it's frickin bats

someone once gave damian a coloring book as a gift and he was Offended.

It was Stephanie.

She actually meant well, because she remembers waiting for her mom to get off work and coloring at the hospital administration desk. Sometimes the nurses would come by and, if they had time, would sit her on their lap and color a page.

“It’s premade,” Damian argues, shifting on the couch. Alfred insisted on a sweater shopping and somehow Damian ended up with a sweater size too big, because he’ll “grow into it.” He irritably brushes back his sleeves. “I already draw.”

“It’s for experimentation with form and color, god,” Stephanie huffs. She flops down on the couch. “Scoot over.”

“No.”

She squishes him into the corner of the couch with her feet.

“Brown!”

“Take the heat, little man.”

Later on, Cass tiptoes in. Steph has fallen asleep and Damian is fiddling with his phone. Her eyes catch the coloring book.“Ah,” she murmurs. “She tell you about today?”

Damian looks up, brow furrowed. “No.”

Cass picks up the coloring book and rifles through it, bangs lifting softly with every page turn. “Anniversary.”

“Of what?”

“Torture.”

Damian stops. Peers up at his sister. She’s still flipping the pages. She eventually closes it with a quiet sigh, sitting down on the floor by the couch.

Cassandra then smiles up at him, knowing what he wants. “Good idea.”

“It’s not my idea.”

“No, but you’ll help.”

Damian doesn’t argue.

They lie on the floor, bellies to the carpet, coloring. Cass insists on adding glitter to her colorings and Damian huffs, but doesn’t mind too much.

They put up their pieces around the room, hook up some fairy lights, and sit in the middle of the floor. They’re back to back, leaning against each other. Cass tilts her head back on Damian’s. He’s stiff, but eventually he relaxes against her shoulder.

It’s silent, save for Stephanie’s sleeping breaths.

Cass sighs happily, stretching her legs out. “Pretty.”

Damian looks up and around at the drawings tacked to the wall, surrounded by pale-glowing fairy lights. He glances at Stephanie, sleeping on the couch, hair splayed like a crooked halo. He sneaks a peek up at his sister. Her dark eyes reflect the lights, small smile on her face.

“Yeah,” he agrees after a moment. “Pretty.”