More Reverse Batfam Trash

Damian's Little Brother

-Did someone order Damian & Tim brother content? No? OH WELL-

Ages:

Damian - 13

Tim - 9

Damian glared at his father as Bruce and Alfred held the door of the manor open. This was the final insult! All those years of Bruce Wayne not wanting a son, and now what?

"Come on, Tim, don't be shy. You're going to be living here."

A little boy shuffled over the threshold, into sight. He was pathetically short and a bit on skinny side, and was practically buried in his sweater. His huge eyes wandered around the foyer, a little glazed over. They landed on Damian, where he stood at the bottom of the stairs, hand gripping the banister.

"Hi." The kid gave a minuscule wave.

Damian scowled. He wanted to fly across the room and rip the child's head off. How could his father just do this? Ignore and resent him for years, just to foster a newer, different son to lavish his affections upon? 

Damian glowered into his father, he needed a better explanation than this.

Bruce seemed aware of the tensions in the room. "Tim, this is my son, Damian. Damian, This is Timothy. He'll be like your brother while you're living here."

"I don't have a brother." Damian turned on his heel and sprinted upstairs, repressing the urge to spit at the new kid's feet.

He slammed his bedroom door and locked it. He glared into his carpet, seething. He took two quick steps forwards and kicked his bedframe as hard as he could. That hurt. And that  made him angrier.

Damian grabbed everything within reach on his desk and slammed it off, onto the floor. He kicked his binder into the door, causing a deafening bang. In a fit of fury, he threw himself onto his bed.

He grit his teeth until his entire head hurt. He desperately tried not to break down, he didn't want his father's new son to drive him to actual tears. He didn't want to stoop that low.

After everything. After coming to Gotham, after becoming Robin, after all the trauma and humiliation of parental rejection, after laying in bed, pathetically hoping that his father would want him.

And Bruce Wayne just fosters another child. A son he actually wants.

Damian pressed his nails into his flesh, feeling a dampness form on the pillow case under his eyes. Even after years of trying to sever emotional ties, none of his barricades were strong enough to survive a blow like this. 

He wasn't sure how long he'd been lying there, but the next thing he knew, someone was trying to open his bedroom door. "Damian."

Damian dragged himself off his bed and to the door. He unlocked the door and opened it an inch. He glared up at his father, praying his lapse in apathy wasn't obvious. "Yes."

"What do you think you were playing at earlier?" Bruce ordered, his voice was raised already. "You scared Tim."

"Good." Damian slammed his bedroom door and locked it again.

"Alfred says dinner will be ready soon." His father shouted through the door.

He didn't reply. He wouldn't eat if that new boy would be there. He wouldn't leave his bedroom, if he could avoid it. Bruce could enjoy his new son. In a few hours, Damian was leaving. He wasn't exactly sure where his mother was at the moment, but he would find her. And after that, he'd never step foot in Wayne manor again.