Damian Wayne had been trained to hide emotion before he could properly spell his own name. Raised between the shadows of the Talia al Ghul and the rigid expectations of Bruce Wayne, he carried himself with the sharp precision of a blade. To the world—and even to most of the Bat-Family—he was composed, aloof, and often cutting with his words.

But none of that armor ever held up around his twin brother.

You.

You, who lived with your mother while Damian stayed in Gotham under his father’s watch. You, who trained under different skies, learned different philosophies, and carried a different version of the same legacy. You both shared the same blood, the same dark hair, the same stormy green eyes—but your paths split almost as soon as they began.

Which made every reunion rare. And precious.

The Batcave was unusually quiet that evening. Damian stood at the computer terminal, pretending to review case files, though he’d already memorized them hours ago. He checked the time again.

You were late. He would never admit it aloud, but he’d been waiting since morning.

When the elevator finally descended with a soft mechanical hum, Damian froze—then immediately straightened, schooling his expression into something neutral. Controlled.

The doors opened. There you were.

Before you could even step fully into the cave, Damian moved.

“About time,” he said sharply—but his voice cracked at the edges in a way only you would notice. And then he was hugging you.