Chapter Text
Damian had come accustomed to his new routine. After school on Wednesdays, Father, Pennyworth, or Grayson drove him over to Elevation Church, dropped him off with enough money to buy something to eat, his bag—which now contained a bible, courtesy of Pennyworth—and an encouragement to make some friends.
He would then go stand in a corner, or at a lone table until the service started. Since boys and girls were separated on different sides of the room, he had no way of conversing with his classmate—and now friend—Molly.
Recently, however, Pastor Noah has been having Damian walk around with him, inviting the boy to different groups, in an effort to get the boy involved with other boys his age.
“Damian!” Pastor Noah smiled, walking over to where Damian stood in a lone corner, watching boys and girls converse and play.
“Hello, Pastor Noah.” Damian greeted the man, allowing his shoulders to drop just the slightest bit. He hated to admit it, that being around someone so kind and accepting—someone that didn’t know about his vigilante escapades, or his tarnished past, that didn’t know he was such a horrible boy—brought the tension out of him.
“Come with me, I have some people I want to introduce you to!” He encouraged, waving a hand towards himself in a welcoming gesture.
Damian quietly followed Pastor Noah about to room, recognizing that Pastor Noah was leading Damian towards yet another group of boys.
The first boy was pale, he had shaggy blond and glasses—broken and taped back together—and freckles. He was quite frail, his clothes too big on him. He had his arms crossed over him, shoulders hunched, as he talked with the other three boys.
The second boy had dark skin and thick, messy hair. He had a chipped tooth, a band t-shirt on and loose-fitting jeans. He seemed to be one of the more confident of the group, laughing and joking boisterously.
The last two boys looked fairly similar. They were tan, had straight black hair, and seemed fairly quiet. One wore glasses, whilst the other didn’t.
The boy wearing glasses had on a t-shirt that Damian recognized from Todd’s extensive collection of book merchandise. It was a warm yellow color, with black text reading “Hufflepuff” and some sort of emblem on it.
The other boy had a distinctive mark on the side of his cheekbone, jagged and scar-shaped in a way that Damian recognized all too well.
“Boys, this is Damian,” Pastor Noah introduced, a steady hand on Damian’s shoulder. Damian looked each boy up and down again, studying their body language, their reaction to him.
“Hi!” The second boy smiled, waving excitedly, “My name is Braxton, And this is Andrew,” He motioned to the blond boy, “Kenny,” He pointed at the boy in the Harry Potter shirt, “And Bailey,” He pointed to the boy with the scar.
“It is a pleasure to meet you.” Damian held a hand out, only for Braxton to take his hand, and yank him into a hug.
“He’s a hugger, “ Andrew said. His voice, like Damian had expected, was shy and quite hesitant.
“Damian is new, I thought you guys could hang out with him for today.” Pastor Noah explained once Braxton released him. Domain took a measured step back—enough to give himself space, but not send the wrong message—and nodded.
“Sure,” Kenny smiled, holding his hand out for Damian, which Damian—albeit, a bit more hesitantly—shook. “We already have our spots saved at that table, so you can just sit with us!”
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“How was it, Master Damian?” Pennyworth asked as Damian slid into the backseat.
He dropped his bag into the floorboards, responding to the butler, “It was enjoyable.”
“That is good to hear, young one.” Pennyworth smiled lightly in the rearview mirror and began to drive. “I must warn you, Master Jason is currently residing at the manor. He faced a concussion on patrol.”
Damian nodded silently. He was..a bit worried about what Todd would think. He had openly expressed his disdain for Christianity, claiming that a good God would not have given him such a hard childhood and brutal death. Damian didn’t feel prepared enough to argue or disprove Todd’s arguments or claims yet.
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As Damian stepped into the manor, he tried as hard as possible to keep quiet. It was not hard, given his extensive league training.
What he could not account for, however, was being spotted by Todd, who was attempting to sneak down to the batcave.
Both now stood, frozen, eyes wide and locked on each other.
“Where the hell have you been?” Todd asked snarkily, leaning on the stair railing, as if it wasn’t the only thing holding him up.
“I..” Damian swallowed the fast-forming lump in his throat. Todd had no right making him this nervous. “I was at church.” He decided that lying wouldn’t be right—he remembered that from the service—and that Todd had to find out eventually.
Todd’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening and a scowl slowly forming on his face. “...Church?” He asked, tilting his head. “Alfie was right, I am out of it.” He huffed, beginning to slowly turn around.
“You heard me correctly.” Damian said, his voice containing a cold composure he only used when trying to remain calm.
Todd paused once again, then turned back to face his little brother, “Pardon? Damian Wayne, Robin, Assassin, went to wednesday night church?” He scoffed and crossed his arms. “I doubt that.”
“I recently converted to christianity.” Damian swallowed thickly, eyes locked on Todd, studying everything from micro-expressions to his stance, looking for any and all changes in body language.
Jason then pulled out his phone, dialing someone’s number. He placed the phone to his ear, voice as loud as possible with his pounding headache. “Hey, B, what the fuck is this about Damian going to church?”
He listened to the man on the other end, then his voice got more aggressive.
“You just,” Todd stumbled over his words, confusion washing over his face, “You let him go? Do you know what happens in churches? The bullshit ideas they coulda planted in him? What if some priest pulled him into another room and—”
The voice on the other side got louder, and Damian could now hear someone—He could tell it was father solely by the sound of his footsteps—coming down the hallway.
Father soon stood in the hallway, eyes scanning over both boys. “Jason. Do you seriously believe I did not go to the appropriate measures to prevent that from happening to my son?” Father’s voice was slow and measured, hands curling into fists then uncurling again.
Todd scoffed and glared at Father, spitting back, “You can never fully prevent it, old man.”
“I would be sure anybody who tried faced adequate consequences.”
Todd spit back through gritted teeth, “Oh yeah? And what about the bullshit they’re teaching him? That women should bow down to men, or that they have to force everyone to follow their stupid-ass religion?”
Father sighed. Damian watched, his shoulder tense, awaiting for Father to strike Todd for his blatant disobedience. Grayson constantly insisted that nobody would ever strike him, never intentionally hurt him again. He knew that to be untrue, however. A strong beating or firm hand was the only effective discipline—Mother said so herself.
“Jay,” Bruce reached out, taking Todd’s sleeve in his hand.
Damian awaited the harsh yank, the slap upside the head. It would hurt Todd tenfold, given his concussion, but if Damian attempted to step in, he knew it would only cause both of them to be punished.
“Lets go talk in my office, yeah? Come on, Jaybird. You need to sit down.” Father insisted, eyeing Damian warily. “Damian, go up to your room, please. We’ll talk in a short while.”
Damian nodded. He quickly retreated to his room, being sure to lock the door behind himself. He took a seat on the bed, laid back, and began to stare at the ceiling.
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Three knocks on the door was what told Damian he needed to snap out of it. The sound of Father and Todd yelling at each other—despite Todd’s concussion—was muffled yet prevalent through the thick manor walls. He slowly looked over at the lock. An hour and thirty minutes had passed.
“That long?” He mumbled, slowly managing to crawl off the bed and to the door. He didn’t know who it could be, Father and Todd were clearly preoccupied.
Drake stood on the other side, two sets of headphones, a folder, and his laptop in his arms. “Uh, hey.” He mumbled, eyes cast downwards. “Can I like, work in here? Its away from B and Jay’s bullshit.”
Damian scowled, but nodded and moved aside, allowing Drake entry. “I will allow it. Only this once.”
Drake nodded, then took a seat in Damian’s desk chair, spinning the office chair to face Damian’s bed. “So, what have you been doing in here?” He asked, voice calm but also carrying an aura of anxiety.
Damian turned and closed the bedroom door, keeping his back to Drake. He couldn’t admit that he had done nothing productive this entire Drake. “I was finishing up my schoolwork.” He answered. That was a safe answer.
“Well, uh,” Drake paused, shifting in the chair. He sat criss-crossed in it, looking carefully down at his lap, “Just so you know.” He mumbled, fidgeting with his sleeve, “I don’t mind the whole, Christian thing. If Jason ever gives you a rough Drakee about it, just shoot me a text or something.”
Damian perked up. He hastily went over and sat down on the bed, watching his older brother fidget. “You are also Christian?” He asked.
Drake shrugged, a hand coming up to his mouth to begin chewing his nails. “Yeah,” His now deep red cheeks a stark contrast to his pale complexion. “Yeah, I usually watch the online church sermons, though, but I’ve been Christian since I was robin.”
Damian nodded, sitting up straighter, “Could I ask a few questions, then? From someone with more experience.”
Drake looked up at Damian, a small smile forming on his lips. “Go ahead, kid.”