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“I don’t know how you keep doing this.” You exclaim, exasperated. “You haven’t been using the correct formula but you keep getting the right answer anyway.”
“Does it truly matter that I use the intended formula?” Damian asks, looking up at you from his worksheet.
“It does because that’s how your teachers want you to learn it but if you ask me, who cares?” You say, sitting back and giving the boy a smile. “You still should use the formula though. If Mr. Kingsley is anything like he was when I took calculus, then he will dock points on the exam.”
“If he was a power hungry tyrant when you were in school then yes. He hasn’t changed.” Damian sneers and grips his pencil. “How could you stand such a cretin?”
“Let me teach you something, Damian. Not about mathematics but about school, well, about life in general.” You grin and lean forward on your elbows. “It’s all a game, really. You need to jump through the right hoops, press the right buttons, say the right thing to win. It’s tedious and aggravating but it’s all about working over people to get what you want. You’re playing for yourself, no one else. This is Damian Wayne’s story, got it?”
He stares at you with a frown for a moment before; “You give terrible advice.”
You throw your head back with a laugh.
“You’ll get it one day. Or maybe you won’t. But you’ll make your way for certain. You’re a smart kid, Damian.” You say and his cheeks burn pink.
Damian’s always thought you were strange but he still values your opinion and often puts you on a pedestal that you would certainly consider yourself unworthy of. You have been tutoring him in math for about two months now and managed to earn his respect in that short window of time, something even his own brothers have not done. You were a guiding hand and kind voice to explain calculus concepts in digestible ways but you had become a friend and confidant as well. An unbiased third party he could rely on being honest but not cruel or overly protective. Something he could not count on his family for.
So when his brothers started to hang around too long during sessions or caught you in the hallways during break or asked about you after you left, he started feeling… irritated. You were his friend, not theirs. Who did they think they were?! Dick would come into session, post-workout, wearing a skimpy tank top and glistening with sweat but still smelling like his cedarwood cologne. Jason would bring you a plate of apple slices and roll Damian a whole, bruised one as he perched on the table to chat with you. Tim would catch you in the hall with a computer question he doubtless already knew the answer to just so he could listen to your voice.
Damian is appalled, distraught, furious with the behavior. He’d try moving your sessions to a different room, changing the days you would come, hell, he tried locking the doors to the study but his brothers were persistent. Slobbering over you and nipping at your heels like a pack of needy dogs. It’s a fruitless effort as well as a thankless job. You hadn’t seemed to notice the attempts he made to fortify the sanctity of your tutor sessions, just gave him puzzled looks as he locked the doors and windows and pushed a chair up against the bookcase.
Today is not any different. You and Damian take your break together and decide on a short walk around the estate. Autumn was slowly but surely giving way to winter and, while you were wearing a thick down coat, it didn’t seem to be enough. Damian even offers you his mittens. Naturally, Dick arrives on his motorcycle, all nonchalance and low-key swagger. He trots up to you easily, hands tucked in his jacket pockets. Noticing your shivering, he unwraps his scarf and slips it over you. Carefully tucking it around you at a laughably slow pace. He rubs his fingers over the shells of your ears after an exaggerated exclamation about how cold they are. He chats with you, teases you about your chattering teeth, but when he asks what you’re doing after session Damian snaps.
“(Y/n) is taking me to the arcade.” He says promptly and glues himself to your side.
You blink owlishly. “I am?”
“Yes, you are.” Damian slips his gloved hand into your mittened one.
“Huh. Guess I’m taking him to the arcade.” You shrug.
Dick laughs and rocks back on his heels. “Mind if I tag along?”
“Not at all.” You say as Damian says;
“Yes, I do mind.”
You and Dick both look down at him. Damian keeps his glare on Dick.
“You are not invited, Grayson.” He scowls. “Come, (Y/n). Pennyworth is making hot chocolate.”
You give Dick a sympathetic smile as Damian drags you back to the manor. The two of you sip at hot chocolate while you explain trigonometry formulas at the chalkboard.
“For a right angle triangle, which is what we’ll be dealing with, you need to memorize what each side is labelled in order to properly use the formulas for sin, cos, and tan.” You explain, sketching out a triangle. “We have hypotenuse, opposite, and adjacent.”
Damian dutifully takes notes as you lecture but finds his attention split. After Dick had commandeered you during your walk, you had run into Tim in the hallway who insisted on walking you back to the study and, of course, you just had to tell him you were taking Damian to the arcade later. Tim naturally asked to come and Damian once again had to chase away another one of his brothers. How could you possibly be so oblivious? Damian knew you were intelligent and not just in mathematics. He had read over your file extensively. You had multiple STEM degrees and the odd psychology degree in addition to your doctorate in mathematics. Not just anyone would be allowed to tutor Damian Wayne. He made sure of that himself.
Maybe you were just not very observant or dense when it came to flirting. A spiteful, jealous voice inside him considers if maybe you like the attention, that that’s the reason you still tutor him. Maybe you want one of his brothers to come with so you don't have to be alone with him. Maybe he frightens you or makes you uneasy or annoys you or-
“Damian?” You ask, lips pulled into a frown. “Everything alright?”
He blinks and looks down at his paper. He’d tore it down the middle and snapped his pencil in his grip.
“I-” He finds that he doesn’t know what to say.
“Let’s call it for today.” You say and start to wipe down the chalkboard.
“No! You don’t have to leave.” He says as he abruptly stands and then flushes at his own desperation.
“Why would I? I’m taking you to the arcade, right?” You say with a grin as you sit next to him. “I’m sticking around but we aren’t gonna do any more trig. You’ve been acting strange these last few sessions. Is it because of your brothers?”
His mouth opens. Maybe you weren’t as oblivious as he thought.
“Do you like them?” He asks, voice small.
“Of course I do.” Damian feels his heart shrink a bit and his chin hits his chest. “But not in the way they like me.”
He snaps his head back up to look at you. “Really?”
“They’re all kind, as well as extremely obvious, but I’m here for you, Damian. Everyone else is secondary.” You smile as he finally sits back down. “Now, I have an idea and it involves inviting all of your brothers.”
Damian frowns again. “I’m no longer convinced what you feel towards my brothers is purely platonic.”
“Oh, it is. But I’m turning this into a lesson. Remember what I said about life being a game?” You grin, devilishly.
He nods but gives you a skeptical look.
“I’m gonna show you how to properly use your pieces.”
The arcade is a blast and the perfect playing field to demonstrate your abilities. Abilities Damian is thoroughly impressed with. Pouting at your score on the zombie blaster game and Jason is taking over, mowing them down with ease. A gentle hand on Dick’s shoulder while he pitches at skeeball and suddenly he’s landing 50’s with every throw. Leaning a hip against the pinball machine Tim is playing with a soft smile and he’s racking up the points.
Damian didn’t realize how effective you’d be at this but he supposes you do have a psychology degree. You’ve got the boys wrapped around your finger and the payout is worth it. Over 5000 tickets are presented to you like gifts before a queen.
“What do you want, Damian?” You ask as the two of you peruse the prizes.
He assesses the collection with scrutiny before he points.
“That one.” His finger leads to the largest cow plushie you’ve ever seen.
“Done.”
Five minutes of waiting for the ticket counter later and you walk out of the darkened arcade hand in hand with Damian who holds the cow against his side. Three slack jawed brothers follow close behind. The lot of you pile into your sedan, Dick, Jason, and Tim suffocating under the cow plush in the backseat while Damian rides shotgun.
You arrive at Wayne Manor and wait for the brothers to shuffle out before you stop Damian.
“Did you have a good time?” You ask, head peeking out the window.
He turns to you, cow on hip, and gives you a grin. “It was enjoyable.”
“Good.” You say with a smile. “See you next week?”
“Until then.” He nods.
You give him a salute as you roll your window back up and take off back down the driveway. Damian puffs his chest with pride and saunters to the doors, excited to gloat to his brothers that he’s your favorite. Suddenly, your lesson from earlier begins to make a lot more sense.