#sooo much worldbuilding here. v excited to share my plans for danny and everyone and gotham

[luxaofhesperides]

those who serve.

CHAPTER FOUR: a job.

read chapter one, two, three on tumblr or the entire fic on ao3.

10k+ words again..... i remain the queen of not shutting up <3

. . .

“Wait,” Dick says, reaching over to open the glove box, “Before we go, we need these.” He pulls out some hats, squished together to fit on top of the many CDs rattling around. He smooths out a dark blue baseball cap, then hands a black hat to Danny. “Disguises, kind of,” he explains.

Danny looks down at the hat in his hand, then back at Dick. Sure. Why not. He’ll wear a hat as a very bad disguise since Dick seems to think it’s important. He doesn’t really want to know the details as to why they need to do this, so Danny’s gonna roll with it.

He puts the hat on and looks at Dick for further direction.

Instead of getting any of that, Dick slips on a pair of sunglasses and grins at Danny. “Alright. Ready to brave the dangers of a Gotham shopping mall?”

“...Sure?”

“Great!” Dick kicks open his door and hops out. Danny follows much more sedately, getting out of the car more like a normal person, then closing it quietly. He takes a moment to look up at the mall, a large building with strings of lights hanging above the walkways. The parking lot is filling up quickly despite it being a weekday morning and people are bustling about, heading into stores or cafes. 

It’s much bigger than the two malls in Amity Park. This is the kind of place Paulina and Star would be spending all their time at if they could, wandering around and buying whatever caught their eye. 

Danny would have just hung out in the food court with Sam and Tucker, maybe caught a movie or wasted the hours away in the arcade. 

Being here, without them, aches like a bruise. He would give anything to just be a normal teenager hanging out at the mall with his friends. He wouldn’t have to worry about ghosts or avoiding his parents or dreading going home because he’s too tired to fully dodge all of his parents’ weapons. 

“Ready to go in?” Dick asks. He moves closer to Danny and his voice is much softer; it’s more gentle and concerned than excited, now. 

Danny tries to plaster a smile onto his face, hide his true feelings and not ruin Dick’s day out. “Let’s go,” he says, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie just to have something to do with his hands. It’s better to focus on twisting the fabric than to think of the life he lost long before he ever ran away to this dimension.

He starts walking before Dick can grow any more concerned about Danny. They’re here for a reason and that’s to get Danny daily necessities so he can start working. It’s not for fun, it’s just an errand to run.

He doesn’t get too far before Dick is besides him, throwing an arm around his shoulder to keep him close. 

“Sorry if this makes you uncomfortable,” Dick murmurs, “But we need to stick to each other. Just in case, you know?”

“Just in case of what?”

“Kidnappings, usually. Or so we don’t lose each other if we need to evacuate. Or to stick together if a rogue attacks.”

Sure. Why not. This is just what happens in Gotham, apparently.

“Okay,” Danny says, weakly. “How likely is any of that happening, by the way?”

Dick hums, considering the question as they reach the walkway, full of potted plants and a fountain, lined with small stores, cafes, and a bakery. “I’m not too sure about the numbers, that’s something you’ll have to ask Tim. But the risk is definitely higher with us, being part of the Wayne family and all.”

“I’m not part of the family, though.”

“You’re close enough that the distinction doesn’t really matter. Criminals will see you as an easy way to either access the Manor and family, or an easy target for ransom. Though the average citizen is still at risk too, so you’d have been in danger either way.”

Apparently, there was a point in having Tim and Bruce discuss insurance and kidnapping policies. For once, it’s not absurd rich people things; it’s a legitimate concern in Gotham. 

“Anyways!” Dick says, smoothly moving along, “What do you want to get first? Clothes? Things for your room? Weapons?”

“Weapons?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you’re trained in whatever you’re interested in using.”

Danny side-eyes Dick as they enter the mall proper. “I prefer martial arts to weapons,” he says. 

Dick just nods. “We can train you in that too. Whatever you want, Danny.”

“Let’s just get some clothes, first.”

Inside, the noise of the morning crowd echoes off the walls of the mall. The ceiling is high and lined with skylights that don’t do anything when most days in Gotham are cloudy. It’s the most people Danny’s been around in a while and all the noise and movement makes him jittery, anxious, and close to clawing his skin off. 

“This way,” Dick says, lowering his voice. He easily guide Danny through the groups of people walking around the mall, heading towards a clothing store with dim lights and barely audible music playing. There aren’t many people in there and it’s quieter in the store. Quiet enough for him to feel like he can breathe without feeling his throat tighten with oncoming panic, at least.

“All good?”

Danny slips out from under Dick’s arm and takes a slow, steady breath. “I’m fine.”

“Alright.” Dick doesn’t push, but he clearly doesn’t believe that Danny’s fine. Which, yeah, he’s not and he’s clearly bad at hiding it if Dick can pick up on it immediately, but Danny also doesn’t want to talk about it ever. So Dick will just have to take all the bad lies Danny’s giving him and deal with it. 

He moves around the store, hoping to stop the conversation from continuing. He idly flicks through the racks of clothing, searching for things that are in his size. 

Most of the clothes in the store is more suited for Sam’s style, really. Danny doesn’t think he can really pull off fishnet tights, especially while working as a butler. He does grab some plain black shirts, both short sleeve and long sleeve, and a gray sweater. 

“That’s all?” Dick frowns at the few pieces of clothing Danny’s taken, but he leads them to the cashier regardless of his disapproval. He also takes out his wallet and hands over a card before Danny can protest.

“I can pay,” he says, and Dick shrugs.

“Sure, but I have more money than I want to deal with. I’m more than happy to pay for you, Danny. Don’t worry about it.”

The cashier scans the items, bags them, and hands the receipt to Dick. 

Her eyes widen when she does and she makes a strangled sound in the back of her throat. “You’re—!”

“Shhh,” Dick shushes her, a finger to his lips. 

She presses her lips together tightly and nods. 

That is… a weird reaction. Is she scared of Dick? Is Dick well known enough to the average citizen of Gotham that they clam up and get nervous when they see he’s around? What exactly is his role in the Wayne mob family?

He glances at Dick just in time to catch him lowering his sunglasses a bit to give the cashier a wink, then takes the receipt while Danny grabs the shopping bag and considers going invisible so he’s not seen near Dick any longer. But the cashier doesn’t seem scared anymore, not with the red on her cheeks and the smile she isn’t quite able to bite down.

“Is that going to happen often?” Danny asks as they exit the shop and back into the crowds of the mall, which are steadily growing louder as morning fades into afternoon.

“Hopefully not,” Dick answers, “We’re kinda big in Gotham, so I might get recognized. But that’s why I got disguises!”

“Disguises that barely work.”

“Well, I wanted a wig, but no one else let’s me have one. The few times I’ve bought some, they immediately go missing.”

“Can we leave and just order everything I need online?”

Dick sighs, looking over Danny with a critical eye.  “If you really want to, I suppose we can. But part of the reason why we’re here right now is so that you can get used to Gotham. This is a busy place full of people and it’s the best way to acclimate you to the city that’s not throwing you at a rogue or a gang.”

It hits Danny then that this might be part of his butler training. A way to prove that he can handle himself and that the Wayne family mob won’t need to worry about him too much. The weak disguises might be to test if he can keep secrets and not blow Dick’s cover. 

Would they do that to him?

Well… Danny can’t confidently say that they won’t, so it’s safer to assume that this is something they would do. Are actively doing, even.

He lets out a slow breath, rolls his shoulders back, and resolves himself to seeing this through. “Alright,” he says, “Let’s keep going.”

“That’s the spirit!” Dick grins, and Danny can’t help the way he twitches, biting down on a reflexive need to respond with no, I’m the spirit. Another downside of being in a new dimension where no one knows his secrets: everyone’s missing out on his death jokes. It’s a shame, really, because Danny is hilarious.

Dick leads him through the mall, keeping an arm around Danny’s shoulders to steer him through the crowd. Danny peeks into the stores they pass, hoping something will catch his interest so he can finish up with this errand and leave the mall sooner rather than later. 

He stumbles to a stop when he spots a NASA shirt on a clothing rack, and a black hoodie displayed beside it, Ursa Major and Minor decorating the front. 

“Hm? Find something you like?” Dick asks as he urges Danny in. He follows Danny’s gaze and makes a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. “Here, let’s see if they have your size.”

He’s rummaging through the racks before Danny can respond, pulling out shirts to check their size. As soon as he finds a medium, he’s holding it out to Danny, who takes it without thinking, moving on autopilot. 

“Wait,” he starts, “We don’t need to—”

“Of course we do! We’re here to build up your wardrobe. What’s the point if you’re not getting things you actually like?”

And then he grabs one of the hoodies for Danny too, as if to make a point. 

Dick holds it up and looks at the design with a critical eye, then asks, “Do you like space?”

“Yeah,” Danny says. There’s so much more he wants to say, but he bites his tongue. This isn’t the time or place to start gushing about how much he loves space; he needs to buy what he needs and then leave. That’s all he needs to focus on.

“Well?” Dick prompts, “What do you like about it?”

“Can I just buy these and go?” Danny asks, “Talking about space is too distracting.”

“Oh. Well, I guess I can ask again later, yeah?” And Dick actually looks disappointed. He’s got this kicked puppy dog look that makes Danny feel incredibly guilty, but he won’t allow himself to be distracted. He’s on a mission and he’s going to see it through.

They spend another few minutes browsing that store. There’s more clothes here that’s to Danny’s taste and he pulls a few pairs of pants he can wear that don’t scream ‘teen hooligan’. Which mostly means there are no holes or rips in them. He checks the prices and tries not to wince at the prices; mall stores are always more expensive, and while it’s not a big deal to rich mob families, it is to Danny, who has spent most of his time in this dimension homeless and penniless. 

The cashier of this store barely glances at them as they scan tags and stuff clothes into a large bag. They don’t notice anything about Dick when he shoves Danny’s hand down and holds out his own card, again, and pays.

Shockingly, Dick’s bad disguise works. Though it might just be because this store is much busier than the first gothic store they shopped in.

Danny hurries out of the store, hoping that he can stop here for the day. He doesn’t get his hopes up too high, though, when he catches sight of the way Dick’s eyeing the food court. 

He’s trying to come up with excuses to avoid the area—full of people and noise and too much everything—when Dick’s smile suddenly falls and his eyes go cold as ice. 

He grabs Danny a second before the first gunshot rings out.

Immediately, the mall is full of shouts and movement as people rush to get away; either to find a way out of the mall, or into a store where they can hide. More gunshots follow, and a skylight shatters, raining glass down onto the frantic crowd.

Dick grabs Danny’s arm and pulls him away from the food court. Danny keeps pace with him as they sprint through the mall, searching for safety. 

Behind them, Danny can hear people screeching and laughing. Before them, at one of the mall’s entrances, he spots a group of people dressed in dark, torn clothing, and strange metal bands around their bicep. Some hold large guns while others have spiked baseball bats or machetes. 

From the sounds if it, there’s a group at every entrance. 

They’re trapped in.

Dick hisses a curse under his breath and ducks through the crowd, dragging Danny behind him, and ducks into a small space between two stores. There’s a door that leads to an employee only area, but it’s locked. 

Most of the crowd goes quiet after that. Danny looks behind them to see people cowering in stores, frantically typing on their phones; he hopes at least one of them is able to contact someone who can help. A few are still out in the open, crouched behind benches and massage chairs, holding onto each other. 

“Aww, don’t be so scared,” someone croons, “We ain’t gonna hurt you too much. So long as you give me your wallets, we’re all good.”

A robbery, Danny realizes, an extreme robbery. 

He’s not a hero. He doesn’t want to be a hero when he doesn't need to be. There are, apparently, many heroes in this world who can help but none of them are here. It’s just Danny and a bunch of civilians, at the mercy of whoever this gang of thieves is. 

It’s just Danny and Dick, stuck hidden away, because Dick is a bigger target than anyone else. 

“We’re going to be fine, Danny,” Dick whispers. He’s tucking his phone back into his pocket and taking off his hat and sunglasses. “Don’t worry.”

Danny’s not worrying. He’s concerned for the safety of everyone else, but he’s not worried about himself. What are they going to do, kill him a second time? Fat chance. 

The problem is that the only way Danny can do anything is by going ghost, and he can’t do that with Dick holding him back.

Outside their hiding spot, glass shatters and more gunshots go off. “Don’t be greedy now!” someone shouts, then cackles, “Just pass over what you’ve got in that cash register and we’ll be on our way.”

From farther away, someone says, “Don’t get smart with me,” and smashes a counter. From the sound of it, they actually smashed their fist through the counter. 

Most people don’t have that kind of strength. 

“Dick,” Danny says, and Dick shushes him.

“It’s fine. Help will be here soon.”

Danny focuses his hearing, trying to make sure no one is getting hurt or killed. The gunshots and destruction are just intimidation tactics. As long as people cooperate, this day won’t end with a body count. Footsteps get closer, loud against the tense stillness of the mall. 

He shifts his weight, then steps forward, placing himself in front of Dick. 

“Danny, what are you—”

“Dick.” He can hear the echo in his voice, the sound of something inhuman rising to the forefront. “Stay behind me.”

There’s no time for any warning, for any reassurance. Three gang members walk by and find them.

“Well look what we have here!” one of them jeers, swinging around a baseball bat, “Two little pigs tryin’ hide from us!”

“Come on out, piggies, before we have to drag you out,” another grins, all teeth.

The third is a large man who doesn’t seem very… cognizant. He twitches, breathing heavily as his eyes dart around. All three of them have a strange gleam in their eyes, one that reminds him of the mugger who went after Alfred. 

Are they drugged?

Danny slowly steps forward, eyes fixed on them. They make condescending whistles and clicks, treating him like a scared animal. They don’t know how tightly Danny’s holding onto his humanity, how badly he wants to let go and make them beg for mercy.

A hand grabs his. “Don’t, Danny.”

“Well, shit!” one of the gang members says, “That’s a Wayne! How much do ya think he’ll sell for?”

They don’t wait any longer. They rush in and grab Danny by his shirt, dragging him out. Danny takes a moment to glance behind him to see Dick caught by one, arms twisted behind his back. There’s a furrow in his brow, a look of barely concealed panic on his face, and he catches a single comment about making good use of a pretty boy like him before the rush in his ears drowns it all out. 

The first one doesn’t even have a second to understand what’s happening before he’s on the ground, knocked out cold. Danny slips up, his humanity pushed back, and claws at the end of his fingers cut through the skin of the his temple, leaving the gang member to bleed onto the floor. 

Cold mist wafts out of his mouth and he runs his tongue over the sharp fangs in his mouth. 

“Danny, don’t!” Dick cries, and then he’s twisting his body into a strange shape, easily slipping out of the grasp of the gang member who holds him. He swings a kick up, knocking them out quickly, and reaches for Danny but Danny’s already moving.

The big guy slams his fists into the place where Dick was standing. Danny hisses at him a few feet away, dropping Dick back onto the ground, safe and sound. 

“Touch him and I’ll rip every bone out of your hand,” he growls. 

The big guy doesn’t care. The big guy might not even understand what Danny’s saying, too lost in his drug induced delirium. He charges, bellowing, and Danny grabs one of his arms and throws him onto the floor. Before he can get up again, Danny slams his foot onto his chest and holds him down, slowly pressing the air out of his lungs. He’s baring his teeth in a snarl, leaning closer, ready to rip into his flesh and make him cry when Dick smashes a baseball bat into the big guy’s head and knocks him out.

Danny doesn’t let up. Doesn’t move at all, still too lost in the instinct to protect, to end the threat through any means necessary, to feel more than a distant glimmer of panic. He knows he doesn’t look very human at the moment, can feel his more monstrous, ghostly features take over. 

But Dick doesn’t look scared. He has his hands up, carefully reaching for Danny. 

“Hey, come on. It’s fine. We’re fine. Help is almost here.” Another gunshot rings out, breaking the silence, and Dick glances over to the entrance. “Help is here, actually.”

“Either you give up now or I make you wish you had given up. Make a choice, fuckers! I don’t have any patience left for you.” The voice that speaks is strangely mechanical, and when Danny looks over to take note of this new player, he has to wonder why anyone would ever wear a full face red helmet.

“That’s Red Hood,” Dick says, “He’ll take care of them and get everyone out safe, okay? So can you come over here, please?”

Red Hood. Was this one of Gotham’s heroes? This is one he hasn’t heard about yet, but Dick doesn’t seem all that worried, so Danny steps off of the big guy’s chest and allows Dick to pull him over to the side. 

No one pays any attention to them once Red Hood throws himself into the fray, a whirlwind of violence as he takes out every single gang member who rushes at him. A few try to run away, but well placed shots take out their knees and leave them curled up on the ground in pain. 

He catches a few whispers from a nearby store, as someone says, “God, he’s hot. I kinda want him to punch me like that.”

Danny tries not to make a face at that because 1) he’s dealt with the Phan Club and he’s used to those kinds of comments and 2) Red Hood is literally punching people into the ground. With great force. A lot of violence. The brutality with which Red Hood is dealing with the gang is honestly impressive.

While he doesn’t want to be punched like that, he does want to know how to do something similar. It would be a good move to add to his arsenal.

It takes only a few minutes to deal with all the gang members on this end of the mall. The atmosphere relaxes and Danny sees more than a few people slump over in relief, leaning against walls and collapsing on each other. 

“You’ll be fine now,” Red Hood says, “Just sit tight for the police to get these guys, and then you’ll be out of here.”

A few people call out their thanks as he walks by, and Danny thinks that he’s going to leave, deal with the other gang members scattered around the mall. But a few more steps and it’s clear that Red Hood is making a beeline right for him. 

Tensing, Danny shoves Dick behind him, feeling a growl begin to build up in his throat. 

“Woah, woah, Danny! It’s fine! Red Hood’s not going to hurt us!” Dick hurries to assure, trying to step out from behind Danny. He doesn’t manage to take more than a single step in any direction before Danny is herding him back. 

Red Hood slows down as he approaches, no longer marching towards them with danger written in every line of his body. “Huh,” he says as he comes to a stop just a few feet in front of Danny. He keeps one hand on his gun, ready to pull it out of its holster at any moment. “Dick,” he greets, but it sounds less like Dick’s name and more like an insult.

“Hood! So glad you got my message.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not every day I get to save a Grayson  in distress. You owe me for this, by the way. I could be home watching telenovelas right now.”

“Aw, come on, Hood, would you really abandon me like that?”

Red Hood laughs, and the hamlet makes it come out staticy and unnatural. “I’d shoot you for fun, Dickface.”

Danny hisses at Red Hood and delights in the way he shifts nervously, not stepping back but clearly apprehensive. He should be nervous; threatening someone under Danny’s protection right in front of him is bold, to say the least. 

“It’s okay, Danny,” Dick says again, trying to soothe him. He doesn’t try to move around Danny again, just stays and puts a hand on Danny’s shoulder. The single point of contact grounds him enough to pull his ghostly features back partway, leaving only the toxic green of his eyes and the fangs in his mouth. “Red Hood’s not going to hurt me. He saved us, didn’t he? He’s one of Gotham’s heroes, he’s a good guy.”

“Excuse you, Dick, but I am a crime lord not a hero.”

“A crime lord who helps people! Who is considered Crime Alley’s hero! Just admit it, you’re one of the good guys.”

Red Hood being a crime lord is much more believable than him being a hero. It also makes the familiarity between him and Dick seem less strange; surely, as a crime lord, he’s dealt with the Wayne Mob before. They’ve probably made deals between themselves and done super illegal things together. Dick is the eldest Wayne child, of course he’s friends with crime lords like Red Hood.

The hero thing is something he takes with a grain of salt. From the sounds of things, it’s really just a matter of perspective, and Danny is solidly on the side of not a hero. Sure he saved them, but he could have just had beef with this gang to begin with and decided to get rid of them when he had the chance. He’s like Red Huntress in that way: focused more on attacking threats than protecting the people in danger. 

“Hey, kid,” Red Hood says, looking down at the big guy Danny took out, “Are you sure you’re human?”

“Oh my God, Hood, you can’t just ask people that!” Dick groans, slumping onto Danny’s back.

Red Hood crosses his arms. He doesn’t look away from Danny. “It’s a valid question. No one normal can just knock down a guy like this so easily. You take any drugs?”

Danny blinks, thrown by the sudden question. “No?”

Red Hood tilts his head. “Are you being drugged by someone else?”

“Definitely not. At least, not that I’m aware of.”

“Wait,” Dick says, “You think—”

“Well, these guys,” Red Hood kicks the big guy, “have been running around Gotham hopped up on Venom. Or something close to it.”

“Have you talked to Batman about it?”

“Why the fuck would I do that? This is shit in my territory. This is affecting my people. The big bad Bat can keep his nose out of this. It’s my case, alright.”

Dick shrugs, and Danny shifts, trying to keep balanced under the movement. “It’s not staying in your territory, though. They came here in the middle of the day. And speaking of the day, is Signal here?”

“He’s taking care of the other side of the mall.”

“And he’s alright on his own?”

“Relax, he’s a big boy, he can handle himself. If he needed any help, he’d let me know.”

Dick pulls Danny back, smoothly stepping to the side so they stand together, Dick’s arm heavy around Danny’s shoulders, clearly holding him in place. “Signal is another one of Gotham’s heroes. He’s our daylight hero,” Dick explains.

He remembers Duke mentioning Signal at dinner. “Duke likes him, right?” Danny asks, “Signal and… Nightlight? Nighthawk? Something like that.”

“Nightwing,” Dick corrects with a strained smile. Red Hood snorts, and quickly clears his throat to act as if he wasn’t about to laugh when Dick shoots him a poisonous glare.

“Yeah, him.”

“Well, as fun as this has been, I think it’s time for us to go! Bye, Hood, try not to cause too much of a mess once we leave.”

“Don’t worry,” Red Hood says, “I’ll make sure the blood is easy to clean up.”

“Great! Bye!” 

And with that, Dick steers Danny away, turning their backs on the dangerous, gun-wielding crime lord. They go back to where they were originally hiding and instead of stopping at the locked door, Dick kicks it open and keeps walking. There’s no time to ask questions when Dick is rushing them through the back, following the green signs pointing towards the emergency exit. 

It’s a relief to be back outside. A few rays of sunlight manage to get past the gray clouds that cover the sky, and all the noise and chaos of the mall suddenly feels far away. Sirens fill the city as police cars speed down streets, heading their way, but they’re not here yet. 

“Sorry about your first day out being such a mess,” Dick says, “We can try again some other day.”

“I’d really rather just do some online shopping.”

Dick laughs, shaking his head. “Totally fair, after today. C’mon, let’s go home.”

. . .

The foyer is spotless. Danny can’t help but feel proud, even if Alfred did most of the work. The section that he handled, after Alfred showed him which cleaning supplies to use and the necessary steps to ensure everything was properly cleaned, is tidy and almost sparkling. 

It’s surprisingly enjoyable work. He’s always hated cleaning, from his own room to any place his parents tried out a new invention or did experiments. But this? Cleaning the manor with Alfred? It’s actually fun.

Seeing everything come together after all their hard work is just as rewarding. 

He’s glad he’s allowed to wear casual clothes; there’s no way he can do any cleaning in a suit and have it come out stainless and clean. Alfred probably uses his special magic to remain put together no matter what he does.

“Very good, Danny,” Alfred says once he looks over Danny’s section of the foyer. “You pick on everything so quickly. Soon I’ll have nothing left to teach you.”

“I’m not that good, Alfred, you don’t need to lie. Besides, it’s just cleaning. I’m not coming up with meal plans and organizing events and all the way you do.”

“And you’ll find that those tasks are just as easy to complete once you know how to go about them. Don’t discredit yourself, Danny, you’re an incredibly smart young man.”

Danny ducks his head, bashful, and shrugs. “I’m really not, but… Thanks.”

“Come now. With everyone out of the manor, we can tidy up all the spaces they usually occupy. Let us begin in the family den.”

It’s not like they have anything else to do. For once, the manor is empty of everyone but them so there’s no one Alfred needs to tend to. He doesn’t need to worry about preparing large lunches, either, when Danny is still slowly recovering his appetite. 

The family den is one of the rooms that Danny can find on his own, so he doesn’t trail after Alfred, helplessly lost. It’s a nice change of pace. They stop once on the way to grab a vacuum and a duster from a small supply closet in the hall. Danny grabs the vacuum before Alfred can and carries it the rest of the way, feeling inordinately pleased at being able to help Alfred before he can insist on doing everything on his own.

The door is already open when they arrive. It’s one of the few doors in the manor that is almost never closed, except for when they have a lot of food out and don’t want any pets stealing some, according to Alfred. Danny has yet to see any pets, but he’s looking forward to it. There’s so many places they could be hiding and it has Danny glancing around everywhere he goes, hoping to catch at least one of them. He’s hoping for one of the dogs. Maybe a cat. 

Damian is the one who primarily takes care of the pets, so Danny doesn’t get to have that responsibility, which he’s only a little upset about. It’s fine, really.

He misses Cujo.

There’s a lot he didn’t realize he was going to lose when he ran away. It just hadn’t been on his mind, not when Jazz was yelling at their parents, and Jack and Maddie were shooting at him, Fenton Thermos at the ready to trap him again. There wasn’t any time to focus on anything besides the panic, the pressing need to go as far away as possible, the fear fear fear taking hold of him and leaving room for nothing else. 

It was Jazz who had opened the portal, who screeched and threw things at their parents, creating a distraction as she pretended to be afraid of the ghost who had escaped. But it was Danny who flew in, thinking please take me away to someplace they can’t hurt me.

The Ghost Zone is strange. It’s only a part of the Infinite Realms. More than ghosts exist within that space, living within the fabric that holds the universe together. Full of that much ectoplasm and emotion and constant movement, it’s like nothing else. Danny didn’t know before that moment, hadn’t had the time to realize it until it was too late, that the Infinite Realms are alive.

It heard his plea. It reached out to him, crooning a dizzying song that shook every string crossing the universe, and gave him what he asked for. 

Danny didn’t remember much after that. He felt his core spark, wrapped in the embrace of the Infinite Realms, and then he was taken away. The brief flashes he does have of the journey don’t help him piece together what happened. All he has is the fading memory of being surrounded by stars, of aurora borealis dancing around him, of a sudden cold as he was ripped away from home and left in someplace foreign.

He woke up in this universe where he doesn’t exist. Where no one he knows exists in any way. There are no ghosts, no ectoplasm, not Fentons or GIW or Amity Park. 

There’s no one, and Danny stares down at the floor, clutching the vacuum in his hands as he’s hit by the sudden grief of losing everyone he’s ever known.

He knows that there’s no way for him to return to his universe. What was once his home is far out of reach. He’ll never see anyone he loves again. Not just Cujo, but Jazz and Tucker and Sam. Frostbite. Pandora. Even Walker and Wulf. 

“Danny?” A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, the touch light and gentle. “Are you quite alright?”

He sucks in a shuddering breath and tries to plaster on a smile. It falls flat, and he gives up completely. “I don’t think I can ever go back home,” he confesses, and blinks back the burn of oncoming tears.

“That’s alright,” Alfred says, “You have a home here.”

It’s a nice thought, but it’s not the home he wants. Maybe one day it can be; he’s staying for Alfred, but maybe he’ll want to keep coming back for the other members of the Wayne family. They’ve been nice to him so far, despite being part of a mob, and he thinks he can come to like all of them given enough time. 

But none of them will ever be enough to fill the void that comes from the loss of Jazz, Tucker, and Sam. 

“May I ask what brought this on? Is it because this is the family den?”

Danny latches onto the suggestion. It makes more sense than thinking about dogs and missing his own ghost pet. And missing his own section of the Infinite Realms. He shrugs and says, “Yeah, a little. Sorry for getting emotional all of a sudden. I’ll just… start cleaning.”

He glances up to catch Alfred’s frown, but gets to work before he can be told to take a break or, worse, talk about his feelings.

He goes straight to an outlet in the wall to plug in the vacuum; it’s an old model with a cord, and he wonders if this is just what Alfred prefers when he’s sure that cordless vacuums exist. It can’t be that the Waynes don’t want to get Alfred decent cleaning equipment because they all defer to him despite him being their butler. 

“If you’ll allow me,” Alfred says, grabbing hold of the vacuum before Danny can protest. “These settings,” he changes a few settings on the vacuum, “are best for cleaning carpeted surfaces.”

And then he gets right to it, leaving Danny behind. 

While Danny’s plan to just do stuff before Alfred can tell him otherwise works, he forgot to account for the fact that Alfred can, at any moment, hit him with a reverse Uno.. 

Alfred makes his way through the family den fairly quickly, moving in straight lines across the room. Danny trails after him, making sure the cord doesn’t get caught on anything or tangled, and takes hold of the duster to clean off picture frames on the wall.

One frame tilts as he dusts it, and Danny reaches out to fix it when he pauses. There’s a strange sound of something scraping against the wall. It doesn't sound anything like a frame, so Danny looks back to Alfred to make sure he’s turned away, then slowly lifts up the frame.

Stuck to the back is two daggers in sheaths decorated lightly with gold accents. 

None of my business, Danny thinks, and quickly lays the frame to rest flat against the wall, straightened out. 

He rolls the duster down from where it was resting in the crook of his elbow and into his hand. He twirls it around once, spots a flurry of dust falling off of it, and resolves not to do that again. 

He’ll… get the handle of keeping things clean eventually. 

The vacuum cuts off suddenly, and the silence that follows rings a little in Danny’s ears. 

“Danny,” Alfred calls out, “Would you mind lifting the couch so I can clean underneath it?”

“Sure,” Danny says without thinking. He reaches the couch and leaves the duster on the edge of the coffee table.  He moves to grab the couch and start lifting it when he realizes that couches are heavy and most people are unable to lift one on their own. 

He glances at Alfred. “Umm…”

“You may use whatever powers you have at your disposal,” Alfred says very casually. Danny swears he can feel his heart stop at the words. It’s not that he’s been very good at keeping his ghostliness hidden, but it was mostly used for fights and intimidation, but he was hoping no one would talk about it and they could all just ignore it. 

Whatever expression is on his face must be bad because Alfred visibly softens. He doesn’t move to touch Danny again, which is a relief because he feels like jumping out of his own skin and disappearing. Instead, he sets the vacuum down and gives Danny his full attention.

“I am well aware of the fact that you are a meta.” Again, what is a meta? He heard it at dinner with the Waynes, but he hasn’t gotten an explanation. So he can’t say that he is a meta, but he also can’t say that he isn’t. “You don’t need to worry. The Wayne family is very good at keeping secrets.” There’s a hint of a laugh in his voice.

That didn’t sound funny or reassuring, it just sounded a little like a threat. The Waynes probably are good at keeping secrets, such as where they hid the bodies of those who were foolish enough to cross them. Danny really doesn’t want any details.

“Metas are protected, and I will never force you to reveal any details about your powers to anyone, including me. But if you have these powers, then it will be good to use them. Cleaning and other small tasks are a good way of practicing with your powers and giving you greater control of them.”

It takes a moment for Danny to process the words, and another minute for his brain to fully reboot after understanding what Alfred’s attempting to do.

He’s trying to train Danny on how to use his powers through simple, every day tasks. This is Danny’s Karate Kid moment, but instead of learning how to fight with wax on wax off, he’s learning how to butler.

Which might be the same thing in Gotham, according to the things he’s heard.

“Okay,” he says weakly, “Sounds good.” And then, instead of lifting the couch, he turns it intangible and invisible so Alfred can vacuum straight through it.

“Oh my,” Alfred says, eyebrows rising at the display of his powers. 

“The couch is still here, you can just… ignore it while I’m touching it.”

Efficient as always, Alfred doesn’t let this throw him off his rhythm. He flicks the vacuum back on and continues cleaning, calming walking through the couch as if he does this all the time. Even Jazz always hesitated before walking through anything he made intangible, unable to help it. Butlers are just built different, apparently.

As soon as he cleans the floor underneath the couch, he nods to Danny who takes his cue to release the couch from his powers. It pops back into the visible spectrum, fully solid and intact. 

“Would you mind fluffing the cushions and folding the blankets?”

Danny salutes Alfred and gets to it, shaking out each blanket out before folding them, taking the time to make sure each corner lines up and all the edges are straight and even. He leaves them thrown over the back of the couch, piled on top of each other, ready for the next Wayne to collapse onto the couch and bundle up for a movie.

By the time he’s finished and is satisfied with his work, Alfred has finished vacuuming the entire room. It’s a large room and Alfred hadn’t exactly been rushing through it, so Danny’ not quite sure how he got it done so quickly. It keeps surprising him, how competent Alfred is. No one else he’s ever met has been this put together or skilled, especially in the realm of domestic work. 

Alfred gathers up the cord of the vacuum and looks over the family den with a critical eye. When he nods, satisfied with the state of it, Danny lets out a quiet sigh of relief. 

“Shall we head to the kitchen for lunch, Danny?” he asks, reaching down the lift up the vacuum. Which is unacceptable! Danny carried it in and he’ll carry it out.

He uses a bit of flight to cross the distance between them faster, not held back by friction. He swipes the vacuum from Alfred’s hand and gives him a cheerful grin. “Sure! Now’s a great time for a break, anyways.”

They had spent the morning doing laundry, which mostly consisted of separating everything into different loads and starting the washer. The clothesline strung up outside is primarily for bedsheets and blankets, so they didn’t even need to wait a long time for clothes to dry. Even folding everything and putting them in piles based on whose clothes they were didn’t take more than an hour between them. It wasn’t intensive work, as most of it was just waiting around, drinking tea and talking to each other. 

Even cleaning barely put a dent in Danny’s energy levels. He hasn’t done enough to be hungry quite yet, but the thought of eating isn’t as uncomfortable as it once was. 

Progress. No matter how small it is.

Hell, soon he might even be able to start asking for snacks in between meals. That will probably have Alfred weeping with joy. Internally, of course, seeing how he’s an old British guy who keeps most of his strong emotions hidden behind the facade of professional calmness.

But while he may be fine on eating for a few more hours, Alfred needs to sit down and have lunch. It didn’t feel like it, but they did get a lot of housework done. They did it together, which cut down on how long each chore took, and Danny can’t fathom how Alfred has kept this manor running by himself all these years. 

It’s so much ground to cover for one person, especially one as old as Alfred. 

And since he’s busy taking care of everyone, who takes care of him?

Danny, now. He’s determined to return the kindness Alfred’s shown him tenfold. 

He’s cemented the location of the hallway closet now. Everything is organized neatly within and it takes barely half a minute to put everything away, bodily blocking Alfred from doing anything to help. 

“I will say, I’m unused to having so much free time,” Alfred chuckles, “You are incredibly efficient. You’ll be taking over in no time.”

“As if I could ever replace you, Alfred. Besides, you’re the best cook around! No way will I ever be able to compete against you in the kitchen.”

“Don’t discount yourself so soon. You’ve only recently begun your cooking journey. I have no doubt that you will take to it as quickly as everything else.”

Danny thinks back to the Fenton kitchen, full of tech and wires and scrap metal and tools scattered around. He thinks of food coming back to life, of needing to keep chains and padlocks in one of the cabinets just in case, of constant ecto-contamination. Their house would fail every single safety inspection to exist. 

That kitchen wasn’t safe to cook in, and due to that, nothing cooked in it was safe. Most of what his parents made was edible! But it definitely wasn’t safe. 

“If you say so,” Danny says, trying not to grimace. He hopes his own halfa biology won’t lead to a food contamination. It’s never happened before, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. 

Maybe he could brainstorm some safety measures with Alfred. Just in case.

Unfortunately for him, the very thought of discussing his halfa status and nonhuman biology makes him feel nauseous. Alfred is kind and clearly wants the best for Danny, but in that case, what he considers to be best for Danny might be handing him over to scientists or doctors to learn more about him and it’ll be like he never left his parents at all.

“Come now, Danny, it’s time we work on your confidence in the kitchen,” Alfred says, already turning on his heel and walking down the hallway with purpose. 

Danny tries to shake all thoughts of violent hotdogs out of his head and hurries to follow, keeping close to Alfred until the halls begin to look more familiar. Being within the walls of Wayne Manor doesn’t feel so intimidating, but it is hard to be intimidated by a place when he’s helping clean it. 

The steady disappearance of his anxiety around staying with Waynes is nice. He’s tired of being scared and he hasn’t felt comfortable anywhere like this since before his accident. 

And he’s barely run into anything involving their mob business! That’s more than he’s gotten from Vlad or his parents. They’re actually sticking to the conditions he set, including the keep me out of shady shit one. 

Maybe Jazz was onto something when she was lecturing him about enforcing and respecting boundaries. This is great.

This job could end up being really good for him. More than he ever expected. 

“Do you have anything in mind for what you’d like for lunch?” Alfred asks as they enter the kitchen. 

Danny shrugs. “Anything’s fine, really.”

“I would appreciate an actual answer, Danny.”

“Then… how about something easy to make? So I can try my hand at making my own lunch.”

Alfred nods once, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Something simple. Perhaps a sandwich?”

“Yeah, a sandwich sounds great.” He doesn’t say that he already knows how to make a sandwich; pretty much everyone knows that much. It’s just slapping various ingredients in between two slices of bread. Easy. But if that’s what Alfred wants to make, then that’s what they’ll make.

“Let us begin by going to the garden.”

The thought of going outside perks him up, and Danny’s by the door even before Alfred is. The small vegetable garden Alfred’s cultivated is just outside the kitchen, organized into raised beds full of crop.

He accepts the gardening gloves Alfred holds out to him. They’re large on his hands, but not enough to hinder him as he kneels next to the tomato plants. He watches carefully as Alfred clips off ripe tomatoes, carefully holding them as he positions the garden clippers above the stems. 

Each tomato is perfectly round and red and he’s half tempted to bite into one just to see if it tastes as good as it looks. As if hearing his thoughts, Alfred drops one into Danny’s hand.

“Go on,” Alfred prompts, and Danny looks up from where he’s been staring at the tomato.

“Huh?”

“Eat it. I can see that you want to.”

Danny flushes and moves to give it back, caught. “Sorry.”

“No need, Danny. I have helped raised quite a few children and teenagers in my time. I know to offer some of the crop when they accompany me out to the garden.”

He should give it back. He’s here to help Alfred, not add to his workload. He should be focused on working because this is his job, the first and only one he’s ever had, and he doesn’t want to mess it up.

But no one else is here at the manor. It’s just him and Alfred and Alfred has given him permission. So Danny takes off one of the gloves to hold the tomato up to his mouth, thanks Alfred quietly, then carefully bites into the tomato.

His carefulness doesn’t matter at all when the tomato is as juicy as it is. He startles and leans forward to let the tomato juice drip off his chin onto the ground instead of onto his clothes. Besides him, he can hear Alfred chuckling lightly as he sets all the tomatoes he’s gathered into a large, woven basket. 

“How is it?”

“This is the best tomato I’ve ever eaten,” Danny says, taking another bite. “Ho’ do you do thi’?”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full, Danny,” Alfred reprimands lightly. “I’ve simply had many years of experience tending to vegetable crops in this garden. I know very well what works and what doesn’t. Though the garden has gotten smaller over the years, it is still one of my proudest works.”

He finishes the tomato and shakes his hand to get some of the juice off. He tries to wipe his face off, but it’s hard when he doesn’t have anything to clean up with, so he settles with getting the rest of the drops off and resolves to clean up properly once they’re inside again. 

Alfred stands slowly, his knees clicking, and Danny winces sympathetically. He takes hold of the basket for Alfred and rests it in the crook of his elbow. 

“Spinach or cucumbers?” Alfred asks suddenly.

Danny blinks at Alfred, then thinks about it. He doesn’t eat much of either, but he’s heard Sam talk about how cooking spinach makes it shrink to the point of there being no spinach. Cucumber would probably go easier, so he says, “Cucumbers. Why?”

“That’s what we will get next to make lunch with.”

Are there cucumber sandwiches? Is that a thing? If it is, Danny’s never hear of it, but he trust Alfred to make it good.

Alfred leads the way to a shadier portion of the vegetable garden where long tendrils full of dark green leaves twist their way around a metal trellis. Hanging from the vines are cucumbers in various stages of growth; some are large and heavy, while others are still small and not quite green, covered in bumps. 

“Why don’t you pick a few, Danny?”

“How do I know if it’s ripe?”

“Look for ones that are large and have a good color to them. The less visible bumps in the skin, the better.” Alfred holds on up as an example, then cuts it with the gardening clipper and lays it into the basket besides the tomatoes.

Danny takes the clippers and begins shifting through the leaves and vines, looking over all the cucumbers he finds with a critical eye. He finds one that looks good close to the dirt and takes it in his hand to look over. Alfred doesn’t stop him as he lifts the clippers, so he figures it’s good enough and adds it to the basket.

“How many?” he asks, finding another cucumber ready to be picked.

“As many as you like. We can always get more later.”

Just to be safe, Danny gets five cucumbers. This lunch may be for just the two of them, but the rest of the family requires a lot more food. Whatever’s left over after Danny eats can be used in other dishes for the Wayne family.

He has no doubt they’ll be stopping in the kitchen first as soon as they return. With cooking like Alfred’s around, even Danny would be visiting the kitchen often in the hopes of sneaking a few bites of what he’s making.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to by virtue of being Alfred’s sous chef. 

They don’t get anything else out in the garden, leaving with their small basket of fresh produce. He’s looking forward to seeing what Alfred can make with these just as he’s starting to look forward to eating. 

He’s not super hungry, but that doesn’t mean he can’t eat as much as a regular human. 

They return to the kitchen after putting away their gardening gloves into the small storage box by the door, and Danny sets the basket down on the counter as Alfred goes through the fridge, getting ingredients. 

As he’s pulling out plates and a butter knife, he asks, “Would you mind setting out a small frying pan onto the stove?”

“Sure!” Danny chirps, then looks through the cabinets below the counter until he finds what he needs. He sets the frying pan out just as Alfred’s pulling the bread box closer from where it was placed against the wall. 

“Now,” Alfred begins, “This isn’t quite a sandwich, but it is very easy to make. You may adjust everything to match your own preferences, or the preferences of others.” He pulls out two slices of bread and sets them on the counter.

“Wait, don’t we need a cutting board?”

“A very good observation,” Alfred says. “But not in this kitchen. When it was remodeled many years ago, I changed the countertops. Instead of granite or marble, these are butcher block counters, which are used as cutting boards.”

“So the entire counter is a cutting board.”

“Precisely.”

With that, he grabs the butter knife to cut a small slab of butter to drop into the pan. “I will be teaching you how to make bruschetta and crostini. These are toasted breads that come with a variety of toppings. We will stick to a classic bruschetta and a salmon, cucumber, cream cheese crostini.”

Alfred pulls open one draw to reveal a knife block and wide range of knives, all different sizes.

“For smaller and softer ingredients like the ones we will be using, you may use a smaller knife. A medium size will be best.” He takes hold of his own knife and Danny gauges its size before grabbing one that seems to be similar. 

He sets the knife down on the counter, keeping the blade pointed away from him, and grabs the basket to place in front of them, easy to reach. He follows Alfred’s lead and grabs a tomato, washing it off lightly in the sink, then sets it down in front of him. 

“When you are using a knife, always keep the fingers of your nondominant hand curled so you do not accidentally cut them.” Alfred demonstrates, holding his tomato in place with his left hand, curling his fingers so he makes a loose fist. He slides the flat blade of the knife against his knuckles to show how it can’t cut his fingers, then waits for Danny to do the same.

As soon as he does, he’s showing Danny how to cut tomatoes without squishing them or getting juice everywhere. Then he instructs Danny on how to peel cucumbers and cut them. 

Once they get everything slices and ready, Alfred flicks on the stove and moves the slab of butter around to make sure it coats a much of the inside as possible. He then takes a slice of bread and places it into the pan.

“We don’t want it toasted too much. Lightly on both sides will do.”

Danny hesitantly accepts the spatula held out to him and hopes he doesn’t make Alfred waste bread. His attempts at making toast without a toaster usually leads to at least one side being charcoal black. 

But Alfred is patient and attentive, instructing Danny when to flip each piece of bread to ensure they are lightly golden on both sides. He goes over what to add to make bruschetta, what to add to make crostini, and allows Danny to assemble both. 

It doesn’t look very pretty, but it tastes amazing when they sit down to eat. 

“You’re a really good teacher,” Danny says, finishing up the last of the bread.

“Thank you,” Alfred smiles. “It helps that I have a wonderful student.”

“Can you teach me more? It can be later if we need to do more cleaning or something.”

“All of that can wait until tomorrow. Would you like to try your hand at baking?”

Danny lights up, grinning, and says, “Yeah! Can we make cookies?” Cooking is one thing, but baking in another. He’s not half bad at baking when he can muster up the motivation to make things. Following recipes is easy and unlike with cooking, baking requires precision and sticking to what’s written. He doesn’t know how to make too many things, but brownies were easy for him during the few times he actually baked them.

“Of course. Shall we make chocolate chip or would you like to do something else?”

“Chocolate chip to start, I think. And then we can see what else we can make, if that’s okay?”

“That sounds perfectly fine,” Alfred says, “Let’s clean up first before we get started.”

Danny all but leaps out of his chair, eager to start, and gathers their dishes to put in the sink. He washes as Alfred takes hold of a dish towel and gets to work drying, putting everything away where it belongs. 

The time spent baking goes by quickly after that. It’s much easier and less stressful than cooking, and each time a batch of cookies comes out picture perfect, Danny can’t help but grin.

They’re all placed into various containers once they cool, each one filling up with just half a batch. The chocolate chip cookies where then changed into double chocolate cookies, followed by jam cookies and lemon cookies. The smell of it all fills the air and Danny doesn’t bothering smothering the pride he feels when he catches sight of all the cookies covering the counter. 

From there, it’s easy to transition into preparing for dinner as the late afternoon hour brings with it a promise of everyone returning home. 

He puts his newly learned cutting skills to use as he helps Alfred make a potato gratin to accompany the carbonara he’s making for dinner. He’s even able to make the salad by himself, although it didn’t require much except cutting and tossing once he added the dressing. 

The first people to arrive back in the manor are Damian and Bruce. They appear in the doorway of the kitchen suddenly, and Danny only had a split second to realize that he’s being watched before Bruce greets them both. The sound of his voice makes Danny twist around to look at him, make sure he’s not too close. 

Bruce doesn’t move from near the door. He only goes a few steps into the kitchen, enough to get close to the island where the last batch of cooling cookies lays. Damian looks over Alfred, then turns his sharp gaze to Danny, studying him. 

He leaves without a word and Danny can only hope Damian wasn’t looking for anything nonhuman about Danny. That’s really the only reason he can think of to explain to scrutiny, and he doesn’t like it. 

“Did you make these?” Bruce asks, picking up a lemon cookie. It’s supposed to be dusted with powdered sugar, but they hadn’t cooled enough before both he and Alfred got caught up in preparing dinner.

Danny nods, a small thing, barely noticeable, but it makes Bruce smile. Not a big, theatric smile meant to distract. This one is smaller, more genuine and soft.

“May I?” He lifts the cookie up, waiting for permission.

Bruce is the master of the house. He doesn’t need to ask for permission. It’s not like any of the cookies are for Danny, anyways. He doubts he has the stomach to handle one, let alone the five batches he made. 

He glances at Alfred, hoping the butler will take over. But Alfred simple keeps himself busy at the stove, firmly keeping himself out of the conversation.

“Um, sure,” Danny answers, hesitantly. 

“Thank you,” Bruce says, and takes a bite. Danny watches him carefully for any signs that it’s bad, that he doesn’t like it, that he’s disappointed that Danny doesn’t live up to Alfred’s skills. But he doesn’t. He eats it calmly, then grabs a second on. “These are delicious.”

Danny’s shoulders slump; he hadn’t realized how tense waiting for an answer had made him. 

“If that is all, Master Bruce,” Alfred cuts in, “Do go wash up. Try not to spoil your appetite before dinner.”

“Alright. Do you know if Tim is going to be here for dinner tonight?”

“I haven’t heard from him today. Perhaps you should reach out to him if you would like him to be here.”

“Right. Right, I’ll… do that. And Danny,” he turns his attention away from Alfred, the lightness of his tone at odds against the dark light of his eyes. It almost feels as if Bruce can see through him, searching for all his secrets. “I’ll be in my study if you need anything, alright?”

“Okay.” Danny turns around and ducks his head, trying to focus but he can barely remember what he was doing before. He just stands, tense, frozen with his hands gripping the edge of the counter. 

He hears Bruce move, his suit shifting as he straightens out. “I also heard about the incident at the mall, yesterday. Dick only told me about it today.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Though this isn’t required of you, if you’d ever like to learn self-defense, let me know. I have trained in many different martial arts and I would be happy to teach you.”

That… wasn’t at all what he was expecting to hear. He was more prepared for an interrogation about what he is. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Bruce fired him for being inhuman. Half-human. Whatever. 

He opens his mouth to say something along the lines of no thanks I don’t plan on being seen in public ever again, but what comes out instead is, “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t. We can get started this weekend.”

Danny’s traitorous body nods even as he mind goes what the hell do you think you’re doing. This was not in the plans. This was not in any plan! There was no previous discussion about that. Danny was fine with the kidnapping policy and the very specific types of insurance he was given. 

Having Bruce teach him self-defense feels like something from a fever dream. But here they are, Bruce leaving the kitchen with an agreement from Danny to have weekend self-defense lessons.

“Alfred,” he says, blankly, after Bruce leaves.

“Yes, Danny?”

“Is it too late to fake my death and run away?”

“No need for such dramatics. Self-defense is important, especially in Gotham, and Master Bruce has trained every child that has been in this manor. He will teach you well.”

That’s not really the problem. 

The problem is that Danny doesn’t know his limits against regular humans. He has no idea how much strength to use against them. He’s even worse about staying human during a fight. The last thing Danny wants is to go full angry ghost against Bruce for the high crime of trying to help him.

But if Alfred says it’ll be fine, then Danny will need to trust in that. Surely Alfred will talk to Bruce about Danny’s powers and they’ll be better prepared to face him. 

He’ll just have to do his best to be a normal-ish person and hope things work out. Knowing his luck, however…

At least he has cookies to accompany his misery.