Chapter 3
“I didn’t know Bruce had a five year old kid,” Tim said, staring down at the child.
“I am nearly seven,” Damian said indignantly.
“How near is nearly?” Tim crossed his arms, looking sceptically at the child.
“In ten months,” Damian muttered before straightening and glaring right at Tim. “I should be asking who you are. You are clearly not Todd or Grayson. I wasn’t aware that my father had taken in any other wards.” Harry watched Tim and Damian hold a staring eye contest, both unwilling to relent.
Shaking his head, he reached forward to shake Damian’s and. “I’m Harry and this is my brother, Tim. We’re not technically Bruce’s wards but Jason kidnapped us and now we’re not allowed to leave.” He smiled at the boy who scowled back in any uncanny impersonation of Draco Malfoy.
“I demand to see my father,” Damian snapped. He did not take Harry’s hand.
“And why should we do that?” Tim stood his ground, blocking the door, “you could be a baby assassin for all we know.”
Out of nowhere, Damian drew a katana and pressed it against Tim’s throat in one swift movement. “If I was an assassin, you would already be dead.”
“Uh, you could please not stab us,” Harry bounced nervously on his toes, “we just got changed into dry clothes.”
Damian lowered the sword. “Get my father.”
“Harry, go find Bruce,” Tim said calmly, “I’m staying here.”
“Right,” Harry glanced at the sword still held in Damian’s fist, “I’ll be back.” He ran through the front corridor and straight up to Bruce’s office, throwing the door open without knocking. Bruce was on the phone, talking softly.
“Of course, I would have done it six years ago. You still haven’t told me why you chose to send him now…that’s not an answer…what do you mean he’s already…” Bruce turned around and saw Harry in the doorway. “Wait a moment,” he said into the phone, “what can I do for you, Harry?”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Harry said. He knew how much Uncle hated when he was disturbed while on the phone. “There’s a kid downstairs. He says he’s your son.” Harry paused for a second. “He has a sword.”
“I’ll call you back,” Bruce said, hanging up the phone. Harry flattened himself against the door frame as Bruce rushed towards the front door.
“What’s going on?” Jason asked, pocked his head out of his bedroom door.
“I think you’re officially going to become the middle child,” Harry said.
“WHAT?!” Jason hurried after Harry and Bruce. They all stopped by the open front door where Tim and Damian were having a silent standoff.
“Don’t tell me you got another one,” Jason stared at Damian.
“He didn’t get me,” Damian growled, “I am Damian Wayne, the true blood son and heir of Bruce Wayne.”
“Why don’t you come in and have some tea,” Alfred appeared out of the kitchen, holding a loaded tray of tea, milk, sugar and iced biscuits. “I’m sure we have a lot to talk about.”
Jason watched Damian with an open mouth as the kid strode inside like he already owned the house. He followed Alfred into the kitchen and sat down at the head of the dining table. Harry took the seat behind him and pushed the sugary biscuits over. The kid looked like he could do with some sugar.
“Hello Damian,” Bruce said, sitting opposite him. Tim and Jason remained standing, looking at Damian warily. “I didn’t expect you so soon.” Bruce poured himself some tea, “I only got your mother’s letter today.”
“She did not see a reason to delay,” Damian said shortly.
“She isn’t here with you.” It was an observation, not a question.
“I came by myself,” Damian held his head high, “Mother is distracting Grandfather. He will not be happy to know I have left.”
“Talia mentioned as much,” Bruce sipped his tea, his left forefinger tapping against the table like he only did when he was searching for the right thing to say.
“Hold on,” Jason interrupted the stilted conversation, “how come I’ve never heard that you’ve got a biological son? Does Dick know?”
“I didn’t even know until this morning,” Bruce said a little faintly.
Harry nibbled on a biscuit. He leaned over to Damian. “You should try the pink ones,” he said, pointing at the plate, “they’re my favourite.”
“I’m not allowed processed sugar,” Damian pushed the plate away.
“Are you allergic?” Harry asked, “I didn’t know people could be allergic to sugar.”
“I’m not allergic,” Damian retorted, “I’m just be allowed.”
Harry slowly drew the plate towards him and picked up a pink biscuit. He subtly slid it under the table onto Damian’s lap. “I won’t tell anyone,” he whispered. Damian glared at him but under the table, his hand closed around the biscuit.
“Well, welcome to the family,” Jason said, “Dick will love to have another little brother to spoil.”
“I am NOT his brother,” Damian snapped, “I am the sole heir.”
“You are all my children,” Bruce said in a placating voice, “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you, Damian. If I knew that you existed, I would have been there in a second.”
“They are not my brothers!” Damian stood, knocking his chair back. He stormed out of the kitchen, past Tim, Jason and Alfred. Bruce went to follow him but Alfred put a hand on his shoulder.
“Just give him a moment,” Alfred said, “this is going to be a big adjustment for him.”
“He’s not the only one,” Bruce slid his hand over his face, “Why didn’t Talia tell me? How could she have not told me?”
Harry didn’t listen to Alfred or Bruce. He jumped up and rushed to follow Damian.
“Hold up!” He said, stopping Damian at the bottom of the stairs.
“What?” Damian rounded on Harry.
“Let me give you a tour,” Harry said, smiling widely, “you can pick your own bedroom.”
Damian paused. “Lead the way.”