#I NEVER TIRE OF SEEING HOW TINY DAMIAN IS COMPARED TO ADULTS

[out-of-context-batfam]

Challenge Of The Super Sons #14

[jinmukangwrites]

New Perspectives

Batfamweek2020 Day 4 / De-ageing / @official-batfam-week

Summary: Sometimes crazy villains can get lucky shots. Damian just wished the lucky shot hadn’t hit Grayson, his current mentor and Batman. This complicates things quickly.

Might expand on this someday? Hmmmm. This week is giving me too many opportunities to try my hand out on stories I’ve been wanting to write >.<

AO3

-o-o-o-o-

“We’re almost there,” Damian says, trying not to pay too much attention to the boy behind him that’s clutching his stomach so he doesn’t fall off the cycle. The boy doesn’t respond, just clutches harder as Damian takes a sharp turn into a hidden and underground entrance to the cave. He doesn’t know if this tunnel had existed back when Grayson was Robin, but judging by the shocked gasp that vocalizes behind him: it didn’t.

The going after is just a few moments that are hardly worth remembering. The boy behind him is completely silent, and Damian’s sure if he turned around and looked into his eyes, all he would see is a cloudy, confused fog blanketing his normally lively electric blue irises.

Grayson is, understandably, “out of it”. Damian feels out of it. The night started off like any other; he and Grayson put on their uniforms and Batman and Robin emerged into the streets to fight crime and do good and all that ridiculous nonsense. However, it turned out someone wanted to attempt to make their villainous debut that night, some man with way too much knowledge in technology and what it can do to the human body. A bank robbery turned into a standup, the burglar ripping off his ski mask and leather jacket to reveal a ridiculous domino mask that appeared to be made out of felt from a lowly stock supermarket and an even more ridiculous costume that appeared to have been put together from a green-man suit and a mess of glued on scrap fabric and pipe-cleaners.

“It is I!” He had screamed, wielding a gun like device that looked straight from Halo. “Reverser! Batman and Robin! Tremble before me!”

Damian would sooner tremble to Condiment Man; which is another way to say no way in hell.

He was easy to take down, unfortunately he had gotten a few laser-like shots from his gun but he ultimately went down like a bag of bricks when Damian swiped his temple with a well placed kick from his heel. After he restrained the miscreant with cable ties he turned around, expecting the normal bout of praise Grayson loves to give him, only for his eyes to widen in shock as he sights three children who were not there before the battle.

Each child, a girl and two boys, swimming in adult clothes and all looking very dazed and confused.

He didn’t recognize the first two, but he did recognize the bright blue eyed one with raven hair and tan skin looking down at the mess of Batsuit around him with a far-off look and a frown on his lips. Damian didn’t hesitate, he just darted forward, gathered up the kid and the suit, and pressed the button on his belt that would summon his cycle.

He forgot to grab the weapon that did this, but he sent a message the commissioner’s way explaining the situation with the other two children and the weapon that did it. Damian will drop Grayson back at the manor and let Pennyworth deal with him while Damian went back out to retrieve the only key to reversing... fixing this mess until the Reverser woke up from his concussion.

The child thankfully has enough sense about him to clutch onto Damian as he drove, and he thankfully didn’t fight Damian forcing one of his own extra masks on his face and only gave minimal resistance to Damian stripping him of the Batsuit and shoving him into a various selection of clothes he definitely didn’t steal from a near-by dry cleaner that Pennyworth will be none-the-wiser of.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

So, now, he comes to a screeching halt in the cave with the Bat-suit stuffed in a bag around his shoulders with Grayson hanging on just behind in borrowed clothes and a borrowed mask. He spots Pennyworth rushing down the stairs up to the manor with a visible amount of concern on his face, but Damian ignores him for now as he gets off the bike and drags Grayson off with him by a hand gripping the... younger boy’s bicep. Damian tries not to think about how the tip of his middle finger and his thumb are close to touching or how the borrowed mask looks way too big.

Grayson cannot be more than seven or eight years old at the moment. He’s so small compared to Damian, and Damian cannot be more than two years older. Damian doesn’t know how young Grayson started his career fighting Gotham crime, but Damian secretly and truly hopes it wasn’t this young. It wasn’t this small. Which is rich, because Damian’s been fighting since he could crawl.

Knowing his father, it was probably this young. This small.

Grayson stumbles to his feet and groans, bringing the hand that belongs to his freed arm to his eyes and rubbing at them, making the mask covering his identity grow slightly askew. Damian tuts as Pennyworth finally arrives, mumbling a British expletive under his breath that Damian will not address because the old butler will very stubbornly and effectively deny. Besides, Grayson is more important.

“What happened?” Pennyworth asks, bending down—knees cracking and Damian fights a wince—to grab Grayson’s cheeks to keep his head still long enough to peel off the borrowed mask. Damian lets go of Grayson’s arm to return to his bike.

“He got hit by something that reverted him to the age of a child,” Damian says simply. “Watch over him while I visit the precinct to retrieve the weapon that did-“

“No alone, you’re not,” Pennyworth snaps and Damian frowns. Grayson has yet to show any kind of familiarity with Pennyworth, but as Pennyworth stands up to give Damian a hard stare, Grayson wraps his thin arms around the butler’s hips and buries his face into his lower leg. A pathetic show of a child needing affection. Grayson is clearly still very out of it. Damian must fix this, and quickly.

“I’ll be fine,” Damian argues back and Pennyworth’s lips dangerously thin. Damian fights back a nervous swallow. He quickly found out Pennyworth was no one to be trifled with, after calling him a servant and getting an intense scolding from his father, he had been careful since to treat the elder man with tolerance. It was then that he noticed the lethal way the butler moved. He was a soldier, a dangerous one before this. A soldier hardly ever forgets how to not be dangerous, even in old age. Tolerance turned into respect.

And fear, of those stern eyes and scolding lips that thin before they go for a killing blow.

“You will go to the precinct tomorrow. Mr Gordon will not lose the weapon in eight hours. You need rest.” Pennyworth puts his hand down at the top of Grayson’s unruly mess of hair. Grayson has yet to emerge from his clinging grasp on Pennyworth’s leg. “You both do.”

Damian huffs angrily, jerking his body away from his cycle with a growl. He knew the battle was lost the moment the butler told him no the first time, but Damian is more stubborn to give up the first try.

“Alf...” a small voice says and Damian has to fight jerking his head down to the small kid who’s released his clinging just enough to look up at the older man. “‘m tired...”

“Of course, Master Dick,” Pennyworth says, a warmth in his voice that Damian has never heard directed his way. Pennyworth looks over at Damian one last time with a stern eye before he expertly unwinds Grayson’s grabbing and spindly arms to bend down and place his hands on Grayson’s shoulders. Grayson wobbles slightly and blinks sleepily and Pennyworth tuts. “We will head to bed immediately. Do you need to be carried?”

Damian bits his lip as Grayson gives a jerking shake of the head. He looks dead on his feet, Damian wouldn’t even have asked, but Pennyworth just nods and stands tall, offering a single gloved hand.

“Hold my hand then, you’ve had a long night.”

Grayson nods and grabs Pennyworth's hand, taking steps along the butler’s strides much like how a newborn deer would as it tries to keep pace with a buck.

Damian hears a tiny “where’s Bruce?” as the pair make their way towards the stairs out of the cave. Damian reluctantly follows close behind, curious as to what answer Pennyworth is about to give.

“He was held up at work, young man,” Pennyworth says back, helping Grayson up the first stair. “Will you be alright with just Zitka?”

“Yeah...”

“Very well, are you hungry?”

“Nah...”

Pennyworth’s mindless questions for Grayson’s well being quickly become background noise to Damian’s thoughts as the trio walk into the study. Damian closes the door in the clock behind him and the two other occupants of the house quickly turn a corner and begin to leave Damian behind.

He decides to quickly retreat to his room while he lets Pennyworth deal with the dazed miniature Grayson. Grayson hadn’t noticed Damian there and he inquired the location of his father, which makes this situation feel already leagues out of his abilities to even attempt to help the tiny version of his mentor. Damian needs to sleep, because the sooner he sleeps, the sooner he can leave the next day and get the weapon and hopefully interrogate Reverser or whatever his birth name is because honestly Damian refuses to call him by that idiotic name for much longer.

He doesn’t stumble into his room, just like how the weight of the situation doesn’t hit him like a truck and cause him to flop on his bed with a verbal sigh. He doesn’t turn in his sheets so he’s facing the direction where Grayson’s room is and he definitely doesn’t focus his hearing on the quiet and muffled murmuring of Pennyworth coaxing the child into bed.

None of this happens because no one is around to see nor hear him do it.

If a tree falls in a forest, and all that.

He will fix this, he thinks, closing his eyes as Pennyworth’s footsteps retreat down the hall.

-o-o-o-o-

It’s close to four in the morning when Damian wakes again. Confused because he’s trained his body to always sleep in till at least six, he slowly brings his arms under him and lifts his body up so he can effectively look around the room to maybe spot whatever disturbance woke him up. There’s nothing but shadows, no light illuminating from the window because of the twilight before morn. His furniture is all where it should be, and there’s no unknown forms where there shouldn’t be.

He lays back down on his bed again, eyebrows drawn together and very awake for no reason at all. Strange, he hardly ever wakes up before he’s trained his body to unless he specifically plans an early rising with an alarm.

Perhaps the manor life has been getting to him, maybe his body is deciding to have a little fit about the time zone difference between this place and the desert he grew up in.

Nothing to cause worry, for sure.

Then; he hears a tiny pitter-patter of feet walking quietly outside his door.

Perhaps this was the disturbance he was looking for. He silently slips from his covers and tip-toes to his door, waiting for the footsteps to get a bit further from his room so he can quietly open the door without being noticed. He pokes his head out and blinks at the almost pitch blackness of the wing hallway to see a small form turn a corner towards the stairs that lead to the main floor of the manor.

The realization washes over him like those blasted artificial waves at that pool Grayson forced him to go to on a rare weekend off for the older man. He glances down the other end of the hallway towards the direction of Grayson’s room, knowing it is now empty, before fully exiting his room and quickly rushing down the direction Grayson had gone without making a single noise.

What could a shrunken kid be doing this early in the morning? He was practically dead on his feet the night before. Damian’s almost shocked that he’s up before noon let alone sneaking around the manor. Damian is just lucky that Grayson as a child isn’t as good at sneaking as his adult counterpart. Worst case scenario, Grayson could have exited the manor and left to the streets of Gotham all before Damian and Pennyworth could notice.

He pokes his head around a corner to find Grayson just reaching the bottom of the staircase. He watches as he looks around the large room before taking off thankfully not towards the front doors. A small inkling of worry fades from Damian’s conscious as he quickly rushes down the stairs just in time to see Grayson disappear through the halls into the doorway of the kitchen.

Curious, Damian sneaks closer and pokes his head in to see Grayson already struggling to jump on the counter and open a high up cupboard, pulling out a box of frosted mini-wheats and hopping down to place the box on the counter. Damian has to resist a snort of amusement as the child then carefully opens the fridge door, recoiling from the light of the fridge ever so slightly and blinking squinting and close to teary eyes from perhaps exhaustion, to drag out a gallon of milk and shove it next to the cereal. Grayson then heads to another counter and hops up again with practiced movements to open another just for his hand to freeze when he meets the sight of glass pans and fancy decorative serving bowls.

“Huh,” Damian hears Grayson huff. “Alf reorganized.”

He’s looking for the bowls. Damian places his hands over his mouth to stop an embarrassing giggle. This is all so amusing. Grayson had gotten up at four in the morning to steal a bowl of cereal. He wonders if he still does this as an adult and Damian just hasn’t ever noticed, but then he shakes his head because it’s ridiculous to think that first of all, an adult man sneaking under Pennyworth’s nose to get cereal and second of all, that Damian wouldn’t notice.

Grayson opens the next cupboard closest to him just to huff again when he meets the sight of spices. There are many cupboards in the kitchen, and the poor shrunken man is on the opposite side of the room where the bowls actually lay.

Damian wonders what he should do. It looks like Grayson is simply just hungry and might even go back to bed without suspecting a thing. Damian isn’t sure how much he remembers, but if the way the other boy is slowly starting to growl with each cupboard he opens, muttering things like “Alfie really outdid himself this time” and “doing this just because he doesn’t want me sneaking food at midnight” and even “watch. He probably hid the bowls in his room this time” with growing frustration was anything to go by: not much.

Damian shouldn't make his presence known if Grayson woke up with munchies thinking he was back to eight years old. Back then, it was only him, Pennyworth, and his father all living in the same house. To Grayson, he’d probably just be some random ten year old kid who broke into the manor or something.

He should go wake Pennyworth, he decides as Grayson calls out in victory, pulling out the first bowl he gets his hands on. He steps back, but of course it’s that second Alfred the cat decides to make himself known by tripping Damian up. He hadn’t noticed the feline standing curiously behind him, but Grayson definitely notices Damian’s call of alarm and Alfred’s yowl and hiss as he runs away. Damian lands on his rear with a thump and next thing he knows, Grayson is standing a few paces away, holding perhaps the first long and weighty thing he could find up as a weapon. Unfortunately, that item is a rolling pin. A hit from that, even from Grayson’s skinny noodle arms, would leave a mark, especially with Robin training.

“Who are you?!” Grayson hisses, holding his rolling pin of doom out in front of him at an awkward and wrong angle for optimal self defense. On instinct, Grayson has lessened his abilities to appear as an actual child who’s been startled, not a trained vigilante that could use a paperclip as a weapon if need arises.

Damian slowly holds up his hands in surrender and rises to his feet even slower. “I’m not going to hurt you, Grayson.”

Damian almost curses his instinct to call the boy by name, but Grayson doesn’t react. It’s then that Damian remembers that he’s the first adoptive son of the elusive Bruce Wayne. Everyone in Gotham knows his name, more so than Todd, Drake, Damian himself, and especially Cain. However, what Grayson chooses to get angry at is the rest of the sentence itself.

Grayson raises his weapon higher and Damian follows the action with his hands, keeping his gaze firm on Grayson’s eyes.

“Tell me who you are or I swear I’ll-“

“Master Richard John Grayson,” Pennyworth suddenly gasps from behind, startling both Damian and Grayson out from their heated glaring contest. Damian hadn’t noticed the man, though Pennyworth is often unnoticed when he wants to be. He’s sure the older man has startled his father himself a few times from his silent walking.

There’s a thunk of a rolling pin falling to the ground and Damian watches as Grayson stares wide eyed at Pennyworth, mouth slightly open in shock. At first, he thinks it’s because Pennyworth used Grayson’s full name, signifying how angry he is, but when Pennyworth steps forward Grayson takes a startled step back. He looks like he’s about to dart.

Something else is wrong, and Damian realizes just what when Grayson lets out a shocked whisper.

“You’re... you... Alfred, you look old...?”

Pennyworth sighs and kneels down on the ground, holding out his bare hands. He’s in his nightgown and a little hat and nothing more. It looks like he woke from bed in a cold sweat and grabbed the nearest garment to be decent enough before tracking down his target. Grayson takes a slow step forward and grabs Pennyworth’s hands with his own, and after a tense moment of the two of them staring at each other and Damian feeling like he’s intruded on something private, Grayson relaxes.

“But it’s you. You’re old... but you’re you.”

“The one and only, lad,” Pennyworth says with a somber smile to his voice.

Suddenly, Damian is in the spotlight of Grayson’s attention once again when their eyes meet. “You’re old,” Grayson repeats softly, almost to himself as he looks Damian up and down as if he’s assessing a threat. Which is good, Grayson is young and should always assess threats, but it hurts that he’s on the receiving end. “And you’re new... Alfred, what’s going on? Where’s Bruce?”

“Richard,” Pennyworth says, dropping the honorific, which is very rare for him to do, “do you remember anything from last night?”

Grayson’s eyebrows come together, making him look even more like the child that he is. It makes something in Damian’s chest tighten. He wonders if he’s ever looked that small. “I... no... a... a light..?

Clearly, thinking too much is giving the younger version of Damian’s mentor a headache. Pennyworth takes pity on him by letting go of his hands and transferring his grasp onto both of Grayson’s arms in a steady hold. “I was hoping we could ease you in once morning came,” Pennyworth says with a sigh. “Sadly, it seems we must explain things now. Master Dick, please put the pin away and finish making your bowl of cereal then go upstairs to join Master Damian in the study, I will be right up after I make us all some hot chocolate.”

Grayson nods slowly and Pennyworth gives him a small pat on the arm before standing up and preparing the milk before anyone could say anything else. Damian feels the hairs on his neck rise and he re-meets Graysons studying gaze. Damian clears his throat and takes a step back—careful this time to not trip over any cats—and forces something that could maybe pass as a smile onto his face.

“Yeah,” he says smartly, before turning tale and retreating up towards the study before Grayson could say anything.