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“You’re not getting this one past me, Dickie.”
Damian sticks his nose in the picnic basket. He’s about halfway in, teeth narrowly scraping against the sliced lunch meat, before he feels two hands grab his middle.
“You’re looking at a natural-born pitcher, Jason.”
Damian feels himself get tugged out of the basket. He is suspended in the air, turned around, and victim to his father’s unimpressed stare.
“That’s for later,” he scolds.
Damian shrinks in himself.
“Understand?”
Damian nods.
“Good."
Damian gets settled on the ground. His claws dig into the dirt, short blades of grass brush against his ankles, and Damian glances back at his father. His attention was primarily on the baseball game happening nearby. Dick, Jason, and Tim were all playing a game together. Tim was the catcher, Jason was the batter, and Dick was the pitcher. Damian didn’t really know anything beyond that. It looked like a fun game, but his father didn’t want him to play. He claimed that his siblings could get a little rough, and he didn’t want Damian to get caught up with that.
So, Damian takes to exploring instead, never straying too far from his father.
Damian liked the field outside the manor. It wasn’t very big, not with the surrounding trees close by, but it was big enough to run around. Damian does exactly that. He runs hyperly through the lawn, leaping, and landing with claws outstretched to grab at the ground. He chases his tail. He rolls around in the dirt.
Damian spends most of his time playing even when Ace, his father’s favored hound, comes trotting along. Damian gets about three seconds of freedom before Ace decides he ought to join. Damian, excited at the prospect of a chase, starts sprinting around the lawn. Ace, panting happily, runs after him with an eager bark.
Damian makes a happy sound in return. He laughs breathlessly as Ace runs after him.
Damian starts running in a straight line back for his father, Ace on his tail, before he hears Tim’s frightened call.
“No, no, no. Damian!”
Damian looks up just in time to see a baseball flying for him.
He skids to a stop, claws scraping into the grass, ripping up blades. Ace collides into his back. Damian is sent sprawling forward despite his best efforts.
Damian closes his eyes. He lowers himself to the ground, and covers his face with his claws. His wings span out to cover his sides in a protective shield. He doubted it would be enough to help him not get hurt.
Damian waits for the ball to drop on him.
He feels nothing.
He cautiously lifts a claw from his face, and notices that his vision was majorly blocked by a giant figure. It takes him a second to realize that he was underneath his father’s belly. He had shifted sometime in between running for Damian, and protecting him from the baseball.
Damian listens to three pairs of feet run for them. ‘Dad!” Tim cries out. “You okay?”
Bruce grunts. He lowers his head, and Damian sees one of his blue eyes check up on him underneath his stomach.
Ace wags his tail against the ground. Happily. He was sitting right next to Damian. Prepared to go down with him.
“Maybe,” Bruce grunts, looking back up, “we should postpone playing ball for now.”
“I’m so sorry,” Dick says, “I didn’t mean to- I- it just- gosh.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Jason murmurs. “I shouldn’t have hit the ball so hard.”
“Well if I hadn’t thrown that curve-”
“Mistakes happen,” Bruce says. He crawls off from Damian, and takes to inspecting him. Damian is a victim to his nudging nose. His father digs underneath his wings to check his side, and then he starts testing him by bumping him into him with his snout. Damian moves at the force, making a confused warble, but apparently that was good enough for his father. He withdraws, licks Damian’s head, and then nips comfortingly at his ears.
“Imagine if it hit him though,” Dick says, “It would’ve been terrible.”
“It didn’t hit him,” Bruce points out. “There’s nothing to worry about. All is well. Isn’t that right, hatchling?”
Damian chirps.
Dick rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Ah, shoot, bring it in, little guy,” Jason says. He sweeps Damian off the ground, and cuddles him real close to his chest. “You’re just too good for us.”
Damian rubs the top of his skull against Jason’s jaw.
“You deserve a big lunch after that, don’t you think?” Jason hums, turning, and walking back towards the basket. Damian agrees happily with a delighted churr.
Jason sits down once he’s close enough to the basket. He brings Damian along with him. He plops Damian down next to him. “What do you think? Ham or turkey?”
Damian liked both. He licks his chops.
At the lack of Damian’s answer, Jason guesses, “Turkey?”
Damian’s ears perk. His tail swishes along the ground.
Jason pulls out a box of sliced turkey. He grabs hold of one slice, gently prying it apart from the rest of the meat, and then dangles it in the air for Damian. Damian jumps to grab it, but Jason teasingly lifts it up higher in the air.
Damian furrows his brows. He climbs up into Jason’s lap, stands up on his hind legs, and leans against his chest to reach his treat.
“Stop teasing him,” Tim says, though he sounded amused, as he settles himself next to Jason.
Jason still holds it high in the air. “You’re not going to get it,” he laughs, shaking it, “not unless you shift.”
Damian inwardly frowns. He climbs off of Jason’s lap, and considers his options.
Jason waits patiently for his decision. Damian knew he’d already seen him shift before, but that didn’t mean he was comfortable walking around in human form. He only felt safe when he was sleeping with the pack. He’d rather not have to switch when he was exposed out in the open.
So, Damian makes his choice. He takes a few steps back.
His father stands behind Jason with his arms crossed. He raises a brow as he watches Damian’s choice of action. Dick, who’d sat himself on the opposite side of the picnic basket, wasn’t even paying attention. He was too busy looking through the contents.
Damian stretches out his wings. He flaps them experimentally.
Jason laughs in realization, “No way. You can’t seriously think-”
Damian runs forward. He shoots up in the air, cuts past Jason’s hand, and grabs hold of the meat on the journey to the manor’s roof.
“Hey!” Jason shouts in surprise. Damian continues, regardless of his cries.
“Huh?” Dick looks up just in time to see Damian land on the roof.
Tim’s jaw was dropped.
Bruce was silent as Damian started munching on his prize. He takes one good, long, look at Damian. Then he says, voice thin, and upset, “When did Damian learn how to fly?”
Because, they all knew, that such a thing would imply he’d been outside before without adult supervision.
Damian's family didn't like that idea too much. They all adopt Bruce's upset facial features.
"Oh man," Tim groans sadly, "please don't tell me we need to bring out the leash."
"That was for Jason," Dick reminds him, "and we only had to use it once."
Jason groans at the memory.