After receiving the call from Jackson and discussing the next steps with Raven -and playing a game of lips, tongues and hands- Damian found that he'd lost the motive to finish the picture he'd begun. Resolving that he'd conclude the portrait when his mind was settled, Damian left the confines of his personal space to venture downstairs and in to the kitchen.

Tea.

He was after tea. Tea cleared the mind. Tea helped the world come to reason.

Tea made everything better.

This lone goal guiding his actions, Damian's feet moved down stairs, through corridors and over thresholds until he stood before the kettle. The tap ran. The water boiled. The tea bag bled. Some lemon and brown sugar later, the tea was made and Damian was as near enough to happy as he could get.

Setting the China cup and saucer on the kitchen island, Damian perched himself on a stool leaning over the brew, inhaling the aromatic fragrances and exhaling tension. Eyelids closing, Damian savoured the sharp, fresh scent, breathing it in as if it was as refreshing as the crisp mountain air of the Alps.

A person, with tea, in a kitchen.

Sometimes life is that simple.

...and then Bruce entered.

"Damian.", his father greeted (it was more of an announcement).

As the man, suited in a typical black business tuxedo, poured a mug of Damian's tea (how criminal), the ex-assassin opened his eyes and breathed in -once more- frustration. Could he not take note that Damian had no interest in being bothered? Apparently not, for Bruce took the seat opposite him, the stolen tea contained in his little, annoying, stupid mug. Shit, Damian was in a bad mood.

Then again, it could have been the ocean of pissed-off-ness rolling off of Bruce. Likely so. His father's vexation managed to seep through his barriers of self-control, casting Damian in to a bitter mood to the extent that he didn't bother to answer Bruce's greeting-of-sorts.

Stealthily observing the businessman sipping his drink, Damian frowned at the bags under his eyes and the slackening of his posture. True, Bruce constantly showed some form of weariness, however, this fatigue reached beyond the usual.

In his usual manner, Damian speculated the cause for such an appearance: Jason's disappearance; the recent attack on the JLA; the lack of progress on the Joker case. Yet, something hinted that none of these were the primary factor in his father's mood- it was deeper than that, like a constant worrying thought that kept one up at night.

Yes. Damian nodded to himself. That was it. His father was in a troubled state. Bringing the china cup down from his lips, the teen's green eyes moved to his father's, searching for answers within them.

When Bruce looked up, he was greeted with the sight of his son staring at him like he was a puzzle that Damian was trying to solve. Neither broke eye contact as Damian continued to look for reasoning. Bruce knew more than to stop his son when Damian seemed invested in something: there was always a purpose behind Damian's actions, albeit often a twisted purpose, a purpose nonetheless.

Raven was in her room. Cassandra had disappeared on another solo mission. Kyle and Quinn had gone to gods knew where and Kori and Dick had taken the rest outside. They were alone. Just Damian and his father. Bruce and his son.

And Alfred Pennyworth was somewhere partaking in the actions of epic butler-grandpas.

Light from the uncovered windows shining down on the both of them, Damian addressed Bruce in a curt, contemplative voice, "Something is ailing you father."

Bruce found that despite the plaguing thoughts, Damian's comment brought a chuckle from his lips, clearing a smudge of the fog in his mind.

"Ailing me?", again, Bruce chuckled, "You certainly have a way with words Damian. I'm not ill."

A short sip of tea later, Damian replied, "Tt. I know you haven't any illnesses. But something is disquieting your mind. You are unsettled."

Resting his elbows on the counter (aware that Alfred would throw a fit of 'I raised you better than this Master Bruce' s) Bruce regarded his son with a pensive eye. Where had the irrational, fiery young boy guided by bloodlust gone? That temper hardly flared compared to before...where did the time go? How much did Bruce miss when Damian was with the Titans? Learning, growing, working, with them. Granted, Damian's tongue remained sharp as his katana, but his demeanour as a whole had shifted.

"Since when have you cared for the wellbeing of others?", Bruce asked, mostly in an attempt to ease the sober tone the conversation had begun to take.

Unimpressed, Damian said, "Don't divert the subject. What has unsettled you?"

The billionaire cupped his mug with both hands, leaning forwards as he shrugged, "Nothing is wrong.".

By this point, Damian's curious concern had evolved and his fist met the table, spilling drops of tea on the count we and causing ceramics to clatter. Red streaks joining the amber in his usually greenish eyes, Damian kept his father's eyes locked to his.

Juxtaposing his violent action, Damian asked deadly calm voice, "Why are you lying to me?"

"No, I'm not. I ju-"

"Yes. You are.", like an animal listening for its prey, Damian tilted his head, "Have I done something wrong? Is that the pro-"

Bruce stopped his Damian with a sharp, "No!", before adding in a quieter, puzzled voice, "Why would you think you're the problem?". He ran a hand down his face, leaving it to rest at his stubbly, strong jaw, "Damian...I don't understand you sometimes, I really don't."

Quick to jump on his point, the teen blurted, "So it is my fault."

Eyes widening, Bruce reassured that nothing was Damian's fault and amended that he hadn't been getting enough sleep out of worry for Jason, nothing more and nothing less. Reaching a palm out, Bruce set his hand on the space between them.

"Ease up a little.", he smiled, leaving his seat and taking the mug with him.

Left sitting alone at the island, with a half-empty cup of tea and a feeling that his father was lying to him, Damian sighed. Bruce hadn't had any longer conversations than that with Damian recently,perhaps it was on purpose. There was much for them to discuss: Bruce's relationship with Selena Kyle, Damian's preternatural self; the Titans.

Gods forbid the potential conversation if he found out about Damian and Raven. Speaking of which, his mind travelled to after the phone call with Jackson and the side of his mouth tilted upwards in a pleased smirk. The marks on her neck would have begun healing by now, a pity since he'd put such effort in to them.

Grinning, Damian drained the tea from his china cup.

***

By the time the rolling clouds had gone pink and purple, and the others had returned, Damian had added an extra few hours of training and completing A Tale of Two Cities to his list of daily accomplishments. Seeing, from the corner of his eyes, that his father's newest charity case (Quinn) was approaching the living room with Belladonna in hand, Damian made himself scarce, quitting the room in favour of obtaining solace.

Depositing his book in his room, Damian spent no time there, instead, he utilised the window, climbing out with hard-learned agility. Hardly bearing mind to the chill in the air, Damian crouched upon the roof, working his way upwards until there was no more he could climb and his fingers turned white with cold.

Casually resting his hands on his knees, Damian sat upon the slates, his hair blown out of his face by the wind, which caused him to squint. Droplets of water flicking his stinging face, Damian brushed the beads of rainwater off his nose with the back of his hand.

The little rain that fell dampened his clothes and threaded spheres of water through his hair, prompting Damian to drag a hand over his wet locks as he soaked in the glorious simplicity of the night sky.

Time to think, that was nice. And Damian was in a thinking mood, not so much a talking mood.

A cloud of fog left his mouth as a heavy sigh was released.

Quiet was nice.

"Hello Damian.", a voice disturbed his peace.

Fuck. No wonder Bruce and Kyle were in a relationship, they had so much in common...LIKE NOT KNOWIN WHEN SOMEONE WANTED TO BE LEFT THE FUCK ALONE!

Sending Selina an impassive glare, Damian tutted, clasping his hands around his knees. Not heeding the signals, Kyle sat besides him with about thirty centimetres between them- Damian wished it was thirty kilometres.

It's not that there was anything wrong with Kyle- oh wait, there was, she was dating his dad! At least it wasn't Poison Ivy that he was- oh wait, Damian had conveniently forgotten that BRUCE HAD A CHILD WITH THAT PLANT-HEATHEN!

Cool as a cucumber, Damian asked, "Is there something you want?"

Flipping her short black hair out of her face, Selina drew the jumper tighter around her, shivering as she did so. Cats didn't often like the rain, it was starting to spit and Damian felt that it would be chucking down soon. She was out of her element.

Water speckling her eyelashes, Selina turned to Bruce's son, smiling at the resemblances between them. Damian had that same, focused look on his face: a dent between his eyebrows, a sharp glint in his eyes. The boy had so many of his father's features but...harsher and thinner. Sharper and more defined cheekbones. A pointier chin. Finer eyebrows.
Selina grinned at the thought of the struggle this boy would have to go through when dealing with Earth's female population.

"Tt. Does something amuse you, Kyle?"

Her smile widened, "You're a lot like your dad. That's all. And my name is Selina, you don't need to call me by my surname."

A bitter tut came from Damian: he recognised the likeness in appearance to his father (and once relished in being told such) but somehow, it stung. 

"What's that for?", was Kyle's answer to Damian's less-than-satisfied 'tt'.

"Nothing to concern you."

"Yes it is."

"No it is not."

"Yes it is!", Selina nudged him. "Now, what's wrong between you and Bruce. Clearly you don't like being compared to him."

Wiping rain from his forehead like sweat after a training session, Damian resigned himself to honestly, accepting that Kyle wouldn't quit the subject and that there was no harm to be done through a little confession.

"It...I...", Damian shook his head, sending rainwater flying like a wet dog, "There are a number of reasons why father and I...aren't seeing eye to eye."

"Liiiiiike..."

"Tt. Patience. I'm explaining it.", he rolled his eyes. "It's matters such as morality and justice- what actions are suitable when dealing with criminals. The 'how far is too far' conversations."

Selina frowned at the sour, smug turn of his lips. Was he being satire or just straight up lying? There was no way that was Damian's problem with Bruce!- conversations about Justice? That would be plausible...two or three years ago when they actually spoke to one another. Bruce himself had confided that the distance between him as his son was greatly troubling him.

BINGO! That was it! The problem between them was that there was a problem between them. That lack of understanding and communication had resulted in a gap that they were failing to bridge.

After telling the boy her findings with less enthusiasm (and eagerly observing his reaction), Selina simmered in a pot of accomplishment. She was solving her boyfriend's issues and possibly getting closer to his son- who was still hostile towards her.

"That's absurd! Tt. Father is a consistently distant person! The idea that we have an predicament to do with distance is...", Damian's raging stopped as the wisdom of her words worked its way in to his mind, "...it's...quite likely..."

"See, results!"

Shifting his eyes to hers and resting his chin on his knees, Damian said, "Who sent you?", before she could answer, he added, "Don't say that no one did. That would be lying.", Damian lifted his chin and angled his face in her direction, eyebrows raised. "Was it Starfire?"

Taken aback, Selina spluttered, "Wh-what? Kori? No, no, not her. I came up because I wanted to talk to you."

One of Damian's eyebrows lifted above the other, "Oh, really?"

She readily nodded, "Of course! Look, I get it! I'm with your dad and you might not be used to it yet or like it or whatever but-"

"No."

That single word stopped her in her tracks. The darkness of night was illuminated by the red glow of two orbs in Damian's head, casting Selina in to a state of shock. Eyes glaring crimson rage, Damian all-but-growled at her.

"No. You don't get it. You are one of a hundred women father has gone through and chances are you aren't the last. Father and I had and always will have our problems. End of subject.", Damian stood, the sky crying icy tears. "I have no wish to continue this conversation now. Try again when I actually care."

With that scalding statement, Damian clambered down the roof, not once slipping despite the cloud-tears wetting the slates. After swinging through the window and deftly landing in his room, Damian shook the water from his hair with freezing hands, adjusting to the warm temperature inside. His head snapped upwards as a soft voice sounded and a demoness rose from an armchair.

"You're drenched.", Raven commented in greeting, to which Damian responded with a huff.

"Oh, do you think so?"

Moving closer so that they stood only a few centimetres apart, Raven brushed aside a lock of wet hair from Damian's eyes, saying, "Your eyes are bright red."

Holding her hand in place on his cheek, Damian sighed, "So are yours."

"And your emotions have been all over the place today,", she frowned.

"So have yours, I can feel it."

"Thirsty?"

"Very."

Raven twisted her hand, summoning a portal besides them.
Crimson eyes meeting Damian's of the same hue, she suggested, "How does hunting sound?"

Flashing his pearly white canines, Damian replied, "Satisfying."

Stepping through a purple abyss, the part-demons exited the room.

A.N:

You know what, my lovelies, I don't really have much to say. Just...happy new year and thank you! 😁

-Bats :3