So Sue Me.

Seeing as he's a bit of the baby of the family, how do you think the others would react to Damian going on his first proper date? He's perfectly capable as a fighter but... Romance?

Ohhh nelly. Long post. Here we go~

Well, first of all, Damian would not tell them. He’s a very private person, especially with people that he finds important (and if Damian is taking someone on a date, he truly likes them).

This does not mean that they do not find out. 

Dick is in the kitchen, nonchalantly eating a snack. Damian is drinking juice. 

“So, date tonight?”

Damian chokes. “W-what?”

Dick polishes off his snack, throwing the wrapper into the trash. “I know you’re mature, Dames. Don’t worry.”

Damian is–surprised, suspicious but…relieved. He shrugs a little. “Thanks.”

Dick reaches over and ruffles his hair. “’Course.” A beat. “So when an individual gets a hanky for some panky–”

“Get away from me.”

Tim just stops him in the hallway.

“Drake, you’re in my way.”

“Listen to me.”

“I don’t have time for this, I have to shower.”

“Gremlin, listen. I don’t know a lot about romance–”

“Incredible, I don’t believe it, you?”

Tim ignores him. “But I know some things about people. Do not fall asleep on a roller-coaster. Do not get mixed up between alter egos and real life and crime and end up in a compromising situation and suddenly half of your friends and family are dead.”

Damian blinks. “Drake–”

“And most important of all,” Tim levels his younger brother with a look. “Do NOT eat their food. That is all.”

He leaves the teenager shifting his weight in the hallway.

Cassandra, to Damian’s horror, has the most physical advice. She hands over a package of starbursts, and then says “dancing.”

“Huh?”

“Dancing. They’ll like it. Language of the soul.”

“Ah…okay.”

“Also.”

“Yeah?”

“Kisses. Start slow. Feather-like.”

“I don’t want to hear this.”

“Fine. But you will. I’ll be here.”

“Good-BYE.”

Cass smirks as she watches her baby brother scuttle away. 

Stephanie is…protective. 

“WHAT IS THIS?”

“Brown, get out.”

“Why are you dating? Intellect? Loneliness? Biology?”

“Sure, now go.”

She swipes at his wallet, opening it and ripping out the photo. “Is this them? This is them? Seriously?”

“Yes, now give it back!”

“Nice legs…but legs? Seriously? What sort of biological urge rules that?”

“Aesthetic.”

“BRUCE YOUR SON IS GROWING UP!”

“Shut up!”

“COME TAKE PICTURES!”

“NO FATHER DO NOT”

“HE’S BLUSHING~”

“BROWN I WILL END YOU”

Barbara gives him realistic advice.

“Relax. Bring mints. Use cologne, but not too much. Be sure to let them speak. Smile. And relax.”

Damian is a little surprised at her skillful work. “Uh…very well.” He steps past. Maybe this won’t be too bad–

“And get your hair cut, you look like Ringo Starr on steroids!”

Too good to last. 

Jason doesn’t say a word, just lets Damian complain.

“They’re crazy. Do you hear me, Todd? Crazy.”

“Mm.”

Damian kicks at a couple of tools littering the garage floor. “This is none of their business. Why do they pry into my business?”

“Welcome to family life, kid. Hand me that wrench.”

Damian hands it over. “It’s not as if I’m a ruffian,” he mutters. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Mm.”

“I mean, this is my date! I’m not incompetent!”

“Mm.”

“Todd.”

“Mm?”

“Do you…” Damian sighs heavily. Humiliation, thy sting is true. “Do you have any advice?”

Jason removes the bolts from his teeth, looking up from the car hood thoughtfully. After several long moments, he replies, “Don’t tell them your secret identity, even if they have pretty eyes.” With that, he returns to his work.

“…I see. That’s…rather logical, I suppose. Thank you.”

“Mm.”

Bruce just…looks at him across the room. Damian squirms a little. 

“Yeah?”

Bruce shakes his head.

“What? What is it?”

The father sighs deeply, rubbing his eyes.

“Father?”

He just reaches a broad warm hand across Damian’s neck and squeezes. Damian looks up in question. Bruce’s lips are thin, but thoughtful. He pats his youngest son’s head like he’s six and not sixteen. Damian releases the tension in his shoulders. 

And then Bruce yanks his chin up and intones. “Eleven o’clock.”

Damian tries to struggle out of his hold, but can’t. “Father, release me, this is strange, why do you always do this, I–fine. Eleven.”

Bruce nods, then lowers his brows. “PM,” he orders, as if banishing any future loophole nonsense. 

Damian rolls his eyes, sets his jaw, and nods. 

Bruce’s face smooths and releases his grip, brushing away his son’s clothes of wrinkles.

They share a small smile of assurance.

Alfred is the last to see him go. In a rare show of affection, he rubs his thumb over the teenager’s furrowed forehead. “Have a good night, sir,” he says warmly as he ushers him out.

Damian looks into the old man’s eyes and suddenly feels at peace. “You too, Pennyworth,” he whispers. 

He walks down the steps, Alfred’s gaze taking in the lanky figure while the sun sets.

He sighs, hand twitching for the door handle.

They grow up so fast.