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Predictably enough, it’s Gordon who first proposes the idea to put on a live show for charity purposes. It’s not as if Robin was ever going to come up with something as…glamorous, for lack of a better term, as that.
And while he himself is not a man of the theater, a large number of his accomplices are.
An overwhelmingly large number.
“So, I’ve got this plan,” Oracle says, forgoing greeting them back from their mission entirely. “Because, y’know, I’m down here a lot on the computer, and even when you guys aren’t asking for help from little old me, my brain’s still going a million miles a minute.”
“Cut to the chase, Barbara,” Batman mutters, moving past her to log the night’s work in the archive.
Oracle rolls her eyes - Robin could reprimand her for disrespecting Father, but that might be hypocritical; he tends to direct a lot of eye-rolling towards him, as well - and says, “Whatever. My idea is for us to put on a musical. A one night only event. You know, for charity.”
There’s a moment’s silence, in which Robin takes the time to prepare himself for the storm that’s sure to come.
“Ok,” Red Robin says loudly. “I love it. What show?”
“It’s Little Shop of Horrors, or I’m out,” the Signal says - Robin can’t be sure if he’s joking or not.
“No way,” Red Hood cuts in, chucking his helmet to the ground and tossing his stupid hair in that way that - apparently - makes a lot of teenage girls swoon. “If we don’t do Legally Blonde, then what the fuck is even the point - “
Robin has absolutely no clue why someone would legally want to be blonde, but he supposes that isn’t actually what the play in question is about.
He’s never been one to be overly-acquainted with musical theater, anyway.
And then Oracle holds up a hand and says, “Great suggestions, but I’ve already picked out a show.” She pauses for what Robin supposes must be dramatic effect, but she waits a little too long for his tastes.
“What is it, Gordon?” he demands.
She grins. “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
The effect is immediate - Red Robin squeals loudly, the Signal gasps, Red Hood laughs quite boisterously, and Batman’s shoulders tense up.
Robin, on the other hand, declares, “I completely agree.”
Oracle gives him an odd look. “Uh, what? You’ve seen that?”
Robin sniffs. “If this is a veiled criticism about my age, I won’t hear it, and I won’t respond to it.”
“No, it’s not - was that a Lucille Bluth quote? Nice - it’s not that, though. I mean, who showed it to you? I never pegged you for the Rocky Horror type.”
Robin raises his eyebrows. “What else would you expect to be shown at League of Shadows movie nights? My grandfather has only the most exquisite taste.”
“He’s lying,” Batman says immediately. “Stephanie and Dick showed it to him for the first time six months ago.”
“That can’t be proven,” Robin dismisses.
Oracle claps her hands together. “Well, anyway, B, what do you say? And before you ask, yes, Alfred is totally on board with it. He actually gave me the idea, what with all his talk of weird British humor like Monty Python and Blackadder.”
“I must say, I think it is a splendid plan,” Pennyworth interjects, from over in the corner where he’s tending to Black Bat’s gunshot wound. “I do so miss dressing up in fishnets and attending the midnight showings.”
“Ok,” Signal says. “Please tell me there is photo evidence of that somewhere.”
“I’m still not so sure about this,” Batman says slowly. “You won’t expect me to sing, will you?”
“Don’t worry about it, Bruce, we know you’re completely tone-deaf,” Red Robin says. “We’ve all heard you in the shower. What was it last time? An overly-pitchy rendition of ‘My Girl?’”
Batman scowls.
“Not to be a total downer,” Black Bat pipes up. “But what the hell even is Ricky Terror?”
Everyone stares.
“Rocky Horror,” Red Hood corrects, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’ve never seen it, Cass?!”
Black Bat only shrugs.
“Ok,” Oracle declares loudly. “Movie night, upstairs, right now!”
Robin is first to seat himself in the home cinema - halfway through the opening credits he leans over to Gordon’s side and whispers, “I would like to offer my skills as director of this performance.”
Gordon grins. “Dude, of course. I literally would not trust anyone else with such an important task.”
Robin smirks, leaning back in his seat. “Good. Auditions are this Thursday - get the word out to everyone.”
All right, so it isn’t so much auditions as it is everyone who wants to be in the show turning up and Damian deciding who’s going to get which role.
Fortunately, he’s got an adequate selection to choose from.
Jonathan sits at his side in the Manor’s theater, slurping loudly from a Big Gulp he’d picked up on the way over from Smallville. Damian’s enlisted him as his assistant director - though, if he were to be honest, he mostly just likes Jon’s company.
Ahem. Not that Damian would tell anyone that. It’s really none of their business.
“Pretty cool thing to be able to put on your résumé,” Jon remarks, swinging his legs over the side of his fold-out chair and watching as the soon-to-be cast and crew plays Zip Zap Zop in the center of the stage - having multiple former theater kids in the group, the whole thing carries a professional and slightly ridiculous air to it, but as the greats would say, That’s show-business.
“What?” Damian asks absently, scribbling down a few things in his notes.
“Directing a musical at thirteen,” Jon elaborates. “It’s impressive.”
Damian shrugs. “It’s simply a bit of community service. Could you call the masses to attention?”
“Sure thing.” Jon cups his hands around his mouth, floats a few inches into the air, and shouts, “HEY, YOU GUYS!”
If it’s meant to be a reference to something, Damian does not understand it. Regardless, it’s effective, and soon Damian is surrounded by the members of the Wayne Family Production of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
“All right,” Damian says. “Let’s get down to business.”
“To defeat the Huns - “
“Shut it, Thomas. Now, I’m not going to beat around the bush, and we’re just going to get right into it. Gordon, since you asked and since I allowed you the privilege to choose your part as it was your idea to put on this show in the first place, you will be playing Dr. Everett Von Scott.”
Gordon beams. “Wheelchair gang!”
“Right, with that out of the way, I’ll dole out the rest of the parts. Row, I’m marking you down as Janet Weiss, and West, you’re Brad Majors.”
West and Row gasp in perfect unison.
“Dude,” West says excitedly. “You are so Rachel Berry right now.”
“That means you’re Finn,” Row responds, grinning. “Just promise not to break up with me at a train station, deal?”
“Deal.”
“Drake. You will be Dr. Frank N. Furter.”
Drake presses his hands to his mouth. “No way. No fucking way, Dami - “
“Yes, yes,” Damian says. “You’re ecstatic, hurray.” He reconsiders. “That is, if you’re comfortable playing such a promiscuous - “
“Are you kidding me?” Drake interrupts. “I’ve wanted to wear the Frank ensemble since - since I don’t even know when!”
Damian nods. “That’s settled, then.”
Jon leans over and mutters in his ear, “Ten bucks says Kon has a heart attack when he finds out his boyfriend’s going to be wearing leather lingerie.”
Damian works hard to fight off a grin, and continues. “Thomas, you’ll be Riff-Raff - “
“I cannot wait to wear that wig.”
“ - and Cain, you’re Magenta.”
“That’s the hot maid, right? Nice.”
“And as for the rest of you: Grayson is Rocky, Brown is Columbia, and Todd is Eddie. Oh, and Pennyworth has volunteered to be the Criminologist.”
“Golden booty shorts?” Grayson shrugs. “I guess I’ve had worse.”
Brown leans over to kiss Cain on the cheek. “Looks like we’ll get to make out on stage, babe.”
“Nice,” Cain repeats, smirking.
“Hot patootie, bless my soul - “
“Vocal rehearsals have not started yet, Todd,” Damian snaps.
“Wait,” says Gordon. “Who’s gonna be the Lips?”
The rest of them assume questioning glances.
Damian only grins. “Oh, don’t worry. I have someone in mind…”
He manages to recruit Fox on tech, Harper on set design and props, and Pennyworth on costumes; Fox “can’t carry a tune to save his life” (his words), Harper thinks musicals are “lame,” and Pennyworth, the gracious bastard, is just happy to help.
Which Damian appreciates. Silently.
Father, thank the Gods, stays mostly out of it, which Damian counts as very fortunate. Bruce Wayne and the theater never mix well - and Father says he’s been wary of performances since Damian’s grandparents were murdered directly after one.
Grayson choreographs, which is definitely a good thing, as Damian definitely cannot dance. Jon had offered to help, but seeing as the extent of his mobile ability seems to begin and end at being capable of recreating the dance scene from Napoleon Dynamite from perfect memory, Damian had shut him down.
Beginning rehearsals are a little unsteady at first, but they quickly find their rhythm. Damian would like to say that’s because of his excellent direction skills, but truly, he thinks the cast simply works quite well together. They start with the basic things: choreographing a couple of the larger group numbers, trying out a complete read-through of the script, singing through all of the songs. Drake seems to take to his role extremely comfortably. Row’s vocal work on her solo number is particularly nice. For only just starting, things are managing to run pretty smoothly.
Now if only Grayson and West would stop casting those annoying fleeting glances at each other when they’re supposed to be in character. As far as the show is concerned, Rocky and Brad are not supposed to have that much chemistry with each other. To be fair, West and Row don’t have the best of a believable romantic connection, either, but at least, with the by-the-book and typical marriage of Brad and Janet, that fits with the direction of the show.
And then there’s the matter of the press, which Damian had fully expected.
That doesn’t necessarily make it any less annoying.
“All anyone’s talking about is how Damian directing has got to be some form of child abuse,” Fox reports, shaking his head in disbelief as he reads the latest Gotham Gazette to the cast during a break in rehearsals. “Blah blah blah, ‘the youngest Wayne child is not mature enough for this,’ yada yada, ‘would be better off doing a Rodgers and Hammerstein show,’ etcetera, etcetera.”
Damian snorts. “That’s ridiculous. I am perfectly qualified for the role I have assumed.”
“Right,” Brown says, shaking her head. “I mean, you asked to do it. And there’s no one in the actual cast of the show that isn’t a legal adult. What’s so inappropriate about that?”
“Maybe they think he’s too young to pull it off,” West says, shrugging.
“He can absolutely pull it off!” Jon responds heatedly, glaring in West’s direction. Damian feels a surge of jitters at the defense.
West holds his hands up. “Hey, I’m not saying anything. I know Damian’s got this thing in the bag. But not everyone knows him the way we do.”
Damian sniffs. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll all see how well my show does, and then they’ll eat their words.”
“That’s the spirit,” Cain remarks, punching Damian on the shoulder - at least she knows not to ruffle his hair (Grayson does that way too often).
“Not to interrupt,” Harper announces, stepping in through the side door with something in his hands. “But the Eddie’s body prop just came in, Damian, and I want to make sure it’s all good and shit.”
Harper plops a - uncannily life-like - silicone copy of Todd’s features to the ground. The group all crowds around it, Jon floating a few inches up in the air to take a better look.
“Well,” Drake says eventually. “That’s terrifying.”
Everything looks quite similar, from the white streak in the dummy’s hair to it’s clipped-short false fingernails. There’s only an air of cold lifelessness around it, and while Todd can be fairly distant, it isn’t quite ever to this degree.
“You know, we could totally sell these. Like, on the internet. ‘Click here to purchase your very own life-size Jason Todd sex doll…’”
“Wally. Gross.”
“Hey, we could make a killing and you know it.”
“It’s adequate,” Damian proclaims, nodding in Harper’s direction. “You can take care of the rest.”
“Yeah,” Harper says, picking the prop back up. “I’ll get in there and touch it up with some fake blood and stuff, make it look like he’s been half-eaten or whatever…”
“Hey, what are we all staring at?” Todd asks, returning from wherever he’d sneaked off to - the kitchen, evidently, if the apple in his hand is any indication.
“Uh,” Thomas starts. “It’s just - “
“Oh shit,” Todd remarks. “Is that my body?” He approaches Harper, holding the dummy out at arm’s length. “Fucking nice. This is gonna look dope.” He snorts. “Too bad you can’t toss this one into a Lazarus Pit.”
“Jason!” Grayson exclaims, sounding horrified.
“What?” Todd shrugs. “It’s my trauma, I can joke about it…We should dress this thing up, freak Bruce out by putting it in his bed or whatever.”
“Oh my God,” Gordon mutters, hiding her face in her hands.
Todd returns the doll to Harper. “Looks good, dude, thanks for taking care of that.”
Harper smirks. “Yeah, yeah. Sure thing, Meatloaf.”
He leaves for the prop table. Damian notices Todd’s smile turn a little fixed, though he’s not sure if anyone else sees.
Harper, though he works on the show himself, has seemed to seize this opportunity to ridicule Todd for his own participation. He tends to throw a lot of jabs in Todd’s direction about the big bad Red Hood being a thespian.
Damian can tell (even if no one else can) that Todd isn’t really as comfortable with it as he seems.
He and Harper had better work that out, that’s all. The last thing Damian needs is Todd’s performance or Harper’s props quality hindered by unnecessary distractions.
Eventually, Damian breaks; he invites Mother.
None of the others had suggested it. No one else had even mentioned it as a possibility. Even Father had kept his mouth shut, knowing well not to pry.
Damian hadn’t intended to invite her, but he finds himself sending a personal card, anyway. The whole time he does it, he feels as though he’s in the midst of an out-of-body experience; in all fairness, he probably is.
The only person he tells is Jon.
“Do you think she’ll come?” he asks Damian in hushed tones, during a quiet moment whilst Drake sings his rendition of “I’m Going Home.”
Damian shrugs. “I can’t be certain,” he says truthfully. “I’m not even really sure why I sent her the invitation, but…” He shrugs again.
“Well, she’s your mom,” Jon says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, and perhaps it is.
Perhaps it is.
Damian receives no response from Mother, however - it is mostly what he expected from her, so he shoves it down and does his best to forget about it.
He’s not hurt. He isn’t. He was a fool to ask her to come in the first place.
But he’s got larger problems at the moment, anyway.
Something about the show is…off. He isn’t quite sure what. But there’s something, in the lighting or the dancing or the blocking, that simply…doesn’t work.
“I just can’t figure it,” Damian laments, pacing back and forth in front of the stage while the cast takes their lunch break. “I could have sworn I’d thought of everything, but it’s missing something.”
Jon shrugs, munching on his hot chips. “I don’t know, either. But I do feel like I hear what you’re saying. Maybe we should ask the others if they’re having any issues, get to the bottom of it that way?”
“Maybe so,” Damian muses, chewing at a hangnail in deep concentration. “I wonder…”
Jon holds out his bag. “Taki?” Damian takes one, crunching down on it thoughtfully.
“Then if anything grows, while you po-o-ose,” Jon sings, tapping his foot in time. “I’ll oil you up and rub you dow - “
“THAT’S IT!”
“Wha - ?” Jon asks, as Damian whirls toward him, wide-eyed, and braces his hands on Jon’s shoulders.
“Don’t you see, we’ve been doing it all wrong!” Damian says, shaking Jon in his excitement, the bright red Taki dust from his fingers making its way onto Jon’s jacket, instead. “Jonathan, you genius. Row shouldn’t be the one playing Janet, it needs to be - “
“Hey, guys, what’s going on?”
Damian hurls himself away from Jon and grabs West sharply by the wrist, pulling him towards the others who are filtering in through the theater doors.
“Where’s Row?” he demands, as West complains about how he’s hurting his arm.
“Right here,” she says, frowning. “Damian, everything ok?”
“I had it backwards,” Damian says. “Jon and I, I mean. It’s so obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner - “
“What?” Cain wheedles.
“Row, West,” Damian continues. “How would you feel about switching parts with each other?”
After a moment of stunned silence, Gordon gasps. “Oh, that would work better!”
Row blinks. “Uh, isn’t it a little late in the rehearsal process to be doing that?”
Damian waves a careless hand. “We still have weeks, you can learn each other’s blocking easily. I didn’t realize until just now, but the show requires a certain balance of character actors that we weren’t getting before, and now I know why. So, what do you say?”
West wrenches free of Damian’s grasp, rubbing at his wrist angrily. “Me? Play Janet? And Harper play Brad?”
Damian nods. “Yes.”
Jon appears at his side, grinning wildly. “It’s exactly what the show was missing!”
West stares. And then he shrugs. “Hey, I mean, I’m open to it.”
“I have always preferred Brad’s part in ‘Rose Tint My World’ to Janet’s,” Row muses. “And getting to sing lead on ‘Dammit Janet’ would be pretty cool…”
“Then it’s settled.” Damian claps his hands together. “Now, we should start in on re-blocking straight away. We’ll run ‘Dammit Janet’ first, and then - “
“Maybe do that one second,” Row says, patting her stomach. “I had a big lunch, I still need some time to digest - “
“Ok,” says Damian, unfazed. “Ok, then we’ll do ‘Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me.’”
West smirks. “Ready for the sexual electricity of Wallace West, Dick?”
Grayson, who’s remained quiet throughout this whole ordeal, says, in a high voice, “Oh, uh - yeah. Yeah, I’m ready…” He coughs. “Uh, just curious, but, uh, what specifically made you decide to switch the parts?”
Damian quirks an eyebrow. “Well, I thought that was obvious. Rocky and Janet have a very intense relationship in the show. You and Row simply don’t have that sort of chemistry with each other. On the other hand, you and West have plenty.”
Grayson turns a deep shade of plum.
The transition runs smoother than Damian would have expected. Of course, there’s the odd line fumble or forgetfulness of blocking on West and Row’s parts, but they seem to take to their new roles with a renewed fervor. The change is apparent; even Father remarks on its enhancement of the show, when he sits in to observe a rehearsal by Damian’s and Jon’s sides.
A week and a half before the musical is set to open, Pennyworth finishes up the costumes.
Fortunately, West and Row are of similar height and build to each other, so the part-swapping had not caused too much trouble for their outfits’ alters. Row looks dashing in her brown jacket and false glasses, and the first time West shows off his skirt plus cardigan ensemble, Grayson excuses himself from the room for a suspicious amount of time (to say nothing of when those clothes are shed during West’s solo number).
Brown, Thomas, and Cain shine in their Columbia, Riff Raff, and Magenta costumes. Brown takes to her glittery wardrobe quite comfortably, tap-dancing excitedly and tipping her hat to her slack-jawed girlfriend (she’d chopped off her hair for a pixie cut, and Damian has to admire the dedication to the part); Cain, on the other hand, embodies the Transylvanian maid perfectly, even allowing Gordon (who takes care of everyone’s hair and makeup) to tease her hair up into a head of rambunctious curls. Thomas adores his stringy wig so much that Damian has to threaten him under pain of banning him from the Manor’s library in order to convince him to take it off before going home for the night.
Gordon’s outfit is simple - a plaid suit, plus a pair of fishnets for the appropriate time.
“I apologize,” Damian says to her. “If this isn’t all you had hoped for. It seems unfair for you to play such a small part in the show, considering it was your idea to begin with.”
“What are you apologizing for?” she says, grinning. “Dude, Dami, I’m having a blast. Don’t worry about me, seriously.”
So Damian leaves it at that.
Todd’s costume is mostly akin to what he wears normally. For his role as the Criminologist, Pennyworth is simply going to wear one of his nicer suits. Grayson takes quite naturally to his outfit: the shorts leave almost nothing to the imagination, highlighting his lithe and strong physique - On more than one occasion, Damian catches West drooling over his brother’s legs. Damian only rolls his eyes and hopes they get their shit together before it starts to negatively impact their performances.
And then, of course, there is Drake’s get-up: an almost exact replica of Tim Curry’s leather-and-stockinged look in the film, complete with heady makeup and a string of pearls, plus expertly-curled hair and one of Father’s old capes to match.
When Kent walks through the door to pick up his boyfriend for a post-rehearsal date, he very nearly passes out at the sight.
Damian and Jon have a good laugh about that. Damian and Jon have a good laugh about a lot of things. Directing this show is fun, but it wouldn’t be as good if Jon were not here by his side, sharing his cheap gas station snacks and cheering Damian on through the hell that is tech week with a supportive smile and a comforting press of his hand.
And now Damian is beginning to sound as sappy as his siblings do when they speak of their significant others (or pathetic crushes). Ugh.
Not that he and Jon are together. Not at all.
Anyway.
All that’s really left to take care of is the Lips.
Damian has the perfect candidate in mind. He leaves her a message.
She accepts, replying, If it had been any of your siblings, I probably wouldn’t, but for you, Mr. Wayne - why not?
And so. Now the only thing that remains is to wait for opening night.
Harper leaves the day of the show. Damian wakes up and heads down to the theater to find Todd yelling heatedly into his cell phone, shouting things like, I don’t understand why you can’t just deal with it, and Why the fuck do you care, anyway? Damian heads into the wings to find Grayson, dressed in his usual work-out attire and stretching his arms above his head.
“What’s the deal with Todd?” Damian asks, glancing warily at his brother’s wildly-gesturing form. “Who’s he talking to?”
Grayson sighs, rolling his eyes slightly. “It’s Roy. They’re still fighting over the show - Roy makes fun of Jason for doing theater and Jason makes fun of Roy for using his talents to make simple props and now they’re just kind of screaming at each other over the phone. They’ve been at it for about ten minutes, now.”
Damian pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Fantastic. That’s just what we need right now.”
Grayson shrugs, grimacing. “Jay and Roy are really good friends…I just don’t think they’re all that good at articulating their emotions.”
Damian knows that that is one hell of an understatement, but he thinks nothing of it until a few minutes later, when Todd comes storming over in their direction, fists clenched at his sides and a scowl on his face.
“He quit,” he fumes. “Roy quit the fuckin’ show.”
And then he leaves again, muttering under his breath and kicking things as he goes.
“Shit,” Grayson says.
Damian waves his hand. “No matter. We can have Pennyworth handle props for tonight.”
Grayson gives him a look. “That’s not really what I was talking about - “
“I know,” Damian says, and wanders off to check the set pieces for the night.
And finally, it comes. Fox draws the curtains closed and Father wraps Damian in a good luck hug that Damian mostly doesn’t reciprocate and Jon wears a baby blue suit that looks quite wonderful on him and Damian straightens his bow tie, takes a deep breath, and steps out on stage.
Jonathan stands by him as Damian gives his opening remarks to the audience. A lot of thank you for comings, a subsequent amount of your charity is greatly appreciateds - all the standard things that large groups of people like this want to hear. To be fair, however, the house isn’t full of the usual members of the Gotham elite - too crass, too raunchy of an occasion for them - but Damian does notice many others that he recognizes: Father, of course, sits, grinning, in the front row (Damian quashes the pride he feels at that, though only just barely), with two women to his right that Damian is 100% certain are a badly-disguised Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn (and he is 100% certain that Father knows it, and is choosing to allow it). Also near the front are the Lane-Kents, the Queens, Artemis Crock, Miss Martian, Lucius Fox, the West-Allens, Kaldur’ahm, Koriand’r, and assorted other Titans - as well as Kate Kane, Helena Bertinelli, and the Gordons.
And nearer to the back but still perfectly visible sits a woman in dark glasses and a shawl - a woman Damian would know anywhere.
He squeezes Jon’s hand tight as their speech ends, and retreats backstage for the beginning of the show.
“The Lips,” Jonathan mutters to Damian softly as the crowd outside quiets in anticipation. “Who’d you get for the Lips?”
Damian smirks. “Just watch.”
Selina Kyle steps out on stage, and Jon gasps.
“Dude,” he says excitedly, and Damian grins.
“Michael Rennie was ill the day the earth stood still,” Selina sings, red lips smiling in an extremely sultry manner. “But he told us where we stand…”
And so it goes; Row’s rendition of “Dammit Janet” goes especially well, and Gods, is Damian happy he decided to switch those roles; “Time Warp” is met with raucous applause and some dancing from the audience (Quinn seems to abandon all pretense of laying low by standing up and doing the pelvic thrust right in the middle of the aisles); Drake gains wolf-whistles and cheers when he throws off his cape during “Sweet Transvestite,” and Damian is fairly certain that Kent is going to rewatch the livestream of the performance and record the entire thing for his own personal use; West eyes Grayson hungrily as he dashes around the stage in his shorts singing “The Sword of Damocles” - and Damian decides to let it slide because Janet is meant to be incredibly attracted to Rocky, anyway.
Though Todd is only onstage for a matter of minutes as Eddie, he very nearly steals the entire show - he adapts to the bad-boy persona better than he ever had in rehearsals, and Damian wonders if it’s out of sheer spite directed towards his argument with Harper earlier in the day. People scream as Drake attacks Todd with the ice pick, and Todd crawls backstage, grinning wildly, and says, “Fuck yeah. That was dope.”
Jon nods enthusiastically, and Damian is about to say something himself when a voice from behind them all says, “Yeah. Yeah, it really was.”
Todd’s jaw clenches. “Roy.”
Harper lifts an unsure hand. “Hey, Jay. I, uh. I want to apologize…” He trails off, glancing over at Damian and Jon on the sidelines.
“Take it out of the wings,” Damian orders, and the pair hesitates for another moment before Todd stalks backstage and Harper follows him, hands shoved unceremoniously into his pockets.
“I hope everything turns out ok between them,” Jon says, worry seeping into his tone.
“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Damian says, and he finds that he kind of believes it.
Drake, Grayson, and the rest of the cast filter back offstage as the last strains of “I Can Make You a Man (Reprise)” sound - Damian sends them all to the green room for the small intermission they’ve placed before the second half of the show, and spends most of his time in between acts peering out into the audience and trying to gauge the people’s reactions.
“Hey.” Jon materializes next to him, a Butterfinger in hand - he offers Damian a Kit Kat, which he accepts.
“Hey,” Damian mutters, tearing open the Kit Kat with his teeth and biting directly into it, making Jon cringe. “Everything good back there?”
“Yep,” Jon says, popping the ‘p.’ “I touched base with Roy and Jason, in case you were wondering.”
Damian hums, and asks, mouth full, “Are they still arguing with each other?”
“Well, I caught them in the men’s room with their hands all over each other.” Jon shudders. “And I’ll definitely never be able to unsee what I saw.”
Damian snorts. “You know, I’m not surprised. Brown and Cain and Drake and your brother have all seemed especially grabby recently, too - this show must make people more sexually ambitious than usual.”
Jon sighs. “Yeah," he says morosely. "And it’s about to get even worse.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because Dick and Wally are about to go out and do ‘Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me.’”
Grayson had seemed perfectly satisfied with his choreography for this particular number when it had been him and Row performing it; now that West is playing Janet, however, Grayson seems much more flustered, especially because the dancing he’d decided on is especially explicit, with lots of grinding and feverish touching and opening of legs. West offers up a lot of moans and low, breathy vocal turns - Damian has to wonder how much of Grayson’s wide-eyed and flushed demeanor is really acting.
Cain and Brown are likewise all over each other towards the tail-end of the song where Magenta and Columbia are meant to fall into bed with one another, and West ends the number on a high-pitched cry of pleasure as he tightens his legs around Grayson’s waist and pulls him into a kiss that had definitely not been a part of Damian’s stage blocking.
Even after the lights have dimmed, the pair stays locked at the lips in the middle of the stage for so long that Jonathan has to go out and subtly pry them apart, Grayson breathing hard and West flushed pink. Jon returns to the wings with a pained look on his face as the next scene begins, and Damian guffaws and does his best to wipe the offending image from his brain.
Gods’ sakes, maybe he asked for this when he took on the job of directing this show.
Gordon makes her appearance, German accent in tow, and Todd briefly returns to the stage for his bit in “Eddie;” “Rose Tint My World” turns out to be a bit of a show-stopper, everyone dressed in their finest lingerie and feather boas, and Drake absolutely brings down the house with “I’m Going Home.” Thomas and Cain stun in their Transylvanian costumes that Pennyworth had just added his finishing touches to seconds before their entrance, Grayson brings Drake up to the top of the RKO Tower, Pennyworth delivers his morbid finishing monologue, the show ends on Kyle’s “Science Fiction Double Feature (Reprise),” and then…
Then it’s over. The others drag Damian and Jon out for curtain call and Damian relishes more than he’d care to admit in all the praise, and Jon holds his hand tightly, and Harper sends Damian a thumbs-up from the wings, and he’s fairly certain Fox is giving him one from the light booth, as well, and the curtains roll shut and Damian -
Well, Damian did it.
“Am I allowed to be proud?”
Damian wheels around to see Father, beaming down at him with a bouquet of white lilies - Damian’s favorite - in hand.
Damian sniffs, waving away the others. “…I suppose I can allow it.”’
Father’s eyes glimmer. “So then may I hug you?”
Damian throws his arms around his father’s waist in lieu of a response. Father startles slightly, but is quick to reciprocate - he smells like steel and expensive cologne, scents that some may find cold and aloof, but that Damian finds comforting, familiar.
Then Father pulls away and says, quietly, “It seems as if someone else came to see you, too.”
The shawled woman hangs by the stage’s back entrance, carefully inspecting her elegantly manicured nails, doing her best not to draw attention to herself.
Damian goes to her. “Hello, Mother.”
The woman looks up, and her distant exterior melts slightly.
“Hello, my son,” the woman says. She holds her hand up as if to pat his head, but stops, wavers there tentatively. “You…did a wonderful job.”
“Yes,” Damian says. “Thank you.”
Talia’s hand falls to her side, and she seems to regain her composure. “I know your grandfather would have enjoyed it. I’ll have to see if I can’t persuade him to show the recording at League movie nights.”
Damian feels his lips twitch. “Thank you for coming, Mother.”
She swallows, nodding carefully. “Yes. I almost didn’t, but…”
Her words hang in the air.
Damian extends a hand. “It was good to see you.”
She takes it. “You as well, my dear.”
And, with a short bout of hesitation, she leaves.
It was about as much as Damian had expected from her, and as such he is not disappointed.
“Hey, Dami.”
It’s Jon. “Hello, Jonathan. Do you need something?”
“Well, the cast party’s starting soon, in the parlor,” Jon says, and then his cheeks flush ever-so-slightly. “But…”
“Spit it out,” Damian prompts. He would like to attend the parlor party, but if Jonathan has something to say, then Damian would prefer for him to say it.
“Just…” Jon shrugs, avoiding eye contact. “You did a really good job tonight. Like, really good. And I had a lot of fun doing this with you and I’d love to do it again some time and…yeah.” He coughs. “That’s all.”
“Thank you,” Damian says, after a moment. “I’m…glad you were with me. You were an exceptional assistant director, Jon.”
Jon’s cheeks turn pinker. “Oh, uh, thanks…”
Damian inhales deeply, doing his best to control the beat of his racing heart, and says, “Shall we go and join the others?”
Jon nods quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.” And then he leans forward, and in the blink of an eye, presses his lips to Damian’s cheek, before swiftly retreating again.
Damian’s fingers jump to touch the spot. Jon clears his throat.
“Wanna go?” he says.
“Yes,” Damian murmurs, as many things begin to click into place for him at once. “Yes, let’s…”
They head into the parlor together, and the nighttime flourishes around them.