Chapter Text
Wayne Enterprises and Stark Industries have been working on a top-secret (that's not really that secret anymore) project for the past year.
It doesn't come as a surprise to anyone. Tony Stark has announced clean energy as SI's top priority, as well as donating very generously to any charity and programs working to (and this may sound cheesy) save the earth. Sue him, he's one of the people that lives in it. Wayne Enterprises have always been kind philanthropists, especially in children foundations.
And of course, it helps that Tony and Bruce know each other. Have known each other for the past twenty years.
You can't be someone rich and not know anyone on your playing field.
Their parents have always been to all the typical rich people parties and galas. They were the two boys who found each other highly intellectual and someone who understood the other, where they didn't have to have masks up around everyone else. Many people forgot that Bruce Wayne have nine PhDs, same as Tony (because he may have gotten three at first, but sue him, he's a fast learner) but he did.
They both had playboy personas, except Bruce decided to take ditzy himbo for himself, and Tony took up drunk sarcastic genius.
They had their secrets, of course. They didn't actively visit each other. They weren't close enough for 'BFFs!' Sure, when their parents were chatting up everyone, Tony's mother gracefully with Bruce's parents, Howard usually in his lab, they sought each other for company. A passing hello if they were in each other's cities. (Tony never went to Gotham other for business. Same for Bruce.) Nothing else.
But Tony was looking forward to seeing Bruce again. So he decided to attend the meeting rather than just let Pepper handle it.
The thing is - Tony isn't good with waking up on time.
The thing is - Tony is a demigod.
And the thing is - Tony probably has one of the largest wingspans of a demigod.
As a Hephaestus kid, he is one of the largest dragons. Larger than a single cabin, even bigger than Peleus. In human form, his wings shrunk down to be proportionate to his height, but his wings were actually longer than his height, so it was always a struggle to position them correctly.
As he shifts in the meeting chair uncomfortably, wings bunched up and digging into his back. He didn't get the chance to spread them out, haphazardly just folding them back into his body and buttoning up his collar while throwing a blazer over his shoulder. Bruce raises an eyebrow at this, a small, amused smirk on his face, if a little exasperated.
"Look, Brucie, I know you love to talk, but I think we've covered just about everything, yeah?" Tony asks, almost pleads. He needs to readjust his wings, gods. Thankfully, one of his many sons - Jason, if he remembers correctly, groans and agrees, drawing the meeting to a close. He's brought what seems like his whole family along for the meeting, outnumbering Tony five-to-one. They stand from their chairs, and Bruce pulls Tony into a short hug - pressing his wings in his back, Tony winces - and then lets go.
"We'll see you at the gala tonight," Bruce promises, and yeah, Tony almost forgot about that.
"See you there," he salutes. The youngest, Damian grumbles. Richard makes a little cooing sound as Damian readjusts his jacket, seemingly too small for him. The sleeve tugs up on his right, revealing the edge of black ink in the shape of a dragon wing.
Tony's breath catches a little.
"We'll get you a jacket before the party, Damian," Bruce reassures his son, who rolls his eyes.
Tony slips out a watch. Expensive, easily at least $800, and throws it at Damian.
The boy's hand shoots up to his face, catching the object easily. He lowers his hand, raising an imperious eyebrow.
"To cover your wing tip," Tony explains, and the whole family tenses. Damian turns it over, nods in approval and slips it onto his wrist. It's a little too big. "I have a tailor that can get you a jacket before tonight," Tony tacks on. "If you want?"
"That would be acceptable," Damian allows. "You are a Hephaestus child?"
"Thank the gods for that, huh?" Tony grins, ignoring the rest of his family who look stunned. Especially Bruce. "They know, right?"
"Indeed. We visited camp yesterday."
"I've got a chauffeur. It's a fifteen-minute drive, c'mon." Tony throws an arm around Bruce's shoulder and leads him into the elevator.
***
"Just to clarify, you are Batman?" Tony questions. Bruce, whose shoulders still haven’t quite unwound, tenses up even more.
"How’d you know?" Dick’s smile is friendly, but tight, barely concealed worry underneath it.
"Give me some credit, I am a genius." He waves off the question easily. "I knew the moment Robin started popping up around the time you took Dick in. I saw him flipping on your chandeliers, remember?"
"I seem to remember you encouraging that behaviour." Bruce smiles, lips cinched together tightly. Dick blinks, memories coming back.
"Of course," Tony agrees. "What kind of friend would I be if I didn't? Really though, how do you manage it? All those galas, children, and being a mysterious cryptic at night on top of it all? Damian's the current Robin, yeah?"
"Indeed." Damian, mostly silent for the whole drive, taps his fingernails on the edge of the car window. "And yes, he is my biological father."
Tony's eyebrows shoot up at that. "Dragon wings?"
"The gods should be more careful of where they bleed. Criminals like to experiment."
Tony laughs out loud, genuine. "Oh my gods. Bet that started a shouting match up there, didn't it?"
"Zeus was particularly unhappy with Athena," Damian shared, smiling slightly. "And you? Iron Man? I'm surprised by your decision to work with so much technology, in such a central place."
"Howard left everything to me. Nothing else to do. Besides, with my status, I'm more likely to be kidnapped by mortals than found by monsters. We may have mortal security, but my AI is more than capable of brute-forcing them to Tartarus. Oh look, we're here."
Tim opens the door, allowing the rest of his siblings to spill out onto the pavement. They're uptown, in front of a long line of tinted black glass, nearly impossible to see through. They run across about twelve feet, in the middle, curling, bronze script in French, underlined and wings spreading out from the sides. The design is almost too intentional for someone looking for it.
Tony exits smoothly, followed by the driver - Happy Hogan, he'd called him - and opens the double doors. A bell jangles as they walk in. The interior is lavish, warmly lit and plenty of comfortable couches dotted around. The racks are filled with suits, dresses, jeans, practically everything. It's not just fancy.
In the middle is a handsome man, younger than Tony, brown hair and kaleidoscopes for eyes that change colours every second. He smiles, arms wide, as they walk in. "Tony!" His accent is French, washed down by America, but his mannerisms European as he kisses Tony on each cheek. His sleeves are short, showcasing the black lines on his arms that outline feathers, finishing about halfway to his forearm. He wears one earring, and Tim feels an impossible attraction towards him.
"Pierre!" Tony greets. "How's my favourite son of Aphrodite doing?"
"Perfectly well, thanks to you," Pierre replies, eyes sparkling. "Your friends?"
"The Waynes. Here for Damian, the youngest. Needs a new jacket."
Said person moves to the front, eyes calculating. "Son of Aphrodite?"
Pierre tilts his head to Damian. "My mother always did like France."
"He's one of the campers I know from my time in camp that still stays in touch."
"And you?" Pierre inquires, already flitting around the shop. "Please, sit." They do so uncertainly, Tim and Dick sharing some looks.
"Athena and Hephaestus," Damian answers, looking around at the shop.
"Stand up here," Pierre instructs, leading Damian to what Tim can only describe as a pedestal in front of several mirrors. "Wings?"
Tony's wings are already out, and Tim jumps as one of them brushes against him. "Sorry," Tony apologises, drawing them back. Wow. They're long, red tinged with gold starbursts on the underwing.
Damian's wings flutter behind him, a lighter red than they were yesterday. Pierre inspects them, frowns at the wound and runs a hand along the ridges. Damian stays perfectly still, to everyone's surprise.
"You're moulting soon, yes?" questions the man, dipping into the backroom. The curtain covering the entrance rustles as he moves in and out, giving Tim a chance to see the neon orange of the shirts they saw yesterday. Damian hums his agreement.
"You're sending a scale to camp, right? Gods know I still do that."
"What?" Bruce looks a little lost, and Tony smiles, patting him on the shoulder.
"It's tradition. Every camper has at least one scale or feather that they pin up on the Wall of Heroes. It can be from any one of your moults, though Chiron prefers their first ones. It dates back like, four millennia, all the way to Heracles. We pin up a scale, or feather, put down our name, godly parent, notable titles, and which moult it comes from. There are thousands. It covers almost all the walls on the Big House. My scale's somewhere a few decades ago," Tony explains. Damian's wings turn back into tattoos at Pierre's insistence. "Our cabins do something similar. We get something like a board. Every moult, we take a scale, pin it to the board, and we keep adding to it with every molt. Then the board gets pinned up in our cabin, with our names on it."
"Aphrodite prefers necklaces," Pierre adds, positioning Damian's arms away from his body. "We stick our feathers to leather necklaces like the beads and hang them from the roof when we die or leave. Many campers also like to attach our feathers to our actual camp necklaces."
"Athena and Hephaestus do that as well," Damian agrees, trying on one of the blazers. He looks at the mirror approvingly. "Hephaestus' children like to make armour from our scales. We have Beckendorf's armour in the forge."
There's a moment of silence, respect, from all three of them. No one dares to break it.
"You should be done. I'll give you a few extra to account for your growth spurt." Pierre takes back the blazer and bags it up, along with a few other clothes. "Anyone need anything else?"
They each shake their heads. Cass, Steph, and Duke are only showing up for a few seconds, Dick's stopped growing and his suits still fit well, Tim hasn't grown, and Jason is hired muscle.
"Very well. I would love to chat more with you, Damian." Pierre smiles.
"You should visit camp," Damian bargains instead. "Chiron would be delighted."
The two older demigods share a smile. "Sure." Tony stands, his wings stretching a little before melting into nothing, and Tim catching the wing tip as he takes the watch back from Damian and buckles it onto his wrist. "Thanks so much, Pierre."
"No problem, Tony." Another two kisses as a goodbye.
Needless to say, the party goes very well.