Chapter Text
Deep in the overgrown corner of the Wayne estate, hidden behind a weeping willow and a high-tech holographic shroud, sat "The Eyrie". It was Damian’s private sanctuary, a reinforced, underground bunker he’d built himself so he could have one square inch of Gotham that didn’t smell like his father’s brooding.
"If a single crumb of those nacho chips touches my Japanese floor mats, Batson, I will use your cape as a mop," Damian warned, sliding the heavy steel door shut.
The Eyrie was peak Damian: floor to ceiling bookshelves, a state-of-the-art kendo floor, a wall of katanas, and much to everyone's surprise a very fluffy bed for his cat, Alfred the Second.
"Relax, D," Jon said, hovering near the ceiling to avoid the "no shoes on the mat" rule. "This place is awesome. It’s like the Batcave, but without the giant mechanical dinosaur staring judge-ily at us."
Billy was already in the corner, staring at a shelf of ancient scrolls. "Are these... actual ninja secrets? Or just your diary?"
"Touch them and find out," Damian snapped, though he was busy laying out a series of high-protein, sugar-free snacks that absolutely no one wanted to eat.
Raven sat cross legged on a velvet meditation cushion, her eyes closed. "The silence here is... acceptable. Though I can feel the 'Sunshine Duo' vibrating with the need to do something stupid."
"I do NOT!" Jon and Billy shouted in unison.
By midnight, they were huddled in a circle playing a game Damian called "Strategy and Conquest"—essentially poker with more shouting. The stakes were high: whoever lost had to go into the Manor kitchen and steal Alfred’s secret stash of triple-chocolate biscuits without getting caught by Batman.
Jon was shamelessly using his X-ray vision to see the cards, and Raven was using her empathy to feel when Billy was bluffing. Despite the cheating, Damian won; he didn't need powers when he had a terrifyingly good poker face. After their miserabe lose Damian and Raven divided the losers punishment and the game was afoot.
"Go," Damian commanded, pointing a finger at Billy and Jon. "The biscuits are in the jar shaped like a porcelain bulldog. Avoid the pressure plates under the rug near the pantry. Father is... thorough."
Raven and Damian watched via the security feed as Jon and "Buff Billy" tiptoed through the manor like two elephants trying to be ninjas. They watched Jon freeze a laser sensor with his breath, only for Billy to accidentally knock over a vase with his cape.
"They're going to get caught," Raven murmured, leaning her head on Damian’s shoulder.
"Obviously," Damian sighed, but he didn't look annoyed. He looked... happy. "But watching them try is the entertainment."
An hour later, Jon and Billy burst back into the Eyrie, panting, clutching two jars of biscuits and one very confused-looking Bat-hound.
"We got the biscuits!" Jon cheered. "And Titus wanted to join the party!"
"You idiots," Damian said, though he was already reaching for a snack. "You left a trail of crumbs back to the willow tree."