We Fly

2. Twigs and Mud

-----Dick POV

Here we go. This is either going to end very badly or it could go fine. Maybe Damian could make a friend, maybe if he had someone his age to talk to ab-

Oh no. Damian please don't make any friends. I don't think I could survive another person who is as stubborn and cunning as you.

I shivered at the thought of a miny Damian running around Wayne manor with a sword in their hand, chasing me down the hall. Damian sliding through the shadows with Bruce smirking at me and his new friend, silently cheering for my death.

Then I bursted out laughing. What was I thinking?

I heard a cough and whirled around to see Damian looking at me with his brows raised. I looked into the rear view mirror and saw Bruce doing the same thing from the front seat, however his eyes elsewhere, still on the road ahead of us. I looked at Alfred, who was driving and he looked emotionless, maybe a hint of amusement, but that could be my imagination.

"You're just like Bruce." I said to Damian.

His eyes flickered to Bruce and I saw both of them yank their eyebrows down. This made me laugh and I heard a chuckle come from Alfred.

"You seem to be in a very happy mood this morning,  Master Richard." Alfred said, eyes not straying from the road.

"Maybe. Maybe not. How are you feeling Damian?" I said, feeling inclined to give him a brotherly elbow, but decided against it. I don't want to lose any fingers.

"I'm not particularly excited about spending my day with a bunch of snot nosed children." He said.

"Aww! That still means your a little excited!" I exclaimed, finally giving him that elbow.

He rolled his eyes at me and turned to look out the window.

"You're so immature."

I huffed and turned to Bruce. We made eye contact in the mirror.

Help me! I mouthed to him.

He shook his head and looked forward again. I sighed. This was going to be a long day.

-----Damian POV

Dick and I walked into the office. I casually scanned the room, before stopped and watching the two people in front of us.

A girl with straight, dark red hair—a peculiar color and shape—stood at the front desk. Her hair was in a tight ponytail, but had a few chunks yanked out, sticks and mud in her hair. She wore a black jacket with a rip on the upper arm. She had a small gash showing under it and some mud marks on her dark blue jeans. Her shoes, I couldn't even see, they were completely covered in mud. She was speaking to the lady at the front desk, looking a little aggravated.

A woman with blonde hair and dark red lipstick was standing behind the desk, holding a clipboard and a pen, scribbling away on a paper in messy handwriting. The lady wore a red dress, but her bottom half was mostly covered by the desk. She was wearing a pair of white earrings and a pearl necklace. I immediately disliked her, but she was definitely not the spy.

"Sweetheart, could you move aside for the real students behind you? I shouldn't have to call security on a girl. We both know you don't belong here." The lady said in a fake sweet voice.

The girl's face got red.

"If you don't give me my schedule in the next 60 seconds I will walk into the principal's office and have you in so much trouble. You haven't even looked my name up in the computer yet! I ran here from downtown Gotham through a forest because my mom couldn't drive me! If I have to wrestle you to the floor to get my schedule I will, so find it, and give it to me because I am no longer in the mood!" Her voice rose.