Damian Wayne..

“You’re sick again.” Damian’s voice is filled with raw disappointment. It’s not a question. Damian just wants to confirm it, he’s lived with you his whole life, you’re his twin sister but he’s never seen you healthy. That bothers him. He was hoping you’d be feeling well enough to go to the art museum with him today, you had promised a week ago that you would go together to celebrate both of your 14th birthdays, he was so excited, now you’re sick again, Damian takes his bag off of him and leaves it by your bedroom door crawling over to your bed and laying down next to you, he’s never been sick, he only threw up when he was doing his poison resistance training “We can go another time.” he murmurs raising his hand to your forehead and grimacing at the heat emanating from your body. How is it that you’re still curled up under the sheets? You should be sweating until you die. He pulls his hand away and tries to swallow the worry in his voice. “I’ll go find Dad. And Alfred.” Damian knew that a part of him would always be a child, newly left in his father’s arms and told to prove himself, as he clung to your hand, willing you to get better. “I can get you some cut up fruit.” He slipped out of bed. “Maybe tomorrow your fever will go down and we can go. Don’t worry, there will be other birthdays.”

He is the son of Bruce Wayne, he is Robin