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“This is idiotic,” Damian Wayne spat, staring at the shelves packed with slender boxes. “Asinine. I love none of these people.”
“Little D,” Stephanie Brown cajoled. “It’s not about love. It’s about showing people up and getting candy.”
“We are not allowed to include foodstuffs of any kind. ‘Allergy concerns.’”
“Okay, yeah, that’s dumb,” Stephanie said. “Look. These are glow in the dark bugs. Those are pretty cool, right?”
“How am I supposed to express love or affection with falsely bioluminescent arachnids?” Damian demanded, after a brief perusal of the box of Valentine’s Cards.
“I think you’re still missing the point,” Stephanie said, pulling another box down. “How about dogs? You like dogs.”
“These are not dogs. These are monstrosities with severe ocular issues.”
“You know, sometimes you sound just like your dad,” Stephanie said between her clenched teeth. She slid the box back on the shelf and put her hands on her hips to survey the display. “Anything look good? Anything at all?”
Damian exhaled tightly and his eyes darted from one shelf to the other.
“Those,” he said, pointing imperiously.
“Wow,” Stephanie said, looking at his hand and raising an eyebrow. “It’s almost like you forgot I’m not your servant or something.”
He shot her an expression of profound displeasure and stomped forward and snatched the pink box.
“These?” Stephanie raised an eyebrow and looked at the Disney princesses on the box he shoved into her hands. “Dames…”
“They are obviously mere caricatures of the originals, but the princess stories are referential to centuries-old myths and legends and are, I have been led to believe, an admirable entry-point into the educational pursuit of cultural study.”
“So that’s how Dick got you to watch Beauty and the Beast,” Stephanie muttered to herself. She put the box back. “Sorry, Damian. I can’t let you do that to yourself.”
“Do what. I didn’t want to engage in this mockery of a holiday to begin with,” he snarled. “Those are the ones I like.”
“Kiddo,” Stephanie said, bending and propping her hands against her knees while she got to something close to eye level with him. “I’m all for the deconstruction of gender roles, but this is a fifth grade classroom in Jersey. They will mock the shit out of you.”
“Then we will be maintaining tradition,” Damian said sourly, twisting away. “I don’t care about any of them anyway. Let’s purchase the diseased dogs so we can leave.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Stephanie said, grabbing his arm. He shrugged it off just as quickly but stopped walking away. “What aren’t you telling me? What tradition? Do they make fun of you?”
Damian rolled his eyes and then frowned sullenly at the store exit, as if longing for it to be closer. He tapped his foot on the floor and sighed loudly.
“C’mon. Fess up. I gotta know if Auntie Steph has to go kick some tiny asses.”
That got a slight quirk of a smile out of him, but his tone was dismissive. “I can defend myself. I do not require your assistance.”
“And?” Stephanie prompted.
Damian got very, very quiet and still. “They leave me alone,” he said. “The tradition I was referring to was my own fault for misunderstanding the assignment the previous year.”
“What…assignment? D, I’m not following.”
“We were instructed to bring Valentine’s Cards for the class. Art is an area I excel in and I was eager to demonstrate my skill.”
Stephanie felt cold weight sink in her stomach like a cannonball. She swallowed and resisted the urge to cover her face with both hands.
“You drew everyone an individual card, didn’t you,” Stephanie asked, already knowing the answer. She felt like crying in the Bristol Rite Aid.
“It was not received the way I anticipated,” Damian admitted, his tone blank and his face even more so. “It was clear I had misunderstood. The other Valentine’s, even homemade, were uniform in nature.”
“Oh my god,” Stephanie said under her breath. “Why didn’t Dick tell you? Why didn’t…”
“I am not accustomed to asking for assistance with school assignments. He inquired and I told him I was more than capable of managing alone. He was busy at the time, anyway.”
“Damian,” Stephanie said, quick-stepping around to face him. She put her hands on both shoulders and, again, let him shrug her off. “Damian, that was…incredibly, amazingly sweet of you. If they didn’t appreciate that, then they’re idiots. You’re right. They’re all idiots. The entire thing is idiotic. Each one of them should have fucking loved a card like that.”
“It is not their fault,” Damian said stiffly. “I should not have expected American fourth grade students to appreciate accurate renderings of the neo gothic architecture unique to Gotham.”
“Oh my god,” Stephanie said again, dragging him into a brief hug. She let him go and grabbed a random box of Avengers Valentine’s from the shelf. “Okay. This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to buy these, and I’m going to buy a stupid amount of Valentine’s candy, and we’re going to fill them out while eating ourselves sick and watching a movie.”
“I fail to see how this implies any genuine affection,” Damian said, staring at the cartoonish figures on the box with a skeptical expression.
“Congratulations,” Stephanie said. “You’re a grown up. The way you celebrate Valentine’s Day as an adult is by suffering through it.”
“You are not yet 21,” Damian said, his skepticism flickering up to her.
“Yeah, well, I grew up too fast, too. We’re a matched pair. The point is, the genuine affection in this case is you enabling my chocolate craving while we make good use of your dad’s Netflix account.”
Stephanie guided him toward the checkout and snagged four or five bags of candy from a pink and purple shelf display along the way.
“You’re paying for the candy,” she said. “Because I have to save my money so I can afford to pay you for a sketch.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Damian grumbled. “I will, of course, draw you something for free.”
They were at the checkout when Stephanie glanced down at him and her entire heart squeezed with something like, well, affection.
“Don’t freak out,” she said, pecking him on the cheek with a tiny kiss. “You’re a good kid, Damian, even if you do try to stab me once a week.”
This time, the cashier raised an eyebrow.
Stephanie waved her hand dismissively, while the candy and Valentine’s went into a bag. “He’s my little brother or something, it’s fine. Sibling rivalry, y’know.”
She half expected Damian to dismiss this loudly, and awkwardly, in front of the cashier. Instead he took the plastic sack and said, “Another subject I am well-schooled in. Trust me, Brown, if I seriously intended to stab you, you would be stabbed.”
“That’s our cue to leave,” Stephanie said, fairly shoving him toward the sliding doors at the exit. She called over her shoulder to the cashier, “Happy Valentine’s Day!”