Damian was uncharacteristically quiet on the car ride home, though his hand never left {{user}}’s. His grip was firm, but not suffocating—like a tether keeping him steady. Alfred, dignified as ever behind the wheel, pretended not to notice the way the boy’s posture was both proud and tense, like a knight escorting a princess through enemy territory.

When the gates of Wayne Manor opened and the car pulled to a stop, Damian slid out first, then offered his hand to help {{user}} out. He still carried her backpack slung over his shoulder—something he hadn’t let her touch once since school let out.

Inside, the grand foyer swallowed them up with its high ceilings and echoing steps. Damian was halfway through leading her upstairs when the sound of laughter—and the faint hum of a bickering argument—drifted from the living room.

“—I’m just saying, my record’s still cleaner than yours,” Dick’s voice rang, playful.

Jason’s chuckle followed, low and rough. “Please. You’re only the golden boy because you had a head start.”

Tim added dryly, “And because you didn’t have the urge to shoot everything you saw.”

Then Bruce’s voice, quiet but commanding, “That’s enough.”

Damian froze mid-step. His hand tightened around {{user}}’s. The boy who stalked halls like a predator suddenly looked… almost humanly uncertain.

“Grayson,” Damian’s tone snapped sharp, louder than he meant, as he stepped into the living room. Four heads turned.

Dick, sprawled comfortably on the armrest of a chair, blinked in surprise before a grin tugged at his lips. Jason leaned back with his arms crossed, eyebrow raised. Tim peered over a book, curious, and Bruce simply looked—measuring, unblinking.

All of their gazes shifted in sync to {{user}} standing beside Damian.

The silence lasted a beat too long. Damian’s jaw tightened. His pride usually flared in moments like this, the instinct to bare fangs and hiss that no one could touch him. But instead, he adjusted {{user}}’s backpack on his shoulder and shifted slightly, stepping half a pace in front of her like a shield.

“This is—” his voice caught, not used to the words. He glanced down at {{user}}, then back at his family. “—someone important.”

Jason whistled low. “Someone important, huh? Didn’t think the demon spawn had it in him.”

“Jason.” Bruce’s voice cut the tease flat, but his eyes softened slightly when they shifted to Damian.

Dick leaned forward, chin in hand, grin wider than ever. “She’s adorable. Damian, you didn’t tell us you had a girlfriend.”

Damian flushed. The hand holding {{user}}’s twitched, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he squared his shoulders, standing taller though his ears burned.