I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa Claus

Damian's Letter

Antonia Fields was exhausted.

It was only her second week as a teacher here, and, if that morning's lesson was any indication of how the rest of the year would go, then packing up and running for the hills seemed like an absolutely brilliant idea. Who knew a simple question about Christmas presents could lead utter chaos?!

'Damian Wayne,' her mind spat in contempt. Perhaps it was wrong to feel such anger towards a child — she was a teacher for crying out loud. She was supposed to love children. But god — god, that boy had come to this school with the sole purpose of torturing her. It didn't matter that he'd been here long before she'd arrived — somehow he had to have known she'd be coming, and he'd been waiting for her. Perhaps he'd used his father's billions to purchase some whacky fortune-telling device...in this age of aliens and superheroes, who knew what you could purchase on the market?

"Fields."

Oh sweet lord, the child was certainly out to devour her soul.

"Damian," she choked, her head swivelling to the doorway. Said terror stood there, his arms folded across his chest, and unimpressed look on his face as he scanned the room. On her first day, she'd requested he call her "Ms. Fields"; one demonic stare later, and she'd never brought it up again.

"Sweetie, you're supposed to be having lunch now," she said, trying to hide her unease.

"I'm not hungry," Damian grumbled, closing the door behind him, and walking into the room ('why, why, WHY?!'). "My mind is preoccupied with more pressing issues at the moment."

'What child TALKS like that?!'

"You see, the discussion about this 'Santa Claus' has troubled me greatly."

Antonia sighed. "Honey — "

"Please refrain from using such demeaning terms."

" — Santa's nice. He deliver's presents to...good little boys like you — "

Damian scowled. "I am not a little boy!" he spat. "I do not need any presents from him — I assure you, Fields, my father can give me whatever I want. There is one thing though..." Damian's eyes shone, and Antonia shuddered, as she remembered just what this 'one thing' was.

The boy moved to sit on one of the empty desks. Antonia inwardly cursed; she knew she should have gone to the staff lounge. At least then she could have thrown one of the other teachers to the demon in front of her, and hid in the bathroom until he left (okay, maybe that was a little extreme, but — but — god, this kid was creepy!).

"You see, Fields," Damian was saying, "I know nothing about this man. Asking my family is not an opinion — as you are qualified to lecture a class on the nature of Santa Claus, surely you can answer my questions."

'Lecture a class?' Antonia thought, incredulously. 'I asked them what they wanted Santa to give them for Christmas!'

"Honey, it's lunchtime," she said, forcing her tone to remain gentle. "You need to eat."

"Questions first, food later," Damian snapped, briskly. "I need to know how I can keep this man away from my home!"

"I — honey, why would you want to do that? You'd never — " She paused, her brow furrowing. Her mind went back to Damian's fucking creepy comment in class, about wishing his brother dead. Perhaps keeping his mind off Santa Claus wouldn't be such a bad idea — Arkham was already filled to the brim after all.