"Damian...when a man and a woman love each other very much, or-"

"No. Father. Stop."

Bruce resisted the urge to wipe an imaginary sweat from his brow.

The Talk was a terrible thing- a parent's worst nightmare. Bruce had gone through it with Dick, and Jason, then Tim, even Cassandra, and sort of Stephanie (which had been very... extremely...awkwardly awkward and finished after the first two sentences). Each Talk had been pulled off with varying degrees of success.

At age 13, Dick had curled in to a ball and rolled under the table, vowing to stay there until Bruce stopped 'being gross'.

Jason, the little devil, had hidden his tomato-face behind Northanger Abbey (with his red ears visible) and attempted to conceal his embarrassment with a few 'whatever's and some mumbled sentences in a heavy Jersey accent.

Sweet Cassandra. She'd simply waited until he'd paused for breath before pressing a shushing finger to his mouth and shaking her head, walking away silently.

Oh...Poor Tim...Bruce didn't even want to remember how that one had gone...

Damian was different though. He'd never been a child. What was there to indicate to Bruce that he'd be a proper teenager...appart from the girlfriend and kissing and girlfriend and holding hands and did he mention the gIrLFriENd?¿

"Father."

Bruce could hear the crackling of the handle as he held his mug with an iron grip.

"I was introduced to the concept of sex before I was four. It was part of my foundational training- the understanding of human nature. It is not a topic I am unaware of in any capacity. It is not a topic I need education or advise about. It is not a topic I am at all uncomfortable with." He passed what is known as a 'stink-eye' over his father. "And yet, you trying to broach the subject makes it extremely uncomfortable. Please stop."

It was at times like this that Bruce was thankful for his son's blunt character.

"If you're sure-"

Damian interrupted, "One-hundred percent. Absolutely and unequivocally." He looked his father up and down, with an air of disappointment that rivalled Alfred's stiff upper lip. "Am I prisoner to this conversation, or can I leave?"

Bruce passed off his son's usual evident disdain with the same effort he took in listening to his children's pleas not to wear crocs, "You can go."

Mock saluting his father, Damian waltzed our of the kitchen in search of one Richard Grayson.

He poked his head in to his brother's room, "Dick!"

One leg stuck out of his covers, arms wrapped around a pillow (streaked with drool), Dick snapped to attention. Round eyes taking in his devil of a brother, Dick yawned, "Dami...an whazz goin onnn?"

His brother grinned menacingly, "Father attempted 'The Talk'."

Sleep was blast off of Dick's face as he laughed, "Oh holy cheese on toast! How'd it go kid? I need details!" He sat up, untangling his legs and swinging them around the bed. Dick hopped in to a pair of pyjama trousers he'd left lying by his bed, "Was he sweating? Did he tell you to 'use protection' -the hypocrite-? Did he bring any diagrams? Oh god was it awkward?"

"I stopped him before he had the chance."

"Crap, that would've been fun to hear." Dick stood up, pulling the trousers over his hips with a shimmy. "Ah well."

As Damian withdrew from the room, with the intent of tracking down his girlfriend (insert squeal) who was in the midst of a morning meditation session, Dick stopped him, "While you're here, I've been meaning to ask, do you think you'll be coming back to the Titans soon? And Raven?" He pulled a clean shirt out of a drawer, sticking his head through first, "I hear you're sorely missed."

Damian snorted, "Missed by who?"

He left before Dick could get a word in edgeways, too much of a spring in his step for it to be believable.

The Titans. The team.

He'd been so absorbed in the case with the cult, life in the Manor, Raven... that he had almost forgotten the Titans. They would have to return eventually. Damian owed that much to his teammates.

His teammates.

It was still such a foreign concept to him, even after years with the Titans. These people, who were of no relation to him by blood, put their lives in his hand and his in theirs. Association with one another bound them like brothers, forced loyalty, in spite of the odds. A family of sorts. Different to his family in Wayne Manor; a million miles from his life under the League of Assassins.

The patience he remembered being treated with- almost unmerited grace. How strange it had seemed when he first met them, the Titans. For a fleeting, stupid moment, he wondered what it might have been like if Koriand'r had been his mother rather than Talia.

No no, unacceptable, punishable thoughts. A disgrace to the house Al Ghul. Such weakness.
Came the automatic response melded in to his every chain of thought. The immediate answers that plagued him no matter how far he withdrew from his former ideologies.

Do not blame yourself Damian. You cannot change what or who you were born in to. What matters is that you have now chosen a different path. The god laughed to himself, Who's the god of wisdom Thoth? It's not so hard!

Damian visibly rolled his eyes.

Thank you for the bullshit positive rhetoric.

Oh everyone's a critic! Ooh!- I've got another modern phrase- yay!

Rapping on the door to Raven's room, Damian mentally sighed, Anubis, I need to figure out some things in my life. While you are a god and almost everything is inconsequential to you, I need to take things seriously. You aren't helping.

Huh, you are lucky I'm not Hades.

I know,

Raven lifted one eyelid, "Anubis?"

Eyes pointing upwards, Damian nodded.

She closed her eye again, chest expanding as she took a deal breathe. The witch exhaled, hissing, "Azarath metrion zinthos..."

Sensing a raised tension in Damian's aura, she called her meditation to an end, levitating in to a standing position rather than dropping to the floor and picking herself up.

She lifted his chin with the tip of her index finger, turning her head from one side to the other, eyes scanning the little lines deepening on his face.

Retracting, Raven asked, "What's up?"

"Just thinking."

"Ooh careful there."

In spite of himself, Damian cracked a small smile, abysmally masking it with a scowl. The smile crumbled away as he returned to his old thoughts. Looking in to her eyes (wonderful blue and unspeakably beautiful) he asked in earnest, "Do you want to go back to the Titans now?well, soon..?"

She was taken aback.

"Going back to the Titans? As in, the Titans Tower?" She didn't wait for a response. "I mean, obviously I have to go back eventually- I've stayed far beyond the one night I was supposed to spend here anyway. Besides," Raven smiled to herself, "I'm kind of missing the others, in a way."

Damian raised an eyebrow, "Even Logan?"

She laughed, "Yes, even him. And Kori. Especially Kori. And her terrible cooking whose meals I can never pronounce."

Damian perched on the end of her bed, joining in, "And her hair ending up literally everywhere- explain to me how I found strands of hair in my salad, in my tea, in an old broom cupboard, behind the microwave. She sheds more than Titus!"

"You can say that again! I remember a time I was attempting an energy draining charm once involving a candle. Very delicate magic that requires a sterile environment. I checked, checked, and double-checked everything. I tried the spell- Bam! The candle blew up in my face. One of her hairs had drifted from the top of my wardrobe and down in to the flame. How?! What was it doing up there?!"

A rare noise, Damian laughed: surprisingly high and delightfully youthful. "I'm chalking it up to alien properties. Speaking of which, I almost miss being nearly fried alive by Jaime's alien appendage. Emphasis on the 'almost'."

"The Scarab does have a nasty temper when it comes to you. Perhaps it can sense asshole energy." Raven sat next to him, nudging his arm.

"Ha ha. On a more serious note, it is odd, the disparity- between life here and life with the Titans I mean. Equally as chaotic, no doubt, but in different ways. More... adventure (perhaps that is the right way to put it) more variables what with aliens and magicians and metahumans and warriors living in the same building." He looked around the room as though he could see through the walls and around the Manor, "Here it feels more... more human. Dinner confrontations and hair-dye pranks."

Raven sobered and reached a hand out to Damian, clasping his calloused fingers in a gesture of comfort, "Do you think we should go back soon?"

He wrapped his fingers gingerly around hers in return, "Undoubtedly yes. But- I think- after the cult has been dealt with would be wise. For undivided interests and attention; and to save transportations costs."

"Transportation costs?" She questioned. "I can manifest portals to any feasible location."

He shook his head, "I'm referring to the energy cost of summoning portals- for you."

Snorting, Raven rested her head on his shoulder, "You worry yourself far too much- even if most the time you don't voice it."

He leant in to her side, "Perhaps you're right. It wouldn't be a first."

A.N:

I'm a few hours late! Sorry my darlings! I need to get more consistent with timing •~•. Please don't worry about the time now though, it's the summer holidays: time is a social construct now. Lateness is no longer a term I recognise.

There'll be a lot more going on in the following chapters my darlings! Stay tuned!!!

Thank you <3

-Bats