Lost in the Void, Found in the Stars | Damian Wayne Oneshots

New Shirt | Batmen

Summary: While in a mall with everyone else, Damian mentions he needed a shirt.

.・。.・゜✭・»»——⍟——««.・✫・゜・。.

Damian’s day had already been soured during training earlier that morning, when a misstep—not his, obviously—had left his pristine black shirt with a stubborn, oily smudge. It was the kind of stain that mocked every attempt to wipe it away, stubbornly reminding him of imperfection.

Now, standing amidst the hustle bustle of Gotham's largest mall, Damian muttered to himself, “I need a new shirt.”

His intent was clear: slip into the nearest clothing store, replace the shirt, and be done with it. Simple. Efficient. Problem solved.

But he was barely done with the sentence before things took a turn. “Take mine,” Tim offered, already reaching to pull off his own shirt. “I layered it, anyways.”

Damian stared at him in mild horror, but before he could refuse, Dick chimed in. “Here, mine’s cleaner,” he said, casually unbuttoning his navy collared shirt. “Besides, it’ll look better on you.”

Jason, shrugging off his jacket, added, “Why not take my jacket, too? It’s got extra pockets. Trust me, you’ll look cool.”

Cool?

Cool?!

Damian’s glare could have cut glass, but Duke, having just caught up with the group, sized up the situation and added with a grin, “Or, you could take my shirt. It’s way newer than whatever those guys have on.”

And now, Damian was staring at four grown men, all essentially undressing in the middle of the mall just to offer him a shirt. He crossed his arms, unimpressed.

“This is absurd,” Damian deadpanned, his voice cutting through the chaos. “I do not require any of your pathetic attempts at generosity.”

Before Damian could make a clean escape, the universe seemed to conspire against him.

"What's going on here?"

Everyone turned to see Luke Fox, standing with an iced coffee in one hand and a shopping bag in the other. He raised an eyebrow at the gathering, clearly amused.

"Our boy needs a new shirt," Duke explained, gesturing to Damian. "And everyone's volunteering theirs."

Luke looked the group over, his lips twitching with barely suppressed laughter. “Right. Because the only solution to this problem is all of you stripping in public.”

“Exactly!” Jason replied without hesitation, tossing his jacket onto a nearby bench. “You get it.”

Luke opened his mouth to retort, but a deeper voice interrupted. “Is there a problem?”

This time, it was Jean-Paul Valley, clad in his usual understated attire, stepping out from a nearby bookstore. He looked Damian over, then the others, before reaching for the hem of his own shirt. "If it's a matter of necessity—"

"No!" Damian's voice was sharp, his patience finally snapping. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his composure. "I do not need anyone's shirt. I am perfectly capable of solving this problem on my own."

Jean-Paul paused, his hands hovering mid-motion. "Are you certain? It is no trouble."

By now, a small crowd had started to gather. Some had their phones out, snapping pictures of the group in various states of undress, and one exasperated teenager trying to hold it together.

“Guys, you’re making a scene,” Damian hissed, his voice low and furious.

Jason smirked. "Relax, Dami. It’s not every day we get to be this selfless."

"This isn’t selflessness," Damian shot back. "It’s idiocy."

Dick leaned casually against a nearby pillar, unbothered by the growing crowd. "You know, Damian, you could just say ‘thank you’ and take one of the shirts. Problem solved."

"I’d rather set myself on fire," Damian snapped.

"Very dramatic," Tim quipped, earning a glare.

Jason crossed his arms, clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, little man. If you’re so ‘capable,’ why don’t you just go buy a new shirt?”

“I was attempting to do precisely that,” Damian snapped, “until you morons decided to play dress-up in the middle of the mall!”

Luke, finally stepping in, chuckled and patted Damian on the shoulder. “Alright, alright. Everyone chill. Damian, I’ll spot you a shirt. Let’s just end this before it becomes a spectacle.”

Damian closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose as if summoning the patience of a saint. “Fine. One of you—” He jabbed a finger at Jason. “Give me your jacket.”

Jason grinned, tossing the leather jacket to Damian like he’d just won a prize. “Told you you’d look cool.”

As the group dissolved into laughter and good-natured teasing, Damian marched toward the nearest clothing store, determined to salvage what was left of his dignity. Behind him, Jason called out, “You’re welcome, Dami!”

And Damian, without turning, raised a single gloved hand in a gesture that needed no explanation.

Then just as he entered the store, a presence loomed behind him, and without needing to look, he knew exactly who it was.

Father.

“Do I even want to know what that was about?” Bruce sighed, his voice rumbling.

Damian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his shoulders sagging. “No,” he replied curtly.

They walked in silence for a moment, the noise of the mall now muffled behind them. Bruce’s footsteps slowed as they reached the clothing rack, and that's when he spoke again, almost as an afterthought.

“For what it’s worth, you do look good in navy.”

Damian groaned.

End