Chapter Text
No one helped Damian move into his first apartment. No one celebrated his graduation with him, nor shared in the excitement of him getting accepted to medical school. Not a single well-wish when he had to get surgery for appendicitis. Not even any money as an apology for not being there.
Damian has been alone the last 5 years of his life, and that's fine.
He has a job, he volunteers on weekends, and he even continues his life as the vigilante Crow. Damian has done it all by himself!
So he shouldn’t be upset at his father anymore. He isn’t the same 16-year-old moving out because he felt alone in his own home.
Yet standing face to face with him now, all he can think to do is punch the man who had neglected to raise him. Damian thought he’d calmed the anger that threatened to boil over, but just seeing his father seemed to reignite it.
“Damian?”
“Father.” Damian kept his tone as flat as possible, hoping not to give away the turmoil in his heart.
The various children around the man gasped and shifted in shock. Their heads whipped between looking at Bruce and looking at the young adult in the doorway.
“Why are you here?” The man’s tone was unfamiliar. Not the joyful sound from before Damian’s entrance, but also not the detached flatness that he remembered so well.
Damian didn’t really know why he was there. He had a week off from work because the HVAC broke, and school was out for the summer. Normally, he’d spend that time drawing, or hanging out with his animals, or volunteering, or literally anything else.
“I wished to visit Pennyworth, and with Drake’s birthday approaching, I also came to wish him a happy birthday.” It wasn’t the full reason, but how would Damian even begin to explain? How could he articulate that he wanted to know what became of the manor he once called home? How could he express the idea that constantly clouded his mind that he was missing something, and that’s why his father could never love him?
How does he say that he wanted to face his father head-on and tell the man that he didn’t care anymore, only to realize the ache in his chest was still present 5 years later.
So he settled with an easy-to-explain reason. He settled with holding out the birthday card to Drake. Pretending the sight of them in his sitting room didn’t drive him to insanity.
“Uhh, thanks?” Drake said, pocketing the card in his oversized hoodie. Just looking at the kid made Damian question his decision to give a coffee gift card; he was much too short.
“You gonna introduce us, old man?” Todd questioned. Damian’s heart rate spiked at the tone. Such disrespect would have never been tolerated when he was a kid.
Yet, Bruce laughed. A soft chuckle accompanied by the shaking of his head.
“This is Damian. Damian, these are my children: Tim, Jason, Cass, and Dick. I’ve also been taking care of Steph and Duke.” Bruce smiled at each of them as he said their names.
It shouldn’t have hurt so much. That he was just Damian, but they were all his children.
Bruce had never called Damian his son.
It shouldn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt. He shoved those feelings into a box, locking it and pushing it away. He doesn’t care anymore. It was a bad idea for him to return, but he couldn’t leave and let Alfred down now.
“Cass and I met him already! I thought he might be B’s cousin! They don’t look very alike for father and son!” Brown cheerfully pointed out their differences. Bruce stiffened before forcing his shoulders to relax.
“Damian and I need to have a discussion, have fun, and don’t make too much trouble for Alfred.” Bruce smiled, standing up and moving around the young boy (Grayson, if Damian remembered correctly) who was currently lying on the floor.
The door to the sitting room shut, and with it Bruce’s smile fell away.
“We will talk in my office.”
And there it was. The cold tone, the indifference. The Bruce that Damian had grown up with. It was familiar.
The walk was quiet, but still not like the quiet that Damian once knew. The sounds of laughter and yelling could be heard faintly down the hall. The manor itself seemed to buzz with energy. Even the art on the wall had changed, filling blank spaces with family portraits. Everything was different, everything was unfamiliar.
Bruce entered the office first, rounding his desk to sit in the office chair. Damian followed, closing the doors behind him.
Even the office has changed. The uncomfortable chairs were replaced with more kid-friendly ones, and there was now a couch and coffee table in the corner. The corner held a small selection of sweet treats along with supplies for teas. The desk was lined with photos. Some of every manor resident, some of individuals, and a wide area of small groups of them.
Damian wasn’t in a single photo.
“So, you have returned.” Bruce started the conversation, choosing not to look at Damian.
“For the moment. I will be leaving in 3 days at the latest.” Damian kept it short; there was no need to prolong the conversation any longer than needed.
“I- Alfred has missed you.”
“A mistake on my part for not keeping in contact with him,” Damian conceded. He still felt bad for running off without even a warning for Alfred, but he had to.
They stood at a standstill for a moment. Damian stared down at his father. Hundreds of thoughts were racing through his head. He wanted to scream and punch and demand answers.
Why?
What made Damian different from the others?
“Join us for dinner tonight.” Bruce finally spoke. A command. Damian knew what to do with commands.
He nodded and turned away. His fists were still clenched and waiting to hit something. The oak doors stared him down as he walked towards them.
A look over his shoulder told Damian the man was watching him go. A strange look on his father’s face.
Why?