Chapter Text
Lunch rolled around with the usual chatter of students filling the halls. Damian had just turned the corner near the courtyard when he nearly collided with someone.
“Whoa—hey!” Duke caught his balance and grinned. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Hope you didn’t forget—I’m eating lunch with you today, remember?”
Damian blinked, then adjusted the stack of neatly packed lunch boxes in his arms. “I never forget a promise. I am a man of my word, Thomas.”
Duke raised an eyebrow, amused. “You know you don’t have to be so formal with me, right? You can just call me Duke. Everyone does.”
“You are not ‘everyone.’” Damian tilted his head slightly. “Besides, I find 'Thomas' more dignified.”
“You sound like you were raised in a castle.” Duke glanced at the stack Damian was carrying. “Wait—why do you have so many lunch boxes? You planning on opening a catering business?”
“They’re not all for me,” Damian said flatly. “Pennyworth made them for me and my friends.”
“Aw man, I wish I could get one of those fancy Alfred lunches,” Duke sighed dramatically, clasping his hands together. “That man makes the kind of food that can solve world peace.”
“You do have one.”
“…Wait, really?” Duke’s jaw dropped.
“Yes.” Damian adjusted one of the containers and then handed over a sleek black lunchbox with Duke’s name written in bold silver ink on a tag.
Duke took it like it was sacred. “Oh my God. He personalized it. This is real. This is happening.”
“There are also the snacks I promised you. The seaweed crisps and the matcha biscuits.” Damian pulled a small side pouch from his backpack and handed it over with a straight face.
Duke blinked, touched. “Hold on. You remembered what I liked?”
“Of course,” Damian said simply. “I may not enjoy idle chatter, but I listen.”
Duke looked at him with a slow-building grin. “Does this mean... you consider me a friend?”
Damian’s composure faltered for a split second. His face turned faintly red. “Don’t be ri—”
“Too late!” Duke crowed triumphantly, slinging an arm around Damian’s stiff shoulders. “You said it. You acknowledged me. I am officially your friend, and now you’re stuck with me. Forever.”
Damian gave him a flat look, but the color still lingered on his cheeks. “Do as you wish, Thomas.”
“I will,” Duke said cheerfully, tightening his arm around Damian’s shoulder before loosening it when he noticed how stiff the smaller boy had become. “So… where are we sitting?”
“With my friends,” Damian said, turning on his heel. “They’ve likely claimed a table near the window. It’s well-shaded and near the emergency exit.”
“Wow. You even think about escape routes during lunch?” Duke said, jogging a little to catch up. “That’s very on-brand.”
“They’re not escape routes. They are strategic access points.”
“Right. Escape routes. Got it.”
As they walked toward the table, Duke glanced down at Damian and nudged him lightly. “So, you gonna introduce me to this mysterious little gang of yours? Or am I supposed to just vibe awkwardly and hope they accept me?”
“They’ll accept you,” Damian said simply. “Or they won’t have lunch.”
“…You threatening your own friends?” Duke laughed. “Yup. Definitely friends with me now.”
Damian let out a sharp exhale that might’ve been a suppressed laugh—or a huff. Either way, he didn’t stop Duke from walking beside him, shoulder to shoulder, as they made their way through the sea of students, lunch in hand and a strange sort of warmth between them neither of them really knew how to name.