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Damian didn’t know what to make of the canine when first introduced.
He wasn’t sure what Bruce’s intentions were when he had gifted the puppy to him. It seemed like a strange move to make, as if Bruce was testing him. Yes, that had to be it. Bruce wanted to see if Damian would be weakened by such a small creature. If Damian would be a liability when confronted with the pure innocence of an animal. If it would cause him to abandon his training and leave himself vulnerable to attack.
Damian would not be seen as weak.
He was strict with Titus. Focused on training him to sit or stay or heel as soon as reasonably feasible. Breakfast and dinner were always at the exact same time, and Titus was never allowed on the furniture at first. He would walk Titus the same route around Gotham in the mornings to ensure he got his needed exercise. He even took Titus to the dog park eventually to ensure Titus was appropriately socialised with other dogs and people. He was not cruel, never cruel. There was no reason to be. Damian simply made sure to be emotionally distant from Titus, as he was with everyone else.
Yes, Damian always had an affinity for animals. They were fascinating, and less complicated than people. But the League never allowed him any pets. They were seen as a neutral force, ultimately harmless, but any attachment was an exploitable weak point. You don’t harm them so long as they don’t harm you or get in your way, and you don’t get too close. Damian had always planned that when he took his place as the head of the League, he would slowly introduce animal relations. He wasn’t exactly sure how, but he’d manage it. No one would be able to question him when his position was secured.
But, in the Wayne hierarchy, he hadn’t secured his place yet. So, he couldn’t indulge in the luxury of having pets just yet. Perhaps one day, just not yet.
That certainly didn’t stop Titus from trying to befriend him though.
Titus was an affectionate puppy, as most puppies are. Seeking attention, fuss, play. He seemed to slowly pick up on the fact that Damian wasn’t particularly affectionate, and gave him his space, finding other ways to entertain himself, or getting fuss from one of the other Waynes. He loved the dog park, and over time settled down from his over-hyper puppy nature into a calmer, more relaxed dog, now that he knew he didn’t have to investigate every scent, every sound. He knew he was safe with his owner.
Whenever Damian would come back from patrol or a mission in his Robin costume, Titus would greet him in the cave, nuzzling against him and sniffing him over, as if checking if he was alright. Damian found the behaviour somewhat strange, but didn’t think too much of it at the time.
He only really thought about it when Titus turned about two.
He had come back injured from a patrol with Bruce, a large gash on his upper left arm that had bled quite profusely. One of the goons had gotten the jump on him after he had charged in going after the ringleader of the criminal operation. And Bruce (after making sure Damian wasn’t going to bleed out) berated him whilst bandaging up his arm.
“You were reckless tonight. You need to learn to wait and think before acting.”
“You weren’t doing anything!”
“I was waiting for the right moment. Which is what you should have done. You’re benched until you can learn patience.”
“What? Father-”
“Enough.”
Bruce tied off the bandage and stepped back.
“You are benched. That is final.”
And before Damian can get out another word, Bruce storms out of the med-bay, leaving Damian in silence. He isn’t sure how long he sits there, turning over both the events of the night and Bruce’s words in his head. He knew he had to earn his place here, and now that was clearly under threat.
He didn’t want to go back to the League. Not yet.
He had to prove himself worthy not only as heir to the League, but the only blood heir to the Wayne family. If he went back to the League a failure, only gods know what they would do with him. They don’t show any mercy to failures.
But how could he prove himself if he was benched?
This had to be the beginning of the end. A way to force Damian to slowly withdraw from the family. Subtly push him out and make him go back. He knew he wasn’t wanted here, but he thought Bruce at least tolerated him. How could he have gotten it so wrong?
Damian continues to sit there, entirely unaware of the world around him, the tears that have begun rolling down his cheeks, falling further and further down his spiral. He doesn’t notice anything else, until he feels a pressure in his lap, gentle scratching at his legs.
He blinks, and looks down to see Titus with his front paws resting on Damian’s legs, tail thumping on the floor, and looking at him very intently.
“Titus, down.”
Titus, ignoring Damian, instead hops up onto the cot bed Damian is sat on.
“Titus!”
Titus lays himself across Damian’s lap, pushing his head under Damian’s hand and making himself comfortable, before giving Damian a look as if to say what are you going to do about it?
Damian huffs, but gives Titus some pets. He feels himself slowly tuning into the world around him, the cool temperature of the cave, the hum of the electricity and someone typing away on the bat computer, the feel of Titus’ fur beneath his fingers. Titus is softer than Damian realised.
Shortly after, he is interrupted by Alfred entering the med-bay.
“Master Damian? I heard Titus barking. Is everything-”
Damian looks up at Alfred, and Alfred’s face turns to an expression Damian can’t quite place.
“Whatever is the matter? Here, let me get you some tissues.”
“Tissues? I do not need tissues. I am fine, Pennyworth.”
“You have been crying, master Damian.”
Damian brings a hand to his face, and is shocked when it comes back wet. Alfred hands him the tissues he silently takes.
“I see Titus kept you company. They say some dogs have an intuition for these things, you know.”
Damian looks down at Titus, who looks back up at him with what Damian can only read as a happy expression, his tail wagging gently.
“Yes. I suppose Titus has that intuition.”
“Indeed. Now, what made you so upset?”
Damian did research into dog’s ability to sense human emotions and act accordingly after that incident. He learned about service dogs, emotional support dogs, and the tasks that they could be trained to do, helping people with all sorts of conditions and needs. It was incredible that a dog could be trained to do such a thing.
So, what else to do but train Titus?
To be fair to Titus, the dog didn’t need much training. Any time Damian gave any external signal of distress, or if he simply was still for too long, Titus was there, nudging him softly, licking his hand, barking, or even going to one of the other family members and bringing them to Damian. It was amazing. He also trained Titus in deep pressure therapy, fetching various objects, tracking with scent, whatever Damian thought might be useful for Titus to know. And Titus took to it all like a complete and utter natural.
It became rare for Titus to leave Damian’s side. Even at galas, Titus would be there, following Damian obediently. As a precaution, Damian put a do not pet vest on Titus for these galas, and thankfully this was respected most of the time. So, whenever Damian snuck away because there was too much noise, or he needed a breath, Titus was there, ready to keep him company and give him comfort. No one questioned it very much when they found Damian laying down on the ground with Titus on top of him, simply seeing a boy cuddling his pet dog.
Damian had no intention of telling anyone else that Titus was trained in such tasks. He didn’t want to admit to both needing and enjoying that support. They might figure it out on their own eventually. They might not. Either way, Damian was happy to keep it quiet.
And Titus was the best secret keeper.