I was vibrating with pent-up energy as I parked my motorcycle in the garage and jogged up the steps into the main house, my gym bag slung lazily over my shoulder. After taking that bullet to the leg two weeks prior, I had been unable to do any real physical activity, and I was itching to flex my muscles again. Sure I could've used my own workout equipment, but Bruce's gym was bigger than my entire apartment, and I needed a real workout.

"Hey Alf! Headed to the gym! Catch ya later!" I shouted as I rushed past the unsurprised butler/medic/chauffeur/father/grandfather/chef/maid/only man who can intimidate Batman.

"Master Richard, I must inform you that the gym is occupied," Alfred responded, merely raising an eyebrow as I back-flipped down the hall, my gym bag repeatedly smacking my side.

"That's alright Alfie, I'm sure Brucie won't mind sharing." Before Alfred could respond, I was turning down the corridor that led to the training room, switching smoothly into cartwheels for the rest of the journey. I stopped in front of the door to catch my breath before entering the room, my casual stride faltering at the snarling face that snapped up to glare at the door. I vaguely remembered Bruce mentioning something about hypothetically having a son when we were kicking ass at Gotham Harbor about a month before, but seeing the spitting image of my surrogate father in pre-teen form was something I was completely unprepared for.

"Go away, I'm busy," the boy snapped, catching his balance on the parallel bars just in time.

"Nice to meet you too, Miss Congeniality," I replied easily, setting my gym bag on the floor and taking out the roll of tape to begin wrapping my wrists and ankles. With a growl, the boy jumped down onto the mat, stumbling slightly as he landed.

"Who are you?" The boy was in my face- not a very difficult task since I was already bent over stretching- and his eyes shot daggers, bringing back memories of Friday nights spent grounded polishing the giant penny in the cave.

"Hmm, now there's an interesting question. Y'see I've been a lot of people. I actually found myself making a list the other nig-"

"Name," the boy gritted out, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"Well why didn't you just say that in the first place?" I asked in mock-exasperation. "Dick Grayson, at your service." I bowed with a flourish and a wide grin. The boy's eyes widened and he took a step back, staring up at me as I straightened to my full height.

"The Dick Grayson? The first Robin Dick Grayson? Nightwing Dick Grayson?" I smirked and nodded, watching as the boy shook himself off and regained his previous anger.

"Well, I am Damian Wayne and you are interrupting my training time." Damian huffed and returned to the parallel bars, swinging himself up easily and balancing on top of them.

"Training time, huh?" I leaned against the wall and folded my arms, watching as the boy attempted a flip, faltering on the landing and almost falling off. Smirking, I approached Damian, flashing back to my own early attempts at acrobatics with my father at my side, ready to catch me or encourage me.

"Here, you're off balance because you didn't take the time to find your center before you flipped." I reached out to help straighten the boy when my hand was smacked away.

"I do not need your help, Grayson," Damian snarled, pulling himself up to his full 5 ft height. I raised an eyebrow. Ignoring his unwanted companion, Damian stretched out his arms, bent his knees, and prepared to flip. Before he got very far into the air, I leaped across the bars, tucking the boy into my side and rolling across the mat. When Damian realized what had happened, he wrenched himself from my arms and aimed a kick at my face.

I easily dodged it, standing and brushing off my pants before asking lightly, "Now is that any way to treat someone who just saved you from a sprained ankle?"

"I was doing just fine without you. I do not need your help, and I most definitely do not need you to save me," Damian snapped. I shrugged off the comment and hopped up onto the parallel bars. I held out my arms, bent my knees, and then flung myself into the air, as natural as breathing. Flipping twice, I landed on my hands and walked the length of the bars in that manner. When I reached the end, I shoved off and flipped three more times before landing lightly on my feet.

Damian's face took on a carefully neutral expression as he watched the performance. "Father has never done anything like that," he said slowly, fighting to not let any awe show on his face and just barely failing.

I thought carefully. What did I know about this boy? He was prideful, that was obvious. He already had some measure of skill. He seemed to idolize Bruce. I switched tactics.

"Yeah well Bruce is heavy into martial arts, but he never did master gymnastics. He gets by." I approached Damian again, making sure not to reach out this time. "Now, I know you don't need my help, but I would like the honor of passing on my knowledge to someone as talented as Batman, who actually has a chance of mastering it." Something just short of a smile passed over Damian's lips, and he nodded.

"Very well, I suppose it could not hurt." I fought another grin as the boy swung himself back onto the bars, waiting for me.

Three hours later found the two of us sprawled out on the mat, Damian breathing heavily and myself panting lightly. We had gone from the parallel bars, to the rings, to the balance beam, and finally to sparring. I grabbed my water bottle and splashed some on my face before taking a deep draught.

"I do not understand," Damian said suddenly, his breathing finally slowed enough to allow speech.

"Understand what?" I sat up and leaned back on my hands, looking at the young black-haired boy beside me.

"I do not understand how you manage to be a bad-ass ninja that everyone fears without killing." I quirked an eyebrow.

"Bad-ass ninja?"

"That is what I said." Damian sat up and stared me in the eye. I shrugged.

"It's simple really. There are things that people fear more than death. And of course, it helps that people think we're mentally unstable and can go full on homicidal at the drop of a hat." I chuckled and stood up, holding out a hand to Damian. The boy glared at it and stood on his own.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I could really go for some of Alfred's cookies right now." I smirked and started for the kitchen, Damian falling into step beside me.

"Pennyworth's cookies are delicious, but Father only allows me two a day, and I have already had my allowed amount this afternoon," Damian stated, his disappointment hidden well beneath an air of indifference. I couldn't stop the snort that broke through my self control. Damian glowered at me.

"You're not serious!" I laughed. "Bruce had the same bullshit rule when I was growing up, and cookies mysteriously vanished every night. I swear Alfred had Bruce believing that the bats were snatching them while we slept for almost a whole ten minutes one morning." Damian glanced at me in disbelief.

"Father is not stupid enough to fall for such a story," he sniffed, entering the kitchen and filling a glass with water from the tap.

"He hadn't had his coffee yet," I replied simply. He nodded slowly in understanding. "So Lil' D, what grade ya in?"

"Father is homeschooling me. He believes that I am unprepared for social interaction with my age group at the moment." Damian sipped at his water, staring at me intently over the rim of his glass.

"Wonder where he'd get an idea like that," I muttered. I stretched up, reaching around in the back of the top cabinet before my fingers finally found the object of my quest. "Ha!" I shouted in triumph, pulling down the old Folgers coffee container. Damian stared at me with unshielded curiosity.

"The one place Alfred thought I would never look." I smirked at him as I popped open the lid, tipping the plastic jar to show him the sugary contents within. His eyebrows rose as he took another sip of water.

"I must admit, Pennyworth is smarter than I have given him credit for," he murmured.

"I know, right! It took me a year of recon missions to find this!" I plucked a chocolate chip cookie from the bottom of the coffee tin and popped it in my mouth before holding the tin out to my new brother. He hesitated. "C'mon Lil' D, live life on the edge. It's a friggin cookie. He won't kill you."

Determination flashed across his face as he swiped a cookie, biting into it and chewing forcefully. I laughed. "There, now doesn't it taste even better knowing you're not supposed to have it?" He didn't answer, but a smile ghosted along his lips as he sucked his fingers.

"You are not what I expected, Grayson."

"Oh really?" I leaned against the fridge, still clutching our treasure. "What were you expecting?"

"I expected you to be more like Father. I was unprepared for your childlike disposition." I was shocked at his words, stopping mid-bite to look down at his serious expression.

"Look Lil' D, Bruce is a great man n' all, but the world already has a Batman. I learned early on that it doesn't need another one. Gotham is dark enough without me casting more shadows on it. " Damian nodded thoughtfully, and it seemed he was about to speak before our heads snapped to the door, the sound of footsteps echoing in the hall cutting off any words he had been about to say.

"Oh shit!" I whispered reflexively, shoving the coffee tin into Damian's hands and sitting quickly at the table. Damian's eyes widened in shock before he glared at me, during which time Alfred entered the kitchen.

"Hey Alfie!" I chirped, grinning broadly at the stoic butler. Alfred glanced at me, sitting casually with legs crossed and elbows on the table, before he returned his gaze to the glowering child standing in front of the sink, holding an almost empty cookie container.

"The bats again, Master Richard?" Alfred asked, amusement tinting his voice as he retrieved the tin and returned it to its shelf.

"Why Alfred, whatever do you mean? Lil' D was simply fixing us a pot of coffee," I exclaimed innocently. Damian folded himself into the seat in front of me, staring fixedly at his hands.

"Perhaps Master Damian would care for a cup of coffee before bed tonight." Damian's head snapped up to stare at the gray-haired man, who simply filled two glasses with milk and sat them on the table.

"I would like that, but Father..." he trailed off, fingers wrapping around the milk glass in thought.

"Master Bruce has many good intentions yet misguided preconceptions when it comes to coffee, among other things." Damian let a small smile slip, along with a soft 'thank you'.

"Hey Alf, where is Brucie anyway?" I asked, taking a swig of milk and wiping the resultant mustache from my lips.

"I believe Master Bruce is currently at the Watchtower. Master Clark requested his presence several hours ago, and I have yet to hear from him." I grunted acknowledgment and thanked Alfred before standing to leave, already planning my own trip to the Watchtower.

"Grayson." I turned back to look at my little brother, who was doodling on the condensation on his glass. "Perhaps you can pass on more of your knowledge tomorrow." I smiled and walked to his side.

"I'd like that, Lil' D." Before he could object, I wrapped my arms around him and hoisted him into the air, swinging him in a large circle. He squealed indignantly, though he'd later deny it, and I grinned as I sat him back down. "See ya tomorrow, lil bro!" I shouted over my shoulder, already halfway down the hall.