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thejusticelounge2013-02-05 08:07 pm
bossymarmalade) wrote in thejusticelounge2013-02-05 08:07 pm
house call
The autumn breezes in Bludhaven don’t carry the same bite as the gusts that howl through Gotham at this time of the year. Damian notes the difference in temperature as he wheels his suitcase down the sidewalk to Grayson’s building, pressing the intercom until Grayson buzzes him upstairs.
It’s appalling, really, what a poor job Grayson does of caring for himself. Damian can’t understand why Father hasn’t insisted on moving Grayson back to the Manor permanently. Clearly he needs constant guidance and supervision, but Damian will have to provide what he can during his visit. “Hello, Grayson,” he greets him as the door swings open. Damian moves past him and into the apartment, leaving his suitcase in the foyer and carrying a small cooler to the kitchen.
“I brought several containers of Pennyworth’s soup,” he announces, opening the refrigerator to store them. “You musn’t eat anything else until you’re fully recovered. That means no cereal.”
Damian shoots a stern look over his shoulder, a look that brooks no dissent.
Dick just smiled and nodded, moving Damian’s suitcase into the living room. He’d tried his best to clean up…something. The living room was still cluttered, but at least the guest room had been made livable. He stood in the doorway, watching Damian load up his fridge, and clasped his hands, bracing himself for his announcement.
“Right. I’ll make sure to eat nothing but Alfred’s soup until it’s all gone. Now! I’ve made up the guest room for you, so you have your own place and connected bathroom. You can come out on patrol with me, and you can use any of my games or books or videos, just please don’t write in the books. Now, um, about Guy….”
He inhaled sharply through his teeth when Damian’s eyes narrow ever so slightly and, dammit, Damian looks a lot like Bruce. ”Guy is a part of my life now, Dami, now and hopefully for a long time. He’s going to be here often. Remember what we talked about? I need you to be civil, please.”
The dull buzz of running water suddenly stopped, and Dick paused, his whole body perking up like a curious bird, listening to the sounds coming from his bathroom.
Guy dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist, and gave his face a check in the partially steamed-up mirror. Dick was still on medical leave from the League due to his hand injury, and this weekend was supposed to just be the two of them: Guy spoiling Dick and waiting on his hand and foot, and Dick damn well letting him spoil him for a change.
And then Bruce just had to sabotage their plans. Not personally so that Guy could have backed up Dick in making him turn around and go back to Wayne manor, oh no, he’d been clever this time: he’d used the kid.
Dick would never send Damian away, and truthfully, Guy didn’t want him to; Damian had been abandoned enough, Ollie had at least been right about that, and any opportunity for Dick to be with Damian wasn’t something Guy would begrudge… well, okay, not entirely. Besides,Damian was going to have to get used to dealing with the fact that Guy was Dick’s other half, and that he wasn’t a threat to him or to Bruce or their ‘mission’.
He laid a hand on the bathroom door handle and walked out as he continue his thoughts; he wouldn’t lose his patience; he wouldn’t play by Damian’s rules. This was Dick’s home, and he wouldn’t be driven from it. Maybe they might even find some kind of middle ground? C’mon, Gardner, you’ve worked with kids for a living. This shouldn’t be hard, you can do this. Pull it together, it’s 7:45, the kid’ll be here in-… “Oh! Damian, hey…you’re early,” he looked to Dick in surprise, and laid a hand in the waist of the towel, making sure it was still in place and not in danger of slipping.
Careful, Gardner. He’s a Wayne, they can smell nervousness. Just maintain eye contact and don’t turn your back or he’ll pounce or something. ”Heard ya were comin’ over to help me look after Dick this weekend. I’m glad, I sure could use the help! How’re ya doing?” Good. Let him know you’re not leaving, he’s the new addition in the group setting, and he’s welcome to stay. Be the benevolent alpha male. This can work…
Damian’s nostrils flare slightly as he sniffs the air for fear, catching only spicy soap and aftershave.
Damn Lantern. Damn Grayson! Damian should have known his orders would be defied. He will not tolerate Gardner’s presence here in this small apartment where it’s impossible to avoid him. He will not! He grabs a knife from the wooden block on the counter out of instinct and holds it low, not necessarily intending to attack but comforted by the handle grasped in his fist. It’s only habitual, and he doesn’t struggle when Grayson swiftly disarms him. He barely notices at all, really, focused instead on Gardner in naught but a damp towel before him.
Damian can’t deny that he promised Grayson he would be civil when encountering Gardner, and loathe as he is to admit it, his insides writhe at the thought of eliciting that disapproving frown of Grayson’s, the one that has such mysterious power over him. So he’ll be civil. Oh, he’ll be perfectly civil, yes.
Crossing the void between Gardner and himself, Damian extends his hand. His face splits in a rare smile; Grayson being the person he knows who smiles most often, Damian has studied the expression, has practiced in the mirror to mimic Grayson’s smile as closely as he can in the event such an expression would serve his purposes. His eyes don’t crinkle at the corner quite the same, and the slate-colored irises are devoid of the melting blue tones that make Grayson’s so vibrant and warm. “Good evening, Gardner,” Damian says, giving his hand a firm shake, that cold facsimile of Grayson’s smile frozen on his face. “It’s lovely to see you.”
They were all going to have a perfectly splendid visit together.
Ohhhhhh shit. Shit, that’s not good.
He shook the hand back cautiously, and exchanged a look with Dick, then back at the very forced smile on Damian’s face. It was downright creepy. It reminded him of that socially inept character from Big Bang Theory, Sheldon Cooper, whenever he tried to fake empathy and kindness.
“Lovely, huh?” he asked, his face a combination of doubt, suspicion, and awkward amusement for a moment, then he played along. “Well, Damian, it’s good to see you too. I’m making vegetarian lasagne for dinner tonight, you seemed to like it when you were staying with me and Kyle. Excuse me, I’m gonna go change.” He gave Dick another ‘wtf?’ look, and disappeared into Dick’s bedroom.
Dick leaned against the counter, retrieved knife in hand, and sighed exasperatedly. He was just beginning to consider several ways of facepalming himself to death when Guy caught his eye and went off to dress. With another sigh, Dick put the knife back in the block and turned back to Damian.
“Dami, I don’t want you threatening Guy. That means no knives, no hitting, no kicking, no strangling, and no attacking of any kind, understood? Guy will be in my room, I’ve made up one for you so you don’t have to worry about us disturbing you.” Yeah, none of this was helping, damn it.
He bent down a little, smiling tightly. ”Why don’t we go set you up in your room, huh?”
Grayson’s commands are met with a nod and a meek, “Yes, Grayson.” Damian maintains his exaggerated cordiality throughout dinner, eating all of his vegetarian lasagna and complimenting Gardner’s culinary skill. He smiles, he sits up straight, he says please and thank you and plays the perfect little gentleman until they all retire to bed.
And then he waits.
An hour passes, enough time to allow Grayson and Gardner to fall asleep, and Damian creeps about the apartment to investigate. Gardner is bad in some way, Damian is certain of it, and he digs through couch cushions and takes fingerprints on the wall in his desperation to prove it.
A low voice from Grayson’s bedroom makes him start. At least one of the adults are awake. Perhaps they’re both awake, talking to each other in the darkness. The thought of them curled together, engaged in intimate conversation, makes something bubble inside Damian’s stomach. He goes to the kitchen sink and runs the tap, moistening his face with hot water to make his cheeks damp and feverish to the touch.
“Grayson,” he moans softly as he pushes the bedroom door open, light from the hallway spilling across the bed. “I don’t feel well. Please come sleep in my room with me.”
It wasn’t until they were in bed, slowly adjusting under the covers in a way that was becoming so wonderfully familiar, that Dick realized he hadn’t worn clothes to bed in a very, very long time. The nights were just starting to get cool again and, although usually he had his own personal huggable furnace in Guy, Dick found himself rifling through his bottom dresser drawer looking for sleep-pants. He really wouldn’t have bothered, even with the cold, but Damian was staying and Dick knew from experience how Damian had a habit of bursting into a room unannounced to catch him in the worst of positions.
They’d just moved off of the topic of Damian staying over (and Damian in general), when Damian opened the door of their — his — their — bedroom. Dick was halfway to Damian when a tiny voice piped up in the back of his mind, — that sounded like Barbara, oddly enough — chiming in about how Damian was just doing this to get Dick away from Guy and spend all his time and attention with Damian, and that he should send the kid to bed and not let him get away with this obvious charade. One feel of Damian’s face, however, and Dick was cooing over him like a mother hen. Or, Robin, really.
“OK, Dami, let’s get you back to bed. Tell me what hurts.” Dick gently ushered Damian back to the guest room, glancing over his shoulder back at Guy. ”Guy, darling, could you get us a cold washcloth and a glass of water? Maybe some Advil or something?”
“Yeah, sure Dick…” Guy pulled himself from the bed, mild concern on his face but a gut feeling that said not all was as it appeared. Then again, nothing about what Damian had done so far during his stay was as it appeared. The sickingly sweet compliments about his cooking, the conciliatory behaviour, the fixed grin that made Guy want to keep his protective field on in his sleep…who was Damian kidding with the Billy Batson act?
Dick seemed a bit concerned though, and Guy wanted to give Damian the benefit of the doubt. As he brought the Advil and water and cloth into Dami’s room, he quietly consulted his ring as to how high the boy’s temperature truly was, and nodded to himself. The little faker.
“He doesn’t look too good, Dick,” he reached over and felt Damian’s forehead uninvited, but it was just for show, “He looks as sick as the kid in that documentary we saw, The Corbormite Maneuver, remember that?” Guy was fairly certain Damian couldn’t be bothered to watch Star Trek, much less know the episode names or their plots. “It’s up to you if you want to stay with him and risk it, but in the mornin’ I can give him the treatment they gave the kid on TV.”
Dick looked up at Guy, his brows furrowed in confusion before relaxing in semi-understanding. ”I think…” He glanced down at Damian, giving him a reassuring smile. ”I think maybe I should stay with him tonight, monitor him to make sure he’s OK.”
He looked around the room, looking for a cot or something before smiling up at Guy. ”Guy, why don’t we both stay with him? Then we can take turns watching him in case it gets worse!”
He leaned down and brushed Damian’s hair from his forehead. ”Looks like I’m gonna have to take care of you this weekend.”
Damian might have snapped his teeth as Gardner’s hand withdrew from his forehead if he weren’t invested in selling his act. He groans in what he thinks to be a close approximation of the pained wails he’s heard from the sick and injured victims of Gotham’s criminals, and both Gardner and Grayson seem convinced.
Too convinced, perhaps. “I only require Grayson,” he protests at once, punctuating it with a cough lest it seem too forceful. He leans into the touch when Grayson reaches toward him, clinging tight to his side and glaring up at Gardner from under his arm.
Dick hugged Damian close, petting his hair. ”It’s OK. You’ll be all right soon.” He glanced over at Guy, catching the look Guy was shooting him. Dick couldn’t see Damian’s expression, but he was sure it wasn’t as pleasant a look as Dick hoped.
“You know, why don’t we have Damian sleep in our room tonight. The bed’s much bigger in there, and I’m sure he’ll be much more comfortable.”
“It’s your call, Dick,” Guy shrugged. “But I think you’re right, everyone would be the most comfortable that way, since he doesn’t want you to leave his side.” He managed to keep a poker face while regarding Damian, and his venomous glare and dismally acted groaning.
“You’re a heavy sleeper, aren’t you, Damian? Dick’s used to it, but hopefully my snoring won’t keep you up. Right, let’s get you moved into Dick’s room, then.”
“I’m not a heavy sleeper at all,” Damian protests, but no one seems terribly concerned with it. He scowls at the ceiling when he finds himself trapped with Grayson and Gardner on either side of him. At least some good will come of his having to sleep between them: they can’t be disgustingly affectionate with Damian physically separating them.
In the way of petty vengeance, he’s determined to make their night a restless one for not doing things his way. He pretends to toss about in sleep, kicking each of them as he thrashes.
Dick felt he really should have seen that coming.
Damian was clearly not going to be cooperative or particularly civil. Dick rolled them over, scooting closer to Guy so at least he could get some good sleep; Dick was fairly used to Damian-kicks.
After miraculously catching maybe two hours of sleep, Dick awoke to the smell of something wonderful wafting from the kitchen. Damian had apparently exhausted himself at some point, and was now sleeping peacefully. Careful not to wake him, Dick eased himself out of bed and followed the smells.
He leaned on the door frame, smiling as he watched Guy make an omelette. ”Hey, good lookin’. What’cha got cookin’?”
“I was in an omelette mood. A little mushroom and cheese, and there’s bacon in the oven. You want one?” He slid the bubbling half-circle of breakfast onto a plate for Dick with a few strips of bacon and started on another for himself. He was tired, but not quite as tired as Dick.
Sliding the plate in front of his partner, he kissed him on the cheek, “Good morning, Dickiebird. Did you dream of a chorus line kicking you in the back all night like I did?” he chuckled. ”Honestly, I’m starting to wonder if sticking it out here was a good idea after all. I’m never going to get on that kid’s good side.”
He poured the tired-looking man a coffee. “How are your hands this morning? Feeling any better?”
Dick sighed, smiling in thanks for the food. ”It is a good idea. It’s just… this is like a trial by fire, y’know? If we can at least survive this, I think you’ve got a pretty good chance of getting on his good side. Or at least, you know, his less-inclined-to-destroy side.”
He kissed Guy’s cheek as he took the coffee, wincing as he grabbed the hot mug itself instead of the handle. ”They’re healing. I think they hurt worst in the morning. Maybe I’m just numb to it by night.” He chuckled slightly, rubbing a tender spot at the corner of his palm. ”The stinging goes away. It’s my palms that hurt the most. All the movement, y’know?”
He glanced back in the direction of the bedroom, chewing thoughtfully on his omelette. ”Think we should let him sleep? He tired himself out around four. That was the last time I remember seeing the clock….”
“I’ll settle for his not-trying-to-stab-me-with-a-carving-knife side,” Guy replied grimly, plating his own omelette, “But if you think there’s hope, I’ll stick it out, Love.”
“I’ll have a look at your hands after breakfast, maybe I can speed it along a little more. In the meantime…” he followed Dick’s glance to their bedroom, “If a few hours more sleep will make him less grumpy today, I vote we let him sleep.”
“I’m hungry,” Damian groans as he trudges through the bedroom door seconds later, hair matted in every direction and pajama shirt rumpled around his waist. He drops into a chair at the table and looks around the omelettes that have been prepared. He leans back, folding his hands before him with an imperious air. “I want peppers in mine.”
Guy exchanged a brief look with Dick. Asking the boy to exercise manners was pointless, and even if the child did, it wouldn’t likely be sincere anyway. “Of course, Damian. Cheese and mushrooms as well?”
He began cracking eggs into the measuring cup and beating them. “How are you feeling this morning? Did you sleep well? I was a bit worried, you were kind of restless,” he tossed in some pepper and onion salt.
“No cheese or mushrooms,” Damian says with a firm shake of his head. “Just peppers, the hottest you have available, and salsa if there is any.”
He yawns wide and brings a hand up to cover his mouth, his other elbow propped on the table so he can slump against it. “I’m well rested,” he assures the Lantern, but he’s rather tired from enacting the plan that was supposed to give Grayson and Gardner a rough night, not himself. “And I’m feeling better. I believe I’ll sleep in the guest bed tonight. Alone.”
Dick started to gesture in the general direction of where he kept peppers and salsa, but Guy was already there. Dick smiled at him and turned back to Damian, touching his wrist to Damian’s forehead. ”Are you sure you’re feeling well enough, Dami? You seemed awfully sick last night….”
He petted Damian’s hair, straightening it a little. ”You do look better than last night. I was so worried, Dami, especially with how much you were tossing and turning. Was it hard to get comfy?”
Damian squirms as Grayson fusses with his hair. “Yes it was, being stuck between the two of you,” he mutters, directing his focus to the omelette Gardner brings to him. The eggs are fluffy and the peppers provide just the touch of heat Damian likes. It almost angers him that it’s prepared so much to his liking. Gardner doesn’t seem to be giving him any opportunity to begrudge him for his cooking. Damian eats in silence for a few minutes before a look from Grayson prompts him to mumble “Thank you for breakfast” in Gardner’s general direction.
Dick smiled between them, happy that breakfast had passed without bloodshed or tears. ”Well, now that you’re a little better, what would you like to do? I know you want to make sure I’m healing, but I promise I’m fine enough if you’d rather go do something.”
He picked up his coffee mug, wincing slightly as even the cooling heat made his hands sting. ”Or we could all just stay in, just the three of us. What would you like, Damian?”
It’s appalling, really, what a poor job Grayson does of caring for himself. Damian can’t understand why Father hasn’t insisted on moving Grayson back to the Manor permanently. Clearly he needs constant guidance and supervision, but Damian will have to provide what he can during his visit. “Hello, Grayson,” he greets him as the door swings open. Damian moves past him and into the apartment, leaving his suitcase in the foyer and carrying a small cooler to the kitchen.
“I brought several containers of Pennyworth’s soup,” he announces, opening the refrigerator to store them. “You musn’t eat anything else until you’re fully recovered. That means no cereal.”
Damian shoots a stern look over his shoulder, a look that brooks no dissent.
Dick just smiled and nodded, moving Damian’s suitcase into the living room. He’d tried his best to clean up…something. The living room was still cluttered, but at least the guest room had been made livable. He stood in the doorway, watching Damian load up his fridge, and clasped his hands, bracing himself for his announcement.
“Right. I’ll make sure to eat nothing but Alfred’s soup until it’s all gone. Now! I’ve made up the guest room for you, so you have your own place and connected bathroom. You can come out on patrol with me, and you can use any of my games or books or videos, just please don’t write in the books. Now, um, about Guy….”
He inhaled sharply through his teeth when Damian’s eyes narrow ever so slightly and, dammit, Damian looks a lot like Bruce. ”Guy is a part of my life now, Dami, now and hopefully for a long time. He’s going to be here often. Remember what we talked about? I need you to be civil, please.”
The dull buzz of running water suddenly stopped, and Dick paused, his whole body perking up like a curious bird, listening to the sounds coming from his bathroom.
Guy dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist, and gave his face a check in the partially steamed-up mirror. Dick was still on medical leave from the League due to his hand injury, and this weekend was supposed to just be the two of them: Guy spoiling Dick and waiting on his hand and foot, and Dick damn well letting him spoil him for a change.
And then Bruce just had to sabotage their plans. Not personally so that Guy could have backed up Dick in making him turn around and go back to Wayne manor, oh no, he’d been clever this time: he’d used the kid.
Dick would never send Damian away, and truthfully, Guy didn’t want him to; Damian had been abandoned enough, Ollie had at least been right about that, and any opportunity for Dick to be with Damian wasn’t something Guy would begrudge… well, okay, not entirely. Besides,Damian was going to have to get used to dealing with the fact that Guy was Dick’s other half, and that he wasn’t a threat to him or to Bruce or their ‘mission’.
He laid a hand on the bathroom door handle and walked out as he continue his thoughts; he wouldn’t lose his patience; he wouldn’t play by Damian’s rules. This was Dick’s home, and he wouldn’t be driven from it. Maybe they might even find some kind of middle ground? C’mon, Gardner, you’ve worked with kids for a living. This shouldn’t be hard, you can do this. Pull it together, it’s 7:45, the kid’ll be here in-… “Oh! Damian, hey…you’re early,” he looked to Dick in surprise, and laid a hand in the waist of the towel, making sure it was still in place and not in danger of slipping.
Careful, Gardner. He’s a Wayne, they can smell nervousness. Just maintain eye contact and don’t turn your back or he’ll pounce or something. ”Heard ya were comin’ over to help me look after Dick this weekend. I’m glad, I sure could use the help! How’re ya doing?” Good. Let him know you’re not leaving, he’s the new addition in the group setting, and he’s welcome to stay. Be the benevolent alpha male. This can work…
Damian’s nostrils flare slightly as he sniffs the air for fear, catching only spicy soap and aftershave.
Damn Lantern. Damn Grayson! Damian should have known his orders would be defied. He will not tolerate Gardner’s presence here in this small apartment where it’s impossible to avoid him. He will not! He grabs a knife from the wooden block on the counter out of instinct and holds it low, not necessarily intending to attack but comforted by the handle grasped in his fist. It’s only habitual, and he doesn’t struggle when Grayson swiftly disarms him. He barely notices at all, really, focused instead on Gardner in naught but a damp towel before him.
Damian can’t deny that he promised Grayson he would be civil when encountering Gardner, and loathe as he is to admit it, his insides writhe at the thought of eliciting that disapproving frown of Grayson’s, the one that has such mysterious power over him. So he’ll be civil. Oh, he’ll be perfectly civil, yes.
Crossing the void between Gardner and himself, Damian extends his hand. His face splits in a rare smile; Grayson being the person he knows who smiles most often, Damian has studied the expression, has practiced in the mirror to mimic Grayson’s smile as closely as he can in the event such an expression would serve his purposes. His eyes don’t crinkle at the corner quite the same, and the slate-colored irises are devoid of the melting blue tones that make Grayson’s so vibrant and warm. “Good evening, Gardner,” Damian says, giving his hand a firm shake, that cold facsimile of Grayson’s smile frozen on his face. “It’s lovely to see you.”
They were all going to have a perfectly splendid visit together.
Ohhhhhh shit. Shit, that’s not good.
He shook the hand back cautiously, and exchanged a look with Dick, then back at the very forced smile on Damian’s face. It was downright creepy. It reminded him of that socially inept character from Big Bang Theory, Sheldon Cooper, whenever he tried to fake empathy and kindness.
“Lovely, huh?” he asked, his face a combination of doubt, suspicion, and awkward amusement for a moment, then he played along. “Well, Damian, it’s good to see you too. I’m making vegetarian lasagne for dinner tonight, you seemed to like it when you were staying with me and Kyle. Excuse me, I’m gonna go change.” He gave Dick another ‘wtf?’ look, and disappeared into Dick’s bedroom.
Dick leaned against the counter, retrieved knife in hand, and sighed exasperatedly. He was just beginning to consider several ways of facepalming himself to death when Guy caught his eye and went off to dress. With another sigh, Dick put the knife back in the block and turned back to Damian.
“Dami, I don’t want you threatening Guy. That means no knives, no hitting, no kicking, no strangling, and no attacking of any kind, understood? Guy will be in my room, I’ve made up one for you so you don’t have to worry about us disturbing you.” Yeah, none of this was helping, damn it.
He bent down a little, smiling tightly. ”Why don’t we go set you up in your room, huh?”
Grayson’s commands are met with a nod and a meek, “Yes, Grayson.” Damian maintains his exaggerated cordiality throughout dinner, eating all of his vegetarian lasagna and complimenting Gardner’s culinary skill. He smiles, he sits up straight, he says please and thank you and plays the perfect little gentleman until they all retire to bed.
And then he waits.
An hour passes, enough time to allow Grayson and Gardner to fall asleep, and Damian creeps about the apartment to investigate. Gardner is bad in some way, Damian is certain of it, and he digs through couch cushions and takes fingerprints on the wall in his desperation to prove it.
A low voice from Grayson’s bedroom makes him start. At least one of the adults are awake. Perhaps they’re both awake, talking to each other in the darkness. The thought of them curled together, engaged in intimate conversation, makes something bubble inside Damian’s stomach. He goes to the kitchen sink and runs the tap, moistening his face with hot water to make his cheeks damp and feverish to the touch.
“Grayson,” he moans softly as he pushes the bedroom door open, light from the hallway spilling across the bed. “I don’t feel well. Please come sleep in my room with me.”
It wasn’t until they were in bed, slowly adjusting under the covers in a way that was becoming so wonderfully familiar, that Dick realized he hadn’t worn clothes to bed in a very, very long time. The nights were just starting to get cool again and, although usually he had his own personal huggable furnace in Guy, Dick found himself rifling through his bottom dresser drawer looking for sleep-pants. He really wouldn’t have bothered, even with the cold, but Damian was staying and Dick knew from experience how Damian had a habit of bursting into a room unannounced to catch him in the worst of positions.
They’d just moved off of the topic of Damian staying over (and Damian in general), when Damian opened the door of their — his — their — bedroom. Dick was halfway to Damian when a tiny voice piped up in the back of his mind, — that sounded like Barbara, oddly enough — chiming in about how Damian was just doing this to get Dick away from Guy and spend all his time and attention with Damian, and that he should send the kid to bed and not let him get away with this obvious charade. One feel of Damian’s face, however, and Dick was cooing over him like a mother hen. Or, Robin, really.
“OK, Dami, let’s get you back to bed. Tell me what hurts.” Dick gently ushered Damian back to the guest room, glancing over his shoulder back at Guy. ”Guy, darling, could you get us a cold washcloth and a glass of water? Maybe some Advil or something?”
“Yeah, sure Dick…” Guy pulled himself from the bed, mild concern on his face but a gut feeling that said not all was as it appeared. Then again, nothing about what Damian had done so far during his stay was as it appeared. The sickingly sweet compliments about his cooking, the conciliatory behaviour, the fixed grin that made Guy want to keep his protective field on in his sleep…who was Damian kidding with the Billy Batson act?
Dick seemed a bit concerned though, and Guy wanted to give Damian the benefit of the doubt. As he brought the Advil and water and cloth into Dami’s room, he quietly consulted his ring as to how high the boy’s temperature truly was, and nodded to himself. The little faker.
“He doesn’t look too good, Dick,” he reached over and felt Damian’s forehead uninvited, but it was just for show, “He looks as sick as the kid in that documentary we saw, The Corbormite Maneuver, remember that?” Guy was fairly certain Damian couldn’t be bothered to watch Star Trek, much less know the episode names or their plots. “It’s up to you if you want to stay with him and risk it, but in the mornin’ I can give him the treatment they gave the kid on TV.”
Dick looked up at Guy, his brows furrowed in confusion before relaxing in semi-understanding. ”I think…” He glanced down at Damian, giving him a reassuring smile. ”I think maybe I should stay with him tonight, monitor him to make sure he’s OK.”
He looked around the room, looking for a cot or something before smiling up at Guy. ”Guy, why don’t we both stay with him? Then we can take turns watching him in case it gets worse!”
He leaned down and brushed Damian’s hair from his forehead. ”Looks like I’m gonna have to take care of you this weekend.”
Damian might have snapped his teeth as Gardner’s hand withdrew from his forehead if he weren’t invested in selling his act. He groans in what he thinks to be a close approximation of the pained wails he’s heard from the sick and injured victims of Gotham’s criminals, and both Gardner and Grayson seem convinced.
Too convinced, perhaps. “I only require Grayson,” he protests at once, punctuating it with a cough lest it seem too forceful. He leans into the touch when Grayson reaches toward him, clinging tight to his side and glaring up at Gardner from under his arm.
Dick hugged Damian close, petting his hair. ”It’s OK. You’ll be all right soon.” He glanced over at Guy, catching the look Guy was shooting him. Dick couldn’t see Damian’s expression, but he was sure it wasn’t as pleasant a look as Dick hoped.
“You know, why don’t we have Damian sleep in our room tonight. The bed’s much bigger in there, and I’m sure he’ll be much more comfortable.”
“It’s your call, Dick,” Guy shrugged. “But I think you’re right, everyone would be the most comfortable that way, since he doesn’t want you to leave his side.” He managed to keep a poker face while regarding Damian, and his venomous glare and dismally acted groaning.
“You’re a heavy sleeper, aren’t you, Damian? Dick’s used to it, but hopefully my snoring won’t keep you up. Right, let’s get you moved into Dick’s room, then.”
“I’m not a heavy sleeper at all,” Damian protests, but no one seems terribly concerned with it. He scowls at the ceiling when he finds himself trapped with Grayson and Gardner on either side of him. At least some good will come of his having to sleep between them: they can’t be disgustingly affectionate with Damian physically separating them.
In the way of petty vengeance, he’s determined to make their night a restless one for not doing things his way. He pretends to toss about in sleep, kicking each of them as he thrashes.
Dick felt he really should have seen that coming.
Damian was clearly not going to be cooperative or particularly civil. Dick rolled them over, scooting closer to Guy so at least he could get some good sleep; Dick was fairly used to Damian-kicks.
After miraculously catching maybe two hours of sleep, Dick awoke to the smell of something wonderful wafting from the kitchen. Damian had apparently exhausted himself at some point, and was now sleeping peacefully. Careful not to wake him, Dick eased himself out of bed and followed the smells.
He leaned on the door frame, smiling as he watched Guy make an omelette. ”Hey, good lookin’. What’cha got cookin’?”
“I was in an omelette mood. A little mushroom and cheese, and there’s bacon in the oven. You want one?” He slid the bubbling half-circle of breakfast onto a plate for Dick with a few strips of bacon and started on another for himself. He was tired, but not quite as tired as Dick.
Sliding the plate in front of his partner, he kissed him on the cheek, “Good morning, Dickiebird. Did you dream of a chorus line kicking you in the back all night like I did?” he chuckled. ”Honestly, I’m starting to wonder if sticking it out here was a good idea after all. I’m never going to get on that kid’s good side.”
He poured the tired-looking man a coffee. “How are your hands this morning? Feeling any better?”
Dick sighed, smiling in thanks for the food. ”It is a good idea. It’s just… this is like a trial by fire, y’know? If we can at least survive this, I think you’ve got a pretty good chance of getting on his good side. Or at least, you know, his less-inclined-to-destroy side.”
He kissed Guy’s cheek as he took the coffee, wincing as he grabbed the hot mug itself instead of the handle. ”They’re healing. I think they hurt worst in the morning. Maybe I’m just numb to it by night.” He chuckled slightly, rubbing a tender spot at the corner of his palm. ”The stinging goes away. It’s my palms that hurt the most. All the movement, y’know?”
He glanced back in the direction of the bedroom, chewing thoughtfully on his omelette. ”Think we should let him sleep? He tired himself out around four. That was the last time I remember seeing the clock….”
“I’ll settle for his not-trying-to-stab-me-with-a-carving-knife side,” Guy replied grimly, plating his own omelette, “But if you think there’s hope, I’ll stick it out, Love.”
“I’ll have a look at your hands after breakfast, maybe I can speed it along a little more. In the meantime…” he followed Dick’s glance to their bedroom, “If a few hours more sleep will make him less grumpy today, I vote we let him sleep.”
“I’m hungry,” Damian groans as he trudges through the bedroom door seconds later, hair matted in every direction and pajama shirt rumpled around his waist. He drops into a chair at the table and looks around the omelettes that have been prepared. He leans back, folding his hands before him with an imperious air. “I want peppers in mine.”
Guy exchanged a brief look with Dick. Asking the boy to exercise manners was pointless, and even if the child did, it wouldn’t likely be sincere anyway. “Of course, Damian. Cheese and mushrooms as well?”
He began cracking eggs into the measuring cup and beating them. “How are you feeling this morning? Did you sleep well? I was a bit worried, you were kind of restless,” he tossed in some pepper and onion salt.
“No cheese or mushrooms,” Damian says with a firm shake of his head. “Just peppers, the hottest you have available, and salsa if there is any.”
He yawns wide and brings a hand up to cover his mouth, his other elbow propped on the table so he can slump against it. “I’m well rested,” he assures the Lantern, but he’s rather tired from enacting the plan that was supposed to give Grayson and Gardner a rough night, not himself. “And I’m feeling better. I believe I’ll sleep in the guest bed tonight. Alone.”
Dick started to gesture in the general direction of where he kept peppers and salsa, but Guy was already there. Dick smiled at him and turned back to Damian, touching his wrist to Damian’s forehead. ”Are you sure you’re feeling well enough, Dami? You seemed awfully sick last night….”
He petted Damian’s hair, straightening it a little. ”You do look better than last night. I was so worried, Dami, especially with how much you were tossing and turning. Was it hard to get comfy?”
Damian squirms as Grayson fusses with his hair. “Yes it was, being stuck between the two of you,” he mutters, directing his focus to the omelette Gardner brings to him. The eggs are fluffy and the peppers provide just the touch of heat Damian likes. It almost angers him that it’s prepared so much to his liking. Gardner doesn’t seem to be giving him any opportunity to begrudge him for his cooking. Damian eats in silence for a few minutes before a look from Grayson prompts him to mumble “Thank you for breakfast” in Gardner’s general direction.
Dick smiled between them, happy that breakfast had passed without bloodshed or tears. ”Well, now that you’re a little better, what would you like to do? I know you want to make sure I’m healing, but I promise I’m fine enough if you’d rather go do something.”
He picked up his coffee mug, wincing slightly as even the cooling heat made his hands sting. ”Or we could all just stay in, just the three of us. What would you like, Damian?”