Chapter Text
When consciousness came crawling back to Damian, the first thing he became aware of was the pounding in his head. It was as if someone was banging a hammer continuously on his head, and the added voices did not help to soothe it. Opening his eyes was a struggle all on its own, but found it easier than expected as there were no bright lights in sight as he finally blinked open his eyes wearily.
You’ve got to stop passing out you idiot…
“You’ve got to stop passing out you idiot.”
Damian looked to the side in surprise as someone voiced his thoughts, and he nearly groaned when his gaze landed on none other than Jason Todd. He turned his head away, reaching up a hand to rub at his temple. “Shouldn’t you be on the other side of the city?”
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Jason retorted.
Damian forced himself up into a sitting position, and immediately regretted it, his head pounding and his vision swimming. He sat there for a moment, regaining his focus and grounding himself through the pain. He blinked several times, then spared a glance at Jason, who was studying him silently. “What happened?”
“You tell me.” Jason stood from where he’d been seated on a spare chair in the room. Damian recognised it as his own; then he came to the realisation that he was in his room, sitting upon his bed with the lights off, even though it was clearly night. There was a lamp beside Jason on a bedside table, letting off a faint light. He was grateful; as the mere thought of bright lights sent another spike of pain through his head.
He began to massage his temple. “I don’t…” He trailed off, thinking. The events were rushing back to him now, the images and voices crowding his mind as he heard his name being called in that unfamiliar, unnerving voice. He felt a shiver run down his back, and he self-consciously drew into himself, lowering his head and massaging his temple more forcefully as the pain increased in his skull.
“You good, kid?” Jason’s voice seemed far away, too far away, and Damian found himself latching onto it like a lifeline as the voices from earlier threatened to overcome him. He lowered his head into his hands and groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as a new wave of pain flooded his senses. He flinched as he felt a sudden and light touch on his arm, and he instinctively drew back. “Hey, I’m not going to – ugh, stay still.” The bed lurched as Jason apparently clambered onto it, but he still found himself drawing away. He didn’t want to fade into the torment of memories and voices again, but it was overwhelming his senses, blocking out everything else as his heart picked up, panic setting in –
He felt a warm presence surround him, strong arms surrounding him and drawing him up against a warm, firm chest. He melted into it, latching onto the firm reality and allowing it to anchor him. His breathing slowed, his heart calming as it matched the heartbeat of who was holding him. The voices quietened, the images fading away as he was brought back down to the reality of the world around him. He could hear someone taking in low, deep breaths, exaggerated to help him match it to theirs. The familiar scent wafted over him, grounding him further as he forced himself to relax his muscles. He simply lay there, feeling oddly safe in his holder’s embrace as the voices finally slipped away into oblivion, leaving a relieved and quieted mind.
A few moments had passed before he felt Jason shift slightly, and Damian forced himself to blink open his eyes. His head still ached, but it had lessened significantly. “You awake, short stuff?”
It then finally occurred to Damian that he was in the arms of none other than Jason Todd. He stiffened, jerking out of the man’s embrace. But Jason pulled him back, wrestling him back into a hug. “I’ll take that as a yes. Stay, dammit. It’s not everyday I’m huggable.”
Damian wanted to fight back, but he found himself exhausted, despite having been unconscious for what appeared to be several hours. So he allowed himself to fall limp in Jason’s grasp, accepting defeat. “If you tell anyone, I swear–”
Damian’s weak attempt at a threat was cut off. “Yeah yeah, you’ll summon every devil from the hell you spawned from, whatever.” Damian felt a ruffle on his hair, and stiffened ever so slightly. “You’re crazy to think I’d ever tell Bruce I hugged someone. Or even Dick. Gosh, he’d never let me hear the end of it.”
Jason continued to ramble on, and Damian found himself listening to every single word, until it slowly started to fade away to the edges of his consciousness as sleep tugged at him. He found he was able to relax fully in Jason’s hold, and he still felt oddly safe in his strong but gentle arms. The pain in his head slowly faded away, as well as everything else, the last sound he heard being Jason’s soft voice.
When Damian woke once more the next morning, he found himself in someone’s embrace. He instantly stiffened, senses on high alert. But that wasn’t the worst part. They were snoring. And it was so. Freaking. Loud. But it stopped abruptly as soon as Damian attempted to move from the person’s arms. Damian twisted his head around to look at the person holding him, and his eyes widened in absolute horror as his eyes met the tired gaze of Jason Todd, who’s gaze also flew wide with horror as he saw Damian. The two instantly scrambled away from each other, kicking and wrestling with the sheets as they attempted to get away from each other. Jason let out a yelp as he tipped over the side of the bed, landing on the ground with a thud, and Damian almost huffed with triumph before he, too, found himself plummeting to the ground from the side of the bed. He let out a huff as the air momentarily left him, and he groaned in annoyance.
“Bloody hell,” Jason groaned, and for once Damian agreed. Falling off a bed early in the morning was not on his list of to-dos. The older clambered to his feet, Damian following suit a moment later. He glared at Jason, crossing his arms.
“Don’t speak a word of this to Father.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, demon spawn,” Jason retorted, rubbing his head as he yawned. “Right, since you seem alright, imma head on downstairs. Bruce will want to see you though, so don’t bother running from the man.”
Damian simply continued to glare at the other vigilante, puffing out his chest. “I’ll do whatever I want. I’m fine.”
“Last night said otherwise,” Jason said, a teasing glint in his eyes.
Damian reached behind his back and lightning fast pulled out a small knife from a hidden pocket in his school blazer. “You would do wisely to leave.”
Jason threw his hands up in surrender. “Yes, of course, O great one, whatever you say, your majesticness.” He let out a yelp as Damian leapt for him, running from the room. When Damian stepped outside, Jason had disappeared.
“Tt,” he huffed. “Idiot.” He sheathed his knife, making his way down the hall at a walk. His headache was beginning to return, but only slightly; a dull ache at the edges of his consciousness. Alfred might have some painkillers set aside for him, he hoped.
He made his way down the stairs and was grateful to see the butler in the kitchen, appearing to be cooking some breakfast. He looked up however at his arrival, his eyes lighting up as his gaze landed on him.
“Ah, Master Damian!” Alfred greeted, setting aside a plate. “You look well. Can I help with some breakfast?”
Damian shook his head, the mere thought of breakfast making his stomach turn. “That won’t be necessary, Pennyworth,” he replied, taking a seat at the dining table, far opposite from where Jason had now taken a seat, scrolling through his phone boredly. “Some painkillers would be appreciated though.”
“I had some put aside for when you would awake.” Alfred momentarily left his cooking, walking over to the drawers above the stove and retrieved a couple of the small tablets. He filled up a cup of water and set it before Damian on the table. “Don’t drink too fast, Master Damian.”
Damian grabbed the tablets and water and sculled both quickly, despite the butler’s words, and sat back in his chair afterwards, letting out a long breath as he felt his headache slowly begin to fade.
“I suggest you stay at home today, Master Damian,” Alfred advised, resuming his cooking. “Master Bruce was insistent on the matter.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t see him anywhere,” Damian muttered, crossing his arms.
“He had some unfinished work he said he needed to take care of,” Alfred said, and even Damian could hear that his voice sounded carefully guarded. He frowned, his gaze boring into the back of the butler’s head. “He should be back soon, however. If you’re lucky, he might even be back before dinner.”
Damian’s gaze flickered from Alfred to Jason, and he was intrigued to find that Jason was practically hiding behind his phone, his face hidden behind the device. What aren’t you telling me? “I’m not stupid, Pennyworth. Where has he gone?”
“He merely had a business meeting to attend to last minute, Master Damian, nothing more.” Alfred’s words held a cautionary warning to it. Jason coughed awkwardly from the other side of the table, shrinking in his chair. Alfred spared him a stern frown. “Is there a problem, Master Jason?”
“No – cough – no, Alfred, not at all,” Jason coughed, straightening in his chair and putting his phone down. “I was just, um, wondering when those pancakes were going to be ready. No rush, of course, just. Um. Yeah. Really hungry.” He gave the most unconvincing grin to grace the planet, sitting on the edge of his seat.
“They will be ready any minute now, Master Jason,” Alfred replied calmly, turning a pancake. “I advise you remain patient, or the ‘extras’ shall go to Master Titus.”
“Of course, Alfie. Sorry.” Jason turned and coughed into his arm, then dove back into his phone.
What the hell is wrong with them? Damian studied him with narrowed eyes, his brain spinning. Clearly Father was not on some ‘last minute business meeting’. And clearly, Jason knew exactly where he was. So it was his mission to find out. Phase one: get Jason alone. Dammit. Why Jason?
“Here you are, Masters.” Alfred walked over, placing a plate of pancakes each in front of Jason and Damian. “Just how you like them.”
Damian frowned. “I told you I wasn’t hungry.”
Alfred walked back over to the kitchen, beginning to clean. “And you need to recover your strength. At least eat one, Master Damian.”
Damian held back a sigh and, with great reluctance, sliced a piece of pancake and ate it grudgingly. The warm taste flooded his mouth, and he swallowed it quickly. It couldn’t hurt to eat a little… and besides, he was feeling a little weak, so Alfred was probably right. The butler was always right about nearly everything.
“If you will excuse me, boys, I have work to attend to elsewhere myself.” Alfred set a couple dishes aside on a drying rack, then proceeded to excuse himself from the room. As soon as the butler left, the silence that was left hanging in the air was louder than ever before.
Damian stared at Jason, and he knew the vigilante knew it too. Instead of looking up, however, he dove into his pancakes, staring at said food like it was the most important thing in the world. Damian slowly ate, studying the older man critically. If Alfred came back now and caught him trying to pry information from Jason, he’d definitely find a way for them to be apart. And while Damian wanted that more than anything in the world, he really needed to know where the hell his Father was. He knew he wouldn’t just disappear while his own son had just fainted with no given reason, no matter how much Damian doubted his place in this family. He knew Father loved him, and wouldn’t leave the Manor for just a business meeting in a time like this, especially with all the recently increased crime rates and cases that had spiked up. He hadn’t had a meeting in quite some time, and he wouldn’t go to one now, that’s for sure.
He had to make a move. And he didn’t know any better way than what Jason knew best: violence.
Jason Todd’s room was nothing short of what you’d expect from a violent vigilante. Except it had a small twist to it. Weapons hung neatly displayed on the walls, ranging from knives and swords to guns and bo-staffs. But on another side of the room he had a neatly made bed with a large bookshelf, stacked fully with countless books.
There truly wasn’t anything spectacular about Jason Todd’s room at all, to Damian’s plain opinion, as he clung to the walls on the corner of the room nearest to the door, on the ceiling, pressing pressure against both walls to hold himself above the ground. He’d been in that uncomfortable position for at least half an hour now, and it was safe to say that he was definitely getting a cramp in his left leg. He held a small 9mm in his hand, the other holding him in place. Against better judgement, he’d loaded it, knowing well that he had no intention of actually using the gun. It was just for show; Jason knew his guns, and he’d know if it wasn’t loaded. Perhaps he’d talk faster.
Speaking of the man himself, Damian heard footsteps coming down the hall, and he shifted the tiniest bit, feeling his leg stiffen through the cramp. The footsteps came to a halt outside the door, and the handle turned slowly, then stopped. Confused, Damian carefully manoeuvred his arm so that the gun was now pointing directly where Jason would walk through. But there was no more motion outside, and Damian shifted in his uncomfortable position once more.
The door abruptly flew open, and Jason charged in, a gun in his own hand, pointed out before him. “Who the hell broke in? Show your face!” He spun around, gun flying upwards to point directly where Damian was awkwardly holding himself from the ground, pointing his own gun at him. His jaw slackened ever so slightly, but he hid it quickly, exasperation replacing his anger. “What the hell, man?! You broke into my room? You know there are ways to talk to people, like, here’s an idea: KNOCKING.”
“How’d you know?” Damian dropped to the floor, landing in a neat crouch, all the while not removing the gun’s aim.
“You know I never leave the door unlocked.” Jason smirked, also choosing to not lower his own gun.
Dammit, I knew I forgot something. Damian reluctantly lowered his gun, crossing his arms. “You know why I’m here. So get to it.”
Jason rolled his eyes, returning his gun to his holster. “Really? You know if I tell you Alfred’s gonna kill me, right?”
“You’ve died once, as I recall you telling everyone nearly every day,” Damian dismissed. “I’m sure you can handle it.”
Jason’s mouth fell open a little, his eyes wide with betrayal. “Why you little–”
“I don’t have all day, Todd,” Damian hissed. “Where is my Father?”
Jason sighed, and he too crossed his arms. “Well, I’m sure you figured he’s not at a business meeting. Well, surprise! He’s gone to exact revenge on your dramatic event at school.”
What? Damian blinked, surprise and confusion sweeping through him. It must have shown on his face, for Jason huffed out a laugh.
“Not the craziest thing he’s done, gotta say. But definitely stupid.”
“Why would Father go to seek revenge on an event that he has no knowledge of how it occurred?” Damian asked, frowning. “He’s walking blind.”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Jason shrugged. “He didn’t tell me much, but I overheard him mentioning to Alfred that he was heading over to the Justice League headquarters. Don’t know what it was about though.”
Shit. “Tylaia.”
“Shit. Oh, shit.”