Out of all the strays his father took in, he hates Drake the most. There was no reason for Father to take him in and care for him; he wasn't an orphan, wasn't living on the streets, didn't need something other to keep him from becoming a criminal mastermind. Sure, he'd figured out the secret, but Damian prefers to think of that incidence as a fluke rather than attributing any sort of genius to Drake.
Damian could not figure out what it was about the older boy that made his father allow him to work with him. To be Robin when he wouldn't even allow his own son the position. Damian has been trained from birth, living and breathing the life of the assassin his entire life with the League of Assassins, so why not him?
He's taken to following the older boy, when Drake is in residence at the Manor. Which isn't as often as he'd like, actually. Since Damian moved in, Timothy Drake has been suspiciously absent and he just knows that the older boy is up to something.
If he can figure it out, find irrefutable proof of Drake's unworthiness, then surely his father will take him seriously. Perhaps, then, he will be a son worthy of his father's legacy.
Damian has had to curb nearly all of the behaviors ingrained into him every day of his life. He's trying so very hard to be what his father wants. The biggest change is not killing Drake in his sleep or poisoning his food. While he was with the League of Assassins, he saw many underlings move up the ranks this way, it was a commonly accepted method of proving oneself. If you were foolish enough to let down your guard enough for someone to dispatch you, then you were not worthy.
His fingers twitch fiercely, longing for one of his confiscated blades, every time Drake speaks, or looks at him, or walks past him.
Damian isn't sure how much longer he can 'behave.'
"I'm not kidding around, Dick. There's something in his eyes when he looks at me. That kid does not like me in the slightest and I don't know what I did to make him hate me."
Dick Grayson laughs a little at his little brother, but sobers quickly. He's seen exactly what Tim's talking about, seen the way Damian's eyes follow Tim when they are both in the Manor, can read the calculating look in the young boy's eyes.
Even if no one had told him so, Dick would know that Damian is Bruce's son. It's all in the eyes, he thinks, the gateway to your soul.
"I hear ya, Timmy." He revs his motorcycle and accelerates through the intersection, on his way back home after a long shift at the precinct.
"Do you want me to try talking to him?" He asks, seeing the sign for the interstate coming up. Gotham's only about a forty-five minute drive this late, or rather early in the morning. Dick has never been one to let his family members down and if Tim needs or wants him there, he'll be there.
Tim sighs heavily and the sound echoes over the com-line, he sounds tired and Dick worries once more for his little brother. Times have been tough on Tim, on all of them, but Tim's best friend died and most of his other friends are busy with their own problems. He doesn't have anyone to talk to.
"Would it be a terrible inconvenience?" Tim asks.
Dick has to squelch the urge to tease the teenager about his word choice. Sometimes, it's far too easy to see and hear Tim's upbringing.
"Timmy, you know it's no problem. I'll be there later tonight, let Babs know I'll be in town for a while, would you?" Dick asks. He knows Barbara will keep an eye on his city for him while he's gone and they'll probably get together for dinner someday to catch up, reminisce, and worry about the family.
"Sure, Dick. I've been sleeping on her couch most nights lately, anyway. I'm too tired and I don't really feel like tempting the kid by giving him an irresistible opening..."
Dick hears Tim yawning and smiles. It's nearly four in the morning and, if nothing major was going on, Tim should be finishing up with his patrol and packing it in. He hears the tell-tale sound of a zip-line being fired and can almost feel the sensation of his body flying through the air, trusting in a thin wire to keep him safe.
"Head to bed, Tim. You sound half asleep, right now." Dick admonishes, lightly. "Have Barbara or one of her girls ping me when you get in, OK? Don't leave me to worry, man."
He hears Tim yawn once more, before the teenager answers.
"Of course, mother." Tim teases. "I'll talk with you tomorrow. Good night, Dick"
"Night, Timmy." The line goes quiet and the only thing Dick hears is the wind whipping around him as he speeds to Gotham, heading home like a lost bird returning to the nest.
Everything is going to be just fine, he knows it and he's pretty sure he knows what Damian needs to help in settle in, to find his place amidst the characters that make up the Bat Family. Dick's going to make sure he gives the little boy everything he needs for as long as he needs it.
Of all the Robins Batman has ever had, Dick will always be the most special. He was the perfect complement to Bruce's overwhelming presence, bringing a light to the older man's life that made it just a little easier to live. The others are wonderful in their own way, but he and Bruce made the perfect team and once Dick has Bruce on his side, Damian doesn't stand a chance.
Dick grins widely as he speeds down the interstate, the glow of Gotham just barely visible on the horizon.
He's going home.