#DamianLovesHisGrandpa2020

[red-jaebyrd]

The Gift

Damian had always wanted to have a cat, but he had never told anyone. So when Pennyworth presented him with one in the Cave it came as a bit of surprise. He wasn’t even sure Pennyworth liked him, though he tolerated Damian.  Every subordinate “tolerated” Damian, Pennyworth wasn’t any different. Soon Pennyworth would grow to dislike him. They all did, but Damian couldn’t be bothered to care. It was beneath him to entertain such feelings. What did he care if Pennyworth liked him or not?

It was astounding the amount of disrespect and rebellious behavior Father tolerated from Pennyworth. The butler constantly meddled in their business by monitoring their sleep, making sure they were fed before and after patrol; and even had the gull to bench them from patrol due to injuries. The insolence of it all was hardly anything Damian could tolerate from a servant.

Father said Pennyworth’s rules and restrictions were just his way of showing that he cared about them and their safety. Damian thought it was a way for Pennyworth to assert his power over the Waynes and one day take over. He thought his Father naïve for having such faith in a butler. Pennyworth may care about his father, but not him. None of the servants at his Grandfather’s compound ever cared about his wellbeing enough for Damian to trust them. Their care for him was conditional. They feared for their lives more than they cared about keeping him safe.

Damian wasn’t sure what to make of Pennyworth’s meddling actions. It wasn’t because Pennyworth cared about him, no it was to remain in his Father’s good graces.

But then Pennyworth had given him a cat. Damian had always wanted a cat, but Grandfather saw them as useless, disgusting creatures and never permitted him to keep one. One day Damian had found an abandon kitten and he had been allowed to care for it, but it was a test. Everything with the League was always a test. When approached by his Grandfather to kill the kitten, Damian refused seeing no purpose in an act so senseless.  Of course he was punished for refusing to end the animal’s life and since then he had been wary of caring for any animals; that was until he came to stay with his Father. Father had gotten him a dog and eventually let him keep the cow he rescued from a slaughterhouse.

He must not get attached to the cat, which shouldn’t be hard as it was currently hissing at Damian. The cat was a young tuxedo cat with a white marking across its whiskers like a mustache just like Pennyworth.

“He has potential. I’ll call him Alfred.”

It seemed like an unusual name to give to a cat, but it fit. The cat was bold for such a small creature and commanded respect, just like its namesake.

Damian watched with great interest the incredible care and patience Pennyworth had with a cat that seemed to hate him. He never attempted to pick up the cat, instead he’d kneel down and allow the cat to sniff his hand and only then would Pennyworth pet his head. He would always wait for the cat to come to him. At first the cat seemed to only be affectionate when it knew it was getting fed, but little by little he responded to both Pennyworth and Damian by curling up on their lap whenever either of them was seated.

It surprised Damian the effort Pennyworth took in helping him care for his cat. Pennyworth suggested they go to the pet store to get cat toys as cats ‘needed stimulation and enrichment’ and cat toys would help Alfred with human interaction and his trust issues.

A month had passed and the cat had stopped hissing…at Damian and Pennyworth. Pennyworth was the only other human Alfred the cat tolerated besides Damian. He was also the only person Damian trusted to help care for his cat.

The cat had been completely distrustful of everyone when it had first arrived, just like Damian. Perhaps that is what Pennyworth meant when he said, ‘I saw him and thought of you’? Damian still wasn’t sure of Pennyworth’s motives where the cat was concerned.

Pennyworth did prove himself to be a very trustful ally when caring for Alfred and if the cat trusted Pennyworth; that was good enough for Damian. Cats were instinctual creatures and their trust was hard earned.

There was still something that had been niggling at the back of Damian’s mind. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter to anyone else, but it mattered to him.

“Why did you get me a cat?” Damian asked, throwing the mouse toy at Alfred. The cat rolled on his side clawing it and kicked it back to Damian with his hind legs.

“I told you Master Damian. I saw him and thought of you.”

Damian furrowed his brow at Alfred. “Why were you thinking of me?”

“I’m always thinking of you, and your Father, and the boys,” Alfred smiled.

“Because it’s your job.”

“No, because you are all my family and I want to see you happy.”

“We’re your family?”

“Of course, my dear boy. This role that I have here at the Manor is more than just a job to me. Surely, you know that, Master Damian.”

Damian thought back to all the times that Pennyworth had taken care of him and yes, it was his job as the butler to take care of things in the household and by extension the people who lived in the house. But one thing Damian didn’t account for were the times Alfred took special care in remembering things that each of them liked, didn’t like, or couldn’t tolerate.

Pennyworth never once made Damian feel bad or force him to eat meat once he decided to be a vegetarian. Instead he altered recipes and respected Damian’s choice and helped him with his new chosen lifestyle.

Since the day Damian had arrived at Wayne Manor, Pennyworth had been patient with him, respected him and his space. There was no agenda, no act, no conditions.

Pennyworth cared for them all beyond just his role as the butler. His protectiveness for them was more like how a father cares for his children. Did that mean that Pennyworth thought of him, Grayson, Todd and Drake as his grandsons?  

“The cat was a gift from me to you, Master Damian. Because I felt he needed you and that you needed him.

Pennyworth came over to the floor and stroked Alfred’s head lightly.

“I always regretted not getting a pet for your father when he was young. He could have used the distraction and responsibility of caring for a pet to cope with his grief. I saw how well you responded to the task of caring for animals and I felt it was an attribute that should be nurtured. I made the executive decision to add another animal to your growing menagerie.”

“I am not grieving,” Damian retorted.

“Not in the same sense as your father did back then, but you have been through a rather difficult transition. You are adapting to a new lifestyle far removed from the way you had been previously reared. New expectations have also been set upon you now that you are here with your Father; that in itself is much to take in at such a young age.”

“You forget, Pennyworth. I am not a child.”

Pennyworth smiled. “You may have been raised to not think of yourself as a child, but don’t be so quick to grow up. Allow yourself some childhood trivialities. I’m sure there are many that you have yet to experience. Most importantly let others look after you, like me, your Father, and Master Dick.”

Damian nodded.

“Why do you care so much if I’m happy?” Damian asked, ashamed of the vulnerability in his voice.

He regretted the question immediately once the words left his mouth, but he couldn’t take it back. Alfred put his arm around Damian and squeezed him in a side hug.

“Grandads always care to make sure that their grandchildren are loved and happy,” Pennyworth answered, placing a kiss on Damian’s head.

Damian looked up at him. “You see me as a grandson?”

“Since the moment you walked through our doors, Master Damian.”

“But I was so awful to you.”

Alfred smiled and leaned his cheek onto Damian’s head. “I saw potential. Now what do you say to some cookies and hot chocolate?”

Damian laughed and followed Alfred toward the kitchen.  

[squintydrawafist]

He trusts his grampa enough to sleep on him For the DamianLovesHisGrandpaChallenge2020 Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26037418

[jinmukangwrites]

It's past the middle of the night, and a sick yet recovering Damian wakes from a nightmare. He treks from his room in a rare show of seeking comfort. However, Bruce is still out as Batman and there is no one else inside the manor tonight.

Alfred, of course, takes matters into his own hands.

For DamianLovesHisGrandpa2020 💗

[lulaypp]

For the Damian Loves His Grandpa Challenge 2020

[awkwardbluefish]

Sorcery

“Father does not know how to cook, does he Pennyworth?” Damian asks even though it was hardly a question. Last nights dinner surprise said everything about his fathers cooking abilities, or rather, the lack of those abilities.

Damian eyes trail after the moving figure that bustles in the kitchen. A hum leaves the mans throat as Damian attempts to sit on the stool behind the counter gracefully. His attempts fails with his pants catching on the seat, wobbling the stool. Luckily Pennyworth pays no attention as he straightens himself and Damian wonders if the man was doing it on purpose. Either way, his dignity of his height was saved for now.

“No offence to your father young Master Damian, but I’d hardly call his attempt in the kitchen cooking,” Pennyworth finally answers, reaching for a cup full of water left on the bench. He tips the water down the drain, shaking his head before placing it in the warm soapy water in the larger sink.

Damian hides a smirk behind a jumper sleeve as he leans on the palm of his hand, chewing the cloth in his mouth distractedly. His brows furrow and he quickly spits the wet cloth out his mouth, blaming Drake for the habit. Not only is the possibility high for him to receive his fathers cooking skills but he’s already picked up on Drakes disgusting one on sucking on his clothes. He was no infant and yet here he was, scowling and roughly shoving his arm in the hoodie further so his fingers don’t touch the damp cloth sleeve. Disgusting.

“What would you call it then Pennyworth?” Damian interrogates, praying the man didn’t see the action. Drake always got scolded and a slap around the ear and he didn’t wish to have either upon him. Pennyworth had a nasty swing and not only that but it would also be humiliating and degrading to be caught sucking on cloth like a red faced infant that wriggles like a horrendous worm.

After scraping a full plate of fathers lasagna into the bin, Alfred straighten up and drops it in the sink with a small grimace. “I would call it sorcery, young master.” Pennyworth inclines his head at the bubbling water that was slowly becoming green. “Magic maybe.”

An amused smirk twists onto his face. ”I wouldn’t go as far as sorcery but it was definitely inedible. Titus and Jerry eat everything, including grass and one-time Brown’s vomit. As they didn’t come near the table last night, or even sniff Todd’s fork under the table then it must be horrendous.” Damian reports, a swelling of pride in his chest as Pennyworth nods, agreeing with his statement.

“Very true.” Pennyworth murmurs, sliding on this washable gloves so bare skin wouldn’t have to touch what once was clear soapy water. A large bubble in the water shimmers and Damian is far too slow to cover his mouth as it bursts, filling the area with a putrid smell. “And this is why from now on Master Bruce is hereby banned from the kitchen. From any kitchen.”

Damian gags, nostrils flaring as he covers his mouth with his dampish sleeve. “An excellent decision Pennyworth.” Only when the green swirling smoke disperses from the air does he dare lower his sleeve. His nose scrunches as Pennyworth scrubs at the dishes harshly. “And I thought the dining area was bad.”

“The dining area is bad,” Pennyworth drawls, eyes squinting at the wall separating them from said room. “And it would be pristine if those siblings of yours didn’t decide to share their food with the floor.”

“That’s true,” Damian murmurs before a small, satisfied smile flickers onto his lips. “They should’ve done it some other way. Faked sick perhaps. Or even subtly place the food onto a napkin in their lap. Plenty of other way then throwing the food on the floor.”

He didn’t miss Pennyworths small smile, strands of his frail moustache twitching with the small action. “Agreed, young master Damian.”

Comfortable silence twists in the air between them as Damian watches Pennyworth scrub at the dishes his father had used last night. Slowly plates are stacked in the drying rack after being rinsed by running water. Damian eyes the water dripping from them, silently impressed that the dishes were even salvageable after that disaster.

“Pennyworth?” Damian calls, a frown tugging at his lips. Pennyworth hums as Damian unconsciously plays with the white strings attached to his hoodie. “Cooking skills aren’t inherited, are they?”

Pennyworth pauses at that, before chuckling as he pulls the plug. The water twirls down the drain, noisy in the stillness of the home. “No, my dear boy. Those skills are taught and learnt. They are not passed down by your parents or blood.”

Damian sags, relief flooding him as he folds his arms across the bench. “Then would you teach me Pennyworth? I do not wish to be as bad as father. Or Brown or Grayson for that matter.”

Pennyworth inclines his head, a warmer and a larger smile crossing his lips. “Of course my boy. But any sign of sorcery then you’re out.”

Damian couldn’t disagree with that. Especially not when the water going down the drain let out a groan mixed with a screech. “Deal!”

[baticorngirl]

“Stay away from Grandpa... I mean Pennyworth!”

(I know the “DamianLovesHisGrandpa2020″ challenge was yesterday, but here’s a late piece of fanart I made for it. I only heard about it yesterday, so I didn’t have enough time to get it finished before the date we were supposed to post the stuff.)

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

A Grandfather's Company

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2EjUHt6

by Lulaypp

Damian was a little disappointed when he was told that he was to spend some days at the manor with only Alfred for company. But it wasn't long before he warms up to the idea.

Words: 1935, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne

Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Damian Wayne

Additional Tags: DamianLovesHisGrandpa2020, fluff?, edited.... we still die like editorially mandated Damian's character development in canon, Summaries are killers and I hate writing them in the middle of the night, Dick makes a mini appearance through a phone call and Bruce is only there in the first two scenes, Beta-ed by a crowbar, And coffee

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2EjUHt6

[storm-leviosa-fanfics]

Summary:   Damian did not realise how much he'd missed Pennyworth until he came back. He slotted into their little family like the puzzle piece you do not know is missing. It was pleasant, having a grandfather he did not need to fear, and Pennyworth was all that and more.

Fills the bingo square “found family” so @batmanbingo2020. Written for the ‘Damian Loves His Grandpa 2020′ challenge.

Tea for Two

Damian hates coming home on Fridays. Grayson ‘works’ (plays with small children like the grown-up child he is) late and isn’t there when he gets home from school. They don’t go grocery shopping until Saturday, so there are never any snacks in the cupboards or the refrigerator - not that he needs any. All he has is a week’s worth of homework shoved in his bag and his sketchpad with half the pages falling out.

 He’d forgotten his pencils and paints in the hurry to leave and hadn’t bothered to find new ones yet. The sketchpad was full anyway.

 This Friday he’s in a slightly better mood. There’d been a dog on the subway and his owner let Damian stroke him. His US history teacher let them leave early so he didn’t have to suffer through more painful inaccuracies and blatant propaganda. So, Friday afternoon is going marginally better than most, though still not well enough to stop Damian hating it. He jiggles the doorknob until the lock slides free and tosses his keys into the bowl. The lights are all off, as usual, so at first he doesn’t notice that he’s not alone in the apartment. It takes seeing the dishes drying by the sink and smelling the familiar scent of Earl Grey tea to realise and when he does, he’s immediately on guard.

 Curse Grayson and his weapons ban.

 His backpack could be a weapon at a push. He could throw it and the weight could knock someone out. He had pencils inside and there were over a hundred ways he could kill an opponent with just one of them. Grayson’s voice in his head whispers don’t jump to conclusions but what other reason would someone be in their apartment without prior warning than to kill them?

 He can’t tell quite who it is. They have grey hair and a bald patch - elderly, but Damian knows that doesn’t mean they’re not a threat. They’re wearing black. They have their back to Damian and that means he can sneak up on them. His path will take him past the knife block. If he’s sneaky, and Damian is always sneaky, he might be able to grab one without the invader noticing.

 They notice. Damian is sneaky but not sneaky enough.

 Damian barely sees the face. He is already moving, already fighting. It doesn’t matter.

 The invader catches Damian mid-leap. They swing him around, hands around his waist, and set him down on the other side without hurting him and Damian is too keyed up on adrenaline to be shocked. He’s already moving again. They hold his wrist gently and say sternly “Master Damian, I know you know better than to treat a guest so rudely.”

 Damian stops.

 ...Pennyworth?

 The noises of the apartment that he hadn’t noticed before come back to him now his focus is not on the danger. Pennyworth has a cup of tea, made with the kettle Damian last saw back home in Gotham, and he left his sugar pot on the counter. There’s a bag on the table, packed full to bursting. There’s a noise from Damian’s room. It sounds like claws scratching at the door. He hears a whine. Damian blinks at Pennyworth slowly and turns to the door.

 “Titus?” he questions. A bark from behind the door.

 Any tension in the room is broken, like a rubber band snapping back. Damian races to his room, slings his bag onto the sofa, and scrambles at the door in his haste to open it. Titus bowls him over and he laughs, high and clear like he hasn’t laughed in months. He scratches the dog’s belly, ruffles his ears, tries not to squirm at the wet doggy kisses that cover his face as he smothers Titus in love. He had missed his dog more than he could ever have expressed.

 When he is finally let up, he takes a step into the room, Titus dogging his heels, and smiles as he sees Alfred the cat, sleeping on the window sill like the dignified, aristocratic beauty he is. Titus is good at bringing Damian out of his shell, making him play and laugh and run and jump. Alfred is good for calm, for serenity, for quiet moments where he needs to steady himself. Alfred the cat does not need cuddles to know he is loved.

 Damian returns to the kitchen and Pennyworth has made another cup of tea, Earl Grey even though it is not Damian’s favourite and he knows it. But Damian is not rude so he takes the cup, adds sugar - brown, of course - and takes a sip. It is as good as it is possible to be. Titus, realising there would be no play time, flops on the floor with a huff. Right on top of Damian’s feet. It is a strange way to take afternoon tea, standing around a kettle on a stove and not sitting at the table with saucers and plates of cakes or biscuits, but Pennyworth is here, Damian is here, and all is right with the world.

 “Did you tell Grayson you were coming?” It is, perhaps, a stupid question. Of course, Grayson knows. How else would Pennyworth have got in? But Damian wants confirmation, wants to know for sure that their new home is somewhat secure.

 “Yes,” Pennyworth says. “He thought you would like the surprise. Evidently he underestimated your reflexes.” Damian lets a small smile slip through at the praise. He doesn’t say anything though, just takes another sip of tea.

 “You brought Titus and Alfred.”

 “Yes. It has all been arranged with the landlord. Contrary to your beliefs, we adults are capable of organising things without you knowing.” It’s not a slight but it feels like it and Damian bristles. He does not, however, feel much like ruining their peace by rising to the bait. Pennyworth raises a bushy eyebrow when Damian stays silent, but does not mention it.

 Damian has homework. He has a million and one worksheets, and reading, and a lab report and a large amount has to be done by Monday. Pennyworth is here, though, and Damian doesn’t want to ruin it by leaving or shutting himself away.

 Grayson comes home and he is his normal obnoxiously cheerful self. His work agrees with him, Damian will admit. He smiles more than ever, has a bounce to his step that Damian has only ever seen feigned. It is pleasant, far more so than father’s absence or anger, but it takes some getting used to. Damian is still getting used to it.

 Pennyworth offers Grayson tea but he declines. Grayson has always been more partial to coffee, or hot apple cider, than tea despite Damian’s attempts at conversion. They move to the living room with its thrift store sofas and second hand coffee table. Everything in their apartment is secondhand. Grayson says it makes it feel more homely. Damian always tells him it makes it look run down. Sometimes he feels bad about it: Grayson clearly can’t afford better and he has been kind enough to take Damian in. It doesn’t change the fact that Damian was raised a prince of the world. Anything would be paltry in comparison.

 When it gets dark, Grayson gets up to turn on the light and comes back with the takeout menus. Damian knows this, has the routine down like clockwork now, and only gives a cursory glance before he tells Grayson he wants a primavera pizza. It is Pennyworth who wrinkles his nose as he peruses all the available options. Damian offers to share but is declined. Grayson offers to share and gets the same response. Finally, he decides upon a plain margarita pizza but does not seem happy about it. Damian has little sympathy. This is their home and their routine and while Pennyworth has always been a part of their team, he has not quite slotted himself into their little family yet.

 Pennyworth hates pizza. They know this. Pizza was contraband back home, for fear of facing Pennyworth’s wrath, but here in New York his British sensibilities take over and he submits himself to their pizza-eating ways. It is only polite. He picks his way through a slice or two and leaves the rest, as a display of displeasure. That’s fine. They’ll eat the leftovers for breakfast before grocery shopping.

 Pennyworth insists on shopping with them. At first, he picks up only the best ingredients but Grayson looks horrified and it’s because of the price, Damian knows, so he slips them back on the shelf and quietly picks up a cheaper alternative.

 That night, Pennyworth tries to take over the kitchen but it’s Damian’s night to cook and he is determined to see it through. He has a half-remembered recipe for ashak in his brain, and a mountain of leeks by the stove. It will either work, or fail catastrophically, but it is unlikely to poison them all so he’s willing to attempt it. Pennyworth is nosy and more of a pest than Titus who waits for dropped morsels by his feet. He keeps trying to give Damian instruction, to take the knife, or knead the dumpling dough, and Damian can do it himself; he doesn’t need help. It’s Pennyworth, though. He can’t just turn him away. Some of Damian’s best memories from Gotham involve Pennyworth and the kitchen. So Damian lets Pennyworth lurk, lets him try to help, and they muddle through Damian’s foggy memories together.

 The ashak do not taste as good as Damian remembers but they don’t taste bad. They taste better for having been made with family.

 Damian forgets about his homework until Sunday night, does the majority of it in a panic in the small hours of the morning and wakes up exhausted. Pennyworth is still there when he leaves and still there when he returns from school in the evening. He doesn’t want to ask when he’s leaving - it feels rude - but everyone leaves eventually and he’d rather know so he can prepare for it. It’s nice, having Pennyworth here with them. He does the dishes so they don’t pile up, makes sure there’s always food, remembers to pull the curtains so the light comes in during the day. It’s the little things that matter. Their life is already better now Pennyworth is back in it and it’s only been a matter of days.

 He doesn’t want him to leave.

 The realisation comes all at once. It feels like Pennyworth was never not here, was always living with them in New York. If Pennyworth left, even though he has Titus now, and Alfred the cat, something would be missing. He doesn’t know how to quite articulate it. When Damian pictures home now, when he thinks of his family, it is no longer mother and grandfather that he sees (it hasn’t been for a long time), it is no longer father and everything Gotham had, it is New York and Grayson and their apartment and Pennyworth.  

 He waits on tenterhooks until Friday where he simply cannot take it anymore and asks, over thai, if Pennyworth will be reporting back to father. Both Pennyworth and Grayson look at him utterly aghast.

 "Damian, Alfie's staying," Grayson tells him. Damian doesn't think he's ever been so relieved.

 So, Pennyworth slips into their routine, into their family, into their home and their life. The sofa gets replaced with a fold out bed until they can afford something bigger. Pennyworth stops both Damian and Grayson from working too much, or trying to slip out to check on the neighbourhood now they have left vigilantism behind. They stop Pennyworth from packing their cupboards full of food they cannot afford or throwing away "mess" that is actually Damian's homework when he has nothing else to do. There is a balance there, a harmony that wasn't there before. Grayson is much more relaxed with a 'proper adult' around to do the hard parts of parenting that he wasn't prepared for, and Damian is glad for someone who he can sit with in companionable silence (Grayson fidgets too much). They think Pennyworth is happier too. Certainly he doesn't appear miserable, but Damian is convinced they would not see it even if he was. He smiles when they come home, smiles when Grayson regales them with stories of kids being idiots, smiles when Damian shows him his most recent sketches, smiles when Alfred the cat rubs against his legs and purrs. And they are happy when Pennyworth is happy.

 Their apartment is full of smiles now. It is because of Pennyworth, he is sure.