Disclaimer: I own nothing, clearly but the amusment.

Dis has been flowting around my head for ages, and even when it was written I still wasn't happy with it - orginally, Terry seduces Damian (naturally with me) but I liked the Brother banter far too much to turn it into a slash, so it's hinted at instead. Maybe Damian's jealous, or maybe Damian is just Damian and enjoy violence as much as his other brothers. XD - Certainly, Terry is as impossiable to freakin' pin down as Diana is, *without* any training.

Damian takes on the challenge of testing Terry's escapest abilities. He suspects Terry's dislike of being tied down is Amazon in nature...except Terry enjoys taking any chance to turn the tables on his older brother.

Unpredictable

He knew this would be a mistake before he even agreed to the whole thing.

Bruce asked, well as much as his father ever could ask, him to teach Terry the amazing tricks of an escape artist. Why Bruce couldn't do it was an idea he choose not to explore and Damian wasn't entirely sure why he needed to teach the kid. As far as he was aware the kid had been born with a slippery inability to be caught and tied down for long without mysteriously disappearing between blinks.

He blamed Diana and Hippolyta, personally.

But the mistake...no, the mistake had been agreeing, because now he would have to go through the whole process of capturing Terry, if he was going to let the boy escape him. And the only way Terry could escape, of course, was if Damian let him.

He tapped the computer scene as he considered his options. If he blatantly told the boy, undoubtedly Terry would get offended and make the whole thing...harder. Because Damian didn't want to waste more time hunting Terry down to give him a realistic lesson any more than was strictly necessary. He could just skip asking and grab the boy, but that might not go down very well. With his lucky, Terry would sulk off and whine to Helena that Damian had jumped him, tied him up and then watched him wiggle his way out...

Because Damian kind of liked his internal organs where they were and, with Tallant Al Ghul as a bloody twin, he had no doubt where Helena Kyle-Wayne's little twisted-kinky mind would jump and that he'd end up having a serious talk with his sister. Well as long as she didn't tell Wonder Woman, because if the Amazon heard that kind of twisted story, she ended up having loud words with Bruce about who kind of people he was exposing their son too.

No. Best not even go near that road.

The sounds of the Batwing entering the cave made him look up, face blank as normal. He still hadn't come to a conclusion as to how to approach his brother. Turning the chair around, he leant back to watch as the teenage Dark Knight gracefully pulled himself from the hovercar. The boy twisted, stretching his aching muscles in an attempt to find some relieve, revealing just how much Damian's train was starting to...affect him.

Damian's face didn't flicker, but on the inside he was a little flustered. A part of him could not help but admire how striking attractive his brother was growing up to be. Not completely unsuspected given who his biological parents were ...and well honestly the Batsuit didn't really conceal much. If it were not for the fact his father had once wore the same style of suit, Damian himself would be seriously wondering what kind of person he was exposing his brother to in the form of their father.

Because skin tight leather like material might not leave much for the imagination but it damn well stimulated it pretty fine.

"Tired?" A small, trademark smirk touched his lips as he drawled mockingly. Terry's head snapped up, surprised and reasonable so. Damian didn't often frequent the Batcave, for obvious reasons, and there wasn't a training session arranged. Still the boy shouldn't let his guard down just because he was in familiar grounds – they had already covered that.

"Something wrong, Dami?" The kid asked innocently, stripping the mask from his face and causally running a hand through the mess of unruly hair. The kid could play naive, but Damian knew damn well that Terry knew how much he detested that nickname. You might have thought after the first twenty times Damian accidentlyonpurposebeat him up over it, the kid would get the message.

No wonder father had told him to give up on making the kid losing the smart ass comments, he was as persistent as his mother.

The smirk shifted into a sneer, "What makes you think there is something wrong, Batling." Terry's face flustered at the so beloved status. Damian could have kissed Stephanie the day she came up with the name for the newest/youngest Bat-students. Terry might have punched her, if it wasn't for the fact Terry had a long standing refusal to fight a Bat-female. Smart boy.

Terry raised an eyebrow as a mischievous smirk of his own wormed its way onto his face, "Because you avoid this place like demons do churches. Damian."

The older man stood up, bouncing on the balls of his feet with feline-like grace, with a very 'cat-got-the-canary' grin that he might have stolen straight off Helena's face. Terry felt himself go on guard instantly, wary as to whatever had his slightly homicidal brother so cheerful. It could not be good.

"Bruce wants me to revise escape methods with you." Damian grinned in a way that seemed to show off his non-existent fangs.

And suddenly, his baby brother was very very afraid for his immediate future. Especially since that future involved chains, blackness and being hung over a gaping chasm several feet underground at the mercy of a sadist.

"Shall we start now, brat?"

Terry moved so quick that, if it had been a cartoon, dust outlining his shape would have still been hovering after he vanished into the dimmer shadows of the cave. Damian practically bounced with a predator like hunger as his eyes flickered from twisting darkness to slivery light. His ears might as well have twitched as he listened, relying on what his ear could hear but what he's eyes failed to.

It didn't matter, he could hunt blind with uncanny ease and Terry, for all his vanishing skills, was still no match for Damian's animalistic hunting skills. This...might actually be fun, though Damian would rather cut off his own tongue that admits it.

"5!" His deeper voice rung of the walls of the cave, echoing and crashing around. Sub-conscious, his mentally mapping of Terry's movements flickered, slightly deferred by the noise. What was the fun of chasing Terry, if he was simply going to be playing a childish game of chase? Hide and Seek was always better.

"4!" the number, shouted, broke of his concentration – not that he fought to keep it – and the echoing roar took on a rather sinister tone as it lashed back. Damian noted how his voice distorted into a demonic sound.

"3!"

He took off silently, his body and feet making no noise as he crossed the room in the general direction of his disappearing would-be apprentice. His mind didn't pay attention to what his eyes and memories told him – stairs, lighting, cases, past misadventure and adventures – and focused not on what he couldn't see but on what he could still sense.

For such a place of solemn and solitude close your eyes, just breath and listen and suddenly the Batcave come alive with movement, noise and the pitter-patter of life. Bats rusted in their sleep, screeching and hissing in quiet but high pitch ways he'd long since adapted to forget and not notice. The waterfall, distant but noisy, the crash of waves making it harder to pin down noises.

The warm constant hum of the Clay behind him, like beacon of where home was. The background noise, persistent drip and splash of water drop closers, overhead and underfoot. It was all so quiet until he just listened and then it was all he could hear, picking apart each and every sound to find the one that didn't belong, the one of his –

Thud.

Damian moved.

Minuscule, most would miss it but he homed in on it in seconds, tearing off towards the source – the fact everything around him was black and indistinguishable didn't matter, he moved as if he was running down a well light street with his eyes wide open. His eyes were closed.

He opened them. Around the next corner, his outstretched figurers ghosting over the cave wall – cold, wet slimy beneath them – and missing Terry only by seconds as the teenage escapes, a light curse on his lips. Damian was after him in a heartbeat.

Damian, with Terry's exhaustion (and despite the Batsuit and the other's relative youth), had the overwhelming advantage in this hunt. He might be older, but mystics had ensured he was hardly touching his prime and where he lacked desperation and energetic enthusiastic to escape, he had skill and experience. Terry might hurtle around the stone obstacles just that little bit faster but Damian, well...

Damian knew a short cut and was old enough to bloody well use it.

"SLAG IT!" The younger swore as he slammed, unable to slow in time because he'd been both surprised and sprinting, into the older and much more solid chest of his pursuer. The force sent them both to the floor painfully but Damian quickly flipped them over and expertly held Terry down, unable to move and slip free – yet.

Terry snapped a few colourful Italian curses their sister had inadvertently taught him. The manic grin, terrify for all the wrong reasons, faded from the man's face.

"That's not even physically possible, although imaging Father attempting is disturbing at the least, and trust me, Batling, your mummy wasn't married either when you popped out, albeit from another woman's-"
"'Kay I get the point!" The teenager squinted in the dim, twisting again Damian's iron grip, "Get the hell off of me. You're heavy."

Damian laughed and it echoed ghoulishly, "Make me."

Terry snarled and jerked, "Ass, get off! Seriously!"

"Lesson one Brat, you can't out run me, you can't out fight me – I have the advantage of familiar territory and superior skills, what are you going to do?"

The teenager's tempted shimmered down and he glared sulkily up at his brother with familiar blue eyes, however he stilled and seemed to at least consider Damian's words. That was a break through since Damian was believed that Terry was convinced that the training Damian conjured up wasn't of any actual purpose beyond torture him (and Damian wasn't saying that that wasn't an additional bonus, since he did enjoy watching people squirm and rage). Terry never listened to a word Damian tried to drum through his skull, as if Damian didn't know what he was talking about. Damian shifted into a more comfortable position saddling Terry's stomach but his grip didn't loosen.

The teenage knight tilted his head to the side and stared, "I have no idea." And Damian wanted to hit something, whether because Terry was too bloody honest for his own good (again, Miss Ex-Goddess, bloody Diana's fault) or because he couldn't believe his father had become so sentimental and senile as too-

He was cut across his mental rant by warmth on his lips. A gentle pressure, a wet something and suddenly Damian's brain sparked. Terry was kissing him. His baby brother was kissing him! Damian froze, too horrified to move away or act. Then the soft warmth disappeared.

WHAM!

Stars exploded behind his eyes as Terry head butted him. Shocked already, his grip loosened for a second. It was long enough for Terry to rip his hand free and dive for the nerve cluster in Damian's neck. Too slow, Damian blocked it even as his ear's turned into bells and his nose and forehead throbbed painfully. A quick change and the sly teenager hit the nerve cluster in his arm instead, making his left arm useless. Damian barely had time to curse before Terry used that frankly infuriating ability of his (possible a divine one?) and slipped out of Damian's grasp before the older man could get a firm hold on him with his right arm.

The Arabian Prince of Darkness cursed furiously in several language, including but not exclusive to English, Hebrew, Arabic, Italian, French and German. He couldn't believe he'd underestimated the brat enough to let him – the sweating started again. He could still feel Terry's warm, cracked lips against his own, and a part of his was still freaking out over that. What in the name of God's had Terry – of all the stupid, childish tricks to play – Urrr!

Surprisingly, or perhaps not given the family he had, Terry hovered only a few feet away, far enough that should Damian lug he could attempt a getaway, close enough that his brother knew he was resigned to staying. Considering how Damian looked like he was about to have a heart attack (and really, Terry wished he'd not) probably over the kiss, Terry didn't want to be too close to him. If he ran this time, Damian was only going to get more pissed off and rougher. And Terry wasn't in the mood to try to either appease his prideful, egotistical teacher or get the living daylights beat out of him.

"Clearly, I don't need to revise anything," he said cheerfully, smirking at the banefully look returned. Terry was well aware that Damian considered him the thorn in his side and all too happy to live up to that expectation. Someone had to not be completely scared and intimidated by Damian, after all. Other than his masochistic friends that it. And Helena, but Helena scared Bruce so she didn't really count.

Rubbing his numb arm, and applying a small amount of pressure to reverse the worst of the poor nerve strike, Damian got back to his feet, a sneer deeply ingrained into his face. Terry rocked on his feet and for all his carefree expression, Damian caught the small increase in his eyes darting from side to side, thinking and plotting escape routes. Still angry, he took a small amount of pleasure in the growing alarm and uneasy in the younger man. Good, because he didn't want Terry to think acting like that wouldn't have consequence, never mind who he kissed. And it took all Damian's restaint not to scream at Terry for it.

The corner of his lip curved a little as if about to turn into a smirk. Terry's eyes narrowed.

"Come here." Damian tilted his head a fraction.

It was strange how a small request – command – can have such an impact on a person. For once, Damian wasn't sarcastic, mean or coldly indifference neither was he furiously brutal in his verbal assault. It was quiet, to the point and authoritative. Terry twitched, hovering like a small bird that knew better that to run away but felt tempted to flee all the same.

"No." The younger man sub-consciously leant back as he eyed his brother, alarmed at the sudden silence and composure Damian took. Damian wasn't quiet and he rarely saw the need to control his temper or sadist attitude, so when he did it was nothing short of terrifying.

And all joking aside, Terry wanted very much to be as far away from him as possible. Preferably with Bruce standing between Damian's cool stare and Terry.

Damian leant forward, "Come. Here."

His voice didn't waver and didn't become loud but the force behind it increased, like an owner commanding a particular childish dog to do as it's told. Terry slowly shook his head, stepping backwards. "Terry," He warned, darkly.

And that was what made living with the Waynes so difficult, Damian knew. It was the fact that, all joking, raging or sullenness forgotten, was how they could go from one startling extreme to another suddenly, leaving those around them with no idea what they are thinking or what they're going to do next. Terry bit his lip.

He took a step forwards and another, and another, and another until he was standing in front of Damian. The older man didn't smirk or sneer or even smile but stared stonily down at him, bland and impassive. Terry bit his lip again, looking for all the world like a scolded, kicked puppy with his blue eyes shining.

"Damian, I –"

WHAM.

Terry's head snapped back as Damian punched him straight in the jaw. There was enough force behind the throw to knock the teenager straight off his feet and into the ground. Terry's ears started to ring as his jaw explored in pain alongside the pain in the back of his skull. He licked his lips and tasted cooper.

"Owch, that hurt," Damian hissed massaging his fingers, ignoring the moan of pain from the ground. The kid deserved it, the nerve of him! To use a nerve strike against Damian, who was the one to bloody teach him it in the first place. And while silently Damian wanted to commend the creative use of expectation, the fact it had been used against him was more than enough to keep his mouth shut. He might tell Helena later though and let her gloat to Terry about the brilliance of it. But once tricked...

If Terry's ever tried than on someone else, God forbid a villain, he'd be very lucky if a punch to the face was the least he got away with – and that send chills down Damian's spine in a way that only upset him more. It wasn't as if, to be franky, the Bats didn't already have a problem with people trying to jump them, and occasionally succeeding.

"Oh stop whining, runt, or I'll give you a reason to cry." Damian snapped as Terry groaned again, covering his mouth with both hands. He swore he could see traces of tears in his brother's eyes. Now, that wouldn't do at all. But he could see, behind the overwhelming pain at the moment, the desire for revenge.

Maybe his friends were the only masochistic around because Damian couldn't wait to see what Terry's short temper brought. Amazonian rage always promised to be fun.

And... the violence begins.