Archive of Our Own

Like most brilliant ideas, it started with Richard Grayson.

Damian flew through the air, his cape streaming out behind him. The May air was warm and thick with humidity. He landed on a rooftop, rolled to a stop, and waited for his pursuer to catch up to him.

The soft whir of a grappling hook, and Nightwing touched down on the roof. "Hey, Robin."

"Nightwing." Damian folded his arms. "You were supposed to come by yesterday."

"Blud emergency," Nightwing said. He opened his arms. "Forgive me?"

Damian held out a second longer and then ran into his arms, letting Richard's warmth wash over him. "Just this once. Don't be late again."

"I won't," Richard said, chuckling.

They settled on the edge of the roof, Damian pressing against Nightwing's side. He'd long since stopped the pretence of keeping distance—Richard was away enough that when he was in Gotham, Damian couldn't afford to waste time in pettiness. Despite what Duke was always saying. Unfortunately, Duke didn't seem to like Richard much.

"B tells me you've got a prom coming up, huh?"

"Yes. Father and I are going suit shopping next week."

"You're actually going?" Richard raised an eyebrow. "Somehow I thought you wouldn't be interested."

"Nonsense. Prom is leagues above the other vapid school events you have forced me to attend. I know all about proms, and I will prepare accordingly."

He was planning on bringing two knives (tucked in his sleeves), one retractable baton (stolen from Timothy's room), one flash-bang, one gas mask, and his stash of batarangs. Timothy had made him watch Carrie , so he knew exactly what went down during prom.  

"I'm glad you're excited," Richard said, his face splitting into a broad smile. Then the smile shifted into a grin, the kind that raised the hair on Damian's neck. "So. Who are you bringing?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about your date, little D."

He knew about dates, too, from the romantic comedies Duke had forced him to watch. Dates were short trips to an assortment of places, with the goal of growing closer to your companion. But not growing closer in the way Richard meant, when he told Damian to hang out with age-appropriate friends. Growing closer in the romantic sense.

Damian wrinkled his nose. "What does prom have to do with romance, Richard?"

"Are you kidding? It's the romantic event of the year. Asking someone to prom is, like, a confession of love. So, c'mon. You got anyone in mind? A crush? Maybe that girl from English class?"

"You are approaching 30."

"And you're 14," Richard said. "Hormone age. Or do I need to have the talk with you again?"

Oh god. "I can perfectly recall the last talk we had," Damian said. "Though I wish I didn't."

Richard laughed. "Just saying. I mean, you don't have to date anyone, of course. But don't hold yourself back 'cause you're Robin or anything. Lord knows too many superheroes have made themselves miserable over that."

"They're miserable because they care about these relationships," Damian said. "As far as I can tell, romance only causes pain and suffering. Like Green and Geller from Friends . Why on earth would anyone want that?"

"Okay, everyone knows the real couple of Friends is Monica and Chandler. But even with Rachel and Ross, it's not like love's something you can control. It just happens. Like this." Fingers reached under his chin and tickled his neck. Damian was not ticklish, but Richard seemed to enjoy his reactions, so he shrieked. Just for Richard. Because, again, not ticklish.

"Stop!" Damian jerked away, nearly falling off the roof. "I understand. Romantic love is sudden and terrible and makes you want to kill someone."

"Well, you're not wrong."

A beep blasted their ears. "You want to continue, Boy Wonder?"

"Sorry, O," Nightwing said, wincing and touching his comm.

"Oracle," Damian said. "Nightwing's judgement often baffles me, but you are an intelligent person. Why would you bother with romance? What value can it bring besides ally-ship, which you could gain through non-romantic means?"

Oracle snorted. "Not the best person to ask about romance, Robin. But I think being in a relationship does have its benefits. For one, you're more emotionally stable, so the stress of the night job doesn't get to you as much. For another, villains love psychologically torturing us. It's nice to know you're someone's special person, when that happens."

"Aw, I'm your special person?" Nightwing asked.

"Against my better judgement."

"Love you too, O."

Damian tapped his fingers against the concrete as Richard and Gordon continued their unnecessary banter. They were two of the smartest people he knew, but surely romance didn't actually have benefits, did it? Or was this just another thing Damian didn't understand?

"Damian?"

He stopped tapping. "Yes?"

"I know I've been kinda in and out lately," Richard said. He nudged Damian with his shoulder. "But I'm thinking of staying for a few days. Maybe more than a week, depending on things."

"Really?" It had been so long since he'd stayed for more than one night. "Good. Father has missed you."

And Richard, because he was Richard, knew exactly what Damian meant. He tugged Damian into a hug. Whatever else he didn't understand, Damian understood this. Them. He tucked himself into Richard's side and closed his eyes.

****

As he came downstairs, singing swelled from the kitchen. The song was slow and sweet, which meant the voice did not belong to Richard—he exclusively sang up-tempo pop songs. It was the other singer in the family, then. Damian passed through the doorway as Stephanie Brown (badly) flipped a pancake.

"Hello, Brown. I thought you had finals this week."

Stephanie groaned. "Thanks for the reminder. I just wanted one hour where I didn't have to think about exams."

"You should drop out," Damian said, sliding into Father's chair (logically, when Father wasn't around, Damian was the successor to his seat at the table).

"You've been hanging around Tim too much." She plated the pancakes and dropped a stack in front of him. "Eat up, Runt Wonder."

"I don't have to tell you to eat anything, Fatgirl. I'm surprised these aren't waffles."

Stephanie sat across from Damian, banging her head against the table. "I will never forgive Duke for that. Hell, I'll never forgive you! It was all three of you. Those fanfics have literally ruined my life, you know that?"

"Overdramatic as usual," Damian said, shoving pancake into his mouth. "These are overcooked, by the way."

"I hate you."

"The feeling is mutual."

Stephanie laughed, resting her elbows on the table. "So, where's Duke? We're supposed to binge-watch Twilight together."

"Duke is on a date with Ortiz."

"Damn, good for him." Stephanie leaned forward. "What about Tim, then? He never got past the second movie."

"Drake is on a date with Dowd."

She slumped. "Of course. Everyone in happy relationships, except me."

The fork paused halfway to Damian's mouth. Richard and Gordon were far, far more intelligent than Stephanie, but in matters of the human heart, Stephanie had some expertise. She made people laugh. Not in the way Damian made people laugh, where he wasn't sure what they were laughing at, exactly. Stephanie made people laugh in a way that got them to like her.

"Relationships are important to you?" Damian asked. "You want to be in one?"

"Well, duh. Isn't that what everyone wants?"

"I don't know. I don't quite understand it."

Stephanie chewed on a mouthful of pancake. "I guess it's about having someone who likes you more than anyone else. Out of everyone in the world, they chose you, y'know? Being someone's first choice. That's just nice, I guess."

"Ah." Stephanie was always good at explaining things. "And how does this help with your fighting ability?"

"Uh, not at all?"

Damian tutted. Here was where Stephanie's ignorance shone through: if love had nothing to do with fighting, then why did Father consistently date his enemies? Both Mother and Kyle had been his adversaries. Clearly, these relationships were part of his crime-fighting repertoire.

"Agree to disagree," Damian said (Richard told him to use this phrase instead of you are an imbecile with the intelligence of a pre-evolutionary fish ). "Now stop talking to me before I lose brain cells."

"Speaking of losing brain cells," she said cheerily, "since Tim and Duke aren't here, you'll have to be my Twilight- watching buddy."

"Absolutely not."

"It's iconic! A pop culture landmark, it will change your life."

"Nothing you say will—"

"There are werewolves."

Damian perked up. "Werewolves?"

"Lots of them," Stephanie said. "With banger wolf CGI. Trust me."

"Well," he said, "I suppose I can spare a few hours."

She beamed and dragged him out of the kitchen.

****

They watched Twilight , Twilight: New Moon, and Twilight: Eclipse in the study with the big flat-screen television. Stephanie refused to let him watch Breaking Dawn, however; "Dick would kill me" was all he could get out of her.

Stephanie had enjoyed the films thoroughly, squealing and throwing her popcorn about. Damian hadn't found it as amusing—the werewolves were mostly in human form, and the main werewolf spent far too much time shirtless. The vampires didn't even turn into bats.

"It's about the romance," Stephanie had said to these complaints. "Are you Team Edward or Team Jacob?"

"Team Black. He at least turns into a wolf sometimes."

"I knew I could count on you," she'd said, ruffling his hair. Damian did not enjoy hair ruffles. He'd only let her continue because she'd made him pancakes, and it wasn't right to attack someone who'd made him pancakes.

Despite Stephanie's insistence that romance had nothing to do with combat, Twilight proved otherwise. Cullen's blood-thirst was directly correlated to his love for Swan. Their romance strengthened him, made him fight more effectively.

Here was what Timothy called a hypothesis. The next step, as Ms. Goldman would say, was observation.

"Father," Damian said, lacing up his boots, "could I patrol alone today?"

Father clipped on his belt. "Why?"

"I wish to test my solo skills."

As usual, Father did not see through the lie. He nodded and Damian hopped onto his bike. Cassandra was working a case with Richard at the docks, Stephanie was patrolling the Narrows, Timothy was taking the Diamond District, and Todd was in Crime Alley. He decided to start with Cassandra and Richard.

The docks provided ample hiding places, even from Cassandra's eye. Damian curled up in the shadow of a water tower. He withdrew his sketchbook and drew a line down the middle of a page. On the right hand side, he wrote TAKEN ; on the left, SINGLE.

Nightwing went in the first column, Batgirl in the second. He held up his binoculars and watched as they fought Riddler's goons on the pier. Both were elegantly efficient, taking down hordes of criminals with sweeps of their legs and arms. Damian recorded fast, effective in both columns, chewing on the end of his pencil. Then he put better next to Nightwing, because, well, it was Nightwing.

He leapt away, crossing several blocks to arrive at the Narrows. Stephanie was fighting a man in an alleyway, a metahuman with water-based powers. Her hair was soaked. Damian wrote unfashionable and then, as the metahuman blasted her with a stream of water, slow. Stephanie cursed and kicked the man in the face. Uncouth , Damian added.

From the Narrows he made his way to Crime Alley. Laying on his stomach, he peered over the ledge as Todd faced a dozen mask-wearing enemies. His swings were accurate, but the use of crowbars was a strike against him. Reliance on idiotic weapons , Damian wrote. Todd headbutted one of the villains and then clutched his head, swearing. Uncouth. He took the last one down, speaking in a low voice over his head. Prone to monologuing, Damian wrote. Unprofessional.

That left Timothy. Damian swung towards the Diamond District, the dazzling lights stark against the starless sky. He crouched behind a billboard and scanned the skyline. A shadow flitted from one roof to the other, cape billowing behind him. No. Not one shadow, but two.

Father was patrolling with Timothy.

They paused on the roof of Dino's, their shadows so close they merged together. Damian put Timothy into the taken column, his own name into the single one. He stared at the page.

Then he closed the sketchbook, shoved it in his pocket, and took off for Wayne Manor.

****

"Duke."

Duke groaned, rolling over. The bedsprings creaked.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled.

Damian tilted his head. Duke was not an easy person to wake, but League tactics (cold water, screaming, fire, stabbing) were probably inappropriate. Well, there was always a way. "Hello, it's the Riddler. I've come to kill you."

Duke bolted upright.

"What the hell," he said, catching sight of Damian. "Dude. You cannot just do that."

"I can. I am a highly talented mimic."

"Not what I meant." Duke stretched his arms. "What time is it?"

"Four."

"Four." Duke sighed. "I don't know if you mean AM or PM. I hate my life."

Damian hopped onto the bed, kneeling on the mattress. "I have a plan," he said.

"A plan that requires me to wake up at four?"

"I just came up with it," Damian said. "You are the first person I want to tell."

"Oh." Duke rubbed his neck. "Fine. You get a pass. Pull that stunt again, though, and I'll blind you for a week."

"I can fight blind. Anyhow, the plan all started when I was with Richard. He's staying for a few nights, by the way. He said—" Damian broke off. Duke was gagging into his hand. "Why, exactly, do you dislike Richard?"

"It's complicated."

Damian rolled his eyes. "As I was saying, while we were talking, he mentioned my upcoming prom—"

"Wait, you're having a prom?" Duke grasped Damian's shoulders. "Have you asked someone out yet? Can I help with the promposal?"

"Could you let me finish?" Damian said, flushing.

"Sorry. But if it's a scheme you're up to, shouldn't we get Tim? I don't wanna leave him out."

"As if Drake has ever been—" Damian bit his lip. "Yes, you're right. He would be an asset."

"And I can catch up on sleep while we wait."

"Alright," Damian said, shifting to the edge of the bed. Before he could stand, a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and yanked him down. His face crashed into a pillow.

"Duke—!"

"You woke me up," Duke said. "This is the price."

Damian squirmed, but Duke's arms only tightened. Eventually he gave up, slumping into the bedsheets, the pillow cool against his face. Duke's breathing evened out, the room filling with the light sounds of his snoring. Damian's head was tucked underneath Duke's chin.

There were, he supposed, far worse prices to pay.

****

In the morning Damian mimicked Two-Face and Duke chucked a pillow at him. They got dressed and headed for breakfast, Duke hopping down the stairs so fast he missed Richard's bag on the bottom step. Damian poked Duke's sprawled-out body with his foot.

"Richard is not very neat," he said.

Duke muttered something that sounded like a cab.

The front doors slammed open and Timothy rushed in, suit crumpled. "What's the emergency?" he demanded, lifting his phone. His gaze fell on Duke. "Oh my god. Is Duke dead?"

"No, I'm—"

Richard rushed out of the kitchen, eyes wide. "Duke's dead ?"

"I'm not dead, I'm—"

"Duke is what?" Father, at the top of the stairs, froze. "No. Not again. He was the one kid who hasn't—"

"I'm not dead!" Duke peeled his face off the floor, glaring at Richard. "No thanks to some people."

Richard's eyes flicked to the bag, realisation dawning on his face. "Oh, uh, sorry?"

"Thank god," Timothy said. "Given your unique biology, cloning you would've been really annoying."

"Excuse me?"

"Uh. Nothing." Timothy shook his phone. "What's the emergency, Damian? You told me to get here ASAP."

"I require your assistance with my climate change denial project."

Since Richard and Stephanie had formed the Robins Defence Squad, in which they aggressively monitored the three of them for any signs of plotting, they'd had to invent a code phrase. Damian had chosen climate change denial because it was the most ridiculous sentiment he could think of.

Timothy lit up. "That's super important. We should work on it right now, in the library. Duke, you're also working on something like that, aren't you?"

"Yep." Duke climbed to his feet. "Let's work together."

They filed out, Richard's eyes boring into their backs. Damian didn't like lying to Richard, but he could be, as the youth say, a damp blanket. They entered the library and sat in their usual circle on the rug, the sunlight warm through the white bay window.

"So," Timothy said. "What's this about?"

"It concerns something that has baffled me for a while, namely, romantic relationships."

Timothy paled. "Oh. Uh. Don't you think you should talk to Dick about this? Or Bruce? I think I hear him calling my name, actually. I gotta—"

"Relax," Damian said. "I am not talking about my relationships. I still believe myself better without them. However, there is a perceivable, tangible benefit to being in a relationship, is there not?"

Timothy nodded. "Of course."

"It provides a boost to your combat prowess."

"That's—not exactly what I meant."

"Nonsense," Damian said, extracting his sketchbook. "Review the evidence. In this column I have listed all the taken people, including you two, Gordon, and Richard. In the other column I have listed Cain, Brown, and Todd. I observed you all last night, and the clear conclusion is that the ones in relationships are more successful than the single ones."

Duke raised an eyebrow. "You're saying Cass is weaker than me and Tim?"

"Of course not. Cain is a formidable fighter, even single. However, I believe if she were dating someone, she would be even more efficient."

"Huh." Timothy hummed. "I guess I have been kicking more butt since I started dating Bernard. Easier to concentrate on cases when you're not wallowing in loneliness, I guess. And you've been on fire since you got back with Izzy."

"Yeah," Duke said, smiling. "It's been great."

"Relationships improve a person's fighting ability," Damian said. "But currently Brown, Todd, and Cain are not in relationships."

Duke leaned forward. "So?"

"So," Damian said, "why don't we do something about that? To keep Gotham safe, why don't we find them all partners?"

There was silence. Damian closed his sketchbook, running his fingers up and down the spine. Of course they wouldn't agree. Damian's plans never went well, after all. What made him think this time would be different? What made him think they'd—

"Damian," Duke said. "You are a genius. "

Damian blinked. "Really?"

"It's bold," Timothy said, stroking his chin. "It's borderline insanity, and it will probably get us into tons of trouble." He grinned. "I'm proud of you."

"It was an obvious plan," Damian said, heat rushing to his cheeks.

"We're doing our own Love Island. " The sunlight grew incessantly bright as Duke clapped his hands. "This is the best idea ever."

"Duke," Timothy said, squinting, "lights?"

"Sorry."

"I forgot how obsessed you are with that show."

"You mean that masterpiece ," Duke said. The sunlight faded to its normal brightness. "Can we start now? Who do we start with? Oh, can we do Jason? I have so many ideas for him."

"We should start with Brown," Damian said, "since it's Drake's fault she's single."

Timothy looked down. "Yeah. I guess."

"Besides, if she fell for you, then her standards must be low."

"Says the kid who's never dated anyone." Timothy raised an eyebrow. "I mean, have you even had a crush?"

Damian scowled. "Is that relevant? Focus on the task at hand. We must find someone for her, though I'm unsure where to look. Perhaps at her college?"

"Most college students don't meet their partners in person anymore," Timothy said.

"Oh," Duke said. "You think—"

"We could totally do it."

"But which one?"

"Which what?" Damian said. "What are you talking about?"

Timothy and Duke exchanged a look.

"Damian," Duke said, "what do you know about Tinder?"

****

Tinder was not, apparently, materials easy to set ablaze. Similarly, Hinge was not a piece of metal, and Bumble did not refer to buffoons. At Damian's bafflement, Timothy and Duke secluded themselves in a corner of the library for half an hour. Damian picked at the rug while they whispered furiously to one another.

Finally they returned, Timothy placing his phone in front of Damian. "Bruce and Dick will kill us if they find out, so don't breathe a word, alright? This is Tinder." He scrolled down the app store, enlarging an app with a fire icon. "It's a dating app. Basically, you make a profile, see other people's profiles, and decide if you wanna date them or not."

"Like Love Island but digital," Duke said. "And you're not on an island. And there's no elimination. And—"

"Not helpful," Tim said.

Damian peered at the screen. A digital way to meet potential partners did seem efficient. He reached out a finger and pressed the download button.

Timothy shrieked. "What are you doing ?"

"Downloading it?" Damian frowned. "Are we not going to use it to find Brown a partner?"

"You can't download it on Tim's phone," Duke said, snatching the phone and jabbing the X button. "He's taken. Having Tinder while being taken is against, like, all the rules of dating."

Damian threw his hands up. "I won't even pretend to understand this. Will this help Brown or not?"

"Hinge is better," Timothy said. He rifled through his pockets and pulled out a high-end burner phone. "I'm going to download it here . Okay. We have to set up a profile for Steph, so I'm thinking a gala picture, some pretty candids, and then a funny one?"

"Do the one from Halloween," Duke said.

Timothy snickered. "Good idea."

They shuffled to his side, watching as he dropped pictures of Stephanie sipping a milkshake, Stephanie at Amusement Mile, two pictures of Stephanie dancing at a gala, and the Halloween picture of Stephanie covered in mud into boxes on the screen. The next step required them to answer some prompts.

"Shower thought I recently had," Damian read aloud. "Why is that a prompt? Do people not regularly have showers? Or thoughts?"

"As Steph would say, for men, neither of those things are guaranteed. But I think we should go with 'together we could' and 'I won't shut up about'. Those are always solid."

"Together we could go to music festivals or watch Twilight ," Duke said. "That's something she'd say, seeing how she's been bugging me to watch Twilight for weeks."

Timothy typed the words into the box. "Okay, then we could also put Twilight in 'I won't shut up about'. Or maybe, I won't shut up about the injustices of the patriarchy? It's an easy way to weed out the weirdos."

"Do it."

They moved on to preferences. Timothy selected men in the gender category, limited the search to Gotham, and then clicked the ethnicity section. He hesitated.

"Go on," Duke said, a smirk growing on his face. "What are you picking?"

Timothy started sweating. "Everyone, obviously."

"Huh."

"Huh? What does that mean?"

"Nothing," Duke said, meeting Damian's eyes and shaking his head.

Damian followed his lead. "Typical Drake," he said.

"Come on," Timothy groaned, putting his head in his hands. "You can't do this to me. Bruce is gonna make me do another racial awareness training."

"Poor oppressed White boy," Duke said, patting his back.

" Stop! "

Timothy selected all ethnicities and hurried through the rest of the preferences. The screen began to fill with other people's profiles, men of Stephanie's age posing with dogs, potted plants, and, in one case, a tiger (Damian forced Timothy to like that one).

"This'll take some time," Timothy said. "Should have at least one match by tomorrow. I'll keep you guys posted." He clapped Damian on the shoulder. "This is shaping up to be our best plan yet, Damian."

That did not make Damian happy. Timothy Drake did not , no matter what he claimed, make Damian duck his head and smile.

****

Damian doodled in his notebook, Ms. Goldman droning on about character development at the front of the classroom. This idiotic school was so understaffed Ms. Goldman had to teach English as well as Science. Perhaps he could get expelled again, as he'd done at Gotham Academy?

"Psst," said the girl behind him. Jessica? "Who're you taking to prom, Nat?"

"Jack L," Nat whispered. "He said yes last week!"

"That's awesome! I'm gonna ask Haruka, you think she'll agree?"

"She is so in love with you. I—"

"Girls," Ms. Goldman said.

They hushed for five minutes, then resumed their conversation.

"Who's gonna win prom king this year? Probably Shea or Bayo, right?"

"Definitely. But I heard," Nat said, lowering her voice, "that some people are voting for you-know-who."

"Damian?"

"Shush!" Their voices dropped so low that Damian had to concentrate to hear them. "It's just a gag, of course. Shea says if he does win they'll do the whole Carrie thing."

"They wouldn't," Jessica said, giggling. "That'd be hilarious. But you-know-who's probably not going to prom, right? It's 'below him' or whatever."

"Yeah. Who'd wanna go with him , anyway?"

The bell rang. Damian shoved his belongings into his bag and stormed out of the room.

****

"I hate school."

Jon slurped his 7-11 slushie. "I know. I heard you the last seventy times."

They sat in one of Metropolis' many parks, the sakura trees in full bloom. Cherry blossoms drifted along the gentle wind, touching down on the bench. One fell in Damian's lap. He swept it to the ground.

"I will ask Father to homeschool me," he declared. "Or I will apply for college. Anything must be better than high school."

"Hey, at least you don't have super-hearing. School sucks with super-hearing." Jon rattled his empty cup. "Hold on, I'm gonna get more."

He vanished. Damian sipped his own drink, the liquid cold and strange on his tongue. If Mother were here, she'd admonish him for consuming so much sugar. If Mother were here, she'd take him out of school in an instant. Idle thought. She wasn't here, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"I'm back!" Jon materialised beside him, holding two giant slushies. "These are both for me, by the way."

"Lane lets you drink all that junk?"

"I'm seventeen now," he said, sticking out his tongue. "She can't tell me what to do."

Damian swirled his straw around. "What's it like?" he asked. "Being seventeen?"

"It's nice not to have a bedtime anymore. Mom and Dad take me more seriously, too. Sometimes it's hard, though. It's not as fun as being ten. Not as fun as being ten with you."

With you . Damian blushed. "Being ten with you was... tolerable."

"I knew you liked me," Jon said, grinning.

"That is a gross exaggeration."

"You never change, do you, Damian?"

"Perhaps." Damian held out his slushie. "Here. Your Kryptonian biology reacts better to this poison."

Jon's face brightened, and Damian felt—something. His stomach swooped, like he was swinging across the rooftops. Maybe the slushies did give him food poisoning.

"You're the best," Jon said.

"I know." Another cherry blossom blew towards them, tumbling into Damian's hand. "There are these asinine movies that Brown made me watch. You two seem to have similar taste, so if you're free this Saturday, would you like to come over?"

"Ah, sorry, I'm going on a date with Jay. What about the weekend after? Wait, me and Jay have tickets to the opera. How about—"

"Nevermind," Damian said. He closed his hand and crushed the blossom. "They are terrible movies, anyway. And I am busy too."

"Oh. Well, what do you wanna do now? Go to the arcade?"

"You still remember how to play, at your age?"

"Of course. You still unable to reach the pedals?"

Damian stood, cracking his knuckles. "I can beat you without them."

"Keep lying to yourself," Jon said. He stood as well. "You're on."

****

They had agreed to convene at Timothy's disgusting murder boat. Damian shoved a stray pair of pants onto the floor, hazmat suit crinkling as he sat on the couch. Duke sat next to him, rubbing his eyes.

"Remind me to stop doing late night dates," he said, yawning. "Midnight picnics and the day shift do not mix well."

"You should plan your dates more strategically," Damian said.

Duke laughed. "I should. Thanks for the suggestion, baby bat."

"I am not a baby!"

"I should write another fanfic," Duke said. "Baby's first prom. Hey, you ask anyone to prom yet?"

"No. There's no point."

"Why not?"

"Because," Damian said. He sank into the couch. "I don't like anyone."

"C'mon, not even a little crush? No one gives you butterflies?"

"Nobody has given me any insects."

"Aw, it can't hurt to ask anyway. I mean, you're the whole package! Rich, athletic, absolutely adorable—what's not to like?"

Damian looked at him. "You really think someone would want to go with me?"

"Of course." Duke smiled. "Consider it approved by my future vision."

"You don't have future vision."

"Okay, technically —"

"Sorry I'm late!" Timothy ran inside, slamming the door behind him. "Board meeting was a nightmare. Anyway, I have great news." He whipped out the burner phone. "We have a match."

He leapt towards the couch, crushing Duke into the cushions. Duke let out a muffled scream.

"Dude," he wheezed, as Timothy wriggled to the side. "You have got to stop doing that."

"Payback." Timothy opened Hinge and laid his phone flat so they could see. "We had a couple of matches, but I think this guy takes the cake. Steph's age, currently a history major at Gotham Tech, plays the piano. His name's Kyle Mizoguchi."

"Mizoguchi?" Damian perked up. "Maps Mizoguchi's brother?"

Timothy's brow furrowed. "Who—wait, you mean that girl from Gotham Academy? How d'you know her?"

"She is my friend," Damian sniffed.

"Whoa," Timothy said, gasping. "You have friends ?"

"Not that I don't love the whole shtick you guys have, but maybe we should focus?" Duke grabbed the phone. "We should chat him up, see if he's good enough for her."

"Type hey with three ys," Timothy said.

Duke obliged. "Wait, he's typing something!" They all craned their necks closer.

Hiii :)

I love Twilight and music as well

"Promising," Damian said. "And, as a Mizoguchi, he is definitely a worthy suitor."

Duke replied: omg we hav so much in common!!! which is your fav movie?? my fav is the seventh one

"Fool!" Damian hissed. "There is no seventh film."

"What? There's not, like, a hundred?"

Timothy facepalmed. "He's gonna think Steph's an idiot."

LOLLL not you trying to suss out if I'm an actual Twilight fan. I assure you I am, my fav is New Moon

Duke sighed in relief. HAHA u got me. my fav is also new moon :))))

It must be fate then <3

"He's smooth," Timothy said. "Wait, pass the phone over."

big believer of fate <3333. i know this super cute piano-themed café, if ur interested in going? i do have an unusual request

Very intriguing, go on.

since were all about serendipity why dont we meet up there tmr 12pm but pretend its a meet-cute?? like u bump into me and ill act like we didnt meet on hinge lol

Lol I kinda dig the idea!

makes a better story to tell my friends u know?

You're gonna tell your friends about me?

depends on how u do

"Add a winky face," Duke said.

"Ew, no."

"It's called flirting, Tim."

"I'm not sending a winky face while posing as my ex-girlfriend!"

Duke snatched the phone back and added two winky faces. "Coward," he said.

Okay, tomorrow 12pm it is. See you there :)

see u ;) ;) ;) and rmbr to act like this never happened ;)

"Done," Duke said. "Now we just gotta convince Stephanie to go to the café at that time."

"Leave it to me," Timothy said. "You two prepare your best lunch outfits. We're going out tomorrow."

****

Piano and Paninis was a small café tucked into the corner of Seeley Square. Damian weaved his way through the circular tables, the interior bright with sunlight and the occasional wall-mounted lamp. Duke was eating a chocolate croissant at a table by the stage.

"Hey," Duke said, waving.

Damian halted. "What are you wearing."

"Clothes."

"Those," Damian said, gesturing towards Duke's floral collared shirt and bell-bottoms, "are not clothes."

"They totally are. I saw someone wear this on Love Island ."

Damian plopped onto a chair. "I'm going to convince Gordon to erase that show from existence."

"Mean." Duke tore off a piece of croissant and handed it to Damian. "Act natural, they're coming!"

Damian shoved the croissant into his mouth, chewing forcefully as Timothy and Stephanie entered the café. Timothy caught sight of them and took Stephanie's hand, dragging her to their table.

"Guys!" he said. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Me and Damian were just having lunch," Duke said. Damian chewed with renewed vigour while Duke mimed eating with his fork.

"Uh," Stephanie said, "okay. This is so not weird."

"Join us," Damian said.

"But there's only one chair." Timothy sighed and sat down. "I suppose you'll have to find someplace else, Steph."

Stephanie's jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"

"This café is super strict with their seating," he said, shrugging.

"You're the one who invited me here!"

"Maybe you should eat with that guy," Duke said, pointing to a man who had just passed through the doors. The sight of his face made Damian realise how long it had been since he'd last seen Maps.

" That guy? Who's he?"

"No idea," Timothy said, "but he's cute, isn't he? And he's looking at you."

Stephanie's cheeks tinged red. "No he isn't."

"Um, excuse me?" Kyle Mizoguchi tapped Stephanie on the shoulder, cheeks equally red. "Are you—oh no, wait, I'm supposed to pretend, uh..."

"Hey, mystery man." Duke leaned forward. "Our friend here, Stephanie Brown, needs someone to sit with. Mind taking her for us?"

Kyle blinked, then straightened. "Yes. I mean, if that's alright with you, Stephanie?"

"Sure," Stephanie said, eyes wide and bewildered.

He led her to a table at the other end of the café. Duke pulled out a pair of neon pink shades (for someone who claimed to dislike Richard, he had the same horrid fashion sense), slipping them on and grinning.

"One match made."

Timothy stole the last bit of Duke's croissant. "Two more to go," he said, dodging as Duke hurled sunglasses at his face.

****

Damian shifted from one foot to the other. The study door was closed, which meant Father was busy. At least that's what closed doors meant in the League. But Timothy had entered the study yesterday when the door was closed, and Father hadn't gotten mad.

He took a deep breath and turned the knob.

Father was sitting at his desk, typing something on his laptop. He glanced up.

"Damian? What's the matter?"

Damian shuffled inside. "I hope I am not interrupting you."

"Of course not," Father said, shutting his laptop. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes." Damian puffed out his chest. As Grandfather always said, successful people did not request, they demanded. "I am no longer going to school."

"What?"

"I refuse to denigrate myself for such an establishment."

"We've talked about this," Father said, massaging his nose. "You need to go to school."

"But there is nothing they can teach me. I know more about existentialism than Mr. Chen, and don't get me started on Mr. Trent's knowledge of the Himalayas."

"It's not about content, Damian. School is also a place to develop relationships with your peers."

"I am not interested in relationships," Damian snapped. He looked down. "I have my siblings. Is that not enough?"

"You need friends your age."

I had one . Damian swallowed the words rising in his throat. I had one, and he was taken from me.

"Look," Father said. His voice grew gentle. "I know making friends is hard. I'm not an expert myself, but if you're having trouble, maybe you could talk to one of your siblings. I know Tim was quite popular in high school."

Damian clenched his fists. "I do not need help. I am not returning to school."

"You're going," Father said, "or you're off patrol for a week."

"You can't do that!"

Father sighed again. "Don't be difficult, Damian."

"I'm not—" He glared at the floor. "Fine. Thank you for your help, Father."

He stalked out of the room and slammed the door. Hopefully, he knocked over one of Father's ugly antiques. Where was Richard? Damian headed upstairs, feet padding down the carpeted corridor.

"Richard," Damian said, barging into Richard's bedroom. "I—what is this?"

Richard was arched backwards, his face upside down. Cassandra had one arm curved under his back, the other on his chest. They both turned to him.

"Damian!" Richard beamed. "Cass is teaching me ballroom dancing. Wanna join?"

"I would rather die," Damian said flatly.

Cassandra guided Richard back to a standing position. "Good practice," she said. "Use it at prom."

"I regret telling anyone about the prom," Damian grumbled.

Richard came over, ruffling his hair. "Don't worry. If you haven't asked anyone yet, I'll gladly go with you."

"I would, again, rather die."

"Could I come?" Cassandra asked. "Never been to prom. Or school."

"You're not missing anything." Damian flopped onto the bed, flinging out his arms. "School sucks."

The mattress dipped as Richard and Cassandra lay down beside him. "It really does," Richard said. "So glad I'm out of it."

"Aren't you supposed to extol the virtues of education?"

"Cassie can do that better than me."

"Lucky," Cassandra said, poking Damian in the cheek. "Being in the classroom, with people. Making friends. Learning. Reading. Lucky."

Damian sighed. "We should switch places, Cain."

"No. High school is gross. Will switch places with Stephanie, because college is cool."

"Where's Steph, anyway?" Richard asked. "Haven't seen her in a while."

"She's probably on another date."

Cassandra sat up. "What? What are you talking about?"

"She met someone," Damian said, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. "Kyle Mizoguchi. He has a 4.3 GPA and has won several piano competitions."

"She didn't tell me."

"It was only yesterday," Damian said.

"But she—I thought—" Cassandra drew in a shaky breath. "Dick, you said..."

Richard slipped off the bed, going to the other side and wrapping an arm around her. "I'm sorry. I really thought that she—I must've misread things, Cass. I'm so sorry."

"What's going on?" Damian asked, propping himself up on his elbows. Stephanie had wanted a partner for so long. Wasn't this good news?

"Not your fault, Dick," Cassandra said. "I thought I saw it too. Wishful thinking."

"Cass..."

"Have to go. See you later." She lifted his arm and disappeared through the doorway.

"What was that about?" Damian said.

"Nothing. Hey, you wanna play Mario Kart?"

"Don't change the subject." Damian sat up, crossing his arms. "Tell me what that was about."

Richard exhaled, massaging his nose. Sometimes Richard was so much like Father. "It's not my stuff to tell."

"I am not a child anymore. You don't have to hide things from me."

"That's not—it really isn't my business, Damian, and it's not yours either. Just drop it, alright?"

"Why won't you—"

"You wouldn't understand," Richard said.

Damian's hands twitched. Hands that had killed before—hands that only understood violence. "I see."

"Cass will be fine," Richard said, tone suddenly light and breezy. "What do you say, Damian? Mario Kart tournament? I'll let you have first pick."

"I call Princess Peach," Damian said.

Richard pouted, and the tension dissolved into memory. "No fair. You know she's my favourite."

"Fs in the chat."

"God," Richard groaned, "please stop with the Gen Alpha stuff."

"Okay, boomer."

"I'm gonna kill Tim."

****

Timothy was the only one in the library, curled up in the armchair and scrolling on his phone. Damian took a seat on the farther end of the couch. He didn't hate Timothy. He never had, despite what some might think. Shoving him off the dinosaur had been pure business. No one had told him that wasn't the way things worked here—they only yelled at him after the damage had been done.

But he understood. Timothy looked up from the tablet, eyes brightening as they latched onto Damian. He understood why people liked Timothy more than they could ever like him.

"Duke called you here too, huh?" Timothy grinned. "Wonder if he's got an idea for Jason or Cass."

"Do you know how Brown is doing?"

"She hasn't said anything," Timothy said, "but Kyle has been silent on Hinge, so I'm assuming they graduated to real texting."

"We must find someone for Cain. She reacted strongly to the news that Brown met someone, which means she must want someone, too."

Timothy's eyebrows shot up. "Reacted strongly? How?"

"She seemed upset."

"That's weird. Maybe—"

Duke strolled in, tossing a small object up and down. He stood on the rug and put his hands on his hips.

"Guess what I got?" Duke said, smirking.

Timothy leaned forward. "Holy crap. Is that Jason's phone?"

"Who pickpockets the pickpocket? Me, apparently." Duke held up the sleek black iPhone. "Jay was super cagey about his love life, so I decided to take it straight to the source. If we go through his contacts, we'll probably find someone he can date."

"He's gonna kill you," Timothy said.

"Dying's basically a rite of passage here. It's my final induction into full Bathood."

"Don't joke about that," Damian said, scowling. "I won't let you die."

"Aw, Dami. My cinnamon roll."

"Stop calling me that!"

"Gimme," Timothy said, darting up and snatching the phone. "He blocked me. I knew it! He blocked you too, Damian."

"He has my number?" Damian asked, vaguely disgusted.

"Am I blocked?"

"No." Timothy rolled his eyes. "You're on speed-dial. And he wrote 'favourite' in the Notes section."

"I told you guys he's nice," Duke said, clasping his hands together. "I should tell him he's my favourite, too."

Damian's stomach churned. "He is?"

"Well, he's a —"

"Hold on," Timothy said, "I'm reconfiguring all his app settings so they'll ping him at random times. And I'm changing the ping to the Grindr notification sound."

"I don't actually want him to kill me, Tim!"

"Too bad." Timothy fell back onto the couch. "Now let's go through his contact list. Roy—he has Jade, so no. Kori? That's just awkward. Artemis? Actually, we could—"

Damian grabbed Timothy's arm. "There. That one."

"Rose? Oh. Rose Wilson ."

"Who?" Duke asked.

"Deathstroke's daughter," Damian said. "She and Todd share some kind of history, though not even Richard knows what it is."

"Definitely some tension there," Timothy said.

"And she's cool?"

"She's not evil like her dad, if that's what you mean. And she's more than able to handle Jason's bullshit. "

"Let's go with her, then." Duke rubbed his hands together. "I think we should text her a love poem or something. That's what Jay would do, if he were courting someone."

"Here you go," Timothy said, tossing the phone to Duke.

Duke read aloud as he typed. " A rose by any other name would smell as sweet . That's Shakespeare, so that's a good start. Any other ideas?"

"Put some swear words in there," Timothy said, "so it sounds like Jason."

"Todd constantly talks about his death. We should reference it," Damian said.

"Oh! And add this," Timothy said, showing Duke something on his phone.

Duke's thumbs worked rapidly. "Okay," he said, "here's what we got: A shitty rose by any other name would smell as fucking sweet as the roses on my grave from when I died. I like drama, and you're fucking Shakespeare. Go out with me. "

"Sounds like Todd," Damian said.

Timothy clapped. "It's perfect. Send it."

The normal woosh of a sent message was replaced by three rapid, successive chirps. Timothy and Duke both burst into laughter.

"God," Duke said, "maybe that is worth dying for."

Timothy wiped his eyes. "Alright, give Jason back his phone. Hopefully he won't notice any tampering until Rose replies, and then he might be too happy to skin us alive."

"What if she rejects him?" Damian asked.

Duke winced. "I'll prepare our coffins."

"Faith, little brothers," Timothy said. "I don't know what anyone could see in Jason, but it worked on Rose before. Besides, with our message, how could she say no?"

****

Their footsteps echoed down the corridor of the Gotham Public Library. Richard and Gordon walked hand-in-hand, while Damian stayed at Cassandra's side. He bristled as a family of four openly gawked at them.

"Damian," Cassandra murmured, touching his shoulder.

"I hate it when they stare at us."

"We're famous," she said. "Can't be helped."

They entered Puckett Hall, a vast room with long wooden tables running across the floor. Bookshelves occupied the back half of the room, and Gordon deftly led them towards the Romance section.

"I'm glad you're taking an interest in other genres," she said, smiling at Cassandra. "There were only so many murder mysteries I could recommend before it got concerning."

Cassandra began to browse the shelves, tracing her finger along each spine. It helped her read better. Damian glowered at any passers-by who so much as glanced her way.

"Find anything?" Richard asked.

Cassandra shook her head. "Maybe it's not for me."

"You've only just started to look. Got any suggestions, Babs?"

"I don't," she said, "but I know someone who does. Hold on one second."

She headed out a side corridor. Damian shoved his hands in his pockets, scanning the shelves himself. Romance novels had never seemed terribly interesting, but Stephanie enjoyed them, so they must have some value.

"You can browse too, Damian," Richard said.

Damian huffed. "I do not want one."

"They're fun, y'know. Nothing like the stuff Jason always tells me to read."

At Todd's name, Richard's voice filled with warmth, affection. Damian scuffed the floor with his shoe.

"Richard," he said. The words barely carried through the air. "Do you agree with Gordon? That love is about being someone's special person?"

"Um, yeah, I think. That's as good a way to put it as any."

"I know she is your romantic love," Damian said. "But who's your—if you had to pick, would I... Who would be—"

"I'm back," Gordon declared, marching towards them. She tugged along a man wearing a beanie, holding several books in his arms. "Everyone, this is Erik. Erik, this is Dick, Damian, and Cass. Cass over here wants some romance recommendations."

Gordon shoved Erik and he stumbled forward, nearly colliding with Cassandra. "Oh, um, sorry," he said. He took a step back. "Hi. I'm Erik. As she said."

"Cass," Cassandra said.

A blush crept into his cheeks. "You, uh, looking for some recs? I love romance. It's one of my favourite genres. Here's a top tier one, by Ali Hazelwood. You know her?"

"No." Cassandra's eyes roamed his face. If Damian could tell he liked her, then Cassandra had definitely picked up on it. "Tell me about her?"

Erik launched into an animated discussion. Richard tapped Damian's shoulder and led him towards one of the long tables, exiting the row of bookshelves. As soon as they were out of earshot, Richard gave Gordon a high-five.

"A resounding success," he said. "My compliments to the chef."

Damian narrowed his eyes. "You two set that up."

"Erik's had a crush on her since she first came to visit me," Gordon said. "I wasn't going to do anything about it, since Cass liked—um. Nevermind. Now just seemed like a good time to put them together."

"I approve," Damian said. "Though if you had told me, I could've helped."

Gordon snorted. "I think we had it."

"You think I couldn't have helped?" Damian asked, frowning.

"Well, you're a kid, and your upbringing—I mean, this isn't exactly your element."

Your upbringing. Damian whirled on Richard. "You think so too? You think I don't understand all this?"

"I never said that," Richard said, holding his hands up.

"Cain is easy to find a partner for," Damian said, rage bubbling in his chest. "But I'll find one for Todd, and you'll see that I understand things far, far better than you."

Richard paled. "Don't involve Jason. He doesn't take kindly to meddling, Damian."

"I'm not meddling."

Just don't mess with his life, okay? Promise me you won't." It was not a request.

Damian shrugged. "Okay. I won't do anything from now on."

"Good," Richard said, shoulders slumping. He turned to Gordon. "So, what should we do while we're waiting for Cass?"

"We're in a library, Boy Wonder. What do you think I'll say?"

"C'mon little D, let's go rent some movies while Babs isn't looking," he whispered.

"You are a child," Damian muttered. It was easy, falling into their flow, trading lines back and forth. But the anger was still there. It burned in his chest as Richard and Gordon walked ahead of him, fingers intertwined. 

****

The bats fluttered in the rafters, the biggest one, King, circling overhead. Damian placed the escrima sticks back in the box, stretching his shoulders as he made his way to Stephanie.

"I think the dummy is dead," he said.

She kicked the dummy's head off, panting. Her forehead was slick with sweat. "It is now."

The training mats were littered with dummy parts, including a few arms, two heads, and a torso with a hole punched through it.

Dating someone really did increase fighting prowess. Damian patted Stephanie on the shoulder. "Nice work."

"Nice work?" Stephanie threw her head back and laughed. "Any other person would be checking me into a mental hospital."

"This is a training area, and you were training. I see nothing to provoke concern."

She pulled him into a hug. "You wonderful little gremlin, you."

Damian made an obligatory sound of displeasure.

Footsteps sounded from the stairs, the others pouring in. Father came down first, followed by Cassandra, Timothy, and Duke (who had taken to seeing them off on weekends). Richard and Todd roared in on their bikes.

"Cass," Stephanie called, waving.

Cassandra nodded curtly, then fell into a conversation with Father.

Stephanie's hand drifted down. "Well. That was rude."

"Steph," Timothy said, bounding over to them. "How's it going? Any updates on your personal life?"

"Uh, I ate tacos for lunch?"

"I meant your love life."

"My love life?"

"Hey guys," Duke said, running over. "Oh, Steph. How's your personal life?"

Stephanie stiffened. "Oh no. You guys did something, didn't you."

"Nonsense," Damian said. "We are merely invested in your well-being."

"What's this congregation about?" Todd stalked over, raising an eyebrow. "You guys better not be up to any tomfoolery."

"Do you have a 19th Century dictionary you keep pulling these words from?" Timothy asked.

"I'm just an educated man, Timbo."

"You died before graduating high school."

"And you're a drop-out with no excuse!"

"As an educated woman," Stephanie said, "both of you kindly shut up. But do tell, Duke, why exactly are you asking about my personal life?"

Duke tugged at his collar. "Oh, um, I just thought—y'know, the guy you met at the café. I was wondering if you kept in touch with him."

"That creep?" Stephanie chuckled bitterly. "I blocked him. Trust me, it's for the best."

Timothy's mouth parted. "Creep? What happened?"

"Same thing that always happens. You make friends with a guy, they seem really sweet, and then boom, they try to kiss you. Men, I swear."

Todd grimaced. "Yikes. I'm sorry."

"Wait," Damian said. "You didn't want him to kiss you?"

"Obviously not."

"But you said you wanted to be in a relationship."

"Yeah, but with—" Stephanie huffed. "Whatever. Not with him . It was out of nowhere, too! And he was so confused when I got mad at him. It's like he expected me to be into it."

Duke locked eyes with Damian and mouthed, uh oh .

"I can shoot him with a rubber bullet for you," Todd said. "Or mace him. Or—"

Three quick chirps blasted through the air. Everyone froze and turned to Todd. Stephanie's face went through a dazzling array of emotions, before settling into abject horror.

"Oh my god, Jason," she said.

"What?" Todd frowned. "My phone's been doing that all day. I don't know why."

"Jaybird," Richard said from the computers, sounding on the verge of fainting, "we love you very much. Unconditionally. You know that?"

"Uh, okay?"

Cassandra and Father exchanged a confused look. Timothy's shoulders shook with silent laughter, while Duke backed away, looking ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

"Jason," Stephanie said, her courage shining through, "I know what that sound was."

"Okay? I don't."

"You don't need to deny anything," Richard murmured. "We're here for you. We were very supportive of Tim, you know."

"Tim? What?"

"What is going on?" Father growled.

Cassandra pointed to the Batcomputer. "Should we ask Barbara?"

"No!" Stephanie and Richard yelled, as Todd said, "yeah, why not? I wanna know what it is too."

They gathered around the computer. "Hey, O," Todd said. "Do you have a second?"

Gordon's face filled the screen. "What's up?"

"Do you know what this sound is?"

Todd held his phone to the speaker, and in a few seconds, three chirps echoed throughout the cave.

Gordon's jaw went slack. "Is that—your phone?"

"Yeah," Todd said. "Just tell us what it is, Red."

"You're sure you want me to say it."

"Just give the report," Father said brusquely.

"Well, that's the notification sound for Grindr, a dating app for LGBTQ+ people. It's mostly used by gay men, though." Gordon attempted a smile. "A very unique coming out strategy, Jason. Congratulations."

"Oh," Father said, flustered. "Well. You are still my son, and I—"

"No!" Jason spun, eyes wild. "This wasn't mine. I mean, it's my phone, but I didn't—I was hacked! This is sabotage! This is—" He gasped. "This is tomfoolery. You three! "

He pointed at Timothy, Duke, and then Damian. "This is the last straw. I'm going to return to guns, I swear to god."

"You have no evidence," Timothy said coolly.

Todd turned to Father. "Ground them, Bruce. No, send them to Blackgate. I want them in prison!"

"I'm not sending them to prison," Father said. He turned to the three of them. "But this is taking it a little far, boys. You should apologise to Jason."

"We're sorry, Jay," Duke said.

Todd exhaled. "You're lucky I like you, Narrows. The others are on thin ice."

"Let's get to patrol," Father said, rubbing his nose, "before my headache grows worse. You can choose who to patrol with tonight."

Cassandra beelined for Timothy. Stephanie wavered for a second, before heading towards Batman. Damian turned to Richard.

"Jason," Richard said, grabbing Todd's shoulder. "What do you say? Team up tonight?"

"You'd come even if I said no," Todd grouched.

"You know me so well."

Damian gripped his cape. Cassandra and Timothy were already heading out, Stephanie and Father discussing a case in a low whisper. He kicked a stray pebble on the floor.  

"Oh, Damian," Richard said, like an afterthought. "Want to tag along?"

"I am perfectly fine on my own," Damian said stiffly. "And I don't want to work with Todd."

"Same goes for you, demon."

"Alright," Richard said. "We'll see you in the morning, little D."

They climbed onto their bikes and sped away. Damian let out a sigh.

"Man, what an asshole."

Damian started. "I thought you'd gone upstairs," he said.

Duke placed a hand on his shoulder, grinning. "Nah. Day shift was boring, and I need to get some stuff outta my system. What do you say, Damian? Team up tonight?"

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to," Duke said.

Damian blushed. "Alright. Only because you want to."

"Sure," Duke said, grin widening. "Let's go with that."

****

Patrolling with Duke was a unique experience. His powers allowed for a greater variety of attacks, especially in the night-time—Damian leapt from the shadows to the light, Duke always watching his back, always at his side. They took out Penguin's operations at the Iceberg Lounge in less than half an hour.

"This calls for a celebration," Duke said. "Ice cream time."

The best all-night ice cream store was located in Bermejo Avenue. They raced towards West Gotham, hollering insults at each other as they tried to trip the other up. Damian arrived first and Duke whined about his suit's weight, both of them pretending Duke hadn't slowed down on purpose.

"I'm gonna get chocolate chip cookie dough," Duke said. "What about you?"

Before Damian could reply, shouts rang from the next rooftop over. Voices filled the air, brash and angry. Familiar voices.

They ran to the edge of the roof, Duke shadowing them both in darkness. On the other rooftop, Red Hood paced back and forth, yelling as Nightwing tried to calm him down.

"I'm sure he didn't mean anything," Richard was saying. "He's just a kid."

"Don't make excuses for him! I know he's your favourite ," Todd sneered.

"I don't have favourites, Jason."

"You said it's him, right? He's the one who wanted to pair me up with someone."

"I'm sure he meant well."

"What right does he have?" Todd threw his arms up. "I hate it when you guys do this. You know I hate it!"

"I tried to stop him, but—"

"Put a fucking leash on him next time! Now I have to tell Rose—" Todd sucked in a breath. "Fuck, Dick. It feels like there's something wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you."

"Oh no," Duke whispered. "We should not be listening to this."

"Why? What are they talking about?"

"I feel —shit." Todd's voice climbed in volume. "Normal people feel things, Dickhead. For other people. I've never felt anything. Even when I dated her before, I don't think I felt what people are supposed to feel. Just another part of me that's broken, huh?"

"It's normal," Richard said soothingly. "Many people are like you, Jay. They don't feel—"

The darkness cleared suddenly. Duke stood up, face glistening with sweat. Richard and Todd froze.

"I'm so sorry," Duke said. "We didn't mean to eavesdrop. I mean, we kinda did, but I didn't think you were talking about important stuff. I mean—"

Todd barked out a laugh. "Of course you were listening. Like my day couldn't get any worse."

"Jason," Duke said, "I—"

"Save it." Todd trembled. "I can't believe I thought you were different. You're not, Duke. You're just like all the others. God, you're such a disappointment."

Duke recoiled. Damian shot to his feet, glaring. "Don't talk to him like that."

"Well, you're not a disappointment," Todd said. "No one expects anything from you in the first place, 'cause you're always like this. It's no wonder nobody likes you."

Todd shrugged off Richard's hand and leapt from the roof. Duke yelled after him, launching into the night, leaving Damian on the rooftop. Alone. Staring at Richard across the divide.

"Damian," Richard said, voice thick. "I told you not to do anything. I told you."

Damian's eyes burned. Before Richard could say more, Damian grappled away.

****

For once, Damian was grateful for the monotony of school. Ms. Goldman explained character conflict as he scratched a groove into his desk with a pencil. Maybe he would stay after school for her optional reading sessions. No one would miss him at the manor, anyway.

"Psst."

Jon used to come over all the time. Now, since he became Superman, he barely set foot in Gotham. At least he'd texted this morning: a picture of him and Jay at the opera, with the caption, you should come with us sometime!. Damian had deleted the picture.

"Psst. Damian."

"What?" Damian snapped.

"You dropped your eraser." Erica handed it to him. "Alright, you can go back to destroying your desk."

"I'm not destroying my desk."

"Just giving it a deep scar," Erica said. She tilted her head. "Rough day?"

"I suppose."

"I've been there." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I, uh, know you usually have lunch by yourself, which is totally fine. But me and my friends like to eat under the cherry blossom tree, and you're welcome to join us."

Damian blinked. "They won't mind?"

"Of course not. They're all pretty interested in getting to know you, Damian."

She smiled at him, sunny and warm. The way Jon smiled. The next thing Damian knew his mouth was opening, and he was blurting out, "do you want to go to the prom with me?"

"The prom?" Erica bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Damian. I'm already going with someone else. And I'm not, um, interested in you like that."

"Oh," Damian said.

"But you're still more than welcome to eat with us."

"It's fine." He gripped his pencil. "I prefer to eat alone. But thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, turning back to her notebook.

Screw the reading session; as soon as the bell rang, he was getting out of here. He rammed the tip of the pencil into the groove and scratched.

****

Father stood in the foyer. Damian froze, his backpack hitting the floor with a thud. Father never greeted him at the door. The look on his face was obscure, hard to read. Frightening.

"Damian," Father said. "Can we talk?"

No. No no no no no. "Of course, Father."

Richard was out with Gordon. Duke was on patrol. Damian shifted from foot to foot, trying to keep his balance, keep everything right-side-up.

"I want to talk about last night," Father said.

The air left Damian's lungs. "I didn't do anything."

"But you were out with Duke, weren't you?"

"I—what? What about Duke?"

"You know he patrols in the daytime," Father said, shaking his head. "You shouldn't have let him come out with you. It could impact his performance."

"So talk to him about it."

"I did, but you know how stubborn he can be." Father stepped forward and placed a hand on Damian's head. "It's your responsibility to look after your siblings. Even if you're the youngest, you should still care about their well-being."

A faint roaring began in Damian's ears. "You think I don't care?"

"No, of course not. But sometimes you can be, well, a bit—"

"Difficult."

"You take after me," Father said, gently. "It's not your fault. Tim can tell you what a difficult time he had with me, when he first came."

"But he helped you," Damian said. "And you love him."

"Yes," Father said, smiling. "He did. I do."

Damian picked up his backpack. "I will tell Duke not to patrol with me anymore. Am I out of trouble now, Father?"

"I didn't say you were in trouble."

"I am. I am always in trouble."

Father's face shifted. "What are you talking about?"

"It's fine," Damian said, stepping around him and heading for the staircase. "I understand. You think I don't, but I do."

"Damian!"

He took the stairs two at a time, heart pounding like a jack-hammer. If Father stopped him, it would all come out. Everything would leak into the open.

A hand clamped onto his arm. "Wait," Father said.

"Let me go!" Damian wrenched himself away, flattening against the wall. "I told you I understand. Leave me alone!"

"What do you understand? I don't—"

"I understand why you don't love me!"

Father stumbled back against the banister. Damian took the opportunity to sprint up the stairs, bolting around the corner. He knew how this worked: he'd hole up in his room, Father would come knocking, they'd have a heart-to-heart, and Damian would be down by dinnertime. Everything would start again. They'd have a good week, Damian would screw up, they'd drift apart. And Father still wouldn't love him.

Not this time. Damian flew, scaling the stairs, up and up until he broke into dizzying sunlight. He blinked away spots until the sky solidified into a breathless, soaring blue. A lone figure sat at the edge of the roof, blond hair trailing in the wind.

"Brown?"

Stephanie's back tensed. "Damian?"

"I'm sorry," Damian said. "I didn't mean to interrupt you."

"No." Her voice was wet and rough. "You're not interrupting, Damian. Come sit."

He came over slowly, dropping down next to her. She sniffled, wiping at her cheeks. Snot hung from her nose.

"I know," she said, smiling wryly. "I look great."

"Don't make me lie."

She laughed. "You're funny, you know that?"

"Most people say I don't have a sense of humour."

"Most people are wrong." She breathed out, long and slow. "You heard the report from last night?"

"No. I was—preoccupied."

"I messed up," she said. "Dived in without the boss' orders. Nearly got someone killed. Gotham is one Batgirl down for a few days, so I thought you oughtta know."

Stephanie drew her legs up, resting her chin on her knees. The sun glinted off the tears on her face.

"It doesn't get easier," she said. "No matter how many times it happens, it doesn't get easier."

Damian pushed a pebble off the roof. "No. It doesn't."

"Bruce say something to you, too?"

"I don't want your pity, Fatgirl."

"I won't give you any. I used it all up on myself."

She started humming, a quiet, off-key tune. She'd sung often during patrols as Batgirl, much to Damian's annoyance. He'd once asked Richard why he didn't just fire her. He'd said, I accept learning from you, but she has nothing to teach m e. Richard had stayed silent for a while, and then replied, doesn't she?

"I think Father hates me," Damian said.

The humming stopped.

"I mean I know," he said, pushing past the lump in his throat. "Everything is always my fault. I'm always doing something wrong. When he looks at me, he doesn't—it's not the way he looks at Duke, or Drake. He loves them. When he looks at me, he's only disappointed."

"Do you really believe that?"

"It's obvious. Even a simpleton like you should be able to see it."

"Okay, ouch." Stephanie flicked him on the shoulder. "I thought we were being vulnerable."

"I am never vulnerable. There is a knife in my shoe."

"That just sounds uncomfortable," she said. She blew a strand of hair out of her face. "Maybe it's my simpleton eyes, but I don't see disappointment. I know what a disappointed Bruce looks like. When he looks at you, it's not that."

"What is it, then?"

She reached over and pinched his cheek. "Love."

"Don't lie," he said, swatting at her hand.

"I mean it. He loves you, Damian. The kind of love that's frightening. Tim and I talked a lot about him over the years. I'll never understand him as well as Tim does, but one thing he said's always stuck with me. He said Bruce is the kind of person who thinks love has to be hard. Anything less than total dysfunction, to him, isn't love."

"That's idiotic."

"Exactly," Stephanie said, chuckling. "He loves you. He's just stupid about it."

"But he doesn't scold Drake the way he scolds me."

Her expression softened. "That's 'cause you're his kid. I think he is a little unfair to you, but not because of you. You remind him of himself. If you haven't noticed, Bruce is super big on the self-hatred thing."

"I remind him of himself," Damian repeated. He stared down at the lawn, where one of Titus' rubber balls lay in the grass. "I thought that's what he wanted. For me to be his heir. To be... like him."

"I don't know for sure," she said. "But I don't think he does."

"Then who am I supposed to be?"

"Yourself." Stephanie smiled. "That's the best version of you, anyway."

Damian felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to cry. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not. I love you, Damian. The annoying-brat you. The uses-fancy-words-and-knives you. The surprisingly-kind you, who watched Twilight with me even though it's objectively ass. You're the only kid who'd do all that with me. You're the only kid I'd want to do all that with."

"Don't be sentimental," Damian said, his voice cracking traitorously. "The movie wasn't awful. There were werewolves."

"That's right," she said, slinging an arm around him. "You're Team Jacob, which proves you're cool."

He leaned into her side. "Whatever Father thinks," he said, quietly, "you have always been worthy of this family."

Stephanie's breath hitched. "You don't have to say that. You're his son, but I'm just—me. The worst Robin and the worst Batgirl. If I filled in for Signal, I could go for a hat trick."

"You are certainly not as intelligent as Gordon, or as talented as Cain."

"Gee, thanks."

"But," Damian said, "you were still the Batgirl when I arrived. You were one of the few people who tried to get along with me. For that, you are my Batgirl. You will always be my Batgirl."

"And you're Robin," she said, pressing him close. "A good Robin. You've always been a good Robin."

He did not enjoy Stephanie's hugs, not in the least, although he closed his eyes. But perhaps he did enjoy them, just a little. Perhaps it was okay to enjoy them.

"Brown," he said, after a few minutes. "Do you like ice cream?"

****

The cashier wasn't surprised to see Batgirl and Robin in his shop. Robin had visited enough times with Signal for the shock to wear off, probably. She merely asked for a few extra dollars as 'superhero tax'.

"I respect the hustle," Stephanie said, crunching on her cone. "I'd do the same thing if I ran a shitty ice cream shop in Gotham."

"Duke says it used to be a mafia front," Damian said.

"I am not surprised." She gazed towards the horizon, the rooftop wind rustling her hair. "Have you talked to Duke about any of this? About how you've been feeling?"

"No." Damian stuck the spoon into his chocolate chip cookie dough. "He has enough problems of his own. And I—wasn't sure he'd understand. He is easy to love."

"Yeah," Stephanie said, breathing out. "I know what you mean. Sometimes I wanna talk to Cass about it, but she just—I mean, she's never disappointed anyone, ever. She's perfect."

"Like Duke," Damian said.

"Ugh. I hate perfect people."

The ice cream trickled down the cone, running onto Stephanie's fingers. She didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were still turned to the horizon.

"Did something happen with Cain?"

She jolted. "How did you—nevermind, it was probably obvious. Nothing happened. Nothing is ever going to happen, now."

"What do you mean?"

"I just—" Stephanie grabbed a piece of tissue, wiping her fingers. "Promise you won't laugh."

"Cross my heart," Damian said, doing the motion with his finger.

Her lips twitched. "Alright. Well. Cass—she's just—perfect, as I said. And recently I realised that maybe I, um... that maybe I like her. In the romantic sense of the word."

"Oh." Damian straightened. " Oh ."

"I know, I know, she's out of my league. And she's definitely out, now. She's with her perfect new library boyfriend who can recite the dictionary and who'd probably get Bruce's approval faster than I ever could."

"So when you said you wanted to be in a relationship, you meant Cain?"

"As I said, don't laugh."

He wasn't laughing. His entire plan, his scheme to get Stephanie a partner, had made things ten times worse. No wonder Father didn't trust his detective skills. Damian put his head in his hands and groaned.

"You should have told me," he said.

"Excuse you. I basically just came out to you, and that's how you respond?"

"Coming out is a concept perpetuated and maintained by a heteronormative patriarchy," Damian said scornfully. "And if you had told me you liked Cain, I could have arranged something earlier."

"Arranged—" She sucked in a breath. "Please don't tell me Kyle was your fault."

"He was a worthy suitor. You should not have dismissed him so quickly."

"That's it," she said. "I'm siding with Jason. We need to put you, Tim, and Duke in Arkham."

"It was a good plan. It still is a good plan."

"Whatever you're thinking of, don't bother. She'll never like me. I'll never—" She sniffled. "I'll never be her first choice. Anyone's first choice. That's just my fate, I guess. And I'm fine with it."

Damian drew himself up. "Challenge accepted."

"What?"

"You issued a challenge by making an idiotic claim, and I am going to disprove it." He stood, putting his hands on his hips. "Do you trust me, Batgirl?"

Her mouth opened and closed. She nodded.

"Then trust me," he said. "Give me two days."

"You're not going to do anything stupid, are you?"

"Sure," Damian said. "Let's go with that."

****

The boat rocked gently as Damian slipped through the door. Blinds were drawn on all the windows. Timothy lay on the couch, face down in a pillow. He lifted his head and squinted through the semi-darkness.

"Damian? What are you doing here?"

"I have a plan," he said. He took a step forward and hesitated. "Are you—okay?"

Timothy pushed himself into a sitting position. "It's nothing. You can come over."

Damian obeyed, sitting to Timothy's right. His eyes were red, his hair tousled. Damian probably looked similar.

"Rough day, huh?" Timothy asked.

Damian dipped his head. "Rough week."

"I'm sorry. Me too, for what it's worth."

"I didn't—" Damian flushed. "I didn't know you had rough weeks."

Timothy raised an eyebrow. "You thought I, part of this godforsaken family, was perfectly functional?"

"I don't know. You always seem to know what you're doing." He hunched his shoulders. "And everything you do succeeds."

"What is your sample size, exactly? Zero?"

"Your Gen Alpha plan," Damian said. "You were completely correct about the effects of the words. Meanwhile, my plan has only caused near-irreparable damage."

"But we found people for Steph and Cass, didn't we? And Jason's a prick. I don't know what he said to you and Duke, but I'm going to give him a piece of my mind tonight."

"He didn't say anything untrue," Damian said, swallowing. "And Brown and Cain are not happy. I made a mistake."

"What do you mean?" Timothy cocked his head, and then his eyes widened. "Oh. You think they like each other."

"I am not sure about Cain, but—"

"She does." He pressed his hands to his eyes. "God, I'm so stupid. I should've seen it. Cass straight up asked me, once, what kind of dates Steph likes to go on. See, Damian? Another thing I got wrong. Just like breaking up with Steph."

"You want to get back together?"

"Oh, no. I just meant that—it didn't have to turn out the way it did. If I'd been more self-aware, or been a better person, I didn't have to hurt her. But I did. More than once, to be honest."

"It's okay," Damian said. "I hurt people, too."

"But you're a kid. I know I haven't always treated you like one, but you are. That's why they all love you to death."

"You think they love me?"

Timothy looked at him. "You think they don't ?"

"I keep messing things up."

"No more than the rest of us," he said. "You haven't done anything we can't forgive you for. And I do forgive you, Damian. For everything."

Damian looked down. "I forgive you, too. And I suppose I could've gotten worse, in terms of big brothers."

"Wow," Timothy said, scooting closer. "Was that a compliment?"

"If you say anything, I will take it back."

"Okay, peanut."

" Peanut! " Before Damian could wring Timothy's neck, the door burst open. Light flooded the boat, illuminating the figure in the centre of the doorway.

"Please tell me," Duke said, panting, "that I haven't missed anything."

Timothy grinned. "Not much. Just a heart-to-heart with peanut over here."

"Peanut?" Duke clasped his hands to his heart. "That is so cute."

"Timothy Jackson Drake, you will begin to cough in three days," Damian growled.

Duke bounced onto the couch, the light following him and diffusing through the room. "What's with the curtains, Tim? Going emo again?"

"That was one time!"

Damian cleared his throat. "As you both know, a few weeks ago I proposed a plan to mate our siblings."

"Um," Duke said, "that is not the wording I would've used."

"Please don't interrupt. As I was saying, the plan was to find Brown, Cain, and Todd suitable partners. Unfortunately, the plan backfired. It has come to my attention that Brown and Cain are actually suitable partners for each other."

Duke's mouth formed an O. "That makes so much sense. No wonder Cass has been grouchy."

"And Todd wasn't very happy with us either."

"Right." Duke winced. "I managed to get a few words with him last night. We might've miscalculated with that one."

" I miscalculated," Damian said. "I'm sorry for dragging you both into this mess. I want to fix it. I would like your help, if you're still willing to work with me."

He fiddled with his shirt. If they said no, then—he tried not to think about them saying no.

"Damian," Timothy said, "I can practically hear you overthinking. Quit it. I'm in."

"Oh," Damian said. "Thank you. Duke, if you don't want—"

"Are you kidding?" Duke wrapped him in a tight hug. "Of course I'm in. I'm with you, Damian. All the way."

Damian buried his face in Duke's chest, and if blinked away a few tears, nobody said a thing.

****

Damian's plan was simple: talk to Cassandra, get her to break things off with Erik, then set up a nice dinner date between her and Stephanie. Duke, unfortunately, wasn't satisfied.

"Where's the romance?" he asked. "We can do better than that."

So here Damian was, dressed in a white toga, golden sandals, and carrying a yellow bow. Timothy clipped on a pair of fake wings to his back.

"Say cheese," he said, snapping a picture with his phone.

"Don't send that to Richard," Damian hissed. "Don't you dare! "

"I already sent a pic," Duke said cheerily. "And I had to unblock him, too."

"Can't we just ask them to get together?" Damian sulked.

Timothy shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Cass is coming," Duke said, eyes glowing briefly with his very-near-future-vision. "Get into position."

Timothy disappeared up the stairs, heading for Stephanie's bedroom. Duke turned invisible and his footsteps echoed down the hallway to the prepared guest room. Damian gripped his bow, took a deep breath, and climbed onto a dresser.

Cassandra entered the hallway, wearing a pineapple-patterned dress, yellow stockings, and a single-sleeved cardigan. Duke had told her they were throwing a bad fashion surprise party for Richard.

"Cassandra Cain," Damian announced.

Cassandra stopped dead. Her mouth fell open as she said, "Damian?"

"I am not Damian," he said. "I am Eros, the spirit of love. I have come to guide you."

Curse Duke and his flair for the dramatic. Todd was a terrible influence.

"Hello Eros," Cassandra said, giggling. "Is this for Dick's party?"

Damian leapt onto the ground. "Follow me."

They walked along a trail of rose petals (product of half an hour's work in the garden; Pennyworth was rolling in his grave), arriving at the guest room. The door swung silently inwards.

"Go on," Damian said, prodding her with an arrow.

She went inside. A second later, Stephanie and Timothy rounded the corner. Stephanie wore a flannel, a pair of false glasses, and suspenders.

"You sure this is the best outfit for Dick's party? I look like a nerd." She caught sight of Damian. "Nevermind. This outfit's not so bad."

"Stephanie Brown. I am Eros, the spirit of love. I have come to guide you. Please step inside."

"This is too good," she said, as he ushered her through the door.

Duke had set everything up perfectly. The walls were covered in a beach backdrop, and sunscreen, a plate of spaghetti, and a plastic doll lay on the dresser. In the middle of the floor was a twin-sized bed.  

The door shut with a firm click.

"Cass?" Stephanie said.

Cassandra turned, face flushing slightly. "Stephanie. You look..."

"Yeah, I know. Dick better appreciate it." She bit her lip. "You look good. I mean, the clothes are terrible, but you make it look good. Uh. For Dick's party."

"Dick's not having a party." Duke materialised by the bed, wearing his tropical shirt and shades. "Steph and Cass, welcome to your very own Love Island."

"Our what ?" Stephanie's voice rose several octaves. She whirled around on Damian, eyes promising murder.

"This room has been engineered to produce every romantic possibility you could ever want," Timothy said. "You have sunscreen, in case you're into that. A plate of spaghetti to eat the same strand of. And here's your accidental baby acquisition." He tossed the plastic doll into Cassandra's arms. "Oh, and you only have one bed."

Cassandra stared at the doll. She seemed in shock.

"You're the manic pixie dream girl," Duke said, "and Steph's the geek who gets a glow-up by removing her glasses and ponytail. Damian's obviously Cupid, Tim's the childhood friend who has an unrequited crush, and I'm the Black best friend."

Damian shot Stephanie in the back. "Confess."

"Damian!" Stephanie's face was as purple as her Spoiler costume.

"Confess?" Cassandra asked, lifting her gaze from the doll.

"I—" Stephanie stomped her foot. "Could we get some privacy ?"

Timothy, Duke, and Damian filed out. The door swung closed behind them.

"Do you think this will work?" Damian asked doubtfully.

"Of course it will," Timothy said. He slung an arm around Damian and Duke. "We're Robins. Robins never fail."

That wasn't true and they all knew it. However, with his brothers by his side, failure didn't sound so bad.

****

The knock at his door was cautious and slow. Damian closed his sketchbook, biting his lip. He didn't want to hear another half-baked explanation or apology. Yet, he couldn't bear hearing nothing at all.

"Damian?" came Father's voice, as cautious as his knock.

"I'm here."

"Are you going to let me in?"

"I don't know."

Father sighed. "Okay. I wanted to talk to you, about what you said. You remember?"

"Enlighten me," Damian said, because he could, once in a while, indulge in pettiness.

"You said—you said I didn't love you."

Damian got up, then sat back down. "I did say that."

"You have to know that's wrong. I love you, Damian, with my whole heart. I always—"

"Always?"

The corridor went silent. Damian brushed eraser shavings off his desk, the grey particles swirling to the floor.

"Sorry," Father said. "I'm trying to be honest, but I'm not good at it. Maybe not always. I didn't know what to do with you, at first. But I always believed I would love you. It just took time."

"Because I'm difficult," Damian said.

"What? No. Because of me. Because I'm difficult." Father's voice was barely audible now. "I never thought I'd have children, Damian. Definitely not biological children. Sometimes I look at you and wonder how much you take after me. Sometimes it's hard to look at you."

"I know," Damian said. "I know it's because you're afraid. But that's not fair, Father. You make me feel like it's my fault."

"No, I—I'm sorry."

"I know you didn't want me." He placed his head on the desk, speaking into the wood. Maybe Father couldn't even hear him. "I know you hate Mother, and you hate how I take after her. I can't help that, either. I wish you'd forgive me."

The knob rattled. "Damian," Father said, his voice loud and clear, "there's nothing to forgive. I don't hate your mother. I've never hated her, and I could never hate you."

"But you think she's a bad person."

"It's complicated." A low chuckle resonated through the door. "She's done some things that I... that are hard to forgive. But she's also brave, fiercely protective, and loyal. She has an endless capacity for love. All of that, I see in you. All of that, I love in you."

Damian lifted his head. "Do you love her?"

"Not the way I used to," Father said. "Not the way you want me to. But I do, Damian. I still do."

Damian got up. He walked slowly towards the door, turning the knob even more slowly. In the widening slit, the light of the corridor brushing the tips of his hair, Father appeared.

"And me?" Damian whispered.

Father reached through the gap, clasping Damian's shoulders. He knelt down and pressed their foreheads together, just as he'd done on Apokolips, the first thing Damian had seen as he'd opened his eyes. You're wide awake... You're alive and here with me.

"And you," Father said. "Always you."

****

Ms. Goldman tapped the whiteboard, where the word DENOUEMENT was written in a large scrawl. Damian added the final touches to his sketch of Batman and Robin, shading in Robin's cape. A full moon hung above them.

"That's good."

Damian slammed his book shut. "That's private."

"Sorry," Erica said. "It really was good, though. Even better than Cherry."

Cherry was the head of the art club. "You think so?"

"Uh huh. Hey, she's always looking for new members. You should join."

"I don't draw for others," Damian said.

"That's not the point of the club," Erica said, laughing. "It's about drawing with others.  Seeing other people's awesome art, and letting them see how awesome your art is."

She smiled at him. He drummed his fingers on his desk. "I suppose that could be beneficial to my artistic progress."

"Great. We meet on Tuesdays, and—"

The wall exploded. Damian dived, narrowly dodging a flying chunk of debris. Screams tore through the air as the dust cleared, revealing a purple-suited man hovering in the gaping hole.

"Cower before me, children!" he cried. "It is I, Beta, in my second villainous appearance! With my newly begotten magic, I shall take this school hostage until my arch-nemesis comes. Tweet away! I need him to see this."

Damian's classmates continued screaming, scrabbling over each other for the exit. The room was littered with debris, but no one seemed seriously injured. If only he was wearing his suit underneath. Perhaps Jon's method was right all along.

"Come out, come out, Robin!" Beta sent a purple blast into the motivational cat posters.

Damian crawled towards a desk, taking refuge in the shadows. What a buffoon. In the daytime, you were never going to get Robin.

The classroom lights flared and Beta wheeled back, pressing his hands to his eyes. "Argh! What's this?"

"Gee, I dunno." Duke swung in through the hole and landed on a desk. "Maybe it's a signal you should retire."

"You," Beta snarled. "I will not be defeated twice! I—"

Duke hurled his escrima stick. It struck Beta's head perfectly, sending him tumbling onto the ruins of the wall. Duke hopped over and poked him.

"Out cold," he said. "Everything's safe, guys."

The few stragglers rose from their hiding places. Erica stood up a few feet from Damian.

"Are you alright?" he asked, picking his way over to her.

She touched her cheek, where a red line marred the dark skin. "A bit cut up, but fine. What about you?"

"Likewise."

"Oh ho ho?" Damian froze. The yellow of Duke's suit glinted harshly in the lights, touching down on the desk beside Erica. Duke grinned like a maniac. "What do we have here?"

"Nothing," Damian said quickly. "We are safe. You can go now, Signal."

Signal looked Erica up and down. "What's your name?"

"Uh, Erica?"

"Hi. Name's Signal." Duke jumped off the desk and skipped over to Damian. "I don't say this about a lot of civilians, but Damian Wayne here is a fine specimen. I've helped him out of many kidnappings, so you could say we're close. He's, like, perfect prom partner material."

Erica stared. "I'm sorry?"

"Signal," Damian ground out, "you should get out of here before a certain someone reneges his vow not to kill."

"What a character," Duke said, slapping Damian on the back.

"I'll just, uh." Erica pointed to the exit.

"Oh come on," Signal said, "you aren't going to give my favourite civilian a chance?"

Damian turned his head. "I thought Todd was your favourite," he murmured.

"Well, he's a favourite, for sure." Duke patted Damian's shoulder. "But you're the favourite, y'know?"

Damian's cheeks warmed. He almost missed the whispers at the back of the classroom, Nat's nasal voice going, "holy shit. Is Damian Wayne dating the Signal?"

****

"No," Damian said.

Richard held up the newspaper. "I just—"

"I refuse to discuss meaningless gossip."

"It's not meaningless," Richard said. He pointed to the headline: Gotham's Son and Gotham's Sun: Damian Wayne and The Signal, Star-Crossed Lovers?. "That's like a whole novel in itself."

"You're just jealous you never got a fake dating scandal," Duke said, scratching Ace's chin. Ace barked and wagged his tail.

"Revisionist history," Richard said. "Nightwing and Red Hood were the fake superhero it couple for a solid two years."

"You are both depraved," Damian said.

"Wow, demon. We agree on something for once."

Todd stood in Richard's doorway, helmet dangling from his fingers. His face was tight with anger.

"Jay," Richard said. "Before you get mad at me—"

"—Ship has sailed, Dickhead—"

"—Duke and Damian really are sorry about texting Rose, and for eavesdropping. I think you should hear them out."

"So you lure me to your apartment and ambush me?" Todd scoffed. "Learnt that one from Bruce, huh?"

Richard's face twisted. "Don't go there."

"Jason," Duke said, holding both hands out. "I'm really sorry. I just—Damian, would you?"

Damian pointed at Todd and said, "go, boy."

Ace yelped and scampered towards Todd. Around his neck hung a glittery handcrafted sign: IT'S OKAY TO BE ACE!

"What the fuck," Todd said.

Damian popped the confetti cannon, rainbow strips of paper exploding across Richard's living room. Richard waved a tiny flag with black, grey, white, and purple stripes. Truthfully Damian had no clue what any of this meant, but if Richard and Duke both wanted to celebrate something, then it must be worth celebrating.

"And I got your favourite meal," Duke said. He lifted a loaf of rainbow swirl bread from the table.

Todd's eye twitched. His lips followed suit, and he let out the smallest, barest chuckle. "You're all the worst."

Duke held out the bread, shifting nervously. Todd took it, tore off a piece, and stuffed it in his mouth. Then he put the bread down and opened his arms. Duke barrelled over, crashing into him. The entire room filled with light.

Duke loved Todd, but that was okay. Because Duke loved Damian too. Because, as Jacob Black said, it was possible to love more than one person at a time. Damian turned to Richard, who was already watching him, smiling.

"Thanks for helping out with Ace," Richard said. "And for what you did for Cass and Steph. Cass didn't tell me everything, but she said you, Duke, and Tim got them together."

"It was simple," Damian said. He dug his hands into his pockets. "Besides, it was partially my fault they were not together. I'm—sorry, Richard. For not listening to you about Todd."

"Don't be." Richard stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I should've explained better. If I'd handled things properly, we could've avoided it all."

"It wasn't your fault."

Richard's smile grew sad. "You don't have to defend me, Damian. Sometimes I make mistakes. Especially with you."

"You've never done anything wrong," he insisted. "You believed in me, when no one else did. You stayed by me, and taught me to be a hero. You taught me to be good."

"No." Richard knelt, cupping Damian's face. "I taught you to throw a batarang or two, sure. But your heart? You didn't get it from me, or Talia, or Bruce. That's all you. It's always been you."

Another burst of confetti showered the air as Duke popped the remaining cannons. A couple strips landed in Richard's hair, and Damian swept them off, the strips twirling to the floor.

"I love you," Damian said.

"I love you too, kiddo," Richard said. "Don't ever doubt it."

****

The Gotham Public Gardens were still recovering from the last Poison Ivy attack. Overgrown weeds choked the trees, and strange scarlet thorns jutted from the soil. Damian leapt over an ominous-looking hole, while Jon walked straight through the thorns, munching on a chocolate bar.

"There they are," Damian said, gesturing at two people standing by the broken fountain.

"Remind me again who they are?"

"Kyle and Maps Mizoguchi, brother and sister." Damian handed Jon a check. "Give this to the brother."

"Uh, why?"

"I owe him reparations," Damian said. "I may have orchestrated some events that were unpleasant for him."

Jon blinked. "That literally tells me nothing."

"Just do it."

"And you can't do it because—?"

"Because I am less personable than you," Damian grumbled.

"That's true." Jon smirked. "I'm glad you're finally admitting I'm better than you at something."

"This is the only thing, and it is of such trivial importance that I chose not to beat you at it."

"I also beat you at ping pong."

"Your superspeed disqualifies you from any sports—"

"Oh my gosh, Damian?" They'd come nearer to the fountain than Damian had realised. Maps Mizoguchi ran over to them, eyes bright. "It is you! It's been so long, hasn't it?"

"Do not touch me," Damian said, sidestepping her hug.

"I see you're still a grouch," she said.

"He'll never grow out of it." Jon held out a hand. "Name's Jon, by the way. Damian's best friend."

"Maps," she said, shaking his hand vigorously. "Damian's coolest friend."

Kyle walked towards them. "Where'd you go, Maps?"

"Hi, Kyle," Jon said, smiling. "Here you go." He handed over the check.

Kyle gaped. "Is this a prank?"

"It is a legitimate check," Damian said, "signed by my father. Use it as you wish."

"How much money is it?" Maps clung onto Kyle's arm. "You can finally get me the prototype grappling gun on Etsy! Oh, and the first-edition Robin figurine!"

"Are you sure this is for us?" Kyle asked.

"Of course," Damian said. "Consider it recompense for... for being my friend."

Maps beamed. "Accept it, Kyle. Damian's just like this. It's easier if you roll with the punches."

"Uh, thank you. So much." Kyle slipped the check into his bag. "Let's go cash this in, Maps. I don't like walking around with this much money."

Maps waved at them. "It was nice meeting you, Jon. And Damian, don't be a stranger, 'kay? I still think we make a pretty good team."

"I'll be in touch," Damian said, watching as they disappeared down the cobbled path.

"Well," Jon said. "She's cute."

Damian groaned. "Do not. I get enough from my brothers."

"What's this about you dating the Signal, anyway?"

"It is libel," Damian said hotly. "I am going to convince Father to sue."

Jon laughed. Damian's stomach swooped, like Jon had taken him flying through the air. This definitely wasn't food poisoning. Now Damian's stomach felt hollow, like he'd made a terrible mistake.

"Damian? You alright?"

Jon's eyes shone with concern. Whatever else he was—whatever else he couldn't be—Jon was Damian's best friend. He loved him. Not the way Damian wanted him to, but still. Damian sucked in a deep breath.

"You said you and Nakamura were going to the opera tomorrow," he said. "Is there space for another person to come?"

"Another—" Jon lit up. "You really wanna come?"

"I suppose it's time we met."

"He's awesome," Jon said, grabbing Damian's shoulders. "He's so smart, just like you. And he can phase, which is so cool, and—"

"Alright," Damian said, rolling his eyes. "I get it. You love him."

Jon smiled. "I just want you guys to get along. Your opinion means a lot to me, you know."

"I know." Damian touched Jon's hand. "You—your opinion means a lot to me, too."

"Huh," Jon said. "You're being unusually sappy today."

"I'm preparing to annihilate you at ping pong."

"In your dreams, Wayne," Jon said. "But c'mon. Let's get back to the manor."

Damian leaned on his back, looping his arms around Jon's neck. His feet lifted off the grass as the wind picked up, making his stomach swoop. He closed his eyes and held on.

****

School had been closed since Beta's attack. On the art club group chat, Erica informed them that prom had been indefinitely postponed. Damian was the only one to not respond with some childish lamentation. He saw worse things on a nightly basis, after all.

Father still took him suit shopping on Wednesday, claiming suits were needed for many occasions. He let Damian pick out a thawb-inspired tuxedo, the black gown sweeping to his ankles. Despite Damian's threats, Richard had printed and stuck up pictures in his manor bedroom.

"Prom would have been boring, anyway," Damian said to Alfred. "Richard informed me that Carrie was not an accurate portrayal of proms."

Alfred stretched out his paws, yawning. He curled into a ball on Damian's lap.

"I wish you were here, Pennyworth." Damian stroked Alfred's head. "I wish I could tell you you were right. In the end, I make me. No one else."

"Talking to yourself again?"

Damian jumped, startling Alfred off his lap. Timothy stood in the open doorway, wearing a light blue tuxedo. "Did your mother never teach you to knock?" Damian asked.

"Did your mother never teach you not to speak ill of the dead?"

"She did not. We had a different conception of death in the League."

Timothy snorted. "I'm sure you did. Well, get up, peanut. Put on your suit and go downstairs."

"My suit?" Damian frowned. "I told Richard I'm not doing another photoshoot."

"Relax, Dick's out. You'll thank me for that later."

Damian narrowed his eyes. "You're up to something."

"Pot meet kettle," Timothy said. "C'mon. I know you're curious."

Damian huffed, going to grab his suit from the closet. He slipped on the thawb and ran downstairs, catching up to Timothy in the foyer. They walked side by side through the corridors, turning left and right until they reached the lesser-used ballroom.

Timothy thrust open the doors and music poured out, the thumping bass booming out of a wall of speakers. A disco ball hung from the ceiling, sending silver sparks flashing across the room. Golden cocktail tables ringed the dance floor. On the left wall, a long table bore punch, appetiser platters, and an incongruous plate of waffles.

"Welcome!" Stephanie ran towards them, her dress bedazzled with purple sequins. "You made it to the First Wayne and Wayne Adjacent But Teens Only Annual Ball Extravaganza!"

"FWWABTOABE for short," Duke said. His Love Island outfit and shades were an eyesore under the coloured lights.

"I'm also here," Gordon said, clothed normally by the food table. "I'm the adult chaperone, I guess." She took a sip of her likely alcoholic drink.

Damian swung on Timothy. "You set this up?"

"It was Steph's idea," Timothy said. "Duke and I helped with the decorations, and Cass stood in the corner looking pretty."

Cassandra waved from the corner, her red qipao embroidered with gold dragons. "I taught Duke the Charleston," she said.

"This is a lot," Damian said. "You didn't have to."

Gordon chuckled. "They all wanted to," she said. "Wouldn't leave me alone about it. You really are the baby of the family."

"I am not a baby."

The speakers switched to another song, one that went hoa hoa hoa hoa.

Stephanie squealed. "Duke, turn it up! Damian, you have to do your first dance to this."

"With me," Cassandra said, coming out of her corner.

"Uh uh," Duke said. "He's dancing with me ."

"I got him from his room, I have dibs," Timothy said. "I wanna step on his toes."

Damian shot him a glare. "I would not dance with you if you were the last person on Earth."

"I am the dancer," Cassandra said.

"I know the Charleston now, so—"

"Enough." Damian crossed the room, standing in front of Stephanie. "Stephanie Brown, will you dance with me?"

Stephanie took his outstretched hand, smiling. "I'd love to."

They swept onto the dance floor. Damian didn't really know how to dance—he'd tried, once, with Richard, but he'd ended up almost breaking Richard's foot. Stephanie went slow, guiding Damian's arms with her own. A sudden memory flashed through his mind, little more than a feeling: the sensation of his hands in someone else's, their movements guiding him through a similar dance.

The others joined them, Timothy with Duke, Cassandra with Gordon. Cassandra giggled as Gordon twirled her around. Timothy and Duke tried their best, but Timothy's astounding lack of rhythm kept interfering, culminating in Duke cussing him out for his "White boy dance moves".

"Cass, no!" Cassandra dipped Gordon too quickly, causing her to flop onto the floor.

"Whoops," Cassandra said.

Stephanie's gaze was utterly fond. "I can't believe that's my girlfriend."

"I cannot believe it, either."

"Hey!"

"For god's sake, Tim," Duke cried. "Left foot first !"

"I said no dipping," Gordon moaned, still slumped on the floor.

Damian shook his head. "They are hopeless."

"Yeah," Stephanie said, leading Damian through a box step. "We're so much better than them, aren't we?"

"We," Damian said, grinning up at her, "are the best."

****

Damian ran out the school doors, bouncing down the steps. Timothy and Duke were picking him up today, and they were all going to the trampoline park on Williamson Street. He'd never been to a trampoline park before. Timothy assured him it was much better than the single trampoline in their backyard.

As he sprinted down the lawn, a shiver ran up his spine. Someone was watching. He scanned the skyline, spotting the dark figure on a nearby rooftop. Slinking through the gate, he turned into an alley and scaled the fire escape.

She had her back to him. Her hair (his hair—her hair had always been his hair) blew to the side, the strands fluttering in the wind. There were no weapons in sight.

"Mother," Damian said.

She turned, her lips curving slightly. "Your senses are sharp as ever."

"I have kept up with your training regime," he said. "Just because you weren't here does not mean I forget."

"I know," she said. "Al Ghuls do not forget."

He looked down at his shoes, a spot of paint staining the leather. "What are you doing here?"

"Your father called. He said you could use a visit."

"You keep in touch with Father?"

"Sometimes." Her smile faded. "Sometimes I ask how you are doing. I hope you don't mind."

"Why would I mind?" he asked, frowning.

She shrugged, an uncharacteristic gesture. She was—uncomfortable. Because of him. Damian took a step back.

"Damian," she said, reaching out for a brief second. Then her arms fell back to her sides.

"Thank you for visiting," Damian said. "You can go now."

Her expression cracked. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't want it to go like this."

"If you don't want to be here—"

"Of course I do." Mother gripped her arm. "Of course I want to be here. But it's not about what I want. Someday, maybe—someday you might understand."

Damian was so tired of hearing that. "I know I am young, but I am not clueless. I know my upbringing was unconventional. I know you brought me here to escape Grandfather, and to give me a better life. I just don't know why you think a better life is one without you in it."

"My mission and your father's will never align, Damian. And you... made your choice. What word did you use?" Mother's lips twitched. "Ah, right. Cooler. You said your father is cooler than me."

"I was a child," Damian said, ducking his head.

"You've been happy here, haven't you? You seem happy. I've heard rumours about a new relationship?"

"Not you too," Damian said, exasperated. "It is all lies and slander, Mother."

"Still." She came forward, placing a finger under his chin. "The League is no place for love, Damian. I have paid for my own loves dearly."

"I'm not saying I want to go back. I'm saying you are not the League, Mother. I miss you. I wish you were around more often."

She didn't say anything, her touch light on his skin. A touch that would always be familiar.

"Did you ever teach me to dance?" Damian blurted out.

Mother's hand dropped. "You remember that?" she breathed.

"Al Ghuls do not forget." He reached forward, taking the hand that had touched his chin. "I would like to learn more, Mother. I would like to dance with you again."

She looked him in the eyes. "I wish you could have the family you deserve," she said.

Music blasted through the quiet. It was Timothy's favourite song, which he'd rigged up to his car horn.

"I do," Damian said. "I wouldn't change a thing."

She pulled him in, then, squeezing him tight. "I have to go, but I'll be back." She pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Then we can dance, my little love."

The sound of footsteps rattled up to the roof. Mother gave him one last smile before diving off the edge. Damian didn't bother watching her go—she was out of sight, by now. There was no need to wave goodbye. He would see her again.

"Ha!" Duke's head appeared. He hauled himself onto the roof. "Told you he'd be here."

Timothy climbed up after him. "You have past and future vision, you're still not a better detective than me."

"Excuses," Duke said. He came over to Damian. "Whatcha doin' up here, Dami?"

"Avoiding you two."

"Fine," Timothy said, "we'll go to the trampoline park without you."

Damian stomped his foot. "I'll tell Father!"

"That's a no-go," Duke said. "He's on one of his fake dates."

"He should just give up the playboy rep and be an emo recluse," Timothy said.

Damian tilted his head. Father had been single for a while, ever since his disastrous engagement with Catwoman. Yet they'd continued to flirt every night. Perhaps Father, too, needed some help.

"Damian?" Timothy glanced warily at him. "What's that look on your face?"

"I was thinking," Damian said.

Duke raised an eyebrow. "About?"

"About Father and Kyle."

"Oh," Timothy said, eyes gleaming. "Yes."

"What?" Duke asked, head swivelling between the two of them.

"Bruce and Selina," Timothy said, grinning. "Have you ever heard of the parent trap?"