“Chocolate,” Jason said, hollowly. Dick tossed him a donut. Damian reached out and snuck one out of the bag, half hidden behind Dick’s leg, watching them all like a small, prickly vulture would watch a dying animal.
Dick leaned over to survey Bruce, who was propped up on the gurney. “He looks like hell. He won’t want any of these, then, you can feed the last one to the dog.”
Damian reached back into the bag, and tucked a donut under his arm, beside the loudly protesting kitten. “It would be bad for Titus. I’ll have to eat it.”
“What on Earth are you doing?” Alfred said, twisting to peer at Damian.
Damian had pulled up a chair by Bruce’s side, and had plopped the half-hairless kitten on his lap, where it carefully sniffed its new, grumpier terrain. He steered the cat away from smacking the IV line. “What I want,” Damian responded.
i think damian is easily my favorite part of this entire fic