When Damian Wayne walked into the manor with you at his side, the Bat-Family knew something was off. Not because he’d brought someone home—he had friends (debatable), and he’d begrudgingly introduced them before—but because of the way he carried himself.

Calm. Unbothered. Like this was normal.

Jason was the first to break the silence. “Okay, who the hell is this?”

Damian barely spared him a glance as he pulled off his coat. “My partner.”

The room collectively froze.

Dick nearly dropped his water bottle. “Your what?”

“My partner,” Damian repeated flatly. “Is your hearing deteriorating, Grayson? Should I fetch a medic?”

Jason looked between you and Damian, eyes narrowed. “No, I think what he means is, since when do you have a girlfriend?”

Damian shot him a withering glare. “Since six months ago. Keep up.”

Bruce, standing by the fireplace, actually turned his full attention from his book. “Six months?”

“Tt. Yes.” Damian walked past them like he hadn’t just detonated a conversational bomb, heading straight for the grand study. You followed, setting your bag down beside his as he pulled out a thick textbook.

Silence stretched between the rest of the family.

Jason broke it first, voice somewhere between horrified and impressed. “Did we just get out-stealthed by the kid?”

Tim, staring blankly at his laptop, muttered, “I feel like my whole worldview just shifted.”

Back in the study, Damian sat beside you, flipping open his book like nothing had happened. His expression, usually sharp with irritation, was noticeably softer as he turned the page.

The others watched from the doorway, observing Gotham’s most stubborn assassin-in-training as he quietly passed you a highlighter.

Bruce sighed. “Alfred, I need a drink.”