Chapter Text
After dinner, Bruce accompanied Damian to his room. The little one, wearing his full-body elephant pajama, climbed the mansion stairs with quick, determined steps, unable to contain his excitement. Damian had chosen that pajama for its "practicality," though it clearly wasn’t, but no one would tell him that because he looked absolutely adorable.
Bruce couldn’t help but smile as he watched his son, still with that small mask of toughness, show his enthusiasm for something as simple as the tooth fairy. Despite everything that had happened, he was still a child, and that vulnerability was something Bruce would never stop appreciating.
Damian ran quickly to his room on the second floor, while Bruce followed him with a smile on his face, enjoying the image that, for him, was pure magic.
When they reached Damian's room, the boy stopped abruptly in front of the bed, staring intently at the place where he had left his tooth, as if waiting for something magical to happen.
"I think you're ready to sleep, little one," Bruce said softly, as he approached the bed and adjusted the sheets so Damian could crawl in.
"Yes, dad," Damian replied, not taking his eyes off the small spot where he had left his tooth. "Do you think the tooth fairy will come tonight?"
Bruce leaned in to give him a kiss on the forehead. "I'm sure she will, Damian. The tooth fairy always keeps her part of the deal."
Damian nodded with a small smile, as if the idea of magic was enough comfort to end the day.
"Good night, son," Bruce whispered, turning off the room light and turning on the small nightlight, letting the sound of the mansion envelop Damian in a peaceful calm.
"Good night, dad," Damian responded, curling up in his bed.
Bruce left the room, gently closing the door behind him, knowing that although the day had been long, every second had been worth it. He had seen his son take another step toward trust, and that, to him, was all that mattered.
At the first ray of light that slipped through the curtains, Damian shifted in his blankets, feeling the soft warmth of the mattress. But when his memories of the previous day returned, his excitement woke him up abruptly. He quickly sat up, lifting his pillow, searching for his tooth, but instead, he found a $20 bill.
Damian took it in awe, his eyes wide open. Was this part of what he had heard from everyone? Had the tooth fairy really left money?
He jumped out of bed and rushed down the mansion hallway, his heart pounding with excitement, to show his prize to his brother.
He reached Dick’s door and, without thinking twice, jumped onto the bed with one swift move.
"Richard, Richard! Wake up!" he shouted, shaking him insistently.
Dick’s eyes flew open, startled and with messy hair, still half asleep. "What’s wrong, Damian? Are you okay?" he murmured, rubbing his eyes as he tried to figure out why he’d been woken up so suddenly.
Damian, unable to hide his amazement, showed him the $20 bill tightly clenched in his hand.
"Look! The tooth fairy left me money, and my tooth is gone!"
Dick, still half asleep but caught up in his brother’s excitement, smiled softly at him. "That’s amazing, Dami. You know what? Later we can go somewhere so you can buy something, how does that sound? But it’s really early... how about we try to sleep a little longer?"
Damian nodded and snuggled under the covers with Dick. The older brother lifted his arms and hugged him, pulling him close in a gesture full of protection and affection. Their breathing slowly synchronized, and within minutes, the room fell silent again, wrapped in the warmth of the morning.
The sun was already filtering through the curtains when Damian opened his eyes again. He blinked a couple of times, disoriented, until he remembered what had woken him up earlier. He turned and saw that Dick was still asleep, this time with one hand stretched out toward the spot where he had been. Carefully, Damian got out of bed and left the room with soft steps, the bill still tightly held between his fingers.
Further down, the mansion was already awake. The aroma of coffee and toasted bread filled the air, mixed with the sound of utensils and Alfred's calm voice coming from the kitchen. Damian appeared in the dining room with an impossible-to-hide smile, holding up his $20 bill like a trophy.
"The tooth fairy left this for me!" he proudly announced.
Bruce gave him a small smile from behind his newspaper, and Alfred nodded as if it were a remarkable fact. Jason patted him on the head, Tim barely lifted his eyes from his cup, but they all paid attention, even if only for a moment.
Damian couldn’t stop repeating how he had found the bill, telling the story each time with more excitement, as if with every word, he was reliving it.
After breakfast, still with traces of jam at the corners of his mouth, Damian went upstairs to change. He took his time choosing his clothes: something comfortable for the day. He came downstairs, already dressed, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. His brothers were waiting for him at the entrance.
"Ready to go to the mall, Dami?" Dick asked with a smile, leaning toward him. "We're going to have a lot of fun."
As he spoke, he affectionately patted the back of Damian’s head, causing him to frown slightly, although he didn’t pull away.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, hurry up, I want to go to that new bookstore that just opened," Jason crossed his arms, impatience in his voice as he looked at Damian and then at Dick.
"I also want to go find new axles for my skateboard," Tim added, paying close attention to his sneakers.
"Well, then let’s go as soon as possible," Dick replied cheerfully, still smiling at his brothers’ excitement.
"I’ll drive!" Jason shouted, raising his hands with the keys to one of Bruce’s sports cars.
Dick looked at him incredulously. "Jason, you can’t drive, it’s not legal with your public status," he retorted, quickly moving toward him to try to take the keys.
Jason, still grinning, raised an eyebrow. "I'm 17, I think I'm totally capable of driving!"
"You're still legally dead," Dick shouted at him, struggling to get the keys from him, managing to make Jason let go, only for him to grab them back instantly.
"That hurts, Dickhead," Jason replied, rubbing his chest as if he had been hit directly. The pained expression was more theatrical than genuine, but he enjoyed keeping up the joke.
Seeing that the argument wasn’t ending, Damian grew impatient. He stood by the door, arms crossed and a pout on his lip. "Can you stop your nonsense and just leave already?"
"Okay, okay, let's go, before the little demon brat gets even more mad," Jason joked, after feeling how quickly Dick snatched the keys from him.
Jason sighed in resignation and followed his brothers to the exit, where they got into Bruce’s sports car.
In the end, they were Waynes. One of the most powerful and wealthy families in all of America. And their father didn’t just have an account with unlimited zeros; that wealth was reflected in the comforts his children enjoyed.
They drove out of the mansion grounds, and the car quickly sped through the streets of Gotham. As the tall buildings passed by and the city’s hustle and bustle became more noticeable, they reached the mall. They parked the car in a special area with more security. It was still Gotham, and in that city, you were never completely safe.
The brothers entered the mall from the back, where the entrance was discreet and protected, and quickly started walking through the large hallways of the luxury stores. Everything around them sparkled: spotless display windows, polished marble floors, warm lights hanging from the ceiling.
"Well, Dami, do you already have an idea of what you’ll spend the money the Tooth Fairy left you on?" Dick asked, looking down with a smile as he noticed how the boy was clutching onto his pants.
"I was thinking about some colors for my drawings," Damian responded with complete seriousness, as if it were a monumental decision.
Jason, who was walking right behind them, couldn’t help but burst into laughter. "Colors? With twenty bucks, you could buy something way cooler than that."
"When I was younger, I used to spend my allowance on useful stuff... like fireworks, little knives, and those rubber things that popped when you stepped on them. The essentials, you know?" he added with a mocking smile.
"Well, Todd, it’s not my fault you were a street rat for most of your life.
"Damian!" Dick scolded immediately, frowning. "That’s not very nice to say."
Damian lowered his head a bit, though he didn’t seem too sorry. "Sorry, Todd. I don’t think you’re a street rat."
"Jason..." Dick sighed as he turned his head toward him. "You too?"
"He started it," Jason shrugged.
Tim, who had been silently observing them, rolled his eyes. "Can you behave at least until we get to the bookstore? It’s like I’m with five-year-olds."
"Well, practically, Damian is the height of one," Jason responded.
And in less than a second, the mall hallways became the stage for an absurd scene: a teenager in a leather jacket was trying to dodge a furious child threatening him with a metal cane. Where had he even gotten it from? Nobody knew.
Dick held Damian by the waist while trying to stop him, and Tim grabbed Jason by the arm, pushing him back.
"Stop moving, Damian!"
"Let me go, Grayson! That bastard deserves it!"
"You can’t bring weapons into the mall, kid!"
"It’s not a weapon."
"Is everything okay here?" asked a mall security guard, walking over with a serious expression. Suddenly, they all froze, putting on their best "I don’t kill a fly" smiles, as if there hadn’t just been a chase.
"It’s nothing, officer. Just my brothers playing," Dick responded with a crooked smile, lowering his voice as he ran a hand through his hair.
The guard stared at him for a second, blinking rapidly before regaining his composure.
"Oh, I understand, Mr. Wayne. Just try not to make too much noise."
"Don’t call me Mr. Wayne, that’s my father. Just call me Dick. And don’t worry, we’ll continue on our way without anyone noticing," Dick said with a playful smile and a wink.
"Of course, but I need you to sign something first," the guard said quickly pulling out a small notebook, almost trembling, as he offered a pencil to Dick. For a moment, everyone thought it was a ticket.
"Sign?" Dick asked, raising an eyebrow, and then laughed when he saw the notebook: it wasn’t a report, it was a personal agenda. He looked at the badge stitched on the officer's uniform.
"For Randy, from Dick, with love," he said, signing it smoothly and handing the notebook back with elegance.
"Thank you so much, sir... enjoy your day," the officer said as he walked away, though not without everyone hearing him murmur to himself:
"Such luck, I’ve always wanted his autograph."
"What just happened?" Damian asked, his eyes wide open, part confused, part impressed.
"It’s the Dick Grayson effect," Jason replied with a smirk, while Tim shook his head.
"Well, we can continue on our way. I think it would be good to split up to cover more ground," Dick suggested.
"Jason, you can take Damian to the art store next to the bookstore. And I’ll go with Tim for what he needs for his skateboard. I also need some stuff for my motorcycle."
Everyone nodded, and they left with the promise of meeting in an hour for ice cream.
Damian looked at Jason with distrust, but in the end, just followed the older boy, while Dick and Tim headed to the other side of the mall.
"I hope you don’t cause any trouble," Tim remarked, looking at his older brother.
Jason and Damian walked for a while until they finally spotted the large newly opened bookstore. The glass façade glowed in the sunlight, and from the outside, you could see several people leafing through books with absorbed expressions. Jason, visibly excited to see the new editions of Jane Austen, turned to Damian with determination.
"Listen, kid, I’m going to check out the bookstore, and you can go look at your art supplies. When I buy my books, I’ll come find you. Don’t go anywhere else, and don’t talk to strangers. If anyone approaches you, you are not allowed to break any bones, understood?"
"I’m not a naive kid, Todd. I can take care of myself... unlike others," Damian replied, lifting his chin with superiority.
"Whatever you say, kid." Jason messed up his hair with a smile before Damian jerked away, frowning. "Now go."
Jason watched him closely until he saw him fully enter the art store, making sure he didn’t stray at any moment. Only then did he turn around with a casual stride and head toward the bookstore, ready to lose himself among the shelves full of classics, collector's editions, and that fresh paper smell he loved so much.
Meanwhile, with Damian...
Damian had started walking through the aisles of the store, calmly searching for the Castle colors he liked so much. He was comparing the shades in a box when something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. In the children's section, a huge sign with Bluey's image decorated a shelf full of new merchandise.
He froze completely.
For a second, his expression was that of a small child seeing magic for the first time. Without thinking twice, he ran down the aisle until he reached the shelves packed with Bluey items. His eyes sparkled, and unable to contain himself, he began hopping with excitement.
That's when an employee approached him with a kind smile.
"Hi there, little one, are you looking for something specific?"
Damian turned to look at her. She was a young blonde woman, smiling sweetly, and although on any other day he would have been cold or short, in that moment, he couldn’t hide his excitement.
"I was looking for a Castle color kit," he answered honestly, "but I didn’t know you had so many Bluey items."
"Do you really like Bluey?" she asked, amused. "We just got a ton of new things. If you want, I can bring you a basket and help you find whatever you need."
Damian nodded quickly, still keeping his composure.
"That would be very helpful, thank you, miss."
The employee walked off for a moment and returned with an empty basket, ready to be filled. Together, they walked down the aisle while she showed him everything they had: colors, coloring books, stickers, plushies, notebooks, pens, a Bluey backpack, and even a Bingo-shaped pencil case. Damian couldn’t believe it. He felt like he had found paradise on Earth.
When they finished, she accompanied him to the checkout and began scanning each item.
"So..." said the girl, somewhat curious while arranging everything, "where are your parents?"
Damian, who had been absorbed in watching the items being scanned, lifted his gaze and, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, replied.
"They're not with me. I came with my brothers. One of them is at the bookstore next door. He'll pay."
"Do you think he won’t get scared when he sees all of this?" she asked, amused, pointing to the mountain of items.
"It’s Jason. He won’t get scared. He’ll just complain," Damian replied seriously.
She chuckled quietly, amused by how serious the boy sounded. Damian, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, pulled out a black card from his pocket. One of those cards heavier than the whole wallet, that screams "old money" just by looking at it.
He stood on his tiptoes, stretching as far as he could, and lifted his hand to place it on the counter without blinking.
"Just swipe it. It’s authorized," he said with confidence no seven-year-old should have.
The employee took the card, blinked when she saw the metallic shine, then read the last name "Wayne" engraved on a corner. She swallowed and nodded in silence.
She was about to ask for a signature when the automatic doors suddenly opened, and Jason stormed in, walking heavily, his face twisted and his brow furrowed.
"DAMIAN, YOU TOOK MY CARD!" he yelled, striding toward them.
Damian didn’t flinch. He stayed there, still next to the counter, holding a Bluey plushie as if nothing had happened.
"I didn’t take it. I used it," he corrected, without any guilt.
The cashier stifled a laugh as Jason clenched his jaw, trying to keep his composure.
"What the hell is all this?" he pointed to the tower of items that was almost overflowing from the register.
"It makes me happy," Damian replied, not letting go of the plush.
Jason put both hands on his face and let out a long sigh.
"I can’t believe this..."
The employee raised the scanner with doubt and asked.
"So... should I swipe it?"
Jason sighed deeply, threw his head back, and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds.
"Yeah... whatever."
Damian, unable to hide his excitement, let out a high-pitched scream and, without any shame, rushed to hug Jason's legs. He was so small that he barely reached his waist, so his arms only wrapped around Jason’s calves.
For a moment, Jason froze completely, his arms half-raised as if unsure of what to do. His face turned bright red immediately, and he just awkwardly patted Damian’s head.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, kiddo. Grab your stuff and let’s go, I left my books at the register," he said, trying to sound indifferent, though there was a half-hidden smile on his face.
The cashier, who had witnessed the entire thing with a smile, handed them the bags. Jason signed the receipt and left a generous tip before walking out with several plastic bags hanging from his arms. Damian walked beside him, hopping with joy, tightly hugging a huge Bluey plush that nearly covered his face.
"Alright, let’s pay for my books and then we’ll head back to meet up with Dick and Timmy, okay?" Jason said, looking down and pressing his lips together tightly to keep from smiling too much when he saw the pure happiness on his little brother’s face, all because of some stuff from a silly animated show.
And though he wouldn’t say it out loud, he was genuinely proud. That huge smile, those sparkling eyes... he had made that happen. Not Dick, not Alfred, not Bruce. Him.
In your face, Goldie, he thought, satisfied.
When they finished paying for the books, Jason grabbed the bags and both of them started walking through the mall, which was now in the middle of peak hours. There were crowds of people around them, hurried adults, shouting teenagers, crying kids... the usual chaos.
Damian, who barely reached the chest of most people, couldn’t see where he was going. At first, he tried to keep up, dodging legs and jostles, but soon he gave up. Without saying anything, he stretched out his little hand, groped around, and ended up gripping Jason’s pants tightly, as if it were his only anchor in the middle of the crowd.
When Jason felt the grip, he slowed his pace, carefully watching each step, and lowered his arm a little, brushing his knuckles against Damian’s fingers, a silent way of saying “I’ve got you.”
But then, without warning, a man in a suit, distracted by his phone, hurried forward. He didn’t stop. Didn’t look. And in a second, he crashed into Damian, shoving him carelessly. The boy let go of Jason’s pants and fell flat on his back to the floor with a harsh thud.
"Stupid brat!" the man spat, irritated, as he picked up his fallen phone. "This is why they shouldn’t let these terrorists roam around in decent places."
Damian, who was about to lash out at the man, froze completely when he heard the comment. With his eyes wide open, and a look of surprise and embarrassment, he felt his bottom lip start to tremble.
Jason didn't think twice. He dropped the bags and lunged at the man. He grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall with such force that the nearby shelves vibrated.
"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY!?" he growled, teeth clenched and chest heaving with pure rage.
"Hey, let me go! You don't have the right!"
Jason interrupted him by landing a direct punch to his face. The sound of impact was dry and brutal. The man staggered backward, letting out a groan, but Jason grabbed him by the clothes again before he could fall.
"Who the hell do you think you're talking to like that, asshole? Huh? You think it's okay to yell at a kid and then spit your racist shit in his face?"
"I didn’t know he was your son!" the man stammered, covering his bloodied mouth. "You should've picked a better wife, man. You've just contaminated your future generations."
Jason stood completely still. For a second, he didn't even breathe.
His jaw tightened; his eyes darkened like a storm.
And then, without warning, he landed another punch, this time to the man's stomach, doubling him over with a choked groan.
The man tried to speak but only spat saliva and blood. Jason grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall with enough force to lift both his feet off the ground.
"Open that mouth again, you bastard, and I’ll make sure you can’t say a word for the rest of your life," he spat between clenched teeth, inches from his face.
Jason let go of the man, opened his wallet, and pulled out a black card.
The man froze. He looked at the card on the floor. He looked at Jason. Then, slowly, his eyes moved to the little boy behind him, the boy with red-rimmed green eyes, his cheeks tight from holding back tears, and his fists clenched.
And then he understood.
"Wayne..." he whispered, swallowing hard.
"You’re gonna need more than luck to explain what you just said when my dad sees the security report," Jason spat to the side, still glaring at him with hatred. "Enjoy your unemployment, idiot."
Then he turned away. He walked straight to Damian and knelt down in front of him, this time without any comforting words, just extending his arms.
Damian still hadn’t moved. His head was down, his breathing shaky. Not because of the punch. Not because of the shove. But because of the words.
"Hey, little guy," he said, his voice softer, full of concern. "Are you okay? Does anything hurt?"
Damian shook his head but couldn't look him in the eye. He bit his lip hard, as if trying to swallow his emotions.
"Come here."
Damian hesitated for a second. Then he let himself fall into Jason's arms without saying a word, holding onto him tighter than Jason expected.
"It doesn’t matter what they say, Dami," he whispered in his ear. "You’re my brother. And you’re worth more than any piece of trash that dares to say otherwise."
Damian didn’t respond. He just held him a little tighter.
"No one," Jason whispered, hugging him tightly. "No one will talk to you like that again while I’m around. Do you hear me?"
Jason held him just a little tighter, as if with that embrace he could protect him from the whole world. Damian nodded slowly, his face still hidden in his neck, his warm breath soaking the fabric of his shirt.
Jason knew they were probably already on everyone’s phones, probably trending on Twitter at that very moment, but he didn’t give a damn. He could turn against the whole world if anyone dared to lay a finger on one of his siblings.
With that thought burning in his chest, he straightened up, walking with his back straight, a defiant look in his eyes, his heart beating strong. He lifted Damian with one arm, carefully adjusting him against his shoulder, making sure to keep him out of the public eye. Then, calmly, he bent down and picked up the Bluey stuffed animal that had been left on the floor.
He handed it to Damian without saying a word. The boy immediately hugged it with one hand, and with the other, wrapped his arms around Jason’s shoulders, holding on tightly.
Jason bent down again and, with one hand, picked up all the bags effortlessly. Then, with his head held high and an undeniable presence, he began to walk through the crowd.
No one said anything.
No one dared.
The people simply stepped aside.
After walking for a while, they finally found Dick and Tim, who were sitting on a bench near the fountain in the center. Dick saw them first, and his smile appeared as soon as he recognized Jason… but it faded as quickly as it came when he noticed how Jason was holding Damian against his chest. His knuckles were red, almost to the point of breaking.
Dick immediately stood up.
"What happened?" he asked, running toward them.
"Just a racist idiot," Jason replied, his jaw clenched.
"Oh, my baby…" Dick whispered, extending his arms toward Damian.
The boy lifted his head as soon as he heard Dick's voice. His eyes met Dick's, and without saying a word, he let himself slide from Jason’s arms into his older brother’s. He clung to him, not letting go of his Bluey stuffed animal.
"I'm so sorry, baby bat. You didn't deserve that," murmured Dick, cradling him carefully while rubbing his back. "You're okay now. I'm here. We're all here."
Jason stayed nearby, completely silent. His gaze was still harsh, as if he couldn't fully let go of the rage he was carrying. But when he saw how Damian was slowly relaxing in Dick's arms, he dropped his shoulders slightly. He didn’t say anything, but his free hand gently brushed over his younger brother's head, making sure he knew he was still there.
Tim didn’t say anything. He just watched, his fists shoved in his hoodie pockets. But in his mind, he already knew exactly what to do with this information. He made a mental note to check the mall’s security footage later and make sure that idiot’s life was going to be more miserable than ever.
"Hey, Dami," Dick said softly as he continued rocking him in his arms, "how about we go get some ice cream? One of those Arab ice cream shops you love. We can buy a lot of ice cream, as much as you want."
"How does that sound, sweetie?" he asked with a smile.
Damian nodded slightly, still silent, and without saying another word, the brothers headed to the car.
When they reached the car, Jason put the bags in the back and extended his arms to take Damian. Dick carefully handed him over, and the little one once again buried his face in Jason's neck, who held him firmly against his chest, bouncing him gently with his knee while tenderly rubbing his back.
Once they arrived at the ice cream shop, they parked nearby. This time, Damian decided to walk. But before they could take a step, he reached for Jason's hand and held it tightly. Jason immediately held it back, protectively.
They entered together, and after checking the flavors, they made their orders. When they were about to pay, Damian pulled out his crumpled twenty-dollar bill from his pocket and, standing on tiptoe, placed it on the counter with both hands, lowering his gaze as if he were doing something very important.
"Dami, you don’t need to spend the money the fairy gave you on this," Tim said with a smile, clearly touched by the gesture.
"I want to," Damian responded in a small voice, not looking up. Then, as if realizing what he had just done, he buried his red face in Jason’s pants.
The three of them felt their hearts tighten at the same time.
Dick didn’t think twice. He bent down, picked Damian up, and hugged him tightly against his chest, covering his face with kisses.
"Oh, but what a beautiful little thing! You can't be this precious, Damian!" he said between laughs, while the boy tried to push him away with his hands.
Jason and Tim just smiled, as did the cashier, who watched them with a soft expression at the tender scene before him.
Shortly after, they received their ice creams and sat at one of the tables in the shop, Damian in the middle, his feet dangling without touching the floor. With a spoon in one hand and the Bluey stuffed animal in the other, he began excitedly telling them everything he had bought, from the illustrated books to the figurine set, which, according to him, was a limited edition.
Jason nodded with every word, Tim asked questions to keep the conversation going, and Dick smiled at him as if he were listening to the smartest kid in the world. No one interrupted him. No one laughed at what he said. They just listened to him, as if it were the most important thing of the day.
Because it was.
Because that’s how it should be.
Bonus 1
When they arrived at the mansion, the three brothers didn’t say a word. They went straight to the Batcave, each with a determined look on their face. Tim sat at the main monitor, fingers flying over the keyboard as the mall’s security cameras appeared one by one. Dick took notes of license plates, movements, and routes. Jason simply sharpened a knife with such a dark expression that even Alfred would have considered interrupting him…
That man would regret messing with a Wayne. And not just any Wayne.
He had messed with the youngest of them.
And that was unforgivable.
Bonus 2
Jason raised an eyebrow, holding a batarang with... a Bluey sticker stuck right in the middle?
"Why does every weapon have a Bluey sticker? This is ridiculous."
His gaze fixed directly on Tim, who didn’t hide his smile.
"Don't look at me," Tim said, raising his hands. "I just gave him access to the plotter."
At that moment, Damian jogged by in the back of the cave with a sheet of stickers in his hand and a smile on his face.
Jason sighed, resigned.
"This is getting out of hand."