Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Remember, we’re here to gather intel," Timothy Drake-Wayne murmurs to Damian al Ghul Wayne, hand on the younger brother’s shoulder. “Do not engage with the targets.”

Damian gives a firm nod of agreement, his hand absently moving to scoop up a glass of sparkling water from a passing server.

Standing on the other side of the reception hall, Danny sips from his glass and pretends to watch the crowd while he speaks with his mentor, “They’re here to scope us out.”

Vlad Masters nods once, a slight dip of his chin, having picked up the exchange with his own sensitive hearing. “Indeed. As we expected.” He swirls the whisky in his glass. “Why don’t you try to engage poor Damian?”

Danny snickers around the lip of his glass, lowering his eyes to hide the flash of mischievous green. “Gee, unkie, I’d’ve hoped to have a few dates before taking such a serious step in a relationship”

After three years, Vlad should’ve known to choose his words carefully. He realizes the double entendre too late and back peddles with exasperation. “You are not to date him, badger. Just set him off guard and distract him from his agenda.”

Danny sighs. “Unkie, you take the fun out of this.”

“And nothing too dramatic. Tonight is supposed to be about our announcement, hmm?” He raises a well-groomed eyebrow at Danny. 

Danny rolls his eyes, but Vlad simply appears to ignore him, gaze casting over the guests assembled for the gala. Vlad’s attention has shifted towards picking out his own targets investors for Dalv Co.’s newest project announcement: pure, clean, consistent energy.

They’ve been working on this project all summer and Vlad finally figured out how to long-term stabilize the concentrated ectoplasm. The thinner the ectoplasm, the faster it decays outside of the Infinite Realms, and for this project, crystalized or goo form won’t do. Chemistry has never been Danny’s strong suit, but that’s why it’s important to have a partner to invent with because Vlad was able to figure out the right composition for the liquid ectoplasm. It’s an idea that day has been working on for a while now, tinkering with all of the mechanical parts from casing to motorized filter.

This is their night! Their time to celebrate their success! Even though Vlad is hogging the limelight of the presentation and announcement, Danny is trying not to be bitter about it because Vlad is better at public speaking… After all that work, there’s no way that they’re going to let a couple of Waynes screw it up for them.

“You have your task, I’m going to start networking,” Vlad says as he steps away to approach some other wealthy business person. “Ah, Mr. Smith, so good of you to join us for the first demonstration of E-Energy.”

Danny scoffs and turns away from Vlad’s schmoozing. He has a task to do, and the first step is to make himself bait. 

He meanders the crowded grand hall, greeting guests and thanking them for coming. Yes, Dalv Co. does have a very good announcement for tonight. No, it is not another change in the management of their Research and Development department. Yes, guests tonight get the very first look of the new development project. No, while it was originally his idea, Danny has only been able to help a bit. Yes, it really will move the world towards a cleaner, brighter future.

Finally, the hairs on the back of Danny’s neck stand up as an invisible shroud of death brushes against his hidden aura. After going to the Gotham Private Academy of Young Scholars for the last three years, Danny is all too familiar with the one person that that shroud announces. He turns and meets the dull, golden eyes of his rival. 

Ever since Danny and Vlad moved to Gotham; ever since Dalv Co. started climbing the ranks and Danny was officially named the heir, Danny and Damian have been compared. Which one has the higher test scores? Which one is better for improving their family’s company? Danny invented this but Damian donated that. Damian won this but Danny led that. 

It’s exhilarating. It’s exhausting. It challenges Danny to be better, do better, and achieve more. Vlad certainly pushes him, but with this, it’s on Danny’s terms mostly. Though, the damn media, they could certainly lay off sometimes.

With all the head-butting, Danny and Damian mostly avoided each other at school, but their senior year in particular is trying to challenge them with basically half of their classes being together. Now they are on the same mathletes team and they even have to sit together in AP physics! Not that it is specifically fun to get under Damian’s skin.

“Daniel.” Damian blinks, his eyes almost flashing with irritation. A pale, clear brown that seems to turn golden when hit just right by the lights

“Damian,” Danny says stiffly. 

They fall silent as they watch each other. 

Danny’s eyes flick over Damian’s crisp, black suit, snapping from detail to detail. The crushed velvet looks incredibly expensive when compared to Danny’s cashmere suit. Damian is wearing an emerald green silk Chinese Tang shirt under his Western style suit jacket. The homage to his heritage is tasteful and suits (haha) him well. No doubt, the golden threads of the embroidered dragons on the Tang shirt are real gold, just like the multiple rings, bracelets, and earrings that adorn Damian. Stuffy, stuck-up, rich fruitloop.

Damian’s gaze is more methodical, more purposeful than Danny’s. His eyes go down to Danny’s shoes and then back up to meet Danny’s eyes, noticing every line and thread. Danny wears a deep blue silk dress shirt with a pale blue bow-tie and shiny blue leather shoes. Instead of gold, Danny wears silver for his cuff-links, his earrings are two silver hoops with three sapphire studs, and (as always) his metal circlet bracelet. Danny draws himself up to his full height, not giving into the temptation to fidget.

He tries to tough it out, to not waver under Damian’s power play, but Danny can’t stand long pauses and Damian knows it, always using it to his advantage. Danny breaks the silence.“Here to scope out your daddy’s competition?” 

His eyebrow twitches ever so slightly. “You know very well that my father turned over the company to my brother years ago-“

“Still his name on the building,” Danny mutters.

“-And we were the ones put on the guest list,” Damian sniffs, tilting his head to look down his nose (it’s surprisingly effective despite Danny having several inches on Damian’s height).

“Hm, I guess Vlad just wanted you to see how Dalv Co. is going to leave Wayne Enterprises behind in the clean energy race.”

“And tell me how, exactly, is Dalv Co. going to manage such a feat when its scientists and management have been a revolving door of turnover?”

Danny swirls the juice in his glass before dramatically downing the rest as if it were a shot. “You’re not special Dames, you’ll have to wait till the demonstration to find out.” 

Damian scoffs and turns on his heel, disappearing into the crowd. Danny chuckles as he leaves the main gala, honestly surprised that Damian didn’t rip his head off this time for the nickname. 

It’s time to split himself and patrol the halls until he catches Timothy or Damian snooping. 

Sure enough, not thirty minutes later, mimic #5 catches sight of Damian moving down a hall that is off-limits to guests. 

Danny pulls himself back together just ahead of where Damian will run into him. He can’t help the gleeful smirk that pulls over his lips as Damian pretends to not startle while turning the corner to find Danny. “You can’t sneak a peek at my science project, but I’ll tutor you if you want.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “I do not require your help, Masters.” 

Danny grits his teeth. He knows that Damian is just trying to push his buttons. He knows that Damian is only using the name to highlight their rivalry. Wayne VS Masters. All the ways they’ve been made to compete and be placed opposite of each other over the last three years. 

“Fenton. Remember?” Even though Damian is just going to get Danny’s last name wrong again on purpose in class on Monday, he’ll still correct him. Uncle Vlad is great for taking him in, but Danny refuses to fully take the last name. He won’t be separated from Jazz too. “But that’s right, you don’t care to remember little details.” 

“Tt. I am quite detail oriented.” 

“Says the one getting ‘lost’ to find the bathroom. That was going to be your excuse, right?”

Damian narrows his eyes as Danny emphasizes his words with air quotes.

“Actually, you know what, it would be really funny, follow me.” Danny pretends to change his mind as he turns on his heel and leads the way down the hall. It’s time to put on a show, make Damian forget Drake’s instructions by falling hook, line, and sinker for Danny’s bait. “Uncle Vlad’s office is this way, west wing and third floor.”  

When Damian doesn’t move, Danny calls over his shoulder, “Chop chop, we don't have all night. Vlad needs some recreation every now and then, and rearranging his office is always funny.” 

Finally, Damian starts to follow Danny, eyes narrowed and cautious. 

“He gets all red in the face and mutters a lot while putting stuff back in place. It gives me a chance to get back at him,” Danny babbles as they walk. Damian is always prickly and paranoid, so the best way to sell any kind of story is to weave in the partial truths. 

“For all his drabbles about ‘Danny, I took you in, you’re like a son to me, I want you to take over the company and continue my work,’” Danny deepens his voice to mock Vlad. “He doesn’t give me that much insight into the actual company.

“Okay sure, he lets me tinker and takes my ideas seriously; like E-Energy. There were even some security adjustments he let me add to the main company building! But, like, if I’m supposed to be an heir,” he fakes a gag on the word, “I need to know more about running a company.” Danny may look childish compared to Damian’s poise, but being underestimated right now is going to give Damian false security while falling into Danny’s trap.

Danny throws Damian a bright smile while he picks the lock to Vlad’s office. “Ta da!” He says cheerily as he breaks the lock and swings the door open. (He used the needle from his tie pin to let out a small ecto-blast in the lock. Vlad’s sensors will be tripped and his cameras will see them, but it’s whatever.)

Damian’s eyebrow twitches in annoyance. “I will not be doing your dirty work.”

“Nope!” Danny agrees. He beelines to Vlad’s desk and starts ruffling the papers around. “You’re participating in my dirty work.” 

Damian watches Danny flit around and then ultimately seems to decide that he better find some intel before Danny makes an utter mess of the place. 

Over the next several minutes, Danny switches around the folders in the filing cabinet, rearranges the knickknacks, licks some of the mints in the candy jar before putting them back, and even makes some faces and rude gestures at the hidden cameras. Damian  keeps to his own task of searching for information while he rolls his eyes and huffs at Danny’s antics.  

Danny is in the middle of rearranging another one of the bookshelves when his phone chimes. He looks down and turns the alarm off while unceremoniously sweeping a bunch of books onto the floor. “Right-O, the demonstration is gonna start in a few minutes. You finish up here and meet me downstairs. Let me know if you find anything.” 

“Wait- You can’t just-“ Damian’s head snaps up from where he’s been trying to sort through Danny’s mess. 

“Byeeee!” Danny slips out the door and sing-songs over his shoulder, “Best of luck! Hope you find all the details.”

He returns to the grand hall and joins the throng of people meandering onto the patio that leads to the court yard. It’s almost time for Vlad’s first presentation of E-Energy after enticing his preferred investors for the first portion of the night. He knows that Damian won’t find anything and he was being honest; it’s going to be funny when Vlad finds his office a wreck (except this time he can’t blame it solely on Danny). Anything relating to the tinkering and experimenting that Vlad and Danny do is either in the basement lab or in the castle in the Infinite Realms. Danny first started the schematics for E-Energy downstairs and then Vlad finalized the design in the Realms.

He picks up another drink, choosing a much brighter one this time. It’s a thick and vivid two toned blue and red something. It’s supposed to be stirred and is probably very alcoholic (the employee from the catering company they hired certainly frowned when Danny took it) but he isn’t going to drink it. 

Vlad is on the raised platform next to the modified back-up generator, making a speech about the current issues of renewable energy. Solar panels are damaged easily and don’t work without sun. Windmills are killing birds and are an eyesore on the landscape. Nuclear energy produces waste that is difficult to dispose of and causes disasters when the reactors explode. 

Danny knows that it’s a bunch of bullshit that the fossil fuel companies peddle against clean energy, but investors want to be told that they are making the best choice. They like a shiny label that says NEW and they want to make loads more money off of anything that seems reliable enough to gamble on.

“But E-Energy is different!” Vlad announces as he holds up a green and white sci-fi-ish power cell, no larger than his own forearm (so sue Danny for his design, he can’t yet give up his parents’ aesthetic). “This energy is Dalv Co.’s own special compound that-“

Danny tunes Vlad out as he uses scientific buzz words to talk around the fact that the power cells are charged with ectoplasm. If he pays attention too much then he might just get irritated enough to storm up there and take over. Vlad may have made the energy transfer process perfect, but it was Danny’s project first, god dammit. 

In hindsight, his task to distract Damian is probably, actually, really for Danny to distract himself from Vlad’s attention hogging. Fine. If Vlad wants Danny to direct his energy away from the presentation and onto Damian, then Danny can certainly double down.

Deep breaths. Danny should be proud of himself. Be happy. E-Energy is going to make leaps and bounds in the clean energy movement. 

If ectoplasm can make up all the space between realms and power ghosts for centuries, then surely it can power a few houses. The power cells are fairly easy to make and they can be “recharged” by being refilled. The kicker was figuring out how to keep the concentrated, pure liquid ectoplasm stable for a long time outside of the realms. Once they start making more, the cost will become a lot more reasonable. Right now, it does cost a lot to make one cell, and that’s aside from the cost of the special built generator. It did take some time to figure out how to turn goo-energy into liquid then into electrical-energy and the integration of the system into existing buildings depends on how up-to-date the wiring- Oh there’s Damian. 

Danny’s eyes zero in on the youngest Wayne. He steps out of a side entrance of the mansion to rejoin the crowd while making some vague gestures across the audience to Timothy. Danny knows that Damian didn’t find anything, so now it’s time to taunt him.

He sidles up behind Damian at the outdoor canapé and dessert table. “So? How big of a mess did you make?” Mess of the office or mess of his mission? Damian doesn’t know that Danny knows. 

Damien side eyes him while picking through the vegetarian options. “Fenton. I was not looking for you.” 

“Nope! I was looking for you.” Danny raises an eyebrow. “Okay, so you ready to admit that you’re here to spy for your daddy?”

Damian grits his teeth. “I am here to see Vlad Masters’ presentation.” 

Danny flaps his free hand to mimic talking. “‘Blah blah blah, I made this and it’s the best so give me money and I’ll make more so I can better power Gotham.’ That about sums it up.” 

“And how, exactly, does E-Energy run?” Damian turns to give Danny his full attention. “What is the chemical compound? How is it made, with what resources, and how is it disposed of? Are you aware of Dalv Co.’s increasing CO2 footprint?” 

“And didn’t you find those answers in Vlad’s office?” Danny studies the drink, shoving his free hand in his pocket. “Oh that’s right, you wouldn’t’ve.”

Damian dares a step forward, the shroud of death that surrounds him prickling up against Danny’s aura. “Masters, you may have something to hide, but-“ 

“Hide?” Danny scoffs. “No durr. Like we wouldn’t try to protect ourselves from someone sneaking around like some kind of creepy assassin.” 

“‘Creepy assassin’?” Damian’s indignant hiss nearly covers it, but Danny’s sensitive hearing picks up the way that Timothy mutters, “Keep it together Damian.” They must have some kind of subtle com unit because Timothy is on the other side of the courtyard. Danny could flare his aura to fry it with static…

Danny hums and tilts his head, smirking. He reaches forward with a clawed hand of his aura, grating through the death shroud that hangs over Damian. “That’s right, now calm down and scuttle back to your handler. I bet your daddy will make everything better for you.” He turns on his heel, ripping a hole in that shroud as he leaves. The bait is set.

Sure enough, Danny hears a sharp in-take of breath before quick, firm footsteps sound behind him. A hand on his shoulder yanks him around to face Damian as the other hand balls into Danny’s shirt collar. “Listen here, you impertinent cretin, I-“

Several things happen in rapid succession and time seems to almost slow down (or maybe it’s Clockwork. He always has been rather fond of Danny). 

Danny schools his features into a reaction of shock, not meaning to trip over his feet at the forced turn. He had accounted for most of this, so his arm goes wide and splashes that bright blue and red drink over the front of Damian’s Tang shirt. 

What he had not accounted for was Damian’s strength and momentum or the terrible timing. One moment, Damian’s green silk shirt is getting covered in artificially colored fruit syrup and the next the lights go out. 

Vlad is saying something about “watch how with one simple generator, we are able to power a whole mansion!” 

The E-Energy generator rumbles to life, fluttering green before all the lights flick back on, almost brighter than before. The string lights hung across the courtyard like a roof had been almost hidden in the night air and now twinkle alongside the stars that manage to peak through Gotham’s hazy red smog.

Then, the momentum sends Damian and Danny crashing into the side of the champagne tower, the table lurching under their weight and the glasses tinkling together as the tower shakes before the table legs give out.

Vlad is many things and under the opulence, he is very cheap. He’ll penny pinch wherever he can. So, sure enough, the champagne tower rests on a card table that had been covered with a cloth. 

The world turns as the boys fall, showered by golden champagne and crystal glasses that glitter in the twinkle of the string lights. They clatter and crash to the terracotta tiles, sparkling glass shards and droplets of champagne littering the ground around their sprawled forms. 

There’s a moment of silence as all eyes on the patio turn to them. Most piercingly, are Vlad’s. He stands on the elevated terrace, one hand on the quietly rumbling generator. “Well… I was going to announce a toast with those glasses, but it seems my ward had other plans.” He tries to keep his voice light, but his tone rumbles with an undercurrent of thunder that Danny doesn’t miss. 

Damian props himself up– half on top of Danny –and glares down. His eyes are bright gold in the light and amber champagne drips off of his dark hair. “You, Fenton, will not be hearing the end of this.” 

Danny is slightly winded from the tumble. He sits up– pushing Damian off him –and blinks the champagne out of his eyes. He’s only half aware of the reporters’ flashing cameras. “Oops…”

There are hands lifting Damian up by the arms and off of the ruined table. “I’m very sorry, Mr. Masters, for my brother’s distraction. Wayne Enterprises will be happy to send a formal apology and compensation for the damage in the morning,” CEO Timothy Drake-Wayne’s voice sounds just as forcefully pleasant as Vlad’s. 

“Your kindness is appreciated, but not necessary. I’m sure my ward is just as guilty for this charade. I’d offer to cover the dry cleaning, but I’m sure Wayne wouldn’t appreciate the insult.” 

Timothy gives a curt nod. “Please continue with your evening, I’ll take my brother home immediately. I was hoping to invest, Wayne Enterprises will be in touch.” Then, more quietly, “let’s go, Damian.”

Vlad watches them leave before his eyes snap to Danny. “Get up, Daniel. Go get cleaned and ready for bed. It’s quite late for you.” 

Danny grits his teeth, fisting his hands. He lets the pain from the glass shards in his palms cut through his welling anger. “Of course, Vlad. I’m sorry for the interruption. Please excuse me, everyone, I hope you have a pleasant rest of your evening.” His voice trembles only slightly. Given the circumstances, the guests will think he’s just embarrassed. 

As he leaves, Danny hears Vlad regather the crowd. “I’m so sorry for my ward, you know how children are-“ Danny reigns in his hearing, not caring to know the rest of that statement. Stupid Vlad. He told Danny to do this stupid debacle.

That night, a Robin makes his patrol with cuts on his palms and a ghost haunts the Far Frozen ice lands.

Chapter Text

Part 1 - Turbulence

In the morning, Vlad slaps a newspaper down on the breakfast table in front of Danny. He blinks at the paper, dread crawling up his spine. 

The cover photo shows Damian half over Danny, hands on either side of Danny’s shoulders. The broken card table and stained table cloth are bunched under Danny’s back as he looks up at Damian, hands raising towards Damian’s chest. Glass and champagne sparkles on the ground around them with string lights twinkling above their heads. It would be romantic if it weren’t for the fact that the boys are practically snarling at each other, their faces a mixture of surprise and anger. 

Vlad adds another two newspapers and five different gossip magazines with the same or similar angles of the picture. 

“Well…” Danny offers half of a smile to Vlad, the sweat beading his brow could either be from nerves or from the warmth of the sun room. “They sure are quick about it, aren’t they?”

The older halfa slumps into his chair, his hand moving to brush fingertips over the white scar that rings his throat. It’s a nervous habit that has the lightning scars on Danny’s left hand itching whenever he sees Vlad make the motion. Danny knows that Vlad has a similar band around his right bicep, even though his torso is wrapped in a plush bathrobe. Every single time, Danny has to push away the guilt. It’s not his fault that Vlad ran to try to save him. Except it kind of is.

Vlad’s voice is weary and disappointed when he says, “Badger, this is not the publicity that we were aiming for.”

Ah. Of course. That’s what Vlad is mad about. Publicity. Not “Danny, what happened?" No, “Danny, are you okay?”

Danny skims through the article headlines. “Heir VS Heir!” “Wayne Enterprises and Dalv Corporate at War?” “Investors’ Gala Ends in Tantrum.” 

The news articles are talking about Danny and Damian’s fight. E-Energy is mentioned a few times, but only as a background to what happened between the two heirs. The whole point of the gala was to launch the new power source and it’s not even being discussed.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t also extremely disappointed. This was supposed to be the first big announcement about their project. The first time that Danny gets to be credited for an invention. And he screwed it up. Damian took things too far, made their rivalry seem violent instead of just a competition.

Danny bites his lip, his brain turning slowly from the too-warm room. Think, think, think! There must be something that he can say, some kind of point or lesson that Vlad has made before. The thought bubbles to the surface of Danny’s groggy mind and he recites, “All publicity is good publicity.” 

Vlad is staring out the window of the sun room, one hand resting on his throat and the another arm crossed over his middle. He hums a non-committal sound. 

Danny tries again. “We can make this work. We just… have to twist it to fit our needs. Redirect the attention.”

Vlad enjoys it, but the sun room is always warmer than Danny likes. It makes it hard to think or eat much breakfast, especially on mornings like this when Vlad’s anger sits as a heavy thundercloud in the room. Absently, Danny scratches the star shaped scar on his left palm. 

 Maybe if they were to say that Waynes were trying to distract from the E-Energy announcement-

“There is one silver lining I suppose.” Vlad says, interrupting Danny’s thoughts and he nearly sags in relief. He managed to redirect Vlad’s attention before the rage became physical. “Timothy mentioned that he is interested in investing. If we can move the media spotlight and get a Wayne endorsement… Yes. That could work.”

Danny picks at his soggy cereal, nodding along without listening too closely. His own anger is starting to seep out into just disappointment. As soon as Vlad finishes, Danny can go take an ice-cold shower.

“Then starting today, you need to fix your wrinkle with Damian and get in the Waynes’ good graces. Once you make him your friend, make him trust you, then get him to talk to Timothy about putting a generous investment into Dalv Co.” Danny’s head snaps up as he processes Vlad’s words. “We’ll put a statement out to the press that it’s just a misunderstanding between friends. You just have to make it believable.”

That. Is not what Danny was thinking. 

Befriend Damian… All those sharp words, that piercing gaze, and the prickly shroud of death. Danny swallows hard. This is gonna kill him. Again. 

~~~

That afternoon, Vlad settles himself onto the Waynes’ couch, crossing his legs and throwing one arm over the back cushion, his hand resting behind Danny’s head. Danny sits stiffly next to him, hands fidgeting in his lap. “Thank you for inviting us over, Richard,” Vlad says, “I’m looking forward to sorting out the unfortunate circumstances of last night.” 

Richard Grayson-Wayne nods, sitting on the couch across from them. He lounges easily– stretching out his long legs till his feet are under the coffee table –and looks next to him where Damian sits with crossed arms while glaring out the window. “Please, I prefer Dick, never call me Richard, and it is our pleasure.” 

To match the casualty of his demeanor, Dick is wearing a dark blue hoodie and vibrant green sweatpants with purple socks, no shoes. If it wasn’t for the way that his brothers have been deferring to him or for the breadth of his shoulders, he wouldn’t’ve seemed like the eldest sibling. 

The door to the receiving room opens as an elderly man in a crow-tailed suit enters. Dick gives Vlad and Danny a bright smile. “Alfred makes the absolute best tea service.” 

“Thank you, Master Dick,” the butler says as he lays a tray of tea cups on the table alongside small finger snacks. “Mister Masters and Mister Fenton-Masters, this afternoon we have an earl grey tea paired with cucumber sandwiches and shortbread cookies. Cream and sugar are in their respective pots for you to add at your convenience. Please, do let me know if you need anything else.”

The snacks look really nice, but it’s safer not to eat when they don’t know how much salt was used. One cookie would probably be safe though, and polite. 

“Um, I prefer Danny, thank you,” Danny says. Absentmindedly, he twists at the metal bracelet on his wrist. The awkwardness of the situation is settling in.

“Of course, Mister Danny.” Alfred turns to Vlad, who makes a gesture of dismissal, so Alfred slightly bows his head and excuses himself from the room. There is a muscle that ticks once in Dick’s jaw, but his warm expression doesn’t change and he doesn’t say anything to Vlad.

It is an extremely nice sitting room. Cozy with a big, unlit brick fireplace and dark hardwood floors. The brocade of the curtains compliments the pale blue of the walls and the couches are a well conditioned leather. Under their feet, the rug is thick with a soft pattern, colors that fit the room well without drawing too much attention. Given the consistency of color, the wood frames of the windows and the ceiling moldings are the same wood as the floor. And the art on the walls must be of scenery around Gotham, Danny guesses, eyes trailing everywhere but people’s faces.

Without a doubt, Old Money style. Nothing like the gaudy modern decor that Vlad prefers. 

When you’re invited over by a family like the Waynes, you can’t say no (at least that is what Vlad said). Also, the lack of a staff is hard to explain when guests expect Vlad to have a butler, cooks, etc. Normally, they hire staff like they did for the gala, but this meeting was short notice. And when Vlad called Wayne Manor, he and Danny were invited over, so it all worked out. 

Vlad’s fingers brush over the back of Danny’s neck, a reminder to stay focused.

Danny takes a steadying breath, pushing forward the confidence an heir would exude. He sort of but not really suggested that they take this angle. He’s fine with this. He is. 

“And you can just call me Tim,” Timothy is saying. He’s sitting in an arm chair between the two couches, fireplace at his back. “Bruce apologizes for not being here himself. Even though he no longer heads the company, he is still very busy with our various partners, you know how it is.” 

On the scale of Vlad to Dick, Tim is dressed business casual. While they both wear suits– Vlad’s a classic black satin and Tim’s a dark, burgundy linen –Tim’s jacket is draped over the chair arm with the tie in its pocket as his top two shirt buttons are undone. 

Vlad must have noticed too because he reaches up to adjust the knot of his tie, or maybe he’s pretending that he’s not touching the scar at his throat. His suit is as immaculate as always. “Yes, of course.”

Dick reaches over to ruffle Damian’s hair and the youngest brother dodges out of the way, hands immediately raising into boxing fists. 

“I assure you, Bruce reprimanded both of us about last night’s fiasco,” Tim continues. 

Danny’s gaze locks onto Damian’s fists. There are colorful band aids peppered over his hands and wrapped around his fingers. Dick must have been the one to do that.

Seeming to notice, Damian folds his hands in his lap and levels a reproachful gaze at Danny. 

“Damian, isn’t there something you want to say to Danny?” Dick prompts after several beats of silence. 

Anger flickers across Damian’s face as he scrunches up his nose, eyes falling down to the coffee table. Knowing Damian, it is not a gesture of retreat. “I…” he starts, “Apologize-” he clenches his jaw and retries, “I apologize… that I pushed you.” 

Dick nods encouragingly. “And to Mr. Masters?”

Damian’s attention remains locked on the coffee table between their couches, but this time his voice comes more easily. “I apologize for interrupting your announcement.” 

“There, that wasn’t so hard,” Dick chuckles, and this time he succeeds in ruffling Damian’s hair. 

“Yes, thank you, but I’m afraid that apologies can only go so far,” Vlad says as he delicately picks up a teacup and saucer. “I’m sure you’ve seen the press coverage so far?”

Dick’s sunny demeanor becomes more serious as his expression shifts to a frown. “They’re not painting a pretty picture of the boys at all.” 

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Vlad says. He hasn’t let Danny actually look at any articles beyond the front pages.

“It seems that you have a plan, then, Masters.” The corners of Tim’s eyes seem to narrow in apprehension. 

“I wouldn’t say a plan, just a hope.” Vlad puts a hand to his chest in mock surprise. “An agreement that would be mutually beneficial to both of our companies’ PR.” 

Damian locks eyes with Danny, the muscle in his jaw is ticking. Maybe it’s from the forced apology, maybe he’s still stewing from last night, or maybe– like Danny –Damian is also getting tired of the adults talking over their heads. 

“He wants us to pretend to be friends,” Danny speaks up, maintaining eye contact with Damian. Anger is starting to simmer under his skin again. Damian doesn’t get to be upset about this when he’s the one that got them here after Danny egged him on. “Then maybe the press will get tired of us and move on.”

“Tt,” Damian scoffs, shifting his gaze between Dick and Tim. “You can’t be serious.”

Tim taps his fingers on the arm chair. “Well, it could work. They’re not saying very nice things about you, Dami.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“No, maybe not right now. But you know that the PR team isn’t happy about it and if you’re serious about working at the company, then you should be more concerned.” 

Damian narrows his eyes and makes a non-committal sound as he thinks it over. 

“I was thinking that we should keep it casual,” Vlad explains. “They’re already on the same mathletes team and have several classes together at school. Last night was just a misunderstanding of friendly competition. Some more public appearances on the weekends should help to clear the air.” 

Dick nods, giving Damian’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We can plan something for this next Saturday then.”

“In the meantime,” Tim says, “Give each other space. You don’t need any more negative press.” 

~~~

The Gotham Private Academy of Young Scholars requires all students to wear a uniform, with the exception of three articles: shoes, outdoor jackets, and outdoor hats. Well, four if you count the backpack / book-bag. But even then, those exceptions have rules. Danny pulls at his purple tie, his white button-up shirt color is a bit rumpled but good enough, at least he hangs his gray blazer jacket and slacks so they aren’t wrinkled. Today he’s wearing vans with a checkerboard pattern and red roses embroidered over the top. 

Monday is an A-Day as in All-Classes Day, so Danny’s backpack is extra heavy with his books. He plops his bag beside his desk as he falls into the chair for his AP Statistics class.

Unfortunately, (or Vlad would consider it fortunate) it is also his first class with Damian. Extra unfortunately, Danny happens to look at the door as Damian walks in and they make eye contact. Damian scoffs, rolling his eyes as he turns away from Danny and crosses the classroom to his seat. He places his messenger bag on the chair, taking out his materials for class. 

Okay. So that’s how they’re gonna start, huh? Fine. Danny can work with that. 

Tim said to give space. Vlad said they need to be friendly. But Damian wants to be prick. At least this is territory that Danny knows, even if there is a magnifying glass now hanging over their every interaction.

Anger about the whole stupid affair is starting to bleed out under Danny’s skin again. The safest bet is to try to ignore Damian.

The class filters in, Mrs. Fischer places worksheets on the desks, and Danny keeps his eyes focused on his notebook, knee bouncing. He busies himself with writing out the equations for star densities. He starts with Sol (the sun) and then he does Alpha Centauri A, followed by Alpha Centauri B, except that he can feel Damian side eyeing him and burning a hole through his aura. 

He whips his head up to glare at Damian, who turns and makes full eye contact with him. The urge for him to flare his aura is so strong. He could send his aura across the classroom and rake a hand down that death shroud like he did at the gala. Control it.

Once the bell rings, Mrs. Fischer opens her laptop to start attendance and Danny smiles with a lopsided smirk, continuing to maintain eye contact. 

“Damian?” She calls. 

“Present.” Damian al Ghoul Wayne– always the first at the top of the list –stands to address the teacher.

Their staring contest comes to an end and while it might not technically be a win because of extenuating circumstances, Danny is happy enough to count it. He has to duck his head though, letting his hair fall over his eyes to hide the simmering green. Breathe in, breathe out.

“River?” Mrs. Fischer continues with the attendance and Danny happily draws stars around the calculations he made until it’s his turn to announce his presence. He’s content now that Damian is stewing in his seat.

“Alright, now for today’s warm up.” Mrs. Fischer closes her laptop and turns on the projector. “Who would like to- okay. I see that Damian and Danny are very eager today. Step up to the board and take a marker.”

Danny lowers his raised arm as he stands and strides to the front of the room. He chooses the green expo marker, of course. Damian has a standard black. It’s time for round two. 

“Alright everyone, you know the drill. As soon as I reveal the problem, you’re all competing to see who finishes first. Your answer must be correct and you must show each step you used to solve the word problem. Then we compare your work with the answers on the board.”

Damian regards Danny again and Danny shoots him a look right back. There is a moment of rustling as the class at their backs gets ready, oblivious to the invisible prickling of Damian’s death shroud against Danny’s aura. He doesn’t usually come up to the white board, meanwhile, Damian almost always does, but Danny can keep up with Damian. He won’t be scared away by a few nasty looks.

“On your mark, get set, go!” Mrs. Fischer toggles off the projector’s Blank setting to reveal two copies of the same problem on the whiteboard, one on each side for Danny and Damian. 

Alright, easy. Danny scans his eyes over the word problem, considering the process and equations he has to use. Shit! Damian is already writing. Alright, fine, maybe if Danny uses just a little bit of speed boost to pull ahead and-

The intercom speaker crackles on. “Will Damian al Ghul Wayne and Danny Fenton-Masters please report to the main office. That’s Damian al Ghul Wayne and Danny Fenton-Masters to the main office, thank you.”

Both boys freeze as a chorus of heckling ‘ooh’s rise from the seated students. 

“Fenton, what did you do?” Damian points his pen at Danny as if it were an accusatory knife. 

“Nothing!” Danny raises his hands in defense. “What did you do?”

“Alright, that’s enough boys.” Mrs. Fischer interrupts, already writing a pass. “Damian, here is your hall pass. Go straight to the main office.” 

“Tt.” Damian slides a final glare at Danny before taking the pass and leaving. 

“Danny, you don’t volunteer for the white board very often. Why don’t you finish the problem,” she suggests, giving him an encouraging smile.

He nods and goes back to solving the equation, if a bit more distracted. Danny recognizes her scheme. She’s making sure to separate them to prevent any scuffling in the halls. The back of Danny’s neck heats. Crap, he hadn’t considered it before. Of course all of the school would’ve seen the articles too. 

“Done!” A student calls. Mrs. Fischer is walking around the classroom, peering over students’ shoulders to assess their work. 

“Me too.” Danny turns away from the board. He probably got something wrong, he just went on auto pilot and didn’t pay very close attention after the intercom announcement. 

“Very good, thank you, Danny.” Mrs. Fischer writes another pass and walks to the door with him. She checks the hall, making sure that Damian has left. “Alright, here you go.”

“Thank you,” Danny mutters, taking the hall pass and leaving. 

Damian is already sitting outside of Principal Hammer’s office and as Danny approaches, the man holds open the door for them, gesturing with his head. “Okay boyos, in you pop.” 

Danny and Damian enter the office, eyes focused on the floor. The room is longer than a usual office with Principal Hammer’s desk facing the door and the other half of the space containing two plush chairs and a beanbag around a circular table. On the table are a few options for coloring pages, some sheets of blank paper, and a cup of coloring pencils next to a box of markers. 

For a moment Danny wonders how juvenile Hammer thinks they are, but then he remembers that the school does technically do 6th-12th grade. He’s never interacted with the classes under 9th grade though because they’re on the “middle school” side and he entered on the “high-school” side when he and Vlad moved here. 

Damian selects a plush chair and sits, his back straight in perfect posture. Danny throws himself into the beanbag, smiling a bit when Damian scoffs. Stuck-up. 

Sitting this close, Danny’s aura skitters up against Damian’s death shroud like a horrid charge of electricity. 

Principal Hammer closes the door and takes the other plush chair, handing Damian a clipboard and a pack of colored pencils that he picked up from his desk on his way over to the sitting area. Damian takes them automatically, eyes narrowing further when he catches Danny sneaking a peak at the coloring page that’s partly done. It’s a mandala design that is much more complicated than the outlines on the table. 

“So, boys,” Principal Hammer starts, his open laptop balanced on his knee. “I’m sure you two didn’t mean to make such a big splash this weekend, but-”

Danny slides lower in the beanbag and groans. 

“Of course that’s what this is about.” Damian grumbles, eyes focused on his coloring. 

“Hang on, I just want to check in is all,” Hammer explains. “Given your families, there are a lot of eyes on you two, especially now.”

Damian’s grip tightens on his blue colored pencil. “Our guardians have already discussed the matter with us. Extensively.”

Hammer nods. “I’m sure that your families are discussing your media image with you, but my goal is your education. While this dispute happened off of school grounds, I still want to check in about your behavior. I was concerned that there could be some blow-back here at school.” 

“Nope, all good.” Danny gives the principal a cheery (if tight) smile accompanied with a thumbs-up. 

“And yet, I wouldn’t have called you here if I believed that.”

“Like Fenton said. We are fine.”

“Then would you boys care to explain why I got an email from Mrs. Fischer about, and I quote, ‘an unusual air of competition’ in math class this morning?” Hammer phrases it as a question, but it’s obviously a direction. 

Danny shrugs and turns his head to look out the window. The scratching of Damian’s coloring picks up pace. 

Hammer closes his laptop, eyes flicking between the two students in front of him. Damian is– of course –at the top of the grade, even despite his occasional emotional outbursts. Though it has to be said that he has made much improvement over the last five years since he moved in with his father. Unfortunately, it seems that all his hackles have been raised again. As for Danny, he is not far behind Damian, and other than various leaves for medical purposes, he has a spotless file. If Danny applied himself to his classes more and scored higher grades, he could even keep up with Damian, if not challenge Damian for the first place spot.

“Boys. You should know that if this behavior continues– especially on school property where you become a risk to each other and your fellow students –then you would have to sign a No-Contact Agreement.”

“Wait, hold on.” Danny looks at the principal as he keys back into the conversation. “Doesn’t that go on our permanent record?”

“Not your permanent record, but it will appear on your high school transcript which will be seen by any programs that you apply to after graduation,” Hammer clarifies. 

The colored pencil snaps in Damian’s hand, his voice holding no place for argument. “Absolutely not.” His death shroud seems to grow spines as it snags against Danny’s aura.

“Then you’re going to have to come to some kind of agreement about your behavior.” 

Danny turns his attention to Damian. He pulls his aura in closer.

Damian stares back, the muscle twitching in his jaw. He forces himself to take a deep, slow breath and let it out. Friends. They’re supposed to seem like friends. “It was just a misunderstanding.”

“Won’t happen again,” Danny finishes, both of them remembering yesterday’s agreement between their families. 

“Then I am trusting your word.” Hammer takes their hall passes and writes down for them to return to the classroom. “And I am keeping my eye on you, along with your teachers. I’ll let them know of our conversation.”

Together, Danny and Damian leave Principal Hammer’s office and return to Mrs. Fischer’s room. The walk in the halls is deathly silent. They don’t look at each other again for the rest of class. 

~~~

Danny lets himself get lost in the coursework of his AP Latin class. A dead boy studying a dead language, the irony isn’t lost on him. At least the language class is an elective subject that Vlad has consistently allowed Danny to choose over the years. 

Mondays are always grammar days and today Mr. Ling is grilling the class on conjugation charts in all the tenses: past, present, future, perfect and imperfect subjunctive, conditional, and such. It’s fun when they repeat the pronunciations as a group because it sounds like they are chanting demon summonings. For an AP class, it’s pretty easy work, but it’s a nice way to start the week and Mr. Ling always says that the basics must become second nature to them. 

So, Danny is perfectly happy to fill out the verb tense conjugation charts for 45 minutes and almost completely forget about prickly Damian. At least until homeroom. 

Unfortunately, Mondays are also an “All-In” day which means that Danny has to stay in Mrs. Fischer’s room and can’t get a pass to go to the STEM lab to work with his robotics team like he usually does. Damian is also there, of course. If Danny had to guess, he thinks that Damian would get a pass for the music or art room usually. 

They share a brief glance and sit in their opposite corners of the room. Danny uses the time to get a head start on his homework and Damian reads manga. 

3rd period is AP Physics and Mr. Stratt is rather old-school when it comes to the seating charts being in alphabetical order by first name. Oh so luckily for them, Danny and Damian’s names are so similar that they share a desk and get to be lab partners for the first semester. 

“Fenton,” Damian greets as Danny joins him at their table.

“Sup.” Danny aims for causal, but it must’ve been too strong out of the gate because Damian looks offended by the familiarity, so Danny corrects to the flat tone that Damian had used. “Damian.” 

Damian doesn’t say anything else as he flips to a new page in his lab book and gets ready for class to start. Danny follows his example, both of them feeling too angry and awkward to try any conversation.

Mr. Stratt starts the class by placing a ramp on the central lab table. “This week, we will be learning about Impulse and Momentum. You will come up to the ramp where I will give you a ball and you have three tests at a given measurement to see where the ball lands. Then I will give you a different measurement and your task today is to predict the new place on the floor where your ball is going to land. Using the scientific method: create an equation, test your prediction, and report on if your findings confirmed your procedure or not and why.” 

Some of the balls on Mr. Stratt’s desk include a pool ball, a tennis ball, a ping pong pall, a whiffle ball, a golf ball, a baseball, and a bouncy ball. The problem is straightforward enough. Danny and Damian go up to the teacher’s lab table. 

Mr. Stratt gives them the wiffle ball and tells them to drop it at measurement marker 8. They watch it roll down the ramp, across the table, and fall approximately between marker 6 and 7 on the floor. Mr. Stratt gives them the new measurement of marker 3 on the ramp. After doing another two rolls at marker 8 and noting down their various measurements, Danny and Damian return to their table. 

In addition to velocity from the pull of gravity with the angle of the ramp, they have to account for the velocity of the ball rolling on the table and the mass of the ball. 

There is some back and forth of discussion as they brainstorm. (Well, more like Danny trying to engage Damian in problem solving and Damian remarking on the points of fact. (AKA: the same song and dance they’ve been doing since the start of the school year.))

They know that they can calculate the velocity from marker 8 with the distance of the ramp and the time it took the ball to roll down, so if they change the distance, they can predict the time it takes the ball to descend from measurement 3 and calculate the new velocity. 

Then they do the same process for the ball rolling across the table. After descending from marker 8, the ball left the table at a velocity of X to hit the floor at point Y; thus, after rolling down from marker 3, the wiffle ball will hit the new measurement on the floor at point Z. 

To double check their work, they do the math all over again. 

Mr. Stratt calls the class back together and students go up with their table partners to briefly present their equations and state their predictions before letting their ball roll down the ramp to test their theory. 

By the time that it’s Damian and Danny’s turn, no one has landed their ball exactly right and have had an error margin of a few inches. No two equations have yet to be written the same way. Danny is not liking their odds. Damian is looking smugly confident that they’re going to be the first ones to get it right.

“Thank you Hannah and Evan, return to your desks and consider where you can change your equation,” Mr. Stratt says. “Danny and Damian, your turn.” 

Danny uses his journal to present the equation on the projector, briefly explaining their reason behind where they placed velocity and gravity in the equation. Damian puts the wiffle ball at marker 3 on the ramp and lets it go. 

The ball hits the floor much lower than their prediction. Well, that was the worst Danny could hope for. But why did that happen? He thought their numbers were pretty spot on. 

Damian’s lips twist into a frown, his shroud of death scraping against Danny’s aura to the point of making Danny’s skin crawl. 

“Thank you Danny and Damian, return to your desks and consider where you can change your equation. Chelsea and Caleb, it’s your turn.” Mr. Stratt waves up the next table as Damian and Danny go to sit down. 

Damian sits in his chair, watching the other groups with eyes that nearly seem to burn, his shroud chafing against Danny’s aura. Under the fluorescent lights, Damian’s eyes are a pale, harsh brown. 

After the last few groups don’t get it right either, Mr. Stratt gives them some hints. “When determining the momentum of an object, you also need to consider the mass. As the ball moves across the table and falls, it experiences drag through air resistance.”

Oh! That totally makes sense! They hadn’t taken that into account. 

Mr. Stratt opens one of the cupboards to reveal small weighing scales. “I don’t have enough per table, so share and find the mass of your ball. You’ll have ten minutes to retry your calculations and make a new prediction.”

Danny immediately stands up and says to Damian, “I’ll get the scale. Be right back.” 

Grabbing a scale, Danny weighs the wiffle ball and writes down the numbers before passing the scale to the next person. Back at the table, he shows Damian. “It’s only 0.3 ounces, which is the same as 9 grams.” 

“Right.” Damian raises a single eyebrow in mock surprise. “It’s very light. We knew that already.”

“We knew it was light, but we didn’t take the specific weight into account. Now we have the numbers and can try again.” Danny is already reworking their equation. 

Damian watches Danny write, tapping his pen on the table. After a moment of frustrated silence, he contributes. “Multiply the velocity by the mass.” 

The second round of testing goes much better. Their classmates show the changes they made in their equations and test the drop again. Most pairs get their drop point within centimeters and a few still miss by an inch or so. Danny feels more confident this time, but Damian seems apprehensive, uncertain to the point of standing on the wrong foot.

Apparently, it is warranted because they miss their point by roughly three inches. 

Now why did that happen? Danny’s eyebrows crease together and he stares at the distance markers on the floor, rerunning the numbers in his head.

Damian frowns deeply, crossing his arms and glaring at the floor as if it has personally disappointed him.

Mr. Stratt chuckles lightly as he picks up the wiffle ball. “Good attempt, you two. The design of the wiffle ball makes this experiment a bit more difficult. The holes in the ball increase the effect of air resistance which increases the drag and lowers the mass. We’ll discuss air resistance and drag more during the week as they are crucial to understanding Impulse and Momentum.”

Ah, of course. That makes sense too, though Danny wants to know now. He doesn’t want to wait. “Right, thank you Mr. Stratt.” 

“You’re welcome. Now Chelsea and Caleb, your turn again.” 

Damian and Danny return to their seats, though Danny has to make a conscious effort of seeming casual as he moves his chair further away from Damian’s. His death shroud prickles and tosses like an angry sea, grating against Danny’s aura even as he reigns it in even closer to get away from the backlash.

Danny has heard of Damian’s temper before and has seen it for himself when he purposefully provokes Damian (like over the weekend). During these first weeks of the school year, Damian has kept step-in-step with Danny in their lap experiments and even surpassed Danny at times by correcting their work. What Danny didn’t expect is the way that Damian seems to crumple now that they’ve been proven wrong.

When you know what to look for, it’s easy to see the anxiety that is masked with Damian’s every move. His breathing is slow and controlled, his pen tapping a steady beat on his lab book, and his back is ramrod-straight in perfect posture. 

His eyes slide over to Danny and he practically spits, “Stop staring, Masters.” 

There Damian goes, trying to point out that separation between them again. “Fenton.” Okay, they’re supposed to be friends now, right? Danny can help talk Damian through this anxiety. “And we got it wrong, so what? We learned something new.”

“I don’t appreciate being set up for failure.”

“We weren’t set up for failure, it’s the scientific method, trial and error is how we learn.”

“Tt. Unlike some people, I don’t make mistakes.”

Danny’s anger spikes back up. “What the hell does that mean?”

Damian opens his mouth and then snaps it closed, muscle ticking in his jaw. 

Don’t poke the lion. Danny really shouldn’t poke the lion. “Aw, cat got your tongue?” Oops.

In a blur of motion, Damian whirls on Danny. 

He lunges across the space separating them, one hand grabbing the back of Danny’s chair to loom over him and the other hand stabbing the pen between Danny’s fingers where his hand is splayed out over his lab book. 

Damian is breathing hard as he repeats, “I don’t make mistakes.” 

“Woah, hey!” Mr. Stratt gasps. “Damian!” 

He would probably tell Damian to sit down or go in the hall or something about not attacking other students, but Damian is already storming out of the room, the door slamming closed behind him. 

Danny looks down at the pen lodged in his lab book. 

It’s a nice pen. Heavy metal died forest green. Probably a model that uses refillable ink cartridges. A rich-kid’s pen. It’s lodged between his index and middle finger, millimeters away from the webbing that connects the two fingers. As much as it looks like it, Danny has a feeling that Damian didn’t miss. Slowly, he picks up the book and is not at all surprised to find that the lab table is noticeably dented from the tip of the pen (which is very much dented and ruined).

Mr. Stratt gently touches Danny’s shoulder. “Danny? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. He just surprised me is all.” 

“Dude didn’t even flinch,” Caleb whispers somewhere behind Danny and other voices from the class start to speak up. “He moved so fast!” “Damian is so violent. “That was scary!” “Why did he explode like that?”

“Alright, alright!” Mr. Stratt raises his hands for silence. “We may not understand his actions, but let’s not give Damian a harder time than he’s already having. He still deserves our respect, so we won’t be talking about him behind his back. I’m going to call the main office and inform them of what happened. In the meantime, you all have an exit ticket to fill out; the question is on the board.” 

After giving Danny a final once-over and a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, Mr. Stratt moves to the phone in the corner of the room and dials out. 

Danny stares at the projected slideshow asking, “What surprised you about today’s lab experiment on Impulse and Momentum?” 

It’s not the answer that Mr. Stratt will be looking for… but… if Danny is being honest… Damian surprised him. And Damian has a tendency to do that, apparently. 

Faintly, he can hear Mr. Stratt on the phone. “Hello, this is Stratt in room 347. Damian al Ghul Wayne has left the classroom after an outburst. Please have security find him and bring him to the main office for the rest of class. … Yes, that’s right. … Mhm, I’ll send a follow up email with specific details in a moment. … Thank you, goodbye.” 

Danny stretches out his hearing, taking only a moment to find the squeak of running sneakers. He can distinctly hear Damian kick off the school’s outer wall and disappear into the city. Yeah, good luck trying to find that boy now. 

Absentmindedly, Danny writes something like “wiffle balls are light” on the index card and turns it in as he leaves class. 

Period 4 Senior Civics is a blur and when lunch comes, Danny sits out in the courtyard where he can be alone. He’s not much help to his robotics team during period 5, just follows their directions as the guilt starts to settle into his bones. It’s not surprising when Damian is absent for 6th period AP English literature, but Danny does slump in his chair and stare at the book. 

Damian likes this class and is one of the more vocal students when it comes to reading allowed or discussing a passage. The lack of his presence is noticeable. 

Danny raises his head when someone pokes him in the shoulder with the eraser-end of a pencil. Tracy looks at him with wide eyes. “Is it true that you didn’t flinch at all when Damian attacked you? Weren’t you scared?”

Huh? What? Danny blinks at her in surprise. He may not like him all that much, but, “Why would I be scared of Damian?”

~~~

Part 2 - Truce

Tuesday is as good a day as any for a second chance (or would it be third chance by now if yesterday was the second chance with the champagne-tower-incident being the first chance?), or at least it will be if Damian comes to school. 

Danny waits in his chair in 1st period AP statistics, trying not to be obvious about the fact that he is watching the door. He gives up when the bell rings. Damian may cut class from time to time, but he never arrives late to class. Damn stupid rich kid brat. Danny is relieved? Concerned? It’s hard to say. 

Nothing to it then. Time to slog through the extended classes of the Tuesday B-Day schedule. An hour and 40 minutes of three classes plus lunch and homeroom. Yipee. 

Period 1: AP Statistics (Actually, it’s kinda calmer than usual without Damian there to correct peoples’ mistakes.) ((He gets called back to Principal Hammer’s office and asked again if he and Damian need a No Contact Agreement because of yesterday. Danny declines.))

Homeroom: (It’s a movement day, so he goes to the robotics room.)

Period 2: AP Latin

Lunch: (It’s raining so Danny sits inside with a few people from his robotics team to finish brainstorming.)

Period 3: AP Physics (Mr. Stratt privately talks to Danny and asks if he wants his seat to be moved away from Damian. Danny declines.)

And then it’s time for Danny to go home. At least today he can go home and explain to Vlad that it’s not his fault this time that he didn’t make any progress and it’s all on Damian for not showing up. 

Oh ancients no, Vlad please, do not call the Wayne Manor, Danny and Damian will figure this out, it’s okay, the plan is going to work just fine, watch and see. 

Yeah, sure, Danny will swear that on his crown. 

~~~

Wednesday is a C-Day, so the first class of the day is period 4, Senior Civics. It’s kind of cool actually, in a way. 

Ms. Geovani introduces them to an economics simulator and they have to create their own country. First they have to name their country (Gothomlandia) and make a flag (bat symbol, of course, but smog-red on a black background). Then they have to decide on a ruling system and create their own government positions and people run for office. In addition, each student is given a role and each role has their own goal, while at the same time you have a household of 5 people to take care of by getting them housing, food, insurance, electricity, “fun,” and stuff. 

There’s a lot of rules. 

By the time the bell rings, Danny is deep in scheming conversation with his table group (the batman theme is predictable and boring so they should do a coup (no, absolutely not Joker themed, shut up Harold)). They start to pack up and a few people check their phones while grabbing their bags. 

Gavin leans over to Danny. “Hey, my group chat is blowing up saying that Damian is back today. My friends in the concert orchestra say he’s in class and he looked ‘constipated while playing his violin.’ Just thought you might like a heads up after Monday.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks?” Danny picks up his bag. “It’s all cool, though.”

“Mhm,” Gavin hums, clearly unconvinced. “Not from what I’ve heard on the rumor mill.” 

“Nah, promise. We’re all chill.” They are. Or at least, they have to be. Danny made a promise, he’ll see it through.

“Fine, suit yourself, I tried.” Gavin raises his hands in defense and leaves. 

Danny follows his classmates out of the room, turning on autopilot towards homeroom with Mrs. Fischer. 

Good. Good! This is good. Damian is back. They can get back on track and then he can finally have some good progress to report back to Vlad. They can talk, and- The thought of Damian’s piercing gold eyes has Danny freezing in his tracks, guilt twisting in his stomach. 

Well, they shouldn’t have to force it just yet. Monday was intense. Danny is pushed further into Damian’s life and Damian has an internal crisis about making a mistake in his friendship with Danny in their science experiment. 

Danny keeps walking, if maybe a bit faster. It’s just… Just business as usual. No need to be weird about it. 

He gets the pass from Mrs. Fischer to go to the robotics room, just like he always does. After all, Damian is probably just going to get a pass to go to the art or orchestra room. They don’t need to talk in homeroom. Another audience is really what they do not need. 

Going to the robotics room on Wednesdays is perfect because after homeroom, he’s already in the right place for period 5. And today is exciting because they can build their new design! On Friday, there’s going to be a class competition on the reconfigured outdoor obstacle course. Danny’s team lost last week, so they’re starting completely from scratch and there’s lots to do and not enough time. 

They even consider staying in during lunch, but Mr. Silvers kicks them out saying that he needs to eat lunch too and wants to go to the teacher lounge. Danny moans and groans with his team as they halfheartedly try to argue with Mr. Silversmith, more interested in teasing and being annoying than getting their way. 

A few minutes after the 5th period dismissal bell has rung, the robotics team disperses into the lunch room to find friends or to stand in line and order food. 

Danny takes his lunch bag out of his backpack, not at all looking forward to a meal of veggie sticks and a cheese sandwich. He has to be careful about the salt content and he can’t bring ectoplasm to school, but his human body needs to eat too.

He sits with some students from the mathletes team, Vanessa Smith next to him as she talks to William McCaffrey about an upcoming competition. The team isn’t meeting until after school on Friday, so Danny tunes them out, lost in thought while picking at his food (would be better if he could add some ectoplasm). The cafeteria buzzes with chatter around him and not for the first time in a long time, he misses his friendship with Sam and Tucker. They grew apart about a year ago, but maybe he should reach out again.

It’s not easy to make friends at Gotham Academy. 

When Danny moved here, it was very clear that he grew up in a lower economic rung. He was able to prove himself with wit and charm, and he didn’t have to fight off any bullies at least (not with Masters tacked onto his last name), so now he gets along well enough with the mathletes team and his robotics group. He stopped trying to bring friends home though.

At this point, he knows that he’s just avoiding Damian, but how in the Nine Infinite Realms is he supposed to befriend prickly Damian when they can’t even get through a lab experiment. Physics should be more neutral ground than whatever this mess is that their families are throwing them into.

Well, speak of the devil. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, a familiar death shroud brushing up against his aura. 

The chatter around him falls silent as a stiff voice says, “Fenton.”

Danny looks up to find the particular prickly person in question. “Damian?” Sometimes Damian does have lunches with the math team, but that’s usually just directly before or after a competition, and he sits on the opposite side of the table from Danny

“Yes, obviously, let’s go.” Damian turns on his heel, lunch box tucked under his arm and hands in the pockets of his school uniform. 

Danny scrambles to pick up his lunch, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he follows Damian out of the cafeteria. 

Damian leads the way to the art classroom and gestures for Danny to sit across from him. Setting his lunch down, Danny perches on the stool and drops his bag on the floor while Damian sets up his lunch. Danny tries to look anywhere else in the room and not watch Damian.

First he lays a napkin on the table before setting down his silverware and placing down his glass tupperware along with a thermos at the top corner of the napkin. Danny looks down at the zip-lock bag of veggie sticks and the other bag with his cheese sandwich. Damn fancy rich people who have personal chefs to make their meals.

“If we are going to make this arrangement seem believable, then we had better get to know one another,” Damian says with resignation as he cuts into a cheesy mushroom-steak served over a bed of black beans and wild rice. Their chef really pulls out all the stops, huh. 

Danny picks up a carrot stick. “Oh, um, alright. What do you want to know?”

“You were not born in Gotham. You joined the academy in March of our freshman school year.”

“Uh, yeah.”

Damian sips from his thermos of tea– his eyes a cold, dull gold in the fluorescent lights –as he waits for Danny to elaborate.

Aw, shit. Okay. Anxiety worms around in Danny’s gut. They’re actually gonna commit to the bit now. 

“I lived with my parents in Amity Park and my older sister Jazz. Well, her name is Jasmin, but we call her Jazz. Um, my parents were scientists and they studied their passion and would teach us about it too when we were home. So, I would learn from them and build with them in the lab. Then one day there was an accident. A really bad one.”

Is Danny talking fast? He hates this and he doesn’t want to talk about all of it again for the millionth time but he’s supposed to make goodwill or something with Damian, right? He focuses on picking the crust off the bread of his sandwich instead of his sweaty palms. 

The words keep pouring out of his mouth. He’s said it enough times that the story is more or less a script now, though that doesn’t make the memories any easier.

“It was three years ago– plus a few months –in the summer before freshman year. I was in the lab watching Vlad and my parents work on their newest invention…” Danny ignores the way his gut clenches and twists. “Um… It was supposed to be like this power converter thing… Jazz was at the library finishing her summer homework. She’s really smart and so she was taking as many honor and AP classes as she could. I can’t imagine the shock she must’ve had to come home and find everything reduced to rubble…

“Vlad saved me. I don’t really remember. One minute they were trying to figure out why it wouldn’t turn on, and the next…” Danny waves his left hand, brandishing the star shaped scar on his palm. He forces himself to take a deep breath. He’s not nauseous. He doesn’t need to run. He can talk about this. Just stick to facts. Damian doesn’t need to know about all the ghost shit. 

“Anyways, there was a lot of discussion about where Jazz and I would go. She was a few months out from being 18 and I was 14 at the time. Mom had a sister, but she lives off the grid out in the woods so it was determined that she wasn’t the best fit. Vlad is our God Father, so obviously once he was recovered enough, he was fighting for us. Mom and dad didn’t have a will or anything to say what they would have wanted, so Vlad was the next choice. 

“Jazz kept counting down the days and telling me that as soon as it was her birthday, she’d do the paperwork for my custody and we’d stay together.” Memories swim in Danny’s eyes, his gaze long and distant as he stares out the window. “But I saw the university applications she left abandoned on her desk. We had money from the life insurance alongside some patent royalties we got for a few of our parents’ inventions, but she’d have to get a job. Maybe both of us would have had to so that we could’ve kept a roof over our heads and food on the table. I couldn’t ask that of her. 

“She still had to finish her senior year. I’ve watched her plan so much for her future. She wants to be a psychologist. So now she’s studying at Stanford University and she’s doing really well too,” Danny smiles. With Jazz on the other side of the country, Danny doesn’t want to lose the last connection he has to her: their parents’ last name. “She’s made the dean’s list and she’s in several honor societies and this semester she’s helping one of her professors with a research project.”

While Danny had rambled, Damian opened the smaller tupperware to munch on apple slices that are cut to look like they have bunny ears. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks… I guess. It’s whatever.” It never gets easier, telling people or hearing their sympathy. Really, what can be said? It fucking sucked: Jack and Maddie’s deaths and funeral, being hospitalized, a temporary emergency foster care placement, talking in circles with Jazz, and then on top of it all, he got creepy ghost powers!

“You said that you and Masters were in the lab too. How were you spared? And you haven’t explained how you came to Gotham,” Damian says in that brick-wall way of his. It’s starting to feel more like an interrogation than a conversation.

“Like I said, Vlad saved me, put his body in harm's way to protect me,” Danny grits out. “But we didn’t make it out unscathed and both of us were hospitalized for weeks. When the custody got sorted out, Vlad bought a house in Amity Park so Jazz and I could keep going to Casper High.”

Danny swallows hard, rubbing his right thumb over the metal bracelet on his left wrist, absentmindedly playing with the clasp. He doesn’t have to bring up the attack. Damian doesn’t need to know anything at all about the GIW’s lab. “After everything that happened, I… wasn’t handling things well. There was…” Danny frowns, breathing slowly through his nose.

Facts only. That’s all that Damian needs to know. Not the (literally) gory details. And he can’t have Damian thinking that he’s weak. It’s just the same story that was told to the press. Danny can huddle that. This is fine. “With all the changes that happened, Vlad, Jazz, and I decided that it would be best to have a fresh start, to have a place that we could make our own. Vlad has a castle in the Wisconsin countryside, but it’s more of a vacation house than a home, not to mention the distance from the closest high school. The other location where he has the best roots is Gotham.” 

“I see. Dalv Co. has been a long time competitor of Wayne Enterprises. You moved here with your guardian.” The whole time, Damian has watched Danny with stupid, intensely focused eyes, like he’s taking apart Danny’s words and neatly examining each morsel. 

Now, Danny is the one that wants to attack Damian, lay him out on a broken down table this time and snarl defensively at him. 

Danny nods, tapping a red pepper stick against the table. “He named me as his heir when I chose him over Jazz.” Or at least, that’s how Vlad sees it, so Danny is stuck with all the glory that comes with following his uncle’s footsteps. Jazz wouldn’t do it for herself, so Danny chose to put his sister and her future first. Actually, it’s been a while. He should give her a call soon, see how her second year of university is treating her.

“And yet you won’t fully take his last name?” Damian asks, though his tone states it as a fact. 

“No. I won’t lose my parents’ name or the name that connects me to my sister.”

Damian nods, his expression begrudgingly giving approval. “You are loyal, that’s a valuable quality.” 

“Thanks. I think.” Danny takes a hesitant bite of his cheese sandwich. It takes two tries to get it down. “Well, I just spilled my guts to you. Now it’s your turn to tell me about yourself.” Hopefully Danny isn’t too obvious with how quickly he changes the conversation.

“What would you like to know?” Damian sets his thermos down and delicately folds his hands over the napkin on the table. 

Danny stares at the absolutely infuriating boy sitting across from him. He just talked for like 10 minutes! Revealed his entire tragic backstory! But now Damian wants to play 20 questions for his own life history? Danny reigns himself in.

Civil. They’re supposed to be Civil. 

“Alright. Well. Let’s start easy then. Tell me about your family.”

“There are a lot of people in my family. Be more specific.”

Fuckin… Danny tries not to gnash his teeth. “Your parents, then.” At least he can settle his own curiosities. He’s heard rumors about the Waynes.

“My father is Bruce Wayne and my mother is Talia al Ghul.”

“Your mother doesn’t live with your father, and they aren’t married,” Danny states. This is a well known fact and a scoop that the rumor mill still whispers about. 

“Correct. I was raised with my mother’s background until I was around the age of 12. Then I came to live with my father to gain experience and knowledge of the world.”

“Why’d you phrase it like that?”

Damian huffs, mildly rolling his eyes. “My mother and her father cared for me first. The strength of the mind and body is very important to them. Together, they oversaw my education through rigorous lessons. I quickly surpassed peers of the same age in reading, writing, speaking, mathematics, and physical feats.”

Danny nods along. This too is also known in the school. He is known for being right the first time and either he understands a subject completely or he never touches it again. Damian works efficiently and quickly compared to other students and after completing his school work he turns his attention to additional online courses. Last year– their junior year of high school –he had even started taking college courses and the rumor this year is that he already finished his AA degree. Although, so far he is not beating the allegations that he escaped a cult by moving in with his father. 

“However,” Damian continues, “my mother and grandfather had a falling out. A disagreement about the next steps in my education. My mother did not want me to continue being so sheltered, so she sent me to my father when I was 12 years of age.”

Yeah, that is definitely suspicious cult-phrasing, but as much as Danny enjoys baiting Damian, they are unfortunately supposed to be getting along. “How did you feel about living in Gotham?”

“I was not concerned for my safety, if that is what you are insinuating. My siblings happened to be the more difficult adjustment.”

“How so?” Danny asks around a mouthful of carrot. 

“I was used to being an only child,” Damian states as if that answers everything.

In a way, Danny supposes that it does. “Then tell me about your siblings.”

This time, Damian really rolls his eyes. Like really rolls his eyes. Hey, did you find a brain back there? “I have a lot of them. Be more specific.”

“Dude, I do not follow celebrity news. I only really know Tim and that’s because Vlad complains about him. Plus, I met him and Dick at your house yesterday.”

“My father’s children in order are: Richard Grayson, who is the oldest; then Jason Todd and Cassandra Cain, who are roughly the same age; followed by Timothy Drake; and then me. Those are the four who are legally adopted. Duke Thomas was a ward of Father’s for a handful of years before his father woke up from a coma, though he still comes to the Sunday family dinner. Stephanie Brown and Barbra Gordon are also close family friends and join us frequently on Sundays.”

While he doesn’t closely follow the news, people do talk about the Waynes a lot and they are celebrities enough that Danny can roughly put the names to their faces. “Fair enough, that is a lot of people. What’s one fact about each of them?”

Damian thinks for a moment before counting them off on his fingers. “After quitting his job as a police officer, Richard has become a non-profit lawyer for defending minors. Jason is a substitute teacher and also does odd jobs and volunteer work around the city, especially in the district where he grew up. Cassandra is on track to become a prima ballerina while also working part-time as a speech therapist. Timothy, while you know him as a CEO, is also skilled at photography and is currently working on his first exhibition. Duke is in university with a major in communications and a minor in social work. Stephanie is in a pharmaceutical program and has her first internship as a pharmacy assistant. And Barbra is the tech expert at the Gotham Public Library.” 

“Wait,” Danny says, leaning forward as if he just realized something and this isn’t a thing that he’s been curious about for years. “Isn’t Jason the one that died.”

“I thought you said you don’t follow celebrity news.” Damian hedges.

“First off, it was all over the news when he died and when he came back. Second of all, call it a morbid curiosity or a desperate hope for… them…”

Damian nods a bit, seeming to understand. “Then you know that Jason and Father were in the wrong place at the wrong time while overseas. Whether it was a terrorist attack or a ransom case gone wrong, the Joker killed Jason. Due to the funeral being a close casket, the press had not known that Father buried the only remains that could be found from the explosion: the tattered clothes Jason had been wearing that day and his right pinky finger. Unbeknownst to them– at the time, I had not yet joined the family –Jason had survived. However his injuries left him with severe head trauma which induced amnesia. It was years later when he had remembered enough that he returned to us, and eventually reappeared in the public eye.”

“That’s the story that Bruce said in an interview. Well, except for the pinky finger part.” 

“Yes, what other answer would there be?”

“Alright,” Danny hums after a defeated pause, finishing off his veggie sticks. He had been hoping for more, but maybe once Damian trusts him more. “Then what’s a fact about yourself?” 

“I just told you several.”

“What is one fun fact about yourself?” Danny retries.

Damian looks around the art room, eyes settling on a rack of drying water colors before he returns his focus to Danny. “Every Wednesday after school I volunteer at local non-kill animal shelters.”

“Oh cool, which one?”

“All of them.”

Danny pauses. “Say what?”

“Not all in one day, obviously,” Damian states with an amused smirk. “I have a list that I rotate through.”

“No, yeah, obviously,” Danny parrots. However… “That’s… actually really cool. You must see a lot of different animals.”

“Yes, that is part of the fun.” 

Finally, the bell rings to release them from their forced conversation and the boys pack up their lunches. 

Damian is the first to finish with quick and precise movements, so he stands and pins Danny down with a look. “That will be our first activity. This Saturday, meet me at the Paws Shelter at 3pm.” He doesn’t wait for a response, turning on his heel to go to their 6th period class. Danny would like to think that Damian is fleeing. 

“Alright, sounds fun Damian,” Danny mutters to himself, “I’ll see you there.”

Danny could swear that when everyone sits down for AP Lit, their shoulders are tense and they’re shooting nervous glances between Damian and Danny. They’re not even sitting near each other!

But Damian brushes it off and continues as normal, as if he hasn’t been missing for a day and a half after a second fight with Danny, barely paying attention to anyone except the teacher. Everyone turns in the essay that’s due today and then Damian is leading the class read-aloud, not getting tripped up even once by the Shakespearean lexicon of Hamlet. 

The churning in his gut finally settling, Danny smiles to himself, small and hopeful. Good. This is good. 

Chapter Text

Saturday:

Danny looks down at his phone and then at the sign hanging on the building as he walks up the sidewalk. Yep, this is the place, Paws Animal Shelter. Danny isn’t really sure what to expect. Other than for class related reasons (which were tense but fine, thank you very much), he and Damian haven’t really spoken since they had lunch together in the art room on Wednesday.

What sucks that Vlad had insisted on driving Danny here and made a loud scene where saying: “goodbye, have fun, I’ll pick you up later,” like a normal parental figure would, instead turned into: “tell Damian Wayne I say hi, have fun with your buddy, call me when you two are finished volunteering and I’ll drive Damian Wayne home too if he wants!” Danny knows for a fact that Vlad did it on purpose to draw attention. The name dropping had pedestrians turning their heads as they realized who was speaking. 

The Wayne family is so well known in Gotham that they are practically celebrities. They’re certainly rich enough and their blood ties to the city are old enough to even be considered royalty.

Vlad craves that kind of fame. He wants to be noticed; for people to know just who exactly he’s brushing elbows with. 

Ever since they moved here, Vlad has clawed Dalv Co. from just being one of the top companies into the Second Largest Company in Gotham. Yet the gap between the first and second position might as well be an ocean and Vlad will take what he can get. Even if that means throwing Danny to the dogs.

Especially if it means throwing Danny to the dogs. Or in this case, the media. 

“No way, that’s Masters and his heir!”

“Wait, didn’t he and Damian Wayne try to kill each other last weekend?”

“Huh? What’s going on at the animal shelter?”

Danny could do without all the eyes and feeling like his every move is being watched. It makes him nervous and itchy. Sure, he can play the part of the heir that Vlad wants him to be, but he also misses just being a normal person. Or, well, as “normal” as a half ghost boy could be. 

Starting to feel self-conscious, Danny pushes open the front door to the animal shelter. Maybe he should’ve listened to Vlad after all and worn something more “high class.”

He’s wearing ripped jeans, high top sneakers with neon edging, and a purple-blue unbuttoned flannel over a black shirt that’s speckled with bleach stains to look like stars. (Actually, he’s quite proud of this shirt. He made it himself to say “Fuck Off Vlad, You Can’t Control Me” when he moved in and Vlad bought him a bunch of rich-people designer clothes. After Vlad got tired of Danny bleaching, ripping, and cutting clothes (it didn’t take long), he finally let Danny go thrifting.)

The door swings closed behind him. Well, it’s too late to change now. Taking in a breath, he forces his shoulders back and relaxes his posture. 

In the front lobby there are a few chairs lined up against the wall next to the front desk. One of the bulletin boards on the wall is utterly stuffed with missing-pet posters and another has addresses for vet clinics, groomers, and animal sitters. The lobby is separated from the kennel room by a large glass window.

On the other side of the window, Damian glances over as he takes notice of Danny, but he’s busy talking to a couple with four birds using him as a perch. He’s holding his hand up for a yellow crested cockatoo with some bald patches while two green budgies cuddle on his head and an African gray parrot whistles on his opposite shoulder. Despite the birds, Damian looks sophisticated in a black turtleneck and gray jeans over pristine white sneakers.

The turtle neck is certainly… a choice… given that Bruce Wayne is known to frequently wear them. The weather is turning towards the chill of fall, but Danny isn’t quite ready to break out the sweaters yet. 

“You must be Danny, so nice of you to join us,” an employee says.

Danny’s eyes snap over to her, his own feathers rather ruffled. “Oh, uh, yeah. Happy to be here.”

“We just love that Damian brought a friend. My name is Deborah, by the way, you can just call me Deb. There are some papers for you to sign and then we can get started.” She pulls her glasses onto her nose from where they were resting on top of her head and ruffles through a filing cabinet behind the front desk.

“Sure thing,” Danny says.

After she hands him the papers, he sits down and fills them out easily enough. Legal name (Daniel James Fenton-Masters); Preferred name (Danny (Fenton)); address (1067 High Street NE, Gotham NJ 13254); phone number (1 (212) 404-9666); are you 16 years or older (yes); have you ever been convicted of hurting or endangering an animal (no); and all the other common stuff. Additionally:

Are you able to squat, bend, twist, lift, and stand for long periods of time when working directly with the animals?

Well… technically yes. This can’t be that physically demanding, right? As long as nothing is too heavy in his left hand and he can always lean on stuff if his foot gets tired… He’ll be fine. After all, he survives a school day just fine. This won’t be more activity than that, right? He circles “yes” and turns in the papers.

“Excellent!” Deb scans over the papers before moving to the computer. “Now let’s see… Looking at the schedule, we could use someone for two hours each day on Thursdays.”

“Oh, um, I’m sorry, but I think this is a one time thing? I think Damian just wants to show me around so I can see something that he does. I’ll definitely come back if he wants me to, though.”

“I see, well that’s a bummer.” Deb nods slowly, her lips pursed. “We need more nice young folk like you and Daymie around here. I’ll let it slide because he’s such a big help, but normally we appreciate some more commitment from our volunteers.”

“Yes, thank you, I understand,” Danny says hurriedly. He fidgets with his sleeve, picking at the hole in the cuff of the flannel. 

Deb’s (or should he say Deborah now that she’s kinda displeased with him?) eyes flick to the front window. “At least it seems that you’ve brought some attention with you. Why don’t you wait for Daymie and then he’ll show you around.” 

Danny nods and sits down, trying to seem casual as he pulls out his phone. 

Some of the pedestrians from the sidewalk come into the lobby and Deb greets them, doing a spiel about the shelter. While at first they seem more interested in Danny– glancing at him out of the corners of their eyes –their attention quickly shifts to the prospect of looking at animals. Deb rings a buzzer and after a moment, a second employee opens the door and welcomes the people into the kennel room. 

Before the door fully closes, Damian is opening it again and bringing the couple into the lobby. It’s hard to tell if the couple is part of just a motorcycle group or maybe a leather-and-studs gang. Though it’s kind of difficult to be intimidated by leather and muscle when they are cooing over their new pair of green lovebirds or maybe if Danny was older that would make them more attractive. Gingerly, they set the carrier on the front desk. 

“These two are ready to check out and have been apprised of the appropriate facts on budgie diet and handling,” Damian says to Deb. His attention moves to the two birds and his expression softens. “Goodbye, Gloria and Gilmore. Enjoy your new home.”

“Thank you, Daymie,” Deb says with a bright smile. “I’ll see to it and you can show Danny around. Maybe take some time to socialize with the kittens in the viewing room.”

Damian nods and gestures for Danny to follow him. “Of course, Debby, I’ll see to it.”

Danny might be a bit too eager as he follows Damian into the back room. (Okay, so he can keep calling her Deb because the people she really likes must get to call her Debby.) “Hey, Daymie, how’s it going?”

“Tt.” Damian’s death shroud prickles over Danny’s aura, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. “Only Debby gets to call me that.”

“Okay, fine.” Danny shoves his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting again. At least Damian seems more at ease here than at school? Maybe. “So… the animal shelter.” 

“Yes. These are the kennels where the cats and dogs are kept. The back room has a one-room vet bay for giving vaccines and simple procedures. There is also a clinic on this street that provides discounted procedures such as spaying and nurturing.”

They slowly make their ways down the row, stopping at each one to give a treat. The left wall has kennels with a gate for medium/large dog breeds while the right wall has smaller cages (stacked floor to ceiling, two cages with one on top of the other) for cats and small dogs. Damian greets each one by name and briefly tells Danny how the cat or dog was brought to the shelter. He doesn’t even need to look at the information card in the corner. 

While their interaction is cordial, there is this tense atmosphere in the air, death shroud and aura brushing up against each other. It still sends prickles over Danny’s spine and raises the hairs on the back of his neck, but it helps that he and Damian have the volunteering to focus on.

“Down there are the private meeting rooms for people who want to consider adopting an animal, and that door leads to a grassy area in the back.” Damian gestures down the hall. “Through this door is the exotic animal room. It’s where the birds are kept and sometimes a reptile. In fact, we had an iguana a few weeks ago that was brought in when he outgrew the unprepared owner.”

“Right, I saw you with the birds earlier.”

“Yes, Coucou the yellow crested cockatoo and Kettle the African gray parrot. You saw Giloria and Gilmore were adopted, their cage will have to be cleaned.” 

Danny gets to feed some grain stalks to the birds and learns that Coucou has some bald spots because he must have been really stressed with his previous owner before he was found flying around downtown Gothom. All the while, Kettle whistles in her cage while watching them, only stopping when it’s her turn to nibble at the grain stalks. 

“Does Kettle always whistle?” Danny asks, watching the bird nibble on the grain. He can’t help but think about Youngblood and his skeleton parrot. 

“Indeed. Unless she is sleeping, eating, or being cuddled. We think it must be a bid for attention. Her previous owner relinquished her to the shelter when he couldn’t tolerate the whistling anymore. No shelter likes to take an animal away from a home, but it’s safer to be in here than on the streets or to become neglected.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Danny watches Kettle eat, his mind straying to the long hours that his parents would spend in the lab, not even coming up for dinner sometimes. Vlad has the same habits and can entirely get lost on a project. It’s hard to judge Vlad for it though because Danny is just as likely to give in to the same tendency. Those times when the ghost obsession takes over and the world is reduced to white noise. 

Damian looks at Danny with an appraising eye. “What do you know about parrots?”

“Enough to know that I’m not home enough to take care of one.” Though what if it was possible to have Youngblood spend some time hanging out?

Damian puts the bird seed away and takes Danny to the viewing room. Being right next to the lobby, it shares a wall with the waiting room and has a large window facing the sidewalk. Inside the room is a cat tree, food and water bowls, lots of toys, and cat beds, including some of those cave beds to provide hiding spots. 

“We currently have a litter of four kittens that were found in a ditch about a week ago, so they are still being familiarized with humans as friends.” Damian sits against the back wall with his legs stretched out in front of him. “There is Pumpkin, Squash, Gourd, and Zucchini. The names are temporary, of course.”

“Of course,” Danny repeats, crisscrossing his legs as he sits on the floor.

“The vet guesses that they are 8 to 9 weeks old, so they can eat solid food. The assumption is that the mother is deceased or ran away when civilians found the kittens. Normally, litters are fostered– there are currently two separate litters of puppies being fostered –but no temporary home has yet been found for the kittens. I am working on convincing my family.” 

Danny nods, picking up a feather wand and slowly swinging it over the floor. He’s actually kinda surprised that this is going well. “I didn’t realize you were so into animals.” 

“Indeed. I have several pets at home.”

“Yeah? Maybe I can meet them one day.” 

Damian’s lips press into a thin line. “We shall see.” AKA: Don’t press your luck.

Danny is about to respond, but the sound of tapping paws draws both of their attention to the orange kitten. 

“Pumpkin is bolder than his siblings,” Damian says with a small smile.

The kitten bounds up to Danny, taking a few experimental swipes at the feather toy before becoming completely engrossed in sniffing his knee. Pumpkin walks up to sit at Danny’s hip, staring at him with wide green eyes, and just keeps staring. 

“Uh, hi,” Danny holds out a finger for the little orange kitten to sniff. 

Three more orange and brown balls of fur tumble out of the cat caves, exploring the people that have joined them. They pad around Damian and stop to stare intently at Danny, their tiny noses and whiskers trembling.

“So… you think they like me?” He ventures. Fuck. Right. Danny’s never had a pet so he always forgets about how cats will clock onto his ghost core.

“I think they are just like this. They stared at me for the first time too. Don’t be surprised if they also try to lead you around the room.” Damian tries to swish around a few toys, but the kittens ignore him. 

Sure enough, after a round of sniffing and staring, the group starts herding Danny around the room, back and forth, and cornered against the door. If there wasn’t another person in the room, Danny would try to tell them that it’s okay, they wouldn’t be able to lead him to a peaceful passing even though they’re doing such a great job. It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t make him sad, he’s happy that he’s still here. (And Danny doesn’t want to think too hard about the implications of the cats doing this to Damian too). 

Eventually, Danny and Damian are able to distract the kittens from their duties by swinging around the toys and, boy, do kittens sure have a lot of energy.

Jumping, sprinting, rolling, and tumbling for at least an hour. Just when it seems that they’ve calmed and are laying down, their rest is over as they have another burst of energy.

During that time, people on the sidewalk stopped to watch, snap some photos, and a few people even came inside to inquire about the kittens. There’s been an increase in visitors to the shelter as people pass by on the street and notice Danny and Damian. Danny knows because Deb occasionally comes in to scoop one up and take it with her for a bit. 

Now, Danny and Damian are sitting on the floor, Damian laid out on his back with Zucchini sleeping on his chest and Danny has Gourd sprawled out over his legs with Pumpkin tucked up in his bent elbow (Phantom’s core is feeling quite content with the guardians’ attention). Squash was adopted roughly half an hour ago.

For the first time, he doesn’t feel awkward about being in the same space as Damian. 

They look up as Deb opens the door again. “Hello, Pumpkin has another family interested in meeting him.”

“Okay, good luck little buddy,” Danny says as he hands over the orange ball of fluff.

He goes back to scrolling on his phone after Deb leaves. “Hey, did you know that we’re trending on Twitblr?” 

Damian doesn’t turn his head to look at Danny. “I do not particularly care.” 

“Are you sure? It’s a lot of cute photos of us with the cats. There’s even people saying that they are going to donate to the shelter.”

“Hm. That is good.”

“We may need to look out for journalists soon.” 

“Fair point. I suppose now that the kittens are resting we can head back inside.” Damian puts his phone away and slowly sits up while holding Zucchini.

Gently, they arrange Zucchini and Gourd in the cat beds and then leave the viewing room. 

Deb is very happy to tell them how the foot traffic has increased from usual and there have already been three other cat and dog adoptions, not to mention the donations happening online. 

Next, Damian shows Danny how to clean litter boxes and while Danny does that, Damian takes the dogs out one at a time to the grass out back. Then they take out and clean the morning's food dishes and refill water bowls all while new guests are shown around the clinic and told about the animals. 

In the third hour of their volunteering, Deb asks them to take some of the dogs on a walk around the block (apparently half go in the morning and the other half go in the evening (or at least the ones that have been trained for this exercise)). 

“Um, I’m not sure that that’s a good idea? We’re picking up a lot of attention so far and that means journalists and paparazzi are gonna show up soon,” Danny tries to warn, Damian begrudgingly agreeing with him. But Deb only smiles more with a glint in her eye and tells them to make the shelter look good. 

Well, this is certainly more activity than Danny was expecting in a short amount of time, but he’ll be fine as long as he rests in between the laps around the block.

Damian is in charge of leashing the dogs, their bodies wiggling with energy and tails wagging in excitement, occasionally barking and Damian shushing them. 

“The dogs all get booties?” Danny asks as he watches Damian from a chair against the wall.

“In Gotham city, of course they do. We wouldn’t want them to get a cut with the pollution, and not to mention residual Joker venom or fear gas,” Damian says matter of factly while securing the velcro. “All ready now.” 

He stands and holds out two leashes in each hand for Danny. “This one is Pablo and that one is Sunny. Sunny has been known to pull on the leash.” 

“That’s fine, I’m stronger than I look.” (Thank you, ghost strength!) Danny holds out his hands, palms up to receive the leashes.

Damian takes a moment to assess Danny’s hands– it’s so brief that most people would barely notice it –then he’s placing Sunny’s leash in Danny’s right hand and Pablo’s in the left. “With me, I have Diego and Spot.”

“Okay,” Danny tries not to grunt, the dogs are already leaning eagerly towards the door. Okay, maybe he was kind of cocky about the strength thing and they caught him off guard.

For a moment, nerves jitter up Danny’s spine as he remembers the few times he took Cujo on walks. The green ghost dog ran so fast that Danny’s mortal body would cling to the leash as he was literally pulled horizontally in the air behind Cujo. Then they figured out that actually, Cujo saw a ghost as young as Danny and was taking him out for a walk, not Danny walking Cujo.

Like cats sensing dead spirits and leading children to places where they can peacefully pass to the other side of the veil, a black dog is the first body to be buried in a grave yard to protect the burial site. Cujo is the essence of all of those dogs and he would super-speed travel the world to take Danny to different grave sights.

Shaking off the thoughts, Danny and Damian head out the door. The plan is to take the dogs out four at a time, one leash in each hand, and go around the block twice. 

Sure enough, there are some paparazzi and journalists outside the shelter, eagerly taking photos and asking questions. Danny and Damian humor them the first two times around the block, posing for photos and answering questions about the shelter, though that’s mainly Damian answering.

(Any other question that isn’t about the shelter gets a flat “no comment” from both of them. “How are you reconciling after your fight at Vlad Masters’ Investor Gala?” No comment. “Is this the first in an official partnership between WE and Dalv Co.?” No comment. “What kind of message are you trying to send the public by spending time together?” No comment.) 

When they finish the first set, they hurry the dogs back inside the shelter and Deb is more than happy to distract the paparazzi and journalists while Danny and Damian are in the kennel room. 

Danny takes the chance to sit while Damian manages to snag Deb away from the media hounds and debates with her about waiting for the reporters to leave, but she just tells him to get the next set of dogs ready. And they can’t exactly argue with her when she points out how good it is for the shelter to get attention because they need the funding and the animals need homes. Of course, Damian is a great help and they appreciate the Wayne donations, but it would be foolish not to use the attention from both Damian and Danny being here. 

With the second set of dogs, they are more brisk. They don’t stop for photos and they answer more questions with “no comment” remarks. 

However, between the cameras and the questions, Danny catches a glimpse of figures at the mouth of an alley way. 

Dark sun shades and crisp white suits. 

Danny’s heart might have stopped beating for a moment and the cold sweat on his skin is definitely not from the dog walking. 

The two GIW agents tilt their heads together, their attention on a tablet, though with the shades, it’s hard to tell exactly where their eyes are focused. One of them presses a hand to the wire in his ear, head tilting up to notice the gaggle of people surrounding Danny and Damian. He nudges his companion and she frowns at the clicking cameras. Together, they disappear into the shadows of the alley. 

Not being able to see them only raises Danny’s anxiety more and the cold metal bracelet on his wrist is a grounding comfort. 

Vlad knows Danny’s location and in case of an emergency, he can send an alert to Vlad. 

As much as the mere sight of the GIW makes him want to toss his cookies onto the pavement, Danny keeps his cool and presses on. 

Halfway through the third set of dogs, the journalists have finally fizzled off to hunt down other stories. The paparazzi still hang around, but more at a distance as if they hope that Danny and Damian will forget about them. For once, Danny is glad for the attention if only to push the GIW away.

Onto the fourth set, Damian is leashing up the last three dogs as Danny rests on a chair. “Think they’re still out there?”

“Most certainly,” Damian says from where he kneels. 

“Just two more times around the block?”

“Indeed. Think you can keep up, Fenton?” He holds out a leash to Danny.

Danny chuckles and gets to his feet, reaching out to take the leash. “Most certainly.” (He’s definitely not mocking Damian’s speech pattern, what are you talking about?)

Damian looks at his palms again and pulls the leash out of reach. “How did you get that scar?”

“Lab accident.” Danny’s tone leaves no room for question. “Same one that killed my parents. I told you: I was hospitalized.”

“Hm. Yes. I remember.”

“If you remembered, then you wouldn’t’ve had to ask.”

Danny reaches for the leash again but Damian pulls away for the second time. “Use your dominant hand.” 

Why? He’s fine. His left hand isn’t even shaking yet. “Fine, whatever.” Danny switches hands and Damian gives him the leash. 

A few random pedestrians still gawk as if they’re seeing celebrities in public, but the fourth and final dog-walking goes smoother without the journalists and paparazzi hanging around. Still, Danny is grateful when he can sit down again. Eight city blocks isn't that bad, especially when he can rest between some of them, but his left foot is starting to get tired. He has to put conscious effort into not letting his shoe drag on the ground.

Damian settles the dogs, putting the leashes and the booties away in the cabinet, and then sits with Danny to wait in the lobby for their rides. For a moment, Danny gets goosebumps as Damian’s death shroud settles next to him. 

“So, thanks for inviting me. This was fun,” Danny says genuinely. And they didn’t get into a fight! Physically or verbally, even if there were some digging remarks. He’s counting this as progress.

“Tt. There’s no need for pleasantries. This was expected of us.” 

“Okay, yes, but I still enjoyed it.” 

“There’s animals involved. What’s not to enjoy.” Damian may have phrased it as a question, but his tone is clearly a statement. 

“Well, I’ve never had a pet before, so, I was feeling out of my depth.”

“A pity for you.” 

“Hey!”

Damian rolls his eyes. “Though I must admit that you performed adequately. At least our presence brought more attendance than usual to the shelter.” 

“Yeah, that’s nice to see animals finding a home.” 

“Indeed.” 

Danny taps his hands on his knees when they fall silent. He checks the time on his phone, texts Vlad again, puts his phone down, picks it up and checks the time again, puts it down, and tries to think of some other small talk to make. “So… You get your grade back yet on that Lit essay?”

“Yes.” 

“Cool. What did you get?”

Damian stares at him blankly, as if he can’t believe that Danny is asking such a thing. “A perfect grade, of course.” 

“Right… Of course,” Danny repeats. 

“What else would I have gotten?”

“Well, I got a C, 77%. I’ll have to do the revisions worksheet to get the grade up to a B”

“Hm. Seems you’re not as bright as I thought.” 

“Am too! I’m just not as great at interpreting text as you are. Give me numbers any day.” Damn it, now that they’re not busy with the volunteering, they’re starting to bicker again. 

“And yet you still got our science experiment wrong.” 

“Nuh-uh, we got it wrong,” Danny corrects. 

Damian grits his teeth. “I do not make mistakes.”

“So you’ve said.” Danny’s skin crawls over his spine as Damian’s death shroud spikes against  his aura. He needs to defuse this or they’re going to have a repeat of physics class (why is it so fun easy to get under Damian’s skin?).

Or, maybe this is an opportunity. Vlad will be proud of Danny for thinking of a way to spend more time getting Damian to trust them.

“But!” Danny interrupts as Damian opens his mouth. “What if we tutored each other? I can help you with understanding the scientific method and you can help me with literature.”

“I do not need tutoring, nor do I want to provide it, Masters,” Damian sneers, and they are right back to Damian pointing out the separation between Dalv Co. and Wayne Enterprises.

Danny bites his lip to keep himself from correcting Damian and he grasps for straws, his thoughts tumbling. “What if it was a competition then?”  

Oh, that seemed to work, now there’s a soft gleam in Damian’s golden eyes. “Go on.” 

Danny swivels in his seat to fully face Damian, one knee tucked up to his chest and the other foot on the floor. “If you tutor me well enough that I can get my B grade– which is what I’ve gotten for the past three years, by the way –to an A by the end of the semester, then you win. But, if I tutor you well enough that you don’t make any more mistakes by the end of the semester, then I win.” (Actually, Danny’s goal is to get Damian to see that learning why something didn’t work doesn’t mean that he made a mistake.)

Damian thinks for a moment. “What do we get, when we win?” 

“Um, well we’re both rich, so money and objects don’t seem all that motivating. Hmm…” Danny rubs at the back of his neck, eyes cast to the ceiling as he thinks for a moment.

“Oh!” Danny’s attention snaps back to Damian. “I know, the loser puts out a statement to the press that the gala incident was his fault.”

“That is acceptable,” Damian nods. “And if we both win?”

“Then we go to an instant-death round.” Danny accentuates the words with jazz hands. 

Damian scoffs and rolls his eyes, but his interest in the competition doesn’t waver. “Which entails what, exactly?”

“Uh… Let’s see… Um…” Danny throws his hands up in defeat. “I don’t know, challenges or something? We’ll figure it out if it comes to that. We’re being forced to spend time together, we might as well make it interesting. Tutoring twice a week: once for Lit and once for Physics.”

This time, Damian pauses for longer, and then he heaves a sigh. “Fine, I suppose those terms are acceptable. Tuesdays at the Wayne Manor and Thursdays at the Masters Mansion.”

“Deal.” Danny sticks out his hand and they shake on it. (Huh, Damian’s hand has a surprisingly strong grip and there are rough calluses on his palm.)

Damian checks his phone as a notification goes off and he stands up. “Give me your phone.” 

“Huh?”

“Tt. Think, Fenton. You’re going to need my number.”

“Oh, right, makes sense.” Danny hands over his phone.

“Next week you’ll join me in hosting the Teen’s Free Admission Night at the Gotham Art and Science Museum. We are expected to dress nicely. I will text you the specifics later,” Damian says as he types his number into Danny’s phone and hands it back to him. “I’ll see you in school on Monday, goodnight.” 

Danny barely manages to say goodbye before Damian is out the door. 

A few minutes later, Danny slumps into the backseat of the car with Vlad who doesn’t even look up from his phone or say hello, too busy scrolling. 

“Excellent work, badger. The media is eating this up. There’s a lot of speculation about why you two are suddenly hanging out after brawling last weekend-”

“We weren’t brawling,” Danny mutters, however, Vlad pays him no heed.

“-but this is certainly a step in the right direction.” Vlad taps on the glass that separates the backseat from where Fright Knight sits behind the wheel. “Home, Fright.” 

“Right away, your majesty,” Fright Knight says and turns on the blinker to merge back into traffic. (Danny has never liked Fright’s chauffeur outfight. His armor is way cooler. But he’s gotta look-like-a-mortal and all that.) 

“‘How was your afternoon, Danny?’ Gee, Uncle Vlad, I actually enjoyed myself. ‘Damian wasn’t too much of a prick?’ Oh don’t be so mean to him, we’re getting along okay-ish. ‘Tell me about what you did today?’ There’s this really cute parrot who whistles a lot named Kettle, but she just wants to be loved; and we hung out with some kittens that definitely picked up on my ghost-ness, but they were super cute; and a lot of people visited because Damian and I were there.” Danny acts out the conversation that he wishes he was having with Vlad. “If you care, that is.”

“Huh? Yes, yes, very good.” Vlad reaches over and ruffles Danny’s hair, attention back on the phone screen. “Hang on, I need to call one of my executives.”

“Technically it’s our executive… But sure thing.” Danny eagerly leans into the touch, Vlad’s hand slipping from his head to his shoulder. He stares out the window, watching Gotham pass them by.