed to the pillow. eventually, his hand moves to rest between damian's shoulder blades and settles there. loose and capable of being moved away if damian wants it to be.
being here... like this... it's new. very new. yet the doesn't turn away from it β doesn't shrug it off and disappear under the sheets by himself. instead he lays there with him β lets damian hold to him as he wants. just the two of them. together. like this.
father and son. )
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but he doesn't say any of that. instead, he grumbles softly, )
If you tell anyone else about this, I'll show you first-hand how behind your training is in comparison to mine.
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Who am I going to tell?
( it's not like he has friends, damian. )
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( they're not friends yet, but his father will, eventually, find friends he can relate to. not that damian suspects this would be something that comes up in conversation with anyone outside of grayson himself, but.
bruce tries to get himself comfortable, and damian - raises his arm to throw it over his midsection. )
I don't let Richard coddle me. He would whine endlessly if he found out.
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