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Damian had not put a lot of thought into Batman’s cape.
He had put a lot of thought into Batman, into his father’s legacy, and into what he would eventually become, but the finer details of Batman’s costuming were of little importance. Or so he thought.
As he undergoes his training to fight as Robin by his father’s side, he is introduced to the Cape Protocol, which involves Robin concealing themselves under Batman’s cape. Damian pauses for a moment upon hearing this and wisely decides not to mention how stupid he thinks the concept sounds.
Sure, he understands certain appealing aspects of the idea. The element of surprise is always useful in extenuating circumstances, and the adaptability for stealth is interesting, but the lowlifes of Gotham know that Batman is rarely seen without his Robin, so Damian doubts its plausibility. What he does recognize, however, is its ability to act as a leash and be used to keep a misbehaving child under control.
He already hates it.
He tolerates the practice, comes to understand the particular way his father tugs on his cape that indicates he wants him at his side, and tries to pretend it’s not as demeaning as it is. The first time his father employs the request while they’re out in the field, Damian has to resist the urge to scowl. He complies, burying the anger and resentment that wells up inside him. He dutifully tucks himself under his father’s cape and stares out at the world from around his legs, wishing he were still fighting.
Then his father dies.
He isn’t actually dead, but they don’t know that at the time. All he knows is that his father is gone. Drake has left, Todd is nowhere to be seen, and it leaves him with Dick Grayson. Grayson steps into his father’s shoes—filling in for the role of Batman for the time being—and Damian gets to be his Robin instead. It does not matter to Damian either way. He still gets to be Batman’s Robin. He did not get to know his father very well anyway. Grayson made more of an effort than his father did, and now his father was gone.
Grayson, unfortunately, keeps the damned Cape Protocol.
He had hoped he could convince his older brother-turned-guardian to disband the stupid thing, seeing as Grayson hates wearing the cape in the first place, but it stays regardless. Grayson apparently recalls the protocol being employed during his time as Robin somewhat fondly and reminisces about taking comfort hiding under Batman’s cape, feeling protected. Damian screws up his face in distaste but doesn’t comment. He doesn’t need to be protected.
The first time that Grayson uses the Cape Protocol, he asks. This, in and of itself, is surprising.
“I was thinking,” Grayson had said, “that we use the Cape Protocol for this.”
Damian had tutted. “I’m not sure how my hiding would be beneficial to taking down a drug dealer’s warehouse.”
“We’d have the element of surprise on our side. It looks like Batman is there alone, trying to make conversation, and then, BOOM! Robin.”
Damian had rolled his eyes, but only because he knew it was hidden behind his domino mask. “I doubt there will be any surprise. Everyone knows where Batman is, so is Robin.”
“Right,” Grayson had grinned, like that was the clever part. “But they wouldn’t know where Robin was. He’s expected to drop from the rafters or be waiting in the shadows, not to emerge from behind Batman’s back.
Damian had debated, pondering the merits of the idea. It was not the worst plan he had heard, and at the very least, it’d given him the chance to watch Batman’s back. “Fine,” he had relented. “But if this fails, I reserve the right to avoid the Cape Protocol in the future.”
It had not failed.
It was not a strategy they used often—both of them usually worked better as a team when they were not forced into such close proximity to each other, but even he could not doubt its merits. Grayson did not employ the protocol often, understanding Damian’s urge for independence as he, too, was getting used to having a partner. He takes time to communicate his thoughts and feelings with Damian, setting aside moments in the cave after patrol to explain his reasoning for some of his actions. He pulls off the cowl, sitting across from him, and detailing his complaints and desires for Damian.
It feels different than how Damian had been treated before. He would never hear anything but harsh reprimands from his mother and grandfather, and his father would always deliver his feedback like reading off a list, still wearing the cowl. It made it feel impersonal and impossible, like he would never measure up.
Grayson also made a point to celebrate his achievements, usually involving taking him someplace silly or buying him something sweet. Damian secretly likes to think that he enjoys those moments, his heart bursting at Grayson’s proud smiles, warming with Grayson’s easy hugs, even if he dares not admit it aloud. Things like these are to be cherished but not taken for granted, for as soon as you get used to them, they get taken away.
So maybe that’s why the second time Grayson used the Cape Protocol, he wasn’t as resistant to the idea.
They were investigating a smuggling ring, but they had been tricked. The warehouse that they thought would be full of the contraband was actually a trap and was rigged with explosives instead. They had dropped down into the warehouse only to find it empty and split up to investigate. It was only then that they had noticed the ticking of the bombs.
“Robin!” Grayson had cried upon realizing they wouldn’t get out in time. He held out the edge of his cape in a clumsy imitation of what Father had done, and Robin had briefly considered running for the windows instead. But he takes in Grayson’s stiff stance, the worry in the lines of his body, and the panicked tone of his voice and doesn’t hesitate.
He dove towards him, throwing himself at Grayson as he crouched down, covering them both with the cape. The explosion rocks the warehouse, sending the walls up in flames, the floor rumbling with the aftershock, and debris falling from the ceiling. Now that they had survived the initial blast under the protection of the flameproof cape, Grayson rose to his feet.
“Stay close.” Grayson had commanded, and they walked through the burning wreckage out into the cool night air. “Are you okay?” Grayson had asked, voice lined with fear and concern, crouching down once more, checking Damian over for any signs of injury. Damian had reassured him of his health, the heavy, reassuring weight of the cape draped over his shoulders the whole time.
Damian was less resistant to the idea after that, even when Grayson used it for silly things.
As summer bled into winter and patrolling Gotham became a feat of resisting the cold, Grayson started to encourage Damian to huddle under the cape for warmth if they were going to be in one place for a while, like talking to the Commissioner or on a stakeout. On one memorable occasion, Grayson tucks the cape around him as they sip hot chocolate on a rooftop, watching the sunrise and enjoying a night’s work well done. He smiles down at Damian, pulling him closer and wrapping the cape around him, bundling him up inside.
Months ago, he might have recoiled at the thought, but now he does not protest and just sips his hot chocolate, leeching the warmth from his brother’s side.
He gets it now, Grayson’s fond memories of being under his father’s cape, of being warm and loved and protected. Damian finds himself ducking under the cape with little prompting or even sometimes without any prompting at all. When under the influence of Scarecrow’s fear gas, Damian throws himself under the safety of the cape without a second thought, hoping the protection it provided could save him from his hallucinations. Sometimes, Damian would even hide under the cape if he was simply feeling a little mischievous, using the tactical hiding spot to carry out a bit of tricky nonsense.
Time continued to pass, Grayson got upgraded to Richard, his father returned, and his family slowly starts to knit itself back together. Richard returns to being Nightwing, and his father returns to being Batman, and the Cape Protocol stays. It’s not the same. Damian cannot deny the feeling of safety he gets when beneath it, but it lacks the warmth it had before.
Time continues to pass and the world carries on.
They’re working together during an Arkham breakout, having rounded up all the escaped rogues except for the Riddler, who they’ve tracked down to an abandoned apartment building. They're down a few family members, injured or exhausted from the fighting, which means they split up to cover all the floors to try and trap him before he escapes. They fight their way through Riddler’s goons and even manage to catch the Riddler, but not without a cost.
“Where’s Nightwing?” Drake asks as they reconvene outside the dilapidated building, waiting for the police to arrive.
“He’s not with you?”
Drake shakes his head. “Last I saw, he was heading to the second floor, but we got ambushed by a bunch of goons.”
A pit forms in Damian’s stomach. “We need to search for him,” he insists, like he’d have to convince his family not to leave him behind.
Batman nods in agreement. “Red Hood and Red Robin will go.” He intones, his deep voice betraying no emotion. Damian wants to protest, but his father levels him with a look that allows no arguments. “We are needed here to watch over everyone until the police arrive.”
Damian thinks that Father could probably do that himself, but ultimately keeps his mouth shut. If his brothers do not find Richard in a sufficient amount of time, he cannot be blamed if he goes to assist them. As it is, they return with Richard within 10 minutes, despite it feeling like the longest 10 minutes of his life. Unfortunately, they do not return with him unharmed. The pit that had formed in his stomach upon first hearing about Richard’s absence drops as he sees his brother’s wounded state.
“Call for the Batmobile,” Todd says as they settle their unconscious older brother on the ground, “and get Penny-one to prepare some supplies.”
“He has a pretty severe head wound—possibly a concussion—and a gash in his side,” Drake details, and Batman calls in the report.
Damian cannot resist any longer and scurries over to Richard’s side. Todd steps away for Damian to slot in place next to him instead. It’s obvious to most of their family what special attachment Damian has to him, and they only tease him about it most of the time. Now, however, they seem to recognize the severity of the situation and let him console himself at Richard’s side.
“It’ll still be a moment before the Batmobile arrives,” Drake says when he’s finished applying some quick bandages to Richard’s wounds. “And these are only temporary measures. Keep an eye on him, will you? Let me know if anything changes.”
Damian nods, and Drake steps away as well, lingering nearby but giving them space. Damian stares down at his oldest brother’s unconscious form on the wet pavement of the sidewalk and tries not to worry. It doesn’t work.
Richard is always doing things like this, going off and getting himself hurt. He’s dreadfully caring and willfully ignorant when it comes to doing things that could ensure his safety, especially when it comes to protecting those he cares about. Even more so, he is back to living in Bludhaven, somewhere where Damian cannot keep track of him. Sure, Damian keeps contact with his oldest brother; they visit each other often and have scheduled calls once a week, but he is often out as Nightwing by himself, with no one else to watch his back. Richard must have gotten used to having a partner by his side. What if he is in more danger because he is not used to not having a Robin under his cape, making sure no one attacks him from behind?
Oh.
Nightwing doesn’t have a cape.
And suddenly, that’s all that Damian can really think about. He wonders if it’s his brain’s way of trying to focus on something other than the spiraling fear in his chest, but he can’t really think about that for long because Nightwing doesn’t have a cape.
How will he be protected without one? What is there to ensure his safety, be his element of surprise, shelter him from explosions, and keep him warm in the cold? Damian shifts, worry tugging at his racing thoughts, and then he realizes: Nightwing doesn’t have a cape, but Robin does.
His cape is small, not as broad or sweeping as Batman’s, just enough to cover him, to be a weight at his back, but it will have to do. He pulls it from behind his back and wonders what to do with it. It’s not big enough to cover Richard’s whole body, but maybe it doesn’t need to. Damian sits down, uncaring of the wet cement of the sidewalk, and sets Nightwing’s head gently in his lap, cradling it in his hands. He pulls the cape over them, protecting his brother’s head from the drizzling rain, blocking out the light, and dimming the sound for his potential concussion.
Richard stirs at the adjustment, trying to discern his situation. “Wha…? Dami?” He asks, his voice soft and slightly confused.
“Relax, Richard,” Damian reassures them in their little cocoon, safe from the world. “The Cape Protocol applies to all Robins, does it not?” He runs a hand through Richard’s tangled locks of hair, careful to avoid the areas hardened with blood.
Richard seems to register the yellow lining for Robin’s cape, or at least, pick up on his meaning through his words, and smiles up at him. “I suppose it does.”
“Rest now,” Damian says instead. “We will have you transported to the Batcave soon enough. You will not have to explain your stupidity to Pennyworth just yet if you are asleep.”
“Thanks, baby bat,” Richard mumbles, his eyes already falling shut again, too drained to continue the conversation.
Damian just tuts softly, careful not to disrupt him as he falls unconscious once more. “I am simply returning the favor.”