chockablock
The manor would be chockablock with people again tonight, as all of Bruce’s children will come home to have dinner together, in hopes of cheering up a dismal Cass, who told him she missed having more people around. Dick was down to spending time with his siblings no matter the time or day, he was that good of a brother.
Jason called in, saying he’d be a little late, as he was still out on a job. Which Cass said she was still glad he would still make it, regardless of his tardiness.
Tim promises Cass that he would finish his work before dinner, as did Damian, as Alfred had insisted he finished his work sheets before dinner instead of after. With a sigh, he sits at one of the desks in the library, across Tim’s laptop, where he was leaning too close into.
“Where are your glasses?” Damian says out loud, not even bothering to look up. Surely, Tim hadn’t looked up, too, just as he was addressed. “Alfred said your eyes would get even worse if you don’t use them when you use the computer.”
Over time, he and the elder teen had gotten on amicable terms, much to the joy and relief of their father and grandfather, Alfred. Since they were the only ones who stayed at the manor with Bruce, they got used to each other’s presence, and even had a truce, until they had their long talk, and finally understood where each one stood.
Now, they were able to stay in one room without trying to kill the other in various degrees of homicide. Dick had been all too enthusiastic of their development, while Jason stepped a few back, in fear of how strong their combination would eventually turn out.
“I lost them,” Tim says, eyes still focused on his screen.
“I think you should rest your eyes until dinner.” Damian says, pencil scritching at the bottom of his work sheet, where he’s doodling Titus and Alfred the cat, in hopes he could get extra points for them. Showing one’s solutions in the answer takes too much time.
“I’ll wake you up until then,” he adds, signing the doodle before he gets up and pushes the teen’s face away from the screen so he could shut the laptop down. “You may head on first to your room, and I can unplug and clean up here.” Damian says, pushing the elder teen out the door.
Good grief, he may just a couple years younger than him, yet Damian felt like he was the older brother between the two of them most of the time. The poor, overworked fool couldn’t for the life of him take care of himself, it seemed.
Well, Damian had always wanted a little brother, anyway.