Chapter Text
Prompt: An adult Damian agrees to a karaoke night to appease Jason’s annual day to mourn Dick. They both know Dick would have loved to sing pop songs in five different languages just for the possible photo opportunities.
There aren’t many days each year that the Dark Knight chooses not to patrol.
Injury, overwork, forced vacation: these are some of the few exceptions. No one who ever wore the cowl ever figured out how to set healthy boundaries without being pushed to the edge of their tolerance over the whole thing. Though, this one particular Batman does have the presence of mind to reach out to his extended family for help every now and again when his set time off comes up.
“Go over the rules one more time for me, please,” Jason said to tonight’s understudy, Connor Kent.
Connor, letting the black cape flare out, ticks off on his fingers, “No obvious superpowers, keep to the set patrol schedule unless there’s some emergency, listen to Oracle and Agent A.”
“And,” Jason urged.
Connor groaned. “No PDA. Trust me, the last thing I need is for people to think my boyfriend is cheating on me with Batman.”
“Seriously. The last time someone stood in, all sorts of weird rumors about Batman sleeping with Batgirl started. It took an intervention to curb them.” Jason nodded gratefully. “Thanks again, Kon. D is never okay when March sixth rolls around and I’d rather he not be alone in his creepy mountain temple again this year.”
Connor grinned sardonically. “Isn’t he supposed to be in university now?” He waited for a chuckle Jason wouldn’t give him without more effort. “Go on. Kara, Tim and I got this. Oh, and remember to hide your camera better this time. We barely got ten seconds the last time because the little demon caught you out.”
“Got it,” Jason said.
Outside the Gotham City Opera House, Jason leaned into his Wayne training and put on a hell of a show as head of the family. There would always be naysayers asking about him displacing the ‘biological son’ or calling his position at Wayne Enterprises undeserved, but they tended to retreat when Damian actually deigned to appear in public to disabuse them of their foolishness.
“Is my presence required to disabuse these parasites of their foolishness every time, brother?”
Damian’s language could be overwhelming at times.
“Nah,” Jason drawled, pulling on his best Park Row accent as loudly as was polite to enrage the press. “I just like it when you visit, Dami.”
“You realize that I have obligations, correct?”
“Damian, I wouldn’t dream of stopping you from following your passions.” Public-speak for, “I know you’re busy balancing school and the League, but you and I both know you could use a few days a year to calm the hell down.”
Jason continued with, “How are classes going?”
Damian looked bothered at the necessity of doublespeak, but put up with it in favor of enjoying the Opera House’s gallery before they sat down for the show. “Perfectly well. I am, of course, leading my class in academics and at extracurricular activities. I am told that few have ever seen such an enthusiastic pursuit of excellence in student governance. While many of the so-called senators are fools with delusions of power, working within their structure without breaking it has been an enjoyable challenge.” All of that, of course, is true; but what Damian knew Jason would get out of it is an admission that his plate is full and that there aren’t any problems keeping up with it, thank you very much.
The performance of Der Freischütz was a chaotic feverdream of German opera and Gotham charm, and the twenty minutes the Waynes spent schmoozing after the performance was only just enough for the most well known patrons of the arts in the family to be noted but not missed when they ducked out.
Jason led Damian to his car, parked there the day before, and hightailed it downtown to one of Dick’s favorite bars.
“You’re kidding,” Damian said, aghast and only now figuring out why Jason insisted he change into something less formal in the back seat of his beat-up Toyota.
“I absolutely am not. Big Bird loved this place, and I fully expect you to endure it for at least an hour before I’m willing to let you back into the manor for Alfred’s food.”
“You insist on this… denigration of our family?”
“Dickie always wanted to sing. It was, like, a personal challenge of his just how many songs he could belt out and how many languages he could do it in before Bruce dragged him home.”
It didn’t take much more than bringing up Damian’s favorite brother, reminding him that both he and his father are gone for what was not the first time today, to get Damian to agree to enter the karaoke bar.
It didn’t take more than a promise to drag the whole family around to the local animal shelters throughout the next week to volunteer to get him on stage for one of Dick’s favorites: Holding Out for a Hero . He was pitch perfect and leaned into the performance like a true professional. Never let it be said Damian Wayne does any less than his best even when he’s not thrilled at being made to do some activity.
It didn’t take much more than two more pop songs, Thriller and Call Me , for Cass to make herself known hiding in the ceiling, Stephanie to appear in a hastily civilianized version of her Spoiler outfit at the bar, and for Harper to show up in line to sing a duet. He’s a sucker for family, as much as Bruce or Dick, even if he’ll never admit it.
At least the kid - and he really was an adult now, Jason realized - was enjoying himself for a little while. It’ll never be right, but at least they can all get on without Bruce and Dick holding the family together with glue and rubber bands.
It’ll have to be enough, Jason thought, trying to remember as much of his Japanese as he could to follow the current song better - sue him, he’s rusty.
Even the headlines the next day, complete with tabloid photos of Damian and Harper back to back singing 99 Luftballons , reading WAYNES AT IT AGAIN, were worth the hassle in Jason’s day job. C’est la vie.