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“So,” Dick plopped himself down into a chair, backwards so that he could fold his arms over the back of it, and flashed his toothpaste commercial smile.
Damian lifted his gaze from his easel.
“So,” Dick repeated. “You’re sixteen…” he trailed off eyebrows raised like it was supposed to be momentous that time had its singular direction and refused to express itself in any manner except linearly.
Damian narrowed his eyes.
“I'm a bit surprised that you haven’t, yet, but maybe you were waiting for permission,” Dick said.
“You are making a nuisance of yourself,” Damian said. A confusing nuisance, at that. Damian disliked being confused.
“I mean, I had a girlfriend when I was twelve, much as a twelve-year-old can have a girlfriend,” Dick said.
Damian froze up fractionally.
“And my first boyfriend when I was thirteen,” Dick went on.
“If you are implying that I would have time, or interest in making time, for such base pursuits as ‘dating,’ you are mistaken.” Damian stiffly turned his attention back to the easel and forced himself to put brush to canvas in a pantomime of normalcy.
“I get it, not everyone is ready to date, sixteen or no. I just wondered if, you know. You knew it was allowed. Or if you had some sweetheart already stashed away somewhere,” Dick said.
“I have other, far more important pursuits to devote my time to,” Damian said. He expected that to be the end of it.
--
“He was twelve when he had his first girlfriend?” Jon didn’t actually turn to Damian, seeing that they were in the middle of a race on Rainbow Road, but he raised his eyebrows and looked both impressed and horrified, though not with the computer-controlled racer that tipped off the edge of Rainbow Road, on screen.
“And thirteen upon acquisition of his first boyfriend,” Damian confirmed.
Where Jon was leaned all the way forward and seated on the edge of his seat, deeply engaged in the game, Damian was slouched back, legs folded lotus-style under him, and otherwise almost entirely relaxed, as if he were barely paying attention to the game – he was paying attention, mind, he just didn’t outwardly show that.
“Thirteen, wow,” Jon breathed.
“The internet informs me that many girls start dating at twelve or thirteen, and many boys at thirteen or fourteen. I find the ages given a bit young, but it would seem that Richard did, in fact, partake in such early dating behaviours,” Damian said.
“Twelve is like... those are basically babies, aren’t they?” Jon glanced sideways at Damian. On-screen, he’d hit one of the straight stretches of road, which was probably why he felt safe glancing away briefly.
“I agree,” Damian said.
“Like. I was fifteen for my first date,” Jon glanced back at the screen.
Damian’s character slid off the road and Damian stiffened in place. “You have... dated?”
“Yeah,” Jon shrugged. His character pulled ahead.
Damian’s character fell behind more, after respawning. “I see.” Damian wondered why he felt like a ball of thorns had decided to play pinball, inside his chest. It wasn’t quite anger, and it wasn’t quite sadness, but it was something complicated and a bit angry and a bit sad. Maybe envy, though Damian didn’t know what he had to envy – he didn’t want to date anyone. Why should he envy Jon?
“Only, like, two dates. Being a superhero kinda makes it hard to, like, date someone. But I’ve given it a go a few times, you know?”
“I do not know,” Damian said. His character was near last place.
“Right, sorry. It’s not bad to not be dating yet or anything! I mean, just so you know. Not that you don’t," Jon glanced sideways at him, again. “Didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”
“I did not take offense,” Damian said. He snagged a mystery box, as he headed into the final lap, and the random number gods gifted him with a magic bullet – or a Bullet Bill or whatever – that sent Damian careening back through the NPCs, right in Jon’s tail.
“Shit,” Jon laughed.
Damian refocused on the race, smirking a little.
--
The conversation with Dick was not the end of it.
“You ever been kissed, Demon?” Jason asked. He snapped his gum right after.
Jason was laid across part of the decorative wall surrounding Gotham Academy, clearly waiting for Damian and reading off his phone in the meantime. Whether it was an ambush or a planned pickup remained to be seen.
Jason glanced sideways at Damian as the silence stretched.
Damian had half a mind to push Jason off his perch, but counting to ten in Kryptonian helped him quell the urge. Kryptonian numbers were ridiculous, and the mental energy required to remember them usually helped Damian to cool down. “I do not see how that would be any business of yours, Todd.”
Jason dropped his phone onto his chest and looked over at Damian. “Is that a no?”
“It is not an answer, affirmative or negative,” Damian said.
“I don't know many people who hadn’t been kissed by sixteen, ya know. It's a bit weird, or something. I don’t really get the fixation on kissing and sex, personally – or didn’t, before. Ya know. Boyfriend. But it’s kind of a thing, right? Teens kiss,” Jason said.
“Dating would be little more than a distraction,” Damian said.
“I mean. You don’t actually got to date someone to kiss them,” Jason said.
“What point is there in ritualistic mating behavior if not performed within, or with intentions towards, courtship?” Damian asked.
“Bro, I’m demi,” Jason said. “I have no idea why people look at other people and just think it’d be neat to mash faces together.” He sat up. “Guess you might be demi, too, if you don’t see a point, right?”
“The intricacies of label adoption are not a topic I care to explore, currently,” Damian said stiffly.
“Whatever,” Jason stretched, then snapped his gum again, obnoxiously. “You ready to go?”
--
“Are you demi?” Jon asked.
He was upside down on Damian’s bed, head over the side, and reading a comic that had started as Tim’s, passed through Bart’s hands to Kon, and then been stolen by Jon.
“I do not know,” Damian shrugged.
Unlike Jon, Damian was doing homework, sitting at his desk. A partial sketch of Jon sat to one side and a more complete profile sketch of Jon sat to the other side, both absently drawn on scrap paper meant for Damian’s math homework.
“It’s cool if you are,” Jon said.
“I am aware of your wholly accepting nature,” Damian said drily. “If I knew, or cared to explore, the labels that would explain the minutiae of my sexual or romantic identities, I would not be hesitant to impart that knowledge to you.”
“Oh.”
Damian glanced over, catching Jon’s eye, and raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“That’s just. It’s a lotta trust,” Jon gave a bashful smile. “Thanks.”
Damian rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his homework. “I have found you trustworthy. It is not something worthy of thanks.”
“I mean. It kinda is. Trust means a lot, ya know? Especially when it’s you!”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you know. A Bat.” Jon sat up, setting the comic aside. “I’m bi, by the way.”
“Noted,” Damian said.
“But I think I like guys more than girls. Or enbies,” Jon said. He folded his legs underneath himself, grinning.
Damian held back a sigh. “I have not chosen to label myself,” he said.
“Yeah, I know. I don’t need you to tell me your labels or whatever. You trusting me with your lack of interest in labels is more than enough. Not that it’s a trade? But I figured I’d tell you. Even though I bet it doesn’t matter to you,” Jon said.
“Your trust matters to me,” Damian turned around fully, spinning his computer chair.
“Oh, yeah. I know. I just mean that I don’t think it means much to you if I’m gay, straight, bi, or anything else.”
“That is true,” Damian said slowly.
Actually, though, his chest constricted a bit, his hands got a bit tacky, his heart did something ridiculous and stupid, and he felt the urge to express a sudden spike in his energy. He’d already done some training, but maybe another round on the uneven bars would take care of the weird energy. And all of that seemed to come from Jon talking about his sexuality.
Damian made a mental note to make sure he wasn’t contracting something – or having an anxiety attack – and then to never have that specific miasma of emotions and energies at the same time, again.
“Are you okay?” Jon’s smile slid into a look of concern.
“Yes. Perhaps it is test anxiety,” Damian said. Because it would be stupid to lie and pretend nothing was going on in his ribcage, being that Jon could probably hear his heartbeat change.
“Do you get test anxiety?”
Damian shrugged.
--
If Damian thought it would stop with Jason, he was sorely mistaken.
“Girlfriend?”
Damian didn’t startle outwardly, but he felt a bit of his spirit leave his body at Cass’s unexpected intrusion. Then he processed what she’d said. “No,” he grit out.
“Boyfriend?” Cass asked.
Damian snapped the pastel he had in-hand, out of sheer irritation.
It wasn’t all Cass’s fault, but Damian had also rather hoped that she wouldn’t be roped into the circus of annoying siblings asking annoying questions.
“No,” Damian repeated. “No girlfriend. No boyfriend. Is that all you require?”
Cass hummed. “Datemate? Partner?” she offered.
“Your inclusivity is noted. But no. I am not currently seeing anyone, Cassandra,” Damian said. He set the broken pastel down, belatedly, and wiped his hands down.
“Why?”
Damian sighed. “That is the question I have been asking of myself. Why has my family seen fit to begin this ridiculous line of query? Dating is, by far, the least important on a long list of other activities I could partake in.”
“Why?” Cassandra repeated.
Damian glared at her. “I haven’t met anyone worth that kind of time or interest.”
Cassandra frowned at him, then nodded. “Okay, Baby Brother.”
And then she was gone.
Damian narrowed his eyes at the room as a whole, though, in case something else decided to step out of thin air and waste his time. Or in case Cass decided to return.
Neither happened, so Damian turned back to the pastels and canvas.
--
“Cass too, huh?” Jon laughed. “Seems like sixteen’s just that age for people being nosy about your dating life or something. It was a bit like that for me, last year, except that I was dating off and on.”
“I find it infuriating,” Damian deadpanned.
“I mean, I guess I kinda get it? You’re the baby of the family.”
“Terry is the baby of the family,” Damian countered.
“Yeah, but you were the baby of the family for ages,” Jon shrugged.
“Terry has been part of the family almost as long as I have, Jon. He’s eight,” Damian turned to Jon, frowning. “He is the only child whose infant years were not entirely lost to Father.”
“Really?” Jon blinked at Jon a few times.
“Yes.”
“Weird. I dunno, you’re ‘baby of the family’ coded or something,” Jon said.
“I am what?”
“’Baby of the family’ coded.”
“I do not know what that means, nor am I interested in learning such,” Damian said.
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter,” Jon waved him off. “My point was more that... your family, like, doesn’t know what’s up with your dating life, and by most measures you’re at an age that would be dating, so they’re trying to figure out if you’re dating. If so, who you’re dating; if not, why you’re not dating. You’re all Bats, right? Having missing information like that probably bugs them.”
“While I commend your analysis of the situation, it will not make me less inclined to annoyance toward my siblings for their prying and insistence.”
--
“So! You’ve never dated, never been kissed, and haven’t met anyone worth the trouble of dating,” Tim surmised.
Damian tossed him a withering glare, as well as tossing one at Steph right next to him, for good measure, then returned his attention to the practice dummy.
“Do you not want to date?” Steph asked.
Damian ignored her.
“Hey! Brat! Do you or do you not want to date!” Steph asked. Clearly, she was trying to force his hand (and answer) through sheer force of annoyingness.
Damian could withstand it.
“Hey! Hey! Hey! I’m not leaving without an answer! Do you really want to deal with me shouting across the Cave at you all night? Hm?”
He could withstand. But at what cost to his sanity?
Tim just stood next to her, laughing into his hand.
“I am ambivalent on the idea itself and do not have the time to waste on any practical application thereof,” Damian called over. If only to make her go away.
“Okay, but like…” Steph made her way over. Infuriating, really. Even given an answer to her incredibly intrusive question, Steph persisted. “Do you want to date?”
“I just said—”
“Yeah, yeah. Waste of time. But do you want to? Like. If it weren’t a waste of time?” Steph asked.
“I am ambivalent,” Damian repeated.
“Do you think any girls are cute though? Boys?”
“Enbies?” Tim tacked on.
Damian sighed through his nose.
“What if he’s ace and aro?” Steph tossed over at Tim.
“Then were being annoying for no reason? I dunno. Damian, are you ace/aro, or one of the two?” Tim asked.
Nice of him to not act like Damian weren’t there.
“I do not know, I do not care,” Damian said.
“Demi?” Steph suggested.
Damian could acknowledge that he was probably demisexual, at least to some degree (in terms of how he felt matching up with his understanding of demisexuality). He didn’t think of people in terms of their appearance, first, anyway – and he saw no point in sleeping with people he didn’t have preexisting relationships with (and he thought that was demisexuality, anyway). But that was no one’s business but his own.
And maybe he didn’t want to adhere to a particular label.
“I would like to train in peace,” Damian said, firmly. He suppressed the urge to lash out, though. He’d found out, over the six years spent with his father and siblings, that lashing out didn’t work. Or, at least, didn’t work in his favour.
Tim and Steph traded looks.
Tim shrugged. “That’s fair.”
Steph huffed.
--
“Honestly, I’m more surprised that Steph didn’t poke at you, sooner. She seems like the kind of person who’d want to know what’s up with family, interpersonally,” Jon said.
Today, they were both at Gotham Memorial Park for a pottery class that Damian had thought sounded interesting. Jon had gone with him, but his lump of clay wasn’t really getting less lumpy, possibly because he was paying more attention to Damian than to his pottery wheel.
“Stephanie is not family,” Damian said.
“Sure she is.”
“Stephanie and Cassandra are in a romantic relationship,” Damian said. “I would prefer not to think of the relationship in terms where Stephanie is a preexisting part of the family, anymore than I like to think of the relationship between your brother and Timothy, juxtaposed with the relationship between my father and your father.”
“Oh yeah. Fair.” Jon laughed. “But still. I’m surprised she didn’t come for you sooner.”
“Her restraint was nearly commendable,” Damian said drily. Unlike Jon’s lump of clay, Damian had coaxed his clay into a semblance of artistic shape. He thought he might like to make a mug.
“Just to be clear, you’re still not dating anyone, right?” Jon asked.
“Much good it does me, but yes. I am not in the midst of a messy dalliance or time-wasting courtship,” Damian said.
“Cool. Same,” Jon grinned, shrugging.
--
“So…” Duke started.
Damian eyed Duke, over his book, then resettled.
“I got a date?” Duke said.
“I sympathize for your loss of valuable time that could have been spent training,” Damian deadpanned.
“No, it’s. Wow. That was kinda mean?” Duke tried.
“You have known me for several years now. Your failure to expect my brusque words in response to your announcement is a failure to think ahead critically and prepare yourself accordingly,” Damian said.
Duke spluttered, then sank a bit lower in his seat. Probably pouting, but Damian didn’t look up from his book to check.
“Okay,” Duke said. “Fair enough. But I’ve got a date—”
“So we’ve gone over,” Damian sighed.
“I’ve got a date! I’m gonna go see a movie with a really nice guy—person. He’s he/they enby. Then we’re going to go have ice cream at the old fashioned parlor in Central.”
Damian frowned over his book at Duke. “I might have expected such childish plans from Grayson, but not you, Thomas.”
Duke shrugged. “What’s wrong with movie and ice cream? Sounds like a great getting-to-know-you date, to me.”
Damian gave an unconvinced hum, but bit back further questions, as that could sound like interest—Central. Wait.
Damian set his book down, still frowning. “You are to accompany your date to the theatre in Central?”
“Yeah,” Duke shrugged, grinning idiotically (in Damian’s opinion).
“Not Gotham?”
“Axel lives in Central,” Duke shrugged again.
Damian narrowed his eyes, then shifted to retrieve his phone from his pocket.
Duke’s grin fell into a suspicious frown. “What are you doing?”
“Is your datemate’s surname Walker?” Damian asked.
“Oh. Oh, no, wait. Don’t tell—”
“I am sure Grayson would be interested in the knowledge that one of his ‘baby brothers’ is seeing one of the Flash’s Rogues,” Damian said. He tapped out a text to inform Dick of such.
“I was just trying to make friendly conversation!” Duke ran his hands down his face. “I dunno, you never talk about crushes or dates, Dames.”
“I do not partake in those frivolities.” Damian sent the text.
Almost as soon as Damian hit send, Duke’s phone started to vibrate with incoming texts.
Duke groaned.
“I would have thought that you would have had better sense – and taste – than to associate with a man who calls himself the Trickster,” Damian sniffed, derisive.
--
“Axel Walker?!”
Damian nodded.
“How would they even meet?” Jon asked.
“I do not know. And I would have thought Thomas wiser than this, besides,” Damian curled his lip in derision. “Of all the options open to him, civilian and otherwise, he chose a Rogue that dresses in much the way a toddler might fingerpaint.”
Jon snorted. “You’re kinda mean,” he said, but in that adoring way that didn’t discourage Damian from making his cutting remarks.
Damian waved him off. “I am merely unwilling to soften my words unnecessarily.”
--
“Damian.”
Damian glanced over. “Father.”
Bruce shifted in place awkwardly, only made more ridiculous by the Batsuit he still wore, post-patrol. “I wondered if you might not have something to tell me,” Bruce said.
Damian rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the casefile he was updating.
“Sixteen is. Of the age that. You might find that you’re interested in your peers,” Bruce attempted.
“A dull, uncivilized lot. Vapid and vacant. They hold no interest,” Damian said.
“Be that as it may—”
“The Academy provided Health Studies and Gender and Sexuality Awareness classes, Father. I would prefer not to revisit either, at this time.”
Bruce was quiet.
Damian continued to update the file.
Then, in Damian’s periphery, Damian saw Bruce nod. “Good,” Bruce said. “Very good. Ah. And you’re… not seeing someone?”
“As I have said, many times this past week,” Damian nodded.
“Because if you are seeing someone, that’s okay, Damian,” Bruce tried. “Or if you want to. Or if you don’t want to!”
Damian could feel his scowl deepening. “Of course,” he said. And he willed Bruce to leave it be, because there wasn’t anything more to talk about.
“By your age, all your brothers were already dating,” Bruce said.
Damian bit back a pithy remark about Jason being either dead or comatose. Because Jason was either dead or comatose at the time, and then revitalized via the Pit, and then trained by the League. Sixteen-year-old Jason was almost definitely not dating anyone.
Pithy remark swallowed, Damian turned to Bruce. “I am tired of having my status questioned, Father,” he said. “I am not seeing anyone, nor do I feel that such would be a good expenditure of my time. Perhaps you should look into Thomas’s courting habits, instead.”
Bruce’s face went carefully blank at the mention of Duke. Or rather, the implication of Duke’s date with Axel. “I’m not talking about Duke right now—”
“There is nothing to be gained by continuing this conversation, Father. If I were seeing someone, I would not hide it from you. If I wished to see someone, I would not partake in this subterfuge – far easier to just say as much,” Damian cut in.
Bruce regarded him.
Damian met his gaze coolly.
Bruce nodded. “Okay, Damian. Uh. Sorry for pushing.”
Damian frowned a little, at the apology, but nodded his acknowledgement.
--
“In all fairness, you probably should have expected your dad to have something to say, at some point,” Jon said.
“Be that as it may,” Damian glanced sideways at Jon. “It infuriates me to have one more member of the family questioning me as if I am hiding something, rather than believing me when I say that I am simply not interested in seeing someone – were I asexual or aromantic, no doubt I could call them off, like the gossip-mongering hounds they are, by simply telling them so. But that I appear to need such a definitive reason for being unattached is insulting.”
“Maybe you should just ask why they think you’re dating, or that you might want to date?” Jon offered. “I mean. Maybe they think you like someone specific, and that’s why they keep prying?”
“Even if that were true, they should mind their own business and leave me to mine,” Damian said.
“I mean, yeah, but Bats are nosy. It’s kinda your family’s thing.”
Damian rolled his eyes. But he couldn’t exactly deny that. “Having run the gamut of immediate family members, aside from Terrence, I believe I should have some reprieve before having to deal with them once more. And Terrence is young enough that this, at least, should be of no interest to him.”
“Bet you just jinxed it.”
“Superstition,” Damian waved him off. “There is nothing to ‘jinx.’”
--
“Damian,” Terry greeted.
Damian turned to him. Terry was eight. Damian wondered if he’d been as serious (and angry) at that age. He knew he wasn’t as sarcastic or sassy – but he also knew that he was more high and mighty, which was probably worse.
“Terrence,” Damian greeted.
“Is Jon your boyfriend?” Terry asked. Apparently there had been something to jinx. Albeit something unexpected. And unexpectedly specific.
Damian frowned slowly. “What?”
“Jon. Is he your boyfriend?” Terry repeated.
“Jon is not my boyfriend,” Damian said.
“Why not?” Terry asked.
Damian opened his mouth. Closed his mouth. Tilted his head. “I do not think I am interested in him in a romantic manner. Nor do I think that he is interested in me in that manner,” Damian said. He wasn’t exactly sure about that, but he was content with the platonic relationship, which was what mattered.
Unless...
Unless having a boyfriend would get his family to let up on the questioning.
And who better than Jon if Damian was going to fake something like that?
“I think you’re lying,” Terry said.
Damian scowled at him. “Why?”
“Because he gives you googly eyes, like the ones Dick gives Wally all the time,” Terry said. “Icky gross googly eyes that means there’s gonna be kissing soon.”
“Ridiculous,” Damian scoffed. “You are mistaken.”
“And you're lying.”
Damian rolled his eyes. “I am not willing to further engage with you on this topic, Terrence. Should there be a romantic connection between myself and another person, it would be my business. That I am willing to tell anyone that I am not in a relationship is already more than I owe any of you.”
“Damian and Jon, sitting in a tree,” Terry started. He had the decency to deadpan it instead of sing it, at least.
Damian gave a long sigh.
--
“Go back to the part where you think fake dating will solve this,” Jon said.
“I would much rather address Terrence’s mistaken assumption that you and I are already together, based on what I believe to be a misinterpretation of the interactions between myself and yourself,” Damian said.
“I dunno. I smile at everyone,” Jon waved Damian away. “Why don’t you just tell them to leave you alone?”
“Do you believe I have not?”
“I believe you explained yourself and defended your position. You probably didn’t spell it out plainly, ya know? Spell it out plainly and walk away. That should work – your family’s a bit dense, but not that dense,” Jon said.
Damian shook his head. “I believe the best way to end their queries is to have an answer in the positive,” he said.
Jon rolled his eyes, sighing. “So, we’re back to the fake dating thing.”
“Indeed.”
“Okay.” Jon shifted in place, sitting up a bit straighter.
Damian frowned slightly. “So easily?”
Jon shrugged.
Damian nodded slowly.
“Let’s iron out some details,” Jon said. His gaze grew distant, thoughtfully. “How long have we been together?”
“Three months,” Damian said.
“Why?”
Damian blinked. “Why?”
“Yeah, why’d we get together three months ago?” Jon turned to smile at him. (No googly eyes at all, Terrence.)
“I do not—”
“How about four months. When we went to that fair in Smallville?” Jon interrupted. “You won me that Robin bunny and made a ride attendant cry.”
“If that is what you would prefer.”
“Well, it’s more memorable,” Jon said. “And everything we did on the ‘date’ can be just, ya know, things we actually did. Maybe we held hands or something, too, and kissed at the top of the rickety Smallville fair ferris wheel they insist on setting up each year. Those would be made up, but everything else fits fine for a date. We even shared a funnel cake.”
“You made me try the funnel cake,” Damian disagreed.
“And you liked it,” Jon elbowed him playfully.
“Four months, then,” Damian said, all business. “We went to the fair as our first date.”
“You’ve been hiding it from your family because I wasn’t ready to mention I was dating someone again, since the last one ended up kinda disastrously. I also didn’t want to be out to people beyond immediate family – you were considerate about it,” Jon said.
“Did your last relationship end disastrously?” Damian asked.
“Yeah, she thought I talked about my best friend too much, and wasn’t around enough. And wasn’t interested in parties, which is apparently something I’m supposed to be interested in,” Jon shrugged. “What about PDA?”
“Pardon?”
“We should probably hold hands, at least. Maybe a bit of cuddling?”
Damian wrinkled his nose, thinking about Dick and Wally and their inability to function as separate people. An exaggeration, but they were always attached at the hip, and there was a lot more making out that Damian had ever in his life wanted to bear witness to.
“You don’t have to sit in my lap or anything—”
Damian’s gaze snapped to Jon. “Why would I be sitting in your lap?” he asked.
“I’m like six inches taller? You’re little spoon coded, Dames,” Jon snickered.
“You are not more than five inches taller,” Damian disagreed.
“No, it’s six inches,” Jon shook his head. “I had another growth spurt.”
Damian spluttered at the unfairness.
“Little spoon coded,” Jon said again.
“I will be the larger spoon,” Damian said.
Jon looked smug, though, like that was exactly what he wanted.
(Damian’s stomach did something odd, in reaction to the smug little grin.)
“Fine, then I don’t have to sit in your lap – just a bit of cuddling. Sitting close or whatever. Are you okay with that?” Jon asked.
“That is acceptable,” Damian said, scowling.
“How do you feel about kissing?” Jon asked.
“I do not know.”
“Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot you hadn’t done a bunch of kissing or anything – we don’t have to kiss or anything. Some people want their first kiss to be special or something. We can do, like, cheek kisses or something only—”
“I do not care for preserving maidenly virtue for some future expenditure,” Damian interrupted dryly. “Forewarn me and I will not rebuff such an advance.” His stomach did something weird, again. Something fuzzy and warm and nervous.
“It’s fine either way,” Jon said.
“Then it should be fine that I will accept kissing as an expression of the false relationship,” Damian said.
“I mean, at this rate, we might as well date,” Jon joked.
A glance sideways, at Jon, told Damian that Jon was vaguely nervous about saying that. Maybe Jon thought Damian would be offended. He wasn’t offended, though. “The point of the false relationship,” Damian said, “is that I do not wish to waste time I could spend training or studying. I do not have spare time to put into a relationship.”
“I mean, you already put both things aside to spend time with me, sometimes,” Jon pointed out.
“While this is true, the ability to say that I am going on a ‘date,’ when I intend instead to train, is a benefit of false relationship,” Damian said stubbornly.
“Funny how you don’t think I wouldn’t mind a gym date,” Jon laughed. “Whatever, Dames. If this is what you want, I’ll do it.” Jon dropped himself backwards, lying down and looking up at the stars. “You can just say I agreed to let you tell people we’re dating, like, whenever.”
“Thank you, Jonathan.”
“Ooh, full name, huh? Oh!” Jon sat back up. “Nicknames!”
“You already address me by nicknames.”
“Yes, but like. Would you be okay if I called you... I dunno. Sweetheart?”
Damian opened his mouth to say no, but the word fluttered pleasantly in his chest. He nodded slowly. “If you must use terms of endearment, feel free to do so.”
“And you can call me anything. You know I don’t mind,” Jon nodded, pleased with himself.
“Beloved, then,” Damian murmured. That was what his mother always called his father. Their relationship was a bit... fraught. But he liked how the term felt.
Jon’s smile melted into something softer for a moment.
Damian wished it were easier to read him.
--
Damian waited for a family dinner. It was the most painless way of informing everyone, he figured.
It meant that he ran into Dick’s and Steph’s re-questioning, mid-week, but he utilized Jon’s advice to get out of that. He just told them to leave him alone, then walked away. Incredibly, it worked. He shouldn’t have been that surprised, though – Steph and Dick were the most socially intelligent of the family, and even they were pretty socially dense.
Dinner came around, as it always did, and everyone found their way to the Manor to make an event of it. The Gordons were there, even. And Wally, but Wally was seldom not around Dick (Damian wondered if their honeymoon phase was ever going to end – he hoped so).
When everyone was seated – including Alfred, who had to be cajoled into joining them – Damian slid his chair back and stood.
“I would like to make an announcement,” he said. “And this is the most efficient means.”
Bruce smiled vaguely at him, obviously some measure of concerned. “Alright, son,” he said.
“I have been given permission to divulge what you all seem to most wish of me,” Damian said. “I am in a relationship.”
“Permission?” Wally asked.
“I knew it,” Terry muttered darkly.
“Knew what?” Duke glanced at Terry.
Terry glared at him and didn’t respond.
Damian cleared his throat. “I have been seeing Jonathan for th—four months,” he mentally cursed himself for the slip, but the embarrassment would probably read as a different kind of embarrassment, which suited him fine. “He did not wish this to be divulged immediately, thus the permission.”
“Just four months?” Tim asked.
Damian sat back down, frowning sideways at Tim. “How do you mean?”
“Is it like... realized you were dating four months ago? Or were you that blind to the whole thing until then?” Tim asked.
“Pardon?”
“I mean, me n’ Kon...” Tim waved his hand around for help.
“I had to tell him it was a crush,” Steph offered.
Tim made a face.
“I mean, I also had to tell him he was gay,” Steph snickered into her hand. “Tim’s ability to be blind to himself is surpassed by none.”
“Shut up,” Tim laughed, hiding his face in his hands.
“I was not ‘blind’ to anything,” Damian said.
“What, so you knew Jon carried a torch for you?” Jason asked.
Damian turned to Jason, already exasperated. “Pardon?”
“He’s probably had a crush on you since, like... the day you met. The pigtail pulling was obvious,” Jason said.
“I believe you are mistaken,” Damian frowned.
“No, he’s had a crush for years,” Tim said.
Damian turned back to Tim, even more exasperated. “How would you know?”
Tim raised an eyebrow, “Kon told me? You know, Jon’s brother?”
Damian rolled his eyes. “I am done with this topic of conversation,” Damian said. “And I will leave if any of you try to pursue it further.”
A silence descended for a long minute.
Then Jim Gordon cleared his throat. “How about the Knights game last night?” he offered.
“Oh thank god,” Steph muttered. She was the only one, in the immediate Batfam, that followed sports to any extent, but the opening was appreciated by everyone at the table.
--
“Kon said I had a crush on you?” Jon laughed. But it was a nervous laugh. His eyes darted away.
Damian frowned thoughtfully.
“That’s silly. You’re my best friend, but it would be, like, super awkward if I was over there with a crush for literal years, right?” Jon forced a laugh.
Damian made a mental note to make Jon take some intensive acting lessons at some point, since the forced laugh sounded exceptionally forced. “Grayson and West harboured mutual feelings, that either of them independently decided were unrequited, lasting over ten years.”
“Yeah, but that was mutual,” Jon muttered.
“I may not have the enhanced hearing that you have, but I am not deaf,” Damian said, somehow even more unimpressed.
“It’s just why it would be more ridiculous. If it were a thing. And if it were a thing, it’d also be a thing Kon shouldn’t tell anyone, even his boyfriend,” Jon shrugged.
Damian narrowed his eyes.
Jon smiled at him.
--
“Grayson – Richard – I have need of your advice,” Damian said stiffly.
Dick unfolded from Wally’s side. “Is it private?” he asked.
“I can go,” Wally tacked on.
Damian was insulted by how touched he was. “I do not care whether you stay or leave,” Damian sniffed. “However, it is of a private nature and I will expect you to express the due discretion, if you stay.”
Wally looked—shocked.
Dick did, too.
“What?” Damian asked.
Dick’s face split into a grin. “Normally, you’d probably dismiss Wally without a thought,” he said.
Damian rolled his eyes. “In this particular situation, I have been told that Wallace has nearly as much experience as you, Richard.”
“Oh?”
“It is about what Todd and Drake said,” Damian said.
“About Jon’s crush on you?” Dick asked. He tilted his head to the side.
“Yes.” Damian dropped his gaze to the floor.
“You really didn’t know, huh?”
“I am not, in truth, dating Jonathan,” Damian said. It was easier to say that to the floor.
“You... broke up?” Dick asked carefully.
“Babe, I think it was fake,” Wally offered, quietly. “Kind of like...”
“I just asked you to pretend to be my boyfriend for one gala! It’s not the same,” Dick said defensively.
“Because you thought it was easier to have a boyfriend than to tell your dad that you were single and not interested in dating at the moment,” Wally said.
Damian sighed. He didn’t like how similar that felt to what he had done.
Dick huffed, then turned back to Damian. “The best thing is honesty. Just talk to him. Or, I dunno, kiss him.”
--
“Jon.”
“Dami.”
Damian felt his bravery leak out his feet.
“Dami?” Jon turned to him.
“Never mind.”
Jon nodded slowly. “Okay, you sure?”
“Yes, I am—no.” Damian sighed. “I have a question. For you.”
“Okay?”
“What your brother imparted to Drake—”
“Oh, that wasn’t—”
“I would like to know if it was true, as... your words, previously, have occupied my thoughts. That we should date, in reality. That you would not mind ‘gym dates,’ as you put them,” Damian continued.
Jon regarded Damian warily. “Dames, you don’t even want to date,” he said.
“I do not think I would mind, if it were you,” Damian disagreed, stiffly.
“Oh,” Jon said.
“And you had also mentioned that your previous relationship suffered from...” Damian wondered if that was insensitive.
“Yeah, I talk about you too much, apparently,” Jon shrugged one shoulder.
“Do you wish to date me?” Damian asked, bluntly.
“Oh, uh. Yeah. I mean... who wouldn’t?” Jon shrugged again, this time with a tiny smile.
“Most people find me abrasive, actually,” Damian said. “Therefore, it is reasonable to assume that those interested in me are interested in me for the wealth of my family.”
“Well, I think you’re great,” Jon shrugged again. He was doing a lot of that.
“A proper answer, if you don’t mind,” Damian said. “Do you wish to date me?”
“Um. Yeah,” Jon rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away.
Damian nodded once. “Consider our previous arrangement null.”
“What—” Jon started, gaze swinging back to Damian.
“Our new arrangement is much the same, but for the caveat that I would prefer that our arrangement not be fake,” Damian clasped his hands behind his back, unexpectedly nervous, something fluttering in his stomach.
“Oh.”
Damian waited.
“You’re... sure?”
“Why would I not be certain?” Damian asked.
“I mean. I don’t want you to pity-date me or something,” Jon said.
“I would not willingly subject myself to something that I do not wish to do. I wish to participate in courtship, but only so long as it is you,” Damian said.
“Oh.”
“Yes,” Damian nodded once.
Then Jon grinned and Damian felt the fluttering in his stomach ratchet up to a ridiculous degree. Had he always reacted that way to Jon’s smile? (He thought that, perhaps, he had – but that he’d always ignored it, before.)
Damian cleared his throat and looked away. Then back. “Perhaps we should confirm this arrangement.”
“What, with a handshake or something?” Jon asked.
“I would prefer a kiss. My first, as you know,” Damian said.
“Oh,” Jon breathed out.
Damian rolled his eyes. There really wasn’t something special – to him – about a first kiss.
“You’re sure?”
“Of course,” Damian plopped himself down next to Jon, “Unless you are not.”
“No, it’s fine,” Jon reached out and touched Damian’s jaw, reverently.
“Get on with it, Jonathan,” Damian said, albeit with less heat than he’d intended.
Jon smiled at him, like the sun, and leaned in.
That cliché, about kissing someone being like kissing the sun, held true for Jon. Which was ridiculous, in retrospect, because it was an extremely chaste kiss.
“Cool,” Jon grinned, still in Damian’s space. His hand traced Damian’s jaw back and slid into his hair. He leaned his forehead against Damian’s. “Do I get to kiss you anytime?”
“Within reason,” Damian deadpanned.
Jon kissed him again.