A/N: Just for reference, this isn't really set in a specific universe. I think it's like an amalgamation of pre-reboot and new52 because Dick is def still Batman, but on the other hand, Titus exists? Take it as you will.

Todd is covered in black and red and shining metal, always. On the rare occasions that he removes his mask, the soggy, exposed core of him makes Damian cringe. There is nothing inside of Damian so audaciously soft and pink skinned as what's inside of Todd, he is sure of it. At least Grayson is honest about his bleeding heart. Todd protects his behind sheaves of iron and silver. It's deceitful and crude and nothing has ever proven Damian more right about anything than the single time Todd ever joined him and Grayson on patrol.

That night had been a calamity. Todd spent the entire patrol goofing off and making inane jokes and puns. What was even worse, Grayson loved every minute of it. He seemed not to care in the slightest that they weren't doing any actual patrolling.

Damian had been hoping for an encounter with Two-Face or the Riddler; a run in with one of Gotham's plebian cults at least, but they hadn't even managed to stop a mugging. There had been one call about a gas station robbery on Todd's ridiculous police scanner, but he had distracted Grayson so many times on the way there with his embarrassing banter that when they actually arrived, the police had already apprehended and left with the criminal. Damian had half a mind to simply leave the pair on their own and patrol another part of the city by himself, but the thought of abandoning Grayson while he was neck deep in some sick form of brotherly Stockholm syndrome made Damian ill at ease.

While it was deeply taxing on Damian's patience and sense of dignity to parade around the city with these two buffoons – more than anything he was angry with Grayson for inviting Todd along in the first place without even consulting him first – Damian kept his irritation at bay, and when Todd turned around with a cheeky grin and made some sort of joke that Grayson seemed to immediately understand, despite the fact that it made absolutely no logical sense, he swallowed the urge to push Todd off the side of a building and instead said something like, "pull your head out of your ass and get moving, Hood," or "There's enough trash in this city already without you littering it with your pedestrian one liners, Hood," to which Grayson would respond, "Robin, no cussing in the field." Or "Robin-" a poorly disguised snicker "-play nice."

When patrol in all of its nightmarish surrealism was finally over, Grayson and Todd parted ways in the bunker with a hideous show of affection. Damian averted his eyes from the hug and glanced back only once when Grayson squeaked because Todd had lifted him into the air. Shortly after, Grayson went off to the showers and Damian took it upon himself to remain, if only so that he could make sure Todd wasn't left unattended to wreak havoc upon the bunker.

"Hey, Kid."

Damian ignored the comment, hoping Todd would take a hint and leave while he saw to inspecting the chain of his R-Cycle.

"Kid,"

He rolled the rear wheel, pulling the chain in various places to check for stiffness.

"Hey,"

There was a small section that seemed to lack the pliability of the rest of the chain and so Damian began to loosen the rear axel slightly. He was caught up enough in ignoring Todd and working on his bike that he embarrassingly did not hear Todd sneak up on him, and thusly did not anticipate being kicked in the hip by Todd's steel toed boot.

It was a weak kick, probably meant to spare Damian from a more painful blow. Todd's spongy core reveals itself at last, Damian thought. He rolled back into a crouched stance and fixed the looming figure above him with a glare.

"Would you relax?" Todd crossed his arms and leaned against Damian's bike. "I'm not going to fight you. Look I just noticed you seemed kind of upset tonight. Dickiebird's not getting on your nerves is he?" This question was followed by a wry smile and a quirked brow.

Damian put his fists down and fixed Todd with a stare that he hoped succeeded in communicating his unbridled disbelief and accompanied hatred. I must not have worked because Todd's smile only widened and he knelt down in front of Damian.

"Okay, point taken. But listen, if he's ever too much for you, just give him a kiss on the nose."

"What" It took a great amount of physical effort for Damian to keep himself from reeling backwards.

Todd held up his hands. "I know-I know, sounds crazy, but you've got to remember. Dick is from the circus. He grew up with a whole different set of cultural customs from the rest of us."

"Am I actually expected to believe this?" Damian said.

"Hey, believe it or don't. I'm just saying; a kiss on the nose is a gesture of extreme offense to circus folk. I've known the guy a lot longer than you, trust me. It always used to work for me when I needed a break from him." Todd winked after this and Damian was just barely too slow to avoid having his hair ruffled before Todd sprinted back to his own motorcycle. He made a hand gesture that Damian was sure had to be a gang sign before revving his engine and roaring off through the bunker's tunnel exit.

[][][]

It wasn't as though Damian couldn't stop thinking about Todd's advice. It was just that the memory kept making itself known at inopportune times. For instance, when Grayson stole his sketchbook and refused to give it back until he had looked through every page. Periodically, he would show a page to Damian and ask, "Is that you, Dami?" To which Damian would reply, "No, Grayson. That's a bird," or sometimes, just to fish for reactions, "No, Grayson, that's you, being disemboweled." Grayson would then look thoughtfully back at the page, hum, and say, "Oh, I see it now!"

Not only was this an extreme invasion of privacy, but Grayson's complete inability to determine what Damian's drawings actually were caused Damian to, perhaps for the first time, question his own artistic abilities. At least until he reminded himself that on the one occasion he had shown his drawings to Pennyworth, the man had been able to tell what they were just fine.

The real line in the sand was not drawn, however, until Grayson began dropping obtuse hints that he wanted Damian to attend school. It started with Grayson mentioning how lonely the fridge looked without any report cards to pin up on it (he settled for pinning up some of Damian's drawings instead, stolen without permission from loose papers in Damian's sketchbook), and quickly escalated.

Damian could hardly speak without Grayson related his words to the merits of attending school. If he mentioned being bored, Grayson would tell him that a full school day and homework would be more than enough to keep him occupied. If Damian said anything about Pennyworth's cooking, Grayson would inform him that attending school would give him one whole meal every day to add variety to "Alfie's wholesome cooking".

God forbid Damian express the desire to learn in any capacity. The one time Grayson caught him reading a book in the library, he pounced on the chance to tell Damian that at school, Damian could get praise and recognition just for reading. If it hadn't been Grayson who had said it, Damian would have taken the words as patronization. Unfortunately, Grayson didn't have the capacity to patronize. He was just that sincere all the time.

Grayson was looming over the back of the chesterfield sofa, his grinning mouth irritatingly close to Damian's ear, when Damian snapped his book shut and whipped his head around. Grayson moved back, laughing lightly. "Whoa, hey sorry, did I make you lose your place?"

It seemed like the perfect time to act. If Damian was going to do it, it should be now, while Grayson was resting his elbows on the back of the couch and grinning, much too pleased with himself. He hadn't made Damian lose his place, but if he had, Grayson should have looked much more ashamed about it.

Damian swallowed his hesitation and fixed Grayson with a scathing glare. Then he leaned forward and caught Grayson's nose in a kiss. He made sure it was over with as quickly as possible and then stood, letting the book in his hands slam onto the end table next to the sofa with a loud thunk.

"I do not want to attend a junior high school nor do I require any form of further education and your ceaseless implications thatI do are both patronizing and insulting." After this declaration, Damian left Grayson in the library and sought refuge in his room.

[][][]

He stayed there for some time, working on a large drawing of Titus that he planned to go over later with charcoal. It wasn't until nearly dusk that he grew hungry enough to venture from his room and brave Grayson's reaction. Damian realized that there was no preferable outcome to this situation. He only wished he would have had the forethought to consider outcomes before he had kissed Grayson on the nose. Just thinking about it made Damian want to hit something. He settled for kicking his door open when he left the room, and then kicking it shut.

It was Grayson's voice coming from the kitchen that made Damian stop short of the hallway's corner. He crouched at the edge of the wall, hiding in the shadow cast by the hanging light fixture in the dining room.

"What does it mean, Alfie?" There was a trickle of concern in Grayson's voice, but mostly he sounded amused.

"I'm afraid I haven't the foggiest, Master Dick." Something inside of a sauce pan sizzled and the scent of chicken being sautéed punched Damian right in his stomach. He frowned and leaned into the wall.

"He looked so upset!"

"Then it is probably safe to assume he was upset." The chicken snapped and popped in its pan and Damian bit the inside of his cheek.

"But he kissed my nose!"

"Perhaps it holds a different cultural meaning where he comes from."

Hunger and rage broiled inside of Damian's gut and it took an amazing amount of self-restraint on his part to keep cool. He had been lied to. Bold faced. Todd had swindled him like some poor fool in a used car dealership. Damian didn't even have the capacity to fathom why, but he certainly had the capacity to plot Todd's imminent demise.

"Maybe… Maybe it's like a show of defiance or something, like biting a dog on its nose."

A moment of silence followed this and Damian heard the click of the stove being turned off. "It's certainly possible."

"I don't know, Alf…"

Pennyworth's light footsteps clacked across the short gap to the kitchen island. "Perhaps you can ask him during dinner."

Grayson sighed. "Right, I'll go get him."

There was only one way out of this situation and Damian glimpsed it like a small point of light at the end of a very long tunnel. He stood and turned the corner. Grayson was nearly at the hallway when Damian entered the dining room.

"Oh!" He said. "I was just coming to get you."

"There was no need. Pennyworth's mediocre cooking could fill a stadium with its stench."

Across the room Pennyworth smiled. "It's always a pleasure to receive such thoughtful critiques from you, master Damian. I would be a stagnant man without them."

Damian peered around Grayson's form to lock eyes with Pennyworth. "If that's the best quip you've got, Pennyworth, not even my criticism can help you."

"You are a wealth of kindness tonight, sir." Pennyworth bowed. "I am truly blessed."

Damian scoffed at him as he walked by and disappeared into the hallway.

"So what did that mean earlier?" Grayson asked.

"What did what mean?" Damian swallowed the rising embarrassment in the back of his throat and pushed past Grayson towards the plate waiting for him on the kitchen bar.

"You know," Grayson tapped his nose and pursed his lips into a kissy pout. Damian nearly tripped getting onto his stool.

"I should think that's obvious, Grayson. It's a gesture of high offense in the League."

"Hmm…" A thoughtful pause lapsed between them and Grayson said, "Is it?"

"I was raised there, I think I should know." Damian sent Grayson a glare worthy of his father and the hint was taken.

Grayson raised his hands, "Hey, hey, I believe you! Look," he lowered his arms and set one hand on Damian's shoulder. "I'm sorry I came off as patronizing, Damian. You know I don't ever mean to patronize you."

Damian scoffed at the raw sincerity of the comment and shrugged Grayson's hand off of his shoulder. He would not engage in this conversation. His pride was already a hairs breadth away from plummeting to its death. Instead, he decided to pretend it wasn't happening, and forked a sliver of chicken.

"I just think," Grayson followed Damian's lead and shoveled a mouthful of food onto his own fork. "Going to school would be good for you – for social purposes. You could use more friends your own age."

"I have Colin," Damian said. "If I had any desire for further friendship, I would be perfectly capable of seeking it out on my own. "

Grayson sighed in that way that he did when Damian had proven a point to him. "Maybe you're right."

"I am right."

The meal was finished in silence and Grayson bussed both of their plates once it was over. "Patrol's in an hour so get ready to gear up." He said and came back around the counter to ruffle Damian's hair. Normally that would have been the end of it, but at the last moment, he swooped in and kissed Damian right on his nose.

The flighty bastard leapt back just in time to avoid the Damian's fist and he even had the gall to laugh. "Don't worry about it, Little D. Jason gets the best of us. He pulled the same prank on Tim once, but with Kon."

Damian felt the sharp inhale of breath through his nose and the stretch of his eyelids as they widened to an impossible degree

Grayson laughed loudly. "I'll help you get him back next time, I promise."

It was hard for Damian to process a reaction so he just watched while Grayson waved at him, smiling, and pranced out the room.