Chapter Text
Damian has always been fine going to galas. He has trained for high-class events before. Growing up as the heir to the Demon Head, he was usually required to make an appearance. So he has been to his fair share of fancy parties and social events, whether it was for a job from his mother or to show off. Since living with his father, he has learned some of the best places to mingle, sticking close to a family member if he doesn’t want to speak to those who are trying to impress a Wayne, or hanging out by the food for a short conversation.
He was prepared for those galas, which is the only thing that sets them apart from tonight. Today, he is running on fumes. He hasn’t slept in at least seventy-two hours, constantly switching from stakeouts to spending senseless hours on the computer, trying to find any information on his current case. If it were up to him, he would be in front of the bat computer right now, not staring in the mirror and trying in vain to force his hair to stay down.
A knock on the door forces a groan from his mouth. “We will be leaving in ten minutes, master Damian. Please be in the kitchen by then.” Alfred’s voice rings through the door. Damian gives up on his hair; if he wanted to be ready on time, it would just have to be messy.
Mindlessly, he goes through the motions of getting ready. He fixes his suit sleeves, checks the cuff links, finds socks, and slips on his shoes. None of it requires any thinking, allowing his mind to move to a near-blank slate. His eyes are heavy, and it takes far too much brain power to stop yawning every now and then.
Sluggishly, he makes his way to the kitchen. His feet drag against the wood floors as his posture drops slightly. Everyone besides Richard is in the kitchen, waiting. Damian squares his shoulders, trying to look presentable as he goes to join the rest of the group.
“I will go fetch Master Dick, the rest of you should go wait in the car.” Alfred sighs as he speaks. Damian is having a hard time processing any of the words coming from his mouth. Instead, he mindlessly follows the group out the door, subtly pinching himself to try and wake up.
The next thing he knows, he is in the car, yawning. His father is staring at him, waiting for an answer to a question Damian did not hear. “Sorry, what was that, father?” Damian asks, growing more uncomfortable by the minute as the others’ stares grow stronger.
“I asked if you were feeling alright?” Bruce says concern growing in the man's eyes. Damian gives the man a sharp nod.
“I am in perfectly fine condition.” Damian states, fighting the urge to curl into himself. Lucky for him, Richard chose that moment to swing open the car door, taking the attention off of him.
Damian allows himself to drift off as they pull out of the manor. His family's voice moves in and out of focus as the car rocks him gently. The worst part is the fact that he feels almost more tired when the car rolls to a stop in front of the gala.
He brushes the sleep from his eyes, squinting into the bright lights of the mansion. He forces himself to unbuckle his seatbelt as he slowly rises from the seat. Subtly, he stretches his back, getting rid of the ache in his spine.
The moment the car door was opened his eyes were assaulted by the flashing lights of the paparazzi, trying their best to get an invasive scope on the family. Damian gets out last, using his brothers as human shields, looking down as his pupils try desperately to adjust to the incoming light.
Being inside isn’t much better. The chatter is loud and constant as Damian keeps his head down, trying his hardest not to engage with Gotham's most affluent. Sadly, his efforts are all in vain, as it doesn’t stop them from coming up to him.
“Damian Wayne!” The shrill voice of an older woman enters his ears. Damian’s noise scrunches as the lady pinches his cheeks. He lightly tilts his head away, trying to get her to stop. “How is your father?” She asks, finally pulling her hand away. Damian doesn’t respond for a bit too long.
“He is well.” Damian answers shortly, wishing to be done with this conversation soon. The woman continues to talk, but Damian pays her no mind as he searches the room for his father. He sighs when it is obvious that he isn’t anywhere near him, he doesn’t even see his brothers. Meaning that he has been stranded with this lady who is just trying to get brownie points with his father.
“Young man, do you know it's rude not to respond?” The lady is sharp as she speaks, her tone shifts as anger builds. Damian doesn’t have the energy to fight the woman, and he doesn’t want to risk damaging his father's image.
“Sorry, but I need to go.” Damian apologizes before slipping away from her. He keeps walking through the room; his body feels as if it is made of lead, weighed down by the need to sleep. He heads towards the bathroom to splash some water on his face to help him wake up. Instead, all it accomplishes is making him tired and wet. Damian sighs in defeat as he leaves the bathroom.
He drags his feet as he goes in search of his father. Hoping to force the man to speak for him as he is in this state. Eventually, he finds the man. Stepping just a step behind him as he talks. The man pauses when he notices him.
“Damian, are you alright?” His father asks. Damian simply nods as he yawns. Bruce gives him a soft look before he goes back to his conversation. The night drags on, with Damian sticking close to his father. His eyes are getting harder and harder to keep open.
It is only when Bruce is having a partially long conversation when they finally slip shut. Bruce doesn’t notice until he hears a soft snore behind him. He smiles as he sees his youngest passed out on his feet.
He is set to give a speech in a few minutes, but there was no way he could leave his son asleep like this. So he does the only thing he can and gently picks the boy up. Luckily, his youngest does not wake up when he does. He can already hear the clicks from the paparazzi as he walks towards the front of the room. His son in arms as he gives his speech.
The next morning, he hangs the last photo on the wall. It's a clipping from the morning paper; on the very front of it is Bruce giving his speech, with Damian asleep in his arms.