Chapter Text
"So what is that thing?" Damian pointed at the garish equine mascot jumping up and down the sides of the court. It's shape was unnerving, with a static mesh mouth hole placed right underneath the horse's throat.
Some idiot's disembodied head rested behind the mesh, hooping and hollering as he played jokes and pranks on unsuspecting audience members. Damian was annoyed. Who designed such a horrifying costume? "Is that thing supposed to be a knight chess piece?"
He and his roommate, Colin, were at a Gotham Knights game. Damian had no interest in sports, aside from, maybe, studying the anatomy of athletes, but Colin had sworn up and down that it was an essential viewing experience for any Gothamite.
Damian wasn't a Gothamite, and didn't want to be, but here he was anyway.
"That's Knightly," Colin replied. The figure gyrated against one of the players and pretended to steal the hat of a referee. The viewers who where close to the court laughed and smiled at it's antics. "He's the team's moral support."
Damian frowned. "I thought the cheerleaders were here for that?"
"I mean they are, but—"
"Man, that line was so damn long! Colin, fuck rock-paper-scissors, you're going next time." A bright pink figure rushed into the aisle, bumping into him, knocking pieces of popcorn onto Damian's lap. She sighed loudly as she settled into the seat next to him, kicking her feet up.
"Tt. Maya!" Damian clicked his tongue as he covered his head, glaring at his friend as she slid past him to get back to her seat.
She smiled, a little sheepish. "Sorry, Dames." Her eyes fixed to a point on his head and her lips tightened, as if she was trying to hold in her laughter.
He sighed. "Spit it out already."
Colin's face was turning a little pink from trying to hold in his own giggles. "She got a little popcorn in your hair, man."
Damian rolled his eyes as he felt around for the kernels, dusting them off and flicking them onto his companions. Maya giggled, dodging the stray pieces while Colin caught a couple in his mouth, the heathen.
"Disgusting." Damian sniffed, even though he was secretly impressed by the other's skill.
Colin shrugged. "Five second rule."
"That is not how that concept works."
Again, the redhead shrugged, reaching into the bucket in Maya's lap for more, ignoring her cackles. "This is a huge bucket, Yaya. Was it, like, twenty dollars or some shit?"
She groaned, loudly. "Dude! Felt like I was getting robbed at gunpoint or something! Twenty-five dollars for a medium bucket?! In this economy? Because it has the fuckin' Batman on it? Please!" She shook the offending item violently, sloshing it's contents around. Her death grip on the container left an indent in the caped crusader's face, leaving him misshapen upon release. Damian quirked his lips up, but said nothing.
"Careful," He caught a few pieces before they could fall, placing them back in the bucket. He pointed at Batman's face and tried to suppress the feeling of satisfaction at his smashed face. "You just spent your life savings on this." That earned him a smack on the shoulder, and Colin laughed even louder, leaning back in his seat.
"You're crazy for buying it." Colin laughed. "I told you to eat before. Dames and I did."
"Oh, yuck it up, Carrot Top," she mocked. Maya pulled the bucket closer to her, though, and was careful to make sure none of the kernels were spilling over the edge. "I get my check at the end of this week and I'll be raking in the dough."
"Of what," Damian smirked, "Two hundred dollars?"
"Better than nothing!" She exclaimed. "Some of us aren't nursing majors, Dames! The university doesn't suck our dicks! We're poor, starving liberal arts majors!"
"Gotham University certainly doesn't 'suck my dick'," he retorted, rolling his eyes. If only. He and Colin barely survived because they lived in one of the shittiest parts of the city. Between that, his loans, and his underground deal with a local clinic he was barely keeping his head afloat… "My clinicals are unpaid in one of the most overworked hospitals in the nation. If you want to trade places, you're certainly welcome."
Both Colin and Maya looked at each other.
"Nah, I'm cool with journalism."
"ComSci is stressful but not work at Mercy Med stressful." Colin paused. "Actually, dude, I'm kinda surprised you're even here right now. I mean I know I begged you to come here, but like…it feels like we only pass by each other these days. I'm going out, you're coming in, vice versa. Thought you'd be too busy to hang."
Damian paused, feeling a little sentimental. Colin and Maya had been two of the first people he met after moving to Gotham for university. There'd been a time where he saw them everyday, and he relied on them like crazy to understand all the weird American shit—not to mention the Gotham shit that was its own can of worms. So he really did feel the same way. Maya was even more elusive to him, since their schedules shifted completely as they moved past their general credit requirements. But he wasn't going to just admit that. Their heads would get too big.
"I had a day off, so…"
Of course, Maya could see right through his stoic exterior. She was good at things like that. "Aw! Colin, he missed us!"
"He totally did," the other man smiled. " Y'know, everyone at Anime Club is wondering when you'll come back. I just tell 'em you're too busy saving Gotham."
Damian tried to hide his smile by taking a sip of the water he'd brought. Colin had introduced him to anime and dragged him to the club. He didn't expect to love it, but he did.
"You're so corny." Damian replied. "I'm just doing my job. My unpaid, extremely labor-intensive job." He emphasized, staring at Maya.
"Oh, boo-hoo," she teased, tossing her glossy, ebony hair over her shoulder. Her eyes, a deep brown, twinkled with mischief. "You've got one more year of slave labor and then you'll be making six-figures easy. I heard people at Thomas Wayne Medical Center get paid crazy money. Even the janitors, man. The janitors."
Colin nodded. "That's 'cuz it's funded by the Wayne Foundation. Girl I grew up with got a job there right after she aged out of the system, changing sheets and bedpans. They paid for her schooling, got her housing, daycare, whatever she needed. I see her on socials sometimes; she's living real good now."
"See, that's what billionaires are supposed to do," Maya said firmly, slamming her fist on the armrest, sending little kernels of popcorn falling between the seats. There were a few people who looked at them, but they were so high up in the nosebleeds that her outburst largely went ignored. "Bruce Wayne has all that fucking money and what does he do? He gives back! He changes lives! He's funny! Lex Luthor could never."
"What happened to 'there's no such thing as an ethical billionaire'?" Damian mocked.
"I can't make an exception for Bruce Wayne, Gotham's patron saint?" She blustered. "I mean he's practically the city's daytime mascot! Hello! Look at who's stadium we're in! The WE-Dome!"
W.E, for Wayne Enterprises, of course.
Colin leaned in conspiratorially. "…she just thinks he's hot."
Damian wrinkled his nose, and gave Maya a incredulous stare. "Hot?" He couldn't even hide his full body revulsion. Again, his eyes wandered to the dented bucket. "…Really?"
"It's mostly 'cause he's generous!" She said, her voice hurried. She fanned her face a little. "He's very generous…and a little hot. Like a silver fox, y'know?"
"Tt. I really don't know." He sighed, long-suffering. And he didn't want to, either. "You do not think of Luthor this way, Maya. I have heard you complain about the egregiously rich too many times. Wayne is cut from the same cloth."
"Luthor's a narc…and he's bald." Maya shuddered, hugging herself dramatically.
"Is being bald worse than being a narcissist?" Colin asked.
She rolled her eyes. "I think being a bald narcissist isn't doing Luthor any favors. Now, Bruce Wayne, I dunno Dames, I just don't agree. That man is good. He's always done what he could for Gotham. Like, do you know him or something? 'Cause I've never met someone hate him as much as you do."
No, I've never met him and I never want to. Damian thought viciously. He glanced at the bucket again, but Maya's thumb covered the vigilante's face.
"I am not blind," Damian snapped, unable to hold his temper. Maya widened her eyes a bit and then narrowed them. She was never one to back down from a fight, and as much as he admired that about her, that wasn't how he wanted to spend his day off. Still, he couldn't help himself.
"A rich, philandering man who sleeps with anything that walks. A man who always adopts little boys who look exactly like him? Who always have some kind of suspicious tragedy occur? Please, Maya, even you aren't that naive. The charity is a cover up. Something sinister is behind that man."
Maya opened her mouth—presumably to defend Wayne, for some unknown, unfathomable, undeserving reason—but Colin interrupted, his voice gentle and slow.
"Dames, I know you have like, some weird hang up about Wayne, but even you have to admit that he isn't exactly like those other bastards." Colin pulled out his phone, tapping on TikTok and typing in Bruce Wayne. He scrolled past a few thumbnails before tapping on one that seemed to be from years ago. He was standing beside some socialite when he tripped over her dress train and sent a chocolate fountain sprawling through the air.
"Can a guy this silly really be so bad?"
Yes, Damian thinks, because it's a lie, because he's playing a character, and you've all fucking fallen for it.
He tries to ground himself, digging his nails into his palm, picking idly. What did Damian know of the whims of the rich and famous? He was thinking of Before, again.
He was in After, now. Damian of After has no such concerns.
After Damian is a broke international nursing student trying to piece his life together, one step at a time. His past is irrelevant. His present is the only thing that maters. The only thing.
He's hovering over a bubbling pit of something. It hisses at him, and he's scared he's so scared he's so scared but he can't be because he can't be scared because he needs it because being scared is not allowed. They're shoving him under and he's clawing at anything to get up but he can't move and it hurts so badly it hurts more than anything he's ever experienced. He's screaming, it's getting in his mouth, his eyes, his everything. his flesh is burning off, it's coming apart, it's coming together—
"You know Dames only has art on his feed."
Damian snaps back to the conversation at the mention of his name, blinking slowly.
"What?" He says, but the two continue going back and forth. His mind feels a little like sludge now, and he's missing a few words, Colin's thick Gotham accent becoming unintelligible. Damian blinks, trying to get his bearings as subtly as he can. Before flickers behind his eyelids. He's desperate for a distraction, so he stares at Knightly, prancing around like a fool. He cheers as the team scores. Damian takes a little breath. After.
"…What did you say?"
She clicked her tongue. "I was saying that Colin," she stressed the C and N sounds, "should stop acting like you'd get memes, because your feed is probably: my thirty day oil-painting challenge, how to crochet a puffer fish, and 'milking my three horses on my family's ranch'."
"You can't milk a horse, Maya," he snapped, feeling exposed and drained. He had spent his morning watching a family deliver a foal.
"Obviously. But if you could, I know you'd watch, Dr. Doolittle."
"Honestly, it's surprising that you aren't a vet," Colin mused. "You love animals so much; you'd think you'd want to work with them professionally. But I guess humans are just really big animals, so it's not that bad."
She nodded. "You definitely get paid more. Big game."
"True," Colin replied.
"It's actually worse," Damian muttered, "because humans can talk."
"Shit, if I knew I wouldn't throw up or be absolutely disgusted at the sight of blood and shit," and Damian swallowed, digging his nails deeper, "I'd do it in a heartbeat!" Maya exclaimed, "But I know myself, and I know I fuckin' can't wipe someone's ass, man. I just can't."
"It's really not that big of a deal," Damian replied, subdued. "They can't do it, so I do. It's service." Atonement.
Colin whistled at him, smiling. "…Dude, I forget how sweet you can be. You always look so grumpy; it's kinda crazy that you want to work with kids. I didn't think you had the patience."
Maya reached out to pull his cheek, and he jerked away, swatting at her hand.
"There's nothing crazy about it." He murmured. The thought of her touch was driving him up the wall. He hated it too, because he loved Maya's hugs, her playful head pats—but right now, it just felt like way too much. "And I deal with you two all the time; I'm practically a saint."
"That's because he's secretly a sweetie, C. No one but us knows that Damian has the softest heart ever."
Incorrect. Damian's heart was as decrepit as Gotham's sewer system. "Shut up, Ducard."
"Look, look, now he's doing that—that dere thing you two talk about. Y'know, the anime thing?"
"Tsundere!" Colin shouted, face alight with glee.
"Tsundere!?" Damian gasped, his face slack with horror. Colin turned to face his friend, his cheeks red with laughter.
"Oh, dude. You totally, totally are. You act all tough on the outside, but on the inside you're a total tsundere."
Pouting was beneath Damian. "I knew I should have just stayed home today."
"Aw, we love you two Dames. Best friends forever, friendship is magic, all that jazz." Maya crooned, attempting to push her big head into Damian's neck for some kind of abhorrent snuggle-hug. He pushed her away aggressively and exaggeratedly, rolling his eyes. Anything to hide the faint trembling in his hands as he settled back into his seat.
Half-time rolled around with it's usual fan-fare.
By that time, Damian had settled down enough to regain some semblance of his earlier mood, but he still felt the faint unease of remembering Before. He was determined not to let it ruin his good mood, however. For once, Damian just wanted to be happy.
The dance team led with a peppy, upbeat performance that the crowd had absolutely loved. Even he found himself nodding along. Damian knew that Maya was a huge fan of K-Pop, but he had no idea she'd memorized the dances for the Knights' Cheer Team. She stood in her chair and hooped and hollered at the top of the stadium to her heart's content as she followed along.
Colin got roped into swaying back and forth with her, awkward with his two left feet, but no less enthusiastic. Damian covertly took a picture of them swaying back and forth and bobbed his head to the music—Black Canary's 'Fish Out of Water' was a classic.
As the performance ended, the cheerleaders were ushered off the court and the announcer began speaking.
"Once again, give it up for our lovely cheerleaders, everyone! They stole the show, as always!"
The stadium erupted in cheers, and Maya cheered just as loudly while he and Colin clapped.
"Now, for the second portion of half-time, and everyone's favorite—ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please direct your eyes to the jumbo screen. Now that our players are taking a rest it's time for you all to become the star of the show!"
"Ooh, ooh!" Maya jumped up and down, settling into her seat. "I love this part of halftime."
"Why'd you sit down?" Damian asked. "I thought you'd be jumping up, trying to get the camera's attention."
"I just gave you the performance of a lifetime. Can't a girl rest?"
The brightly colored SFX of the jumbo-tron cycled through the Kiss Cam, showing a cute elderly couple, two newly-weds, and humorously, two siblings who furiously shook their heads on camera while the stadium roared with laughter. Then came the Cutest Kid Cam, and that made everyone coo and croon. Damian raised his eyebrow at their antics, but didn't object: it made for better entertainment than Knightly.
"Now weren't those kids adorable? Last, but certainly not least, we've got a special treat for you all tonight! It's time for the Celebrity Lookalike Cam! Who around us has what it takes to be a secret star—or just parade as one?"
Damian watched as the camera cycled through celebrities—some blond guy who kinda looked like Leonardo DiCaprio, a woman who looked like Wonder Woman, etc. He really hadn't been paying attention.
A fatal mistake.
"What about our own hometown celeb, Bruce Wayne?"
Damian was zoning out, thinking about how nice it was to hang out with Colin and Maya, how much work he had to do when he got back home, what medium he was going to use to paint the picture of Colin and Maya dancing when a voice shouted—
"Oh my God! Oh my God!"
And that voice was suspiciously close. Then, a second voice, just as shell-shocked:
"What the—"
Then, the both of them, simultaneously, right into both of his ears:
"You're on the screen!"
Damian, shocked into awareness, looked up at the jumbo-tron, and sure enough, there he was right next to a picture of Bruce Wayne. And it—it was—
Him, with his eyes wide, next to a perfectly airbrushed photograph of Bruce Wayne. Damian looked exhausted, with deep eye-bags and a furrowed brow. Damian's hoodie hung loosely from his frame, the G.U logo faded to hell. Wayne's effortless, picture perfect smile looked back at him. Wayne's suit was polished and clearly tailored; he oozed wealth and opulence from every pore.
We're nothing alike, he wanted to scream. Nothing, nothing at all, just look!
"Folks, talk about an exact copy! Look at that jawline. That is a Wayne jawline! Young man, you might want to get a DNA test! And for our city's pride and joy, you might want to add him to your will, ha ha. Anyway, that's all I've got tonight. Thanks for playing, Gotham. Tonight's game will resume momentarily."
Then the screen faded, with a five minute timer remaining on the screen until the players came out for the third quarter. Damian was left shell-shocked, blinking.
He'd been on the jumbo-tron. He'd been on the jumbo-tron for looking like Bruce Wayne. What were the fucking odds—they were in the fucking nosebleeds!
No one said anything, and Damian sat there, privately spiraling into a pit of despair. This was awful, horrible. What if she started looking for him again?
Damian thought he was going to be sick.
Maya peered at his face closely. "Colin, pull up a picture of Wayne again."
Colin nodded, quickly doing as she said and placing his phone side by side with Damian's head. He tried to swat it away, but his friend held firm.
"Is…is this why you're so anti-Wayne? Because this resemblance is crazy, dude." he whispered. "Dames…"
"You guys," he gritted, "they just did that for entertainment, I look nothing like him, we are totally different skin tones. I have a completely different eye color—"
"You have the exact same eyebrows," Maya said firmly, "and the announcer is right, your jawline is one to one. A jawline that sharp is not common, Dames."
"Models have them all the time."
Maya clicked her tongue, dangling the picture of Wayne in his face. "Even you aren't that naive," she mocked. "Wow. Think of the inheritance."
Damian tried to keep his reaction hidden, he couldn't help the way his face twitched. He looked at that damn bucket again. He laughed, earlier, at it's deformity, but now Damian was playing the fool, humiliated in front of thousands.
Inheritance? From a man who denied him at every turn?
He pushed Colin's phone away from his face. "It is a coincidence and only that. Don't read anything else into the situation, Ducard. I don't know who my parents are," he lied. "There is no way Bruce Wayne is my father. I wasn't even born in the U.S; I'm not even white."
"You could be mixed, like me!" She protested, holding her hands up in defense. "You being born here or overseas has nothing to do with it. I mean, honestly, it's seriously freaky how similar you two look. I think he'd actually do it, the test, I mean, he's pretty active on social media—"
"I don't want to fucking do it!" He screamed, standing up. The stadium fell into a hush around them, and he couldn't focus on anything else other than the rage growing in his chest. Fucking Bruce Wayne, fucking Batman, fucking Gotham. What the hell was he thinking moving here?
Starting over? In the city his sperm donor practically owned? Get fucking real.
"I want nothing to do with him! Just because you lost your fucking dad doesn't mean you have to insert yourself into my goddamn life—"
"Damian!"
Colin stood in between him and Maya. He looked disappointed and concerned, his eyes twitching between him, Maya, and the hundreds of stares that had accumulated around them. Damian even saw some people with their phones out, recording. Maya looked—hurt, betrayed in the worst way possible, her fists clenched tight.
Her father had only died two years ago.
See? Somewhere along the way, Damian's heart had atrophied. Probably at birth. He couldn't do this. It wasn't meant for things like him.
"You're causing a scene, man." Colin whispered. "Are you okay? You look—" Colin moved closer, but Damian backed away. The other man's face fell.
"Come on, let's all go outside. Cool off. Knights are going to lose anyway," Colin joked, pointing at the scoreboard, but it just fell flat.
"No," Damian said, shaking his head. No matter how much he tried to avoid it, this always happened to him. He had something good, and he fucking ruined it with his mouth, with his outbursts, with his everything.
Maya's face was tense and tight, and she didn't look at Damian. The good mood was utterly soured. He'd done that.
Good. See how it feels when someone pokes at you, constantly. He thought viciously. Still, the guilt pooled in his stomach. It hurt. She didn't know. How could she, when Damian never mentioned Before. How could he, when he didn't mention it to himself?
Damian bit his lip and looked away from her grief-stricken face. "I'm…leaving."
"Damian, wait," Colin called, moving towards him.
It was pointless; he was already running down the stairs and out the stadium doors.