Work Text:
Damian is a tough kid. There’s no doubt about that. He was raised in an assassin guild (it’s not a cult Drake, shut up), so naturally, he’s got thick skin. Taunts and jeers didn’t bother him, he knew his worth. He was the son of the Bat and the heir to the Demon afterall. Damian wasn’t bothered by insults, especially any thrown by the squaller at Gotham Academy.
Well. He used to be unbothered.
It had started small. An older boy, only two or three grades above him, started to jeer at him whenever they crossed paths in the halls. Simple insults, “freak,” “nerd,” and even “idiot” were thrown Damian’s way. Really, nothing that didn’t make the child look dumb for even daring to speak to Damian.
Steadily though, things… worsened. It was nothing too serious just, the insults increased in their intensity and frequency. Nothing Damian couldn’t handle! He was a Wayne and an al Ghul, a child of such low station could never affect him.
Except. Except what the older boy was saying could be considered true. If you really thought about it, Damian’s arrival to Gotham could be misconstrued by the public as his mother dumping him on his father. His prickly attitude towards others did come across as unbearable at times. No! That cannot be true. I am the blood son to Gotham’s richest man and protector, and, and I am entitled to act as such. This is how a proper heir acts, that heathen just does not know how to act.
That’s what Damian told himself for the weeks that passed. The older boy cornered him at the ends of hallways and on the courtyard, making sure Damian would hear what he had to say. How he knew that Damian’s brothers only put up with him because they had to. That Father was only taking care of him because his mother had dumped Damian on him and he didn’t want to look bad in front of Gotham’s elite.
Damian would try to squeeze past but he just wouldn’t let him go. If this were six months ago, Damian would have just nerve struck the boy and went about his day.
But it wasn’t. This was now and Damian couldn’t risk making any moves that might link him back to Robin. He could endanger his entire family, so that meant Damian was to not respond. Don’t get him wrong, he met cutting comment with cutting comment, but he wasn’t allowed to set the kid on his ass.
He didn’t tell his brothers or his father about the boy and his comments. Why would he? Damian would never willingly admit he was incompetent enough to be bothered by some insignificant whelp’s comments. He wasn’t a petulant child who could be upset by such drivel.
No matter what he told himself, it didn’t stop unruly thoughts from running rampant through his mind late at night. On nights where he’d pushed Timothy too far when insulting him, causing his older brother to leave the cave and retire to his Nest for the evening earlier than he planned. When he’d said something too hurtful that even Richard had a hurt look in his eye. When Todd was really annoyed at his bolstering and wouldn’t even show up to the cave at all.
Yes, it was night like these where Damian’s thoughts took control, holding him captive in his own doubts. Maybe they do just put up with me because they have to. Father would allow no less than complete respect from each of them for one another. Does… does Father even want me?
No matter how Damian tried to banish the thoughts, they refused to leave. He’d resolved to how they now took up space in his head, demanding a spot. Slowly, fiction became fact. The barbed comments of an older boy, just a stupid bully, had taken root. Now, a withering bush of roses grew, spreading the disease further and infecting everything it could latch onto.
How could I let such a plebeian affect me? This isn’t supposed to happen, I am supposed to be better, stronger.
Damian felt himself withdraw, felt himself stop making comments of any kind to his family. He saw the worried glances they shared when he didn’t rise to the bait Todd had set. It was better than them not being there at all.
School became a different kind of torture than it had been before. Before, he’d been bored and uninterested in interacting with the children who surrounded him. Now, the thought of just walking through the halls, the chance Damian might run into him made him physically ill. Today was no different. It was just another day at school, Friday to be exact.
Damian decided he’d stay later, help around the school. The cafeteria staff had been under more pressure since two workers had been seriously injured in the lastest two-face attack. Though, he’d never admit that he’d been helping for more reasons than just to cover the missing staff. No even to himself.
Why would I be here, expect to improve the efficiency of this hovel? I need no other reason. He was collapsing boxes near the back door with one of the older ladies. He repeated the words over and over in his mind, hoping fruitlessly they’d stick.
“Alrighty sweetie, I’m going to go take my break,” The short gray haired woman spoke, startling Damian from his work. She gave Damian a sweet smile as she made her way out of the back, presumably headed to the office down the hall. “Don’t work yourself too hard now.”
He kept his face impassive, nodding stiffly at the woman as he replied. “Yes ma’am. I was just about to leave anyway. I will finish the last of that pallet for you, so don’t worry about it. Have a good night.”
He sighed, feeling his cheeks redden with embarrassment. How could I have let that startle me? I am the son of the Bat. If Grandfather were to learn of my backslide, he would be ashamed.
Getting lost in his own thoughts, Damian stepped into the freezer for another box to unload and restock the shelves with. He’d just opened the deep freezer when he heard a noise that drew him away from his thoughts. Before he could react properly, he was being shoved through the open door.
Unsteady, Damian tripped and fell, but on his way down, he managed to get a glance at who had shoved him. It was him. The older boy. Damian felt himself freeze mid fall, landing on his side without much as an arm to cushion his fall. The boy had never hit him before. He’d never touched Damian. It was all too much.
He felt his head hit the floor, eyes fluttering as he tried to push back the star bursts of pain that erupted from his head and shoulder. He heard laughter and the door slamming shut, then darkness.
When he woke, his head was throbbing and so were his fingertips. Damon brought his fingers up to hold his forehead, his fingers stinging as they kissed the cool skin of his temples. He couldn’t have been in there long. Signs of hypothermia or extreme cold exposure would have set in by now.
Struggling to stand up, Damian used the metal rack that held all the food to try and prop himself up. Dizziness hit him like a semi truck. He used the metal rack as a crutch, guiding himself to the deep freezer door.
He tried to push the door open. It wouldn’t budge. Shit.
The door didn’t have a lock on it for situations like these. The boy must have pushed something in front of the door. Normally, Damian would be able to push past it, having strength from patrolling and training. That was not how it was going now. With his head scrambled, his shoulder aching, Damian couldn’t push too hard or he’d risk vomiting and passing out again.
Damian looked around, breath visible in front of him as he panted. How do I get out of this? All his searching eyes found were boxes upon boxes of food. Mashed potatoes aren’t going to help me break this door open.
Checking his pockets for his phone, he found them empty. Damian cursed, more of his weight leaning against the metal rack as he struggled to stay up right. He’d set his phone down on a table outside because it kept getting in the way, swinging in his pocket with each movement.
For a brief second, the thought of calling Jon to help him crossed his mind. Damian flushed red with embarrassment. I’m not so helpless that I’d need Kent to get me out of this. I can do this. Damian continued to search for something to pry open the doors. If I can’t get out of this on my own… how can I even call myself a vigilante?
—
An hour later, Damian sits shivering in a corner. He in fact did not find a way out of the room. About 45 minutes in, a cold rash had started on his fingertips, spreading to his palms and was now steadily making its way up his forearms.
Damian sits, huddled up in the back corner of the freezer. He hugs himself to keep warm, trying to preserve any kind of body heat he can grasp onto. His core was starting to feel warm, but he suspected that wasn’t a good kind of warmth.
Minutes passed. It started small, spreading slowly through each appendage. It was there, at the back of Damian’s mind until it was everywhere. Filling Damian with a warmth so hot it felt like a million stars had been born with his nerves at their cores.
In his pain, he didn’t realize he was muttering. He didn’t realize it until the door to the freezer gave a loud groan. Looking up through puffs of crystalized breaths, Damian saw the deep freezer door barely hanging on by its hinges. And something else, something moving towards him quickly.
Bleary eyed, he couldn’t make out what it was but all his mind was telling him was Danger! Danger! Get away! Pushing himself further into the corner, Damian tried to get away from the red and blue object slowly approaching him.
“-main, Damian, it’s just me. It’s Jon,” It spoke, a soothing tone washing over Damian’s razor sharp panic. As it got closer, features were becoming clearer. The red and the blue distinguished themselves, transforming into an S on the things chest. Looking up, his green eyes locked with blue ones.
“I heard you call my name, are you okay?” Jon raised his hands almost placatingly. Damian involuntarily shrank in on himself, his body trying to shield itself despite knowing this was an ally. “You’re not looking too hot.”
When Damian didn’t roll his eyes at the pun, Jon’s face changed. “Damian, I’m going to pick you up and bring you home. I’ve got to touch you to do that, is that alright?”
At the mention of home, Damian’s drooping eyes widened. Without his regular inhibitions, he let his head nod. The movement was so violent it almost gave him whiplash, the jostling already making his nauseousness rear its ugly head.
Without another wasted second, Jon scoops Damian up and zooms out of the building, placing a hand on the back of the boy’s head to keep him from actually getting whiplash. Launching into the sky, Damian saw Gotham Academy getting smaller and smaller. Soon, he saw Wayne Manor coming into view.
Home, Damian closed his eyes, the exhaustion finally getting the better of him. I’m Home.