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Damian slowly entered the homey kitchen of the restructured Penthouse, nervously tucking his gift behind his back.
John and Mary Grayson sat at the window with a small breakfast spread laid on the table in front of them, speaking too quietly to hear. They were faced away, watching Richard and Brand rib each other as they practiced on the trapeze equipment set up in the yard. They looked different from the photos Richard had shown him, older with more wrinkles and gray streaking through their hair.
Damian hesitated to greet them. He'd been in the house for maybe a month or two, and it remained difficult to stop viewing them as mythical figures in his mind. He still saw them as the world's greatest acrobats, the people who gave Richard his famously massive heart and beaming smile.
In no small way, they'd created Robin and Nightwing. They were the reason Richard called him "Little robin" or taught him acrobatics in the first place.
Put simply, it was nerve-wracking being in the same room as them.
Thankfully—or maybe unfortunately—Mary turned and noticed him before he could make up his mind to retreat.
"Damian, good morning!" She greeted loudly. (Damian had learned that was how Mary Grayson preferred to do most things, loudly.) "Come eat!"
John frowned curiously though, eye flickering to the paper tucked behind Damian's back. He placed a hand on Mary's arm, "Hold on, dear. I think he has something to show us."
"Oh?" She said, blinking with surprise.
Damian mustered up his courage and crossed the room.
He paused before he spoke, unsure of what to call them. He didn't know them that well so logic dictated he'd say, Graysons, or perhaps John and Mary, but that seemed a bit too informal for people as important as them. Richard had said that - while it wasn't mandatory - he could call them his grandparents if he wanted, but that felt wrong as well. (Not to mention embarrassing.)
After a moment he decided to forgo addressing them by name at all.
"I made something for you." He informed them stiffly, holding out the paper. He ruthlessly stomped down his nerves to little success.
John was the one who accepted it, flipping it over and tilting it so Mary could see as well.
Damian couldn't see it from this angle, though it didn't matter as he was already well acquainted with the image. It was a drawing of the three Flying Graysons in mid-air wearing their matching Robin-colored uniforms as if someone had taken a snapshot of them during their routine. They were all drawn as their current ages, a conscious decision on Damian's part as he heard Richard lament they only had photos together from when Richard was very young.
Both of them gasped at the same time when they saw it, and Damian desperately hoped that it was not a negative reaction.
Then Mary looked up at Damian with wet eyes and a wide grin, saying "It's beautiful!", and Damian discreetly let out a relieved breath.
John was similarly smiling, but his was more appraising and thoughtful, like he was discovering something new and wonderful about Damian.
"Thank you." He remarked genuinely. "You're a fabulous artist."
"Fabulous? More like stupendous! We'll have to frame this!" Mary interjected enthusiastically.
Damian's cheeks burned and he categorically ignored it, stifling a smile.
"You're welcome." He answered politely. "I'm glad you enjoy it."
Mentally marking his gift and ensuing interaction as a success he turned to leave, but before he could Mary spoke again.
"We have to show Dick this, he'll be over the moon!" She exclaimed, wasting no time as she opened the window and shouted out to the yard. "Dick! Come see this!"
Both Damian and John winced at the volume.
"Honey..." John said, still covering one of his ears.
"Ah, sorry." Mary apologized, smiling sheepishly.
A moment later Richard came running, still wearing his cerulean unitard. He slid open the back door, drenched in sweat and breathing hard from his exercise. Damian watched him enter with a growing sense of dread. He wished he could sink into the ground; this wasn't meant to be such an... event.
Mary stood and offered Richard the drawing, unknowing of Damian's inner distress. "Look at what your son made!"
Damian stiffened instinctively. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to them casually referring to him as Richard's son, even if it was true.
Richard wiped his palms on the legs on his unitard before carefully accepting the drawing with rapt attention. It takes less than a second for Richard to look at Damian with a bright smile.
"You made this? For us?" He asked, seemingly in disbelief.
"Tt. Clearly." Damian replied scathingly, too embarrassed and frazzled to catch his rude response before it could leave his tongue.
John and Mary looked surprised by his response, but Richard's thousand-watt smile didn't dim a lumen. In fact, he crossed the room and leaned over to plant a kiss on Damian's hair.
"Thank you so much. I love it." He said gratefully once he straightened back up.
Damian accepted the affection wordlessly, awkwardly unsure what to do.
Then Richard shared a significant look between him and his parents in another display of their strange Grayson-telepathy. Richard said it was awkward being around his parents at first but they'd slowly grown closer. Damian doesn't completely believe it with how effortlessly they fit together now. It's clear they're a family at first glance. Damian hardly resembles any of them and for some reason that thought always makes him feel... something complicated yet undeniably melancholic.
"Y'know," Richard starts, pulling Damian from his thoughts. "This is missing something though."
John nodded along, looking to Mary for confirmation as he commiserated. "You're right. A big component too."
Damian scowled, immediately wracking his brain for what he could've possibly missed. He's sure he drew their uniform as accurately as possible and he used a reference for all their faces and poses. Still he must've somehow ruined it. He ducked his head slightly as shame washed over him.
"My apolog—"
"Right?" Mary cut him off to say, agreeing with John and Richard. "You should be here too, little bird. The picture doesn't feel complete without you."
Damian snapped up, his eyes wide as he looked at all their sincere expressions. "What?" He asked, baffled.
"You're a Grayson too, Damian." Richard said simply, words hitting him like a train.
"I'm- I'm not—" Damian stuttered, utterly blindsided.
To call Damian a Grayson would doubtlessly be a lie, no matter how much he wanted that to be true. He wasn't bright or kind by nature, he couldn't effortlessly fly like them even if he'd been practicing. Not to mention how much blood was on his hands, marking him as a killer.
While they named him their family and Damian accepted the title of Richard's son, the Grayson name and all that it meant wasn't something that could be transferred through sentiment like that.
"You're not what?" Richard prodded gently once Damian fell silent, now kneeling to more easily meet his gaze. "Not one of us?"
"I'm not!" Damian snapped, anger sparking from seemingly nothing, surprising even Damian himself. "I'm not like you! I can't fly, I can't smile, I don't get along with anybody! I'm-... I'd ruin your name!"
John and Mary made distressed sounds just as Richard quickly cradled either side of his face, forcing Damian to meet his eyes. Richard has a stern expression that instantly silences Damian's frustrated whirlwind of thoughts.
"Did you have a choice, Damian?" He asks him. It's a question he's asked Damian countless times before, both in the After and the living world. At first as a way to convince him but now as a way to remind him.
Damian scowls, willing away the burning in his eyes. "Baba, it doesn't change any—"
"Did you have a choice?" Richard says again, shamelessly bulldozing over Damian's words.
Damian resists, stubbornly refusing to play along. He glares at Richard, kicking up a level of wordless hatred that he knows for a fact has made men flee at the sight of.
For a long ten seconds, Richard's face is unchanging. Damian's open vitriol nothing more than water off a duck's back to him.
On second fifteen, Damian breaks, looking away.
"No." He whispers under his breath.
Richard nods seriously, taking his answer in stride as if no stare-downs had ever occurred. "That's right. You didn't have a choice or an alternative or an idea of what you were doing. So what does that mean?"
Damian wrinkled his nose, cheeks burning red hot. Did Richard really have to do this in front of the Graysons? He must seem like such a child.
"It's not my fault." Damian muttered at minimum volume his voice would allow, turning his face away from view.
Richard tilted his ear towards him in an exaggerated motion. "Hm? What was that?"
Damian mentally cursed him out in every language he knew.
"It's not my fault!" He yelled flatly, his ears starting to burn now as well.
"Exactly, kiddo." Richard said, smiling approvingly. "None of what they made you do reflects on you or affects whether or not you deserve to be happy. And it definitely doesn't affect whether or not you're a Grayson."
"You're ours, little bird." Mary chimed in, a loving expression on her face and an infectious certainty in her tone. "That doesn't change no matter what's on your record."
"That is, if you want to be ours." John added calmly, looking at Damian inquiringly. "Do you want us to be your family?"
Damian squirmed as their eyes landed on him, still trying to absorb the bombardment of affection that Mary and Richard had inflicted upon him. He slowly looked over them all. John, who always seemed genuinely interested in whatever Damian had to say. Mary, who accepted him without a second thought, calling him a little bird as if he were nearly as innocent or endearing as one.
And Richard, who knew him better and loved him more than anyone else. His Batman, his Baba and the first person to ever happily claim Damian as their own.
Damian didn't think he would ever not wish they were his family.
He deflated a little, ducking his head as he nodded.
"You want to be our family, and we want you to be our family." John surmised softly. "So you are our family. It's as simple as that."
Damian reluctantly accepted his words. Maybe it was as simple as that...? All the things he did... didn't matter to Richard or his- his grandparents. Even if he was such an outlier among them, they still wanted him.
He took a deep breath and let it out, feeling like he still had a lot to think about.
"...Okay."
Bafflingly, all three Graysons let out relieved breaths, as if they were worried about his response.
"Great." Richard remarked elatedly, hugging him tightly. "You're a Grayson now."
Mary quickly knelt down to hug both him and Richard, eyes sparkling. "Great, Dickie?" She asked, kissing Richard on the temple. "More like perfect."
John joined in the hug from the other side, wrapping them all in his arms. "Thank you for being a part of our family." He said to Damian.
Damian nodded awkwardly, holding onto Richard a little tighter for support. "I- You're welcome."
After a few seconds he wriggled slightly, expecting them to have released him already by now. Richard instantly frowned, holding him tighter in silent protest.
John huffed out a wry laugh. "It's a Grayson family hug. You're going to be here for a while."
"Ah, I see." Damian remarked grimly, realizing this was exactly like one of Richard's 'octopus' hugs that lasted half a century.
John laughed at his response as if he said something funny. "Exactly. Now try living with two of them."
"Hey, you said you loved my hugs!" Richard protested with mock offense.
"You knew what you were getting into when you married me." Mary pointed out to John sharply, snuggling even closer to their group hug.
As John attempted to placate both his wife and son at once, Damian sighed mournfully.
He dropped his head onto Richard's chest, hiding away his slight smile. He supposes he'd better get used to this, seeing as he'll be dealing with it for a long, long time.
Dick stood in the hallway, transfixed by the new piece of art hanging on the wall.
It was all four of the Graysons, flying together as they were meant to.
"I love it, Dames." He told Damian, who was conspicuously watching him through the crack in his slightly ajar bedroom door.
Damian huffed as he fully opened his door, likely annoyed that he'd been found.
"Well, it's almost perfect." Dick continued.
Damian's scowl lightened as he curiously looked up at him. "What else is there to add?"
Dick pointed to the depiction of the Graysons. All their faces were lit up with smiles accurate to them. His mom's bright and toothy, his dad's close-lipped and content, and his own slightly lop-sided with dimples on his cheeks. But Damian didn't have a smile at all, an unnaturally calm look on his face, even as he vaulted into the air.
"Where's your feral smile?" He asked sadly.
"My smile is not feral." Damian refuted defensively, an offended look on his face as he crossed his arms.
"Yes, it is and I love it." Dick said through laughter, making sure he added the last part so Damian knew he didn't mean feral as an insult.
He quickly fished his phone out of his pocket, pulling up a favorited photo from ages ago when Dick was still Batman and showing it to Damian. It was a photo he'd taken of Damian on patrol, preparing to leap over the edge of a building. His lips were pulled back into his signature smug yet feral grin like he was daring the world to face him. How could Dick not love that smile?
Damian himself looked to be going through several stages of grief just looking at the photo. After a long couple of seconds, Damian looked up at Dick, looking like he'd bit into a lemon.
"...You want this in our family portrait?" He asked, skepticism and distaste tangible.
Dick allowed himself to internally celebrate Damian referring to them as his family for a split second before getting back on topic.
"Absolutely." He replied certainly.
Damian let out a long suffering sigh and clicked his tongue, shaking his head like Dick had done something immensely disappointing. Then he left his doorway, approaching Dick.
Dick wordlessly took the drawing off the wall and passed it to Damian. Damian unceremoniously snatched his phone as well. Dick started to protest, but Damian was already gone, having swiftly disappeared into his room.
The next day, the drawing was back up on the wall. Damian now sporting a sharp grin as he flew with his family.