Chapter Text
It didn’t happen right away, but they all had to find a new sense of normalcy at some point after Father returned to the right time and place.
Father seemed forlorn about not living with Grayson or Peter permanently. Still, he seemed just as excited about returning to his duties as Batman as Grayson and Peter seemed about living in the same city as Peter’s mother.
Damian was forced to swallow the onslaught of emotions and readjusted to Father’s brand of Batman without any character breaks for laughs or mindless commentary when they were out of hearing range of anyone else.
Off duty was meant to be free for Damian to express himself, but the manor was silent, and Damian spent more time with Batcow, Ace, and Titus than before. It wasn’t the same as with Grayson and Peter, but the pets' inability to be quiet was comforting when all Damian could hear were echoes of the life he had had for two years.
Father was trying to reconnect with Damian, but the silences between him and Damian were frequent, and Damian still felt ill-equipped for the recent changes when a silent week passed and Peter hadn’t returned, as he had done every other week for two years.
Damian was pulled from his thoughts, and the half-hearted illusion of doing homework, when his phone buzzed. Only two people had his number. It was unlikely to be Father; he was elsewhere in the manor and perfectly aware Damian was in the library. Grayson, on the other hand, almost never called. He preferred to text, and even then, Damian rarely bothered to respond.
So when Damian saw the incoming call, he frowned. Something was off.
The phone buzzed across the table and Damian sighed and accepted the call before it could fall over the edge. “What do you want, Grayson?”
Damian straightened his back at the pathetic sob on the other end of the line. “What’s wrong, Peter? Are you hurt?”
Peter’s cries filled the line for almost half a minute, but he eventually caught his breath enough to answer. “It hurts on the inside.”
Blüdhaven was far from a safe place. Some would argue it was worse than Gotham, and Damian had let Grayson move Peter into such a place without anyone but Grayson to protect him. Peter was smart, but he was small and feeble. Above-average strength for a five-year-old wouldn’t get him far when he couldn’t run from dangers, and a knife to the gut could kill him either instantly or over a slow and painful amount of time.
He could also be poisoned. Damian didn’t think that there was anything wrong with the water supply in Blüdhaven, but perhaps there was, and Peter was suffering from the consequences of quenching his thirst.
“What happened? You can tell me.”
“I don’t know, Uncle Dami. I miss you.”
Damian closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. Perhaps he had been rash in assessing everyone else’s views on the changing circumstances.
Peter needed comfort, but Damian had never been sufficient in soothing emotional pain. However, he still had to try and hope Peter understood the meaning behind his words.
“The manor feels different without you yelling about trivial and reasonable things, and the animals miss you.”
Peter’s breath was ragged. “I miss them too. I miss everything. Mommy is closer, but it doesn’t feel like it, and I’m without you.”
Damian wasn’t one for frequent physical touch, but he wished he could have gone through the phone and embraced Peter when the sobs intensified.
“No, Tati!” Peter yelled through gasping breaths.
Damian’s ears hurt from the rustling on the other end of the line, but he pressed the phone tightly to his ear.
“Hey, Damian, sorry about that. Peter took my phone when I went to the bathroom. I hope everything is going well with you and B.”
Damian almost didn’t answer. Grayson’s words were clear, but all Damian could hear was the soft sounds from Peter’s tiny frame. He could practically see the shaking shoulders and pout and feel his small hands gripping someone’s pants or shirt and pulling until they gave him their full attention. Peter should have been spoiled in attention, and Damian had failed.
“Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here. Peter seems upset.”
Grayson sighed. “Yes, he misses you, but he knows you can’t stay in Blüdhaven every other week. He’ll get used to it.”
Peter should never be in pain. Physical pain was always a sin upon the Earth if associated with Peter, but emotional pain wasn’t far behind.
Peter should be happy. He had been joyful and carefree in the manor with a father who loved and made time for him, and Damian, who could be pulled into his inane schemes and games. He had been happy when reacquainted with Father, Drake, Alfred, and Cassandra. Perhaps Peter didn’t remember them as family, but he had seemed to enjoy their company after getting over his wariness.
Peter was unhappy now, and that would not do no matter how much Grayson insisted that he needed time to get used to the new circumstances.
“Father has insisted on going on patrol with Drake and Cassandra this weekend, so I can visit from Thursday to Saturday this week. Although, I will require help with transportation to and from my school on Friday.”
Damian would have thought that the line had cut off if he couldn’t hear Peter cry and call out to both Damian and Grayson, but Grayson eventually answered. “Of course, yes, you can come over any day, and I’ll drive you to and from school on both Thursday and Friday.”
Peter shrieked loud enough for the microphone to cut out, but the ringing in Damian’s ear was far better than the sobs.
“Yes, that’s right, Gudlapishun,” Grayson said, a little muffled through the phone line. “We’ll have to assemble Damian’s bed today. Yes, you can help.”
Grayson cleared his throat and spoke into the phone again. “We can look at decorations and other furniture on Friday or this weekend, but it’s okay if you only want to relax or do something more exciting.”
Damian furrowed his brows and stared intensely at the wall before him. “I thought you had decorated your house before moving Peter into it.”
Grayson laughed, but it wasn’t genuine like when they were alone or mockingly like when he was out as Nightwing. Instead, it sounded nervous and brittle. “Everything is in its place except your room, Dami.”
“My room?” Damian looked toward the library door. He was on the same floor but still far away from his sleeping quarters.
“Yes, your room. For when you come here. That is if you want to make it a frequent thing. It’s okay if you are uncomfortable with it, and we can make it into a guest room.”
“No!” Peter yelled a distance from the phone, but the word was still clear to Damian’s ears.
“No, yelling inside, Tati,” Grayson corrected with barely any sharpness to his words.
Damian turned his gaze from the door to the desk. “A dedicated bedroom would be convenient. I could leave some clothes and pack less each time I come over.”
Grayson exhaled in a way that somehow brought on an image of a bright smile. “You don’t have to pack anything if you don’t want to. I’ll buy you a whole new wardrobe, so you can always come over to Blüdhaven without any preparations, and I’ll buy anything that makes you feel more at home here.”
Damian swallowed. Hearing Peter cry had awoken all the emotions that Damian had wanted to forget, but hearing the joy in Grayson’s voice at Damian being in Blüdhaven had brought on a new set of emotions.
“I’ll see you in two days.”
“I can’t wait to have my boys under one roof again.”
Damian’s heart twitched at that, but he disregarded it with a quick breath. “Can I tell Peter the news?”
Grayson laughed. It still held a nervous air but was much more genuine and familiar. “Yes, of course, although I think he knows most of it from just hearing me.”
The rustling was less loud, and Damian pressed the phone tightly to his ear in preparation for Peter’s high-pitched voice. “Are you coming home?”
Damian's breath hitched, but he had swallowed the reaction before he spoke. “I’m visiting on Thursday after school.”
“Yay, but also boo, Thursday is forever away. I want to hug you now.”
Damian’s arms felt too light and his chest too cold without Peter near him, but he was the oldest of the two and an al Ghul and Wayne by blood. He would have to dignify both bloodlines by caring for the less strong but still admirable ones, like Peter, who had his mother’s blood to dilute Grayson’s strong attributes.
However, duty didn't fill the empty spaces Peter left behind. Logic couldn’t hush the ache in his chest.
“It’s in two days. Perhaps even a little less since I’ll be arriving shortly after school, and it’s nearing dinnertime now.”
Peter’s breaths were still loud but sounded less labored and more like an ecstatic balloon slowly losing its air.
“Okay, I’ll see you then. We can build LEGO together or train with swords. We don’t have a training room, but the backyard is big.”
Damian pushed his homework away and pulled a blank paper toward himself. “Practicing in another terrain would benefit your further education in swordsmanship. Is the garden flat, or is the ground inconsistent?”
Peter explained the garden in great detail. It was unfortunate that it was mostly grass and flat, but there were some bushes and a slight angle on the bottom part of the garden for Damian to use to further Peter’s combat skills.
A knock on the library door pulled Damian out of planning and listening. Although he held Alfred in great regard, he couldn’t help feeling disappointed by the interruption.
“Dinner is ready, young Master Damian.”
“Thank you, Alfred.”
Peter was silent on the other end of the line. He wasn’t stupid and had heard Damian say those words every day that he had stayed in the manor after everyone’s return to Gotham.
“I have to eat dinner now, Peter. Perhaps we can pick up this conversation tomorrow at five.”
“Okay!”
“I’ll call you at five pm,” Damian said before Peter could get any ideas about calling him at five am. Peter was excitable enough to do that, smart enough to handle a phone, cunning enough to play dumb, and charming enough to get away with it.
“Okay!” Peter repeated and did not indicate tears as they said their goodbyes.
Damian momentarily lingered on the quiet line, unwilling to put the phone down even after they hung up. The silence in the manor would be just a memory in two days — but tonight, it echoed louder than ever.