Damian hated having brothers. Especially ones as nosy as his. But, he supposed, they were better than nothing. The Wayne brothers had gathered at a small cafe, away from Bruce and Alfred's prying ears. Though Damian claimed not to care about the secret meeting, he had come anyway. The fact was, they had dragged him along—whether he wanted to be there or not.

The youngest Wayne sat with his arms crossed, glaring at his brothers, trying to maintain his usual indifference. Jason, Tim, Dick, and Virgil sat across from him. Damian was pretty sure that Virgil García and Stephanie Brown had somehow wormed their way into the family, though he wasn't sure how. Virgil, after all, was Tim's current boyfriend, while Stephanie had once been his ex-girlfriend. It was strange, to say the least.

And while he didn't particularly care about most of the people around him, he would admit that having one extra family member didn't make things worse. But only one.

He cast a glance at the table, studying his brothers, and Virgil. They were all pretending to be casual, but Damian could read the concern in their eyes. Even Jason Todd, the one who frequently declared that he couldn't stand "the child of Satan," was trying to act like he gave a damn. But it was clear: something was bothering them.

Dick was his favorite, of course. Always had been. And Virgil, well, Virgil was alright too. Despite not being a Wayne, he was someone Damian could tolerate. Maybe because he wasn't afraid to be blunt.

Jason, though? He was still Damian's least favorite. Their relationship was a strange one—filled with tension, sarcastic remarks, and the occasional heated argument. Yet, somehow, it was the least hostile between all of the siblings. They didn't need to talk much because neither of them cared enough to go that far. There was an understanding there, even if it was mostly based on mutual indifference.

Virgil, sensing the tension, kicked Dick in the shin under the table, signaling him to start the conversation. They'd been talking about Damian ever since Dick had returned home, and most of it had to do with the girl the youngest Wayne had been sneaking around with—Svetlana.

Dick rubbed his shin in exaggerated pain, but after a threatening look from Virgil, he turned to Damian.

"We're worried about you," he said quietly.

Damian, as always, didn't want to appear affected, but the words lingered. It wasn't that he cared—he was fine—but it was nice to be cared for. He could almost understand now why Svetlana might smile when she mentioned how much people cared about her injuries. The slight shift in her expression made sense now.

"I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself," Damian said with a dismissive tut, already bored of the conversation.

"We're worried that there's a girl—"

"Girls are gross," Damian interrupted with a scoff, his tone filled with teenage disdain.

Virgil leaned into Jason's shoulder with a heavy sigh. "God, Damian, you're impossible." He forgot just how difficult the youngest Wayne could be when people weren't blunt with him.

Jason, looking as though he couldn't care less about the situation, pushed Virgil off his shoulder. "Be gay somewhere else," he muttered, though it was a joke. Virgil didn't mind, not in the least. He and Jason had been friends since childhood, and they both knew each other well enough to know where the lines were.

"Dami, you took some of mine and Tim's evidence about the new gang," Virgil said, a bit more serious now. "But you only took the photos with a particular girl in them."

Damian glared at Virgil, his mind racing with ways to kill him—though he'd never actually follow through. Not because of any particular moral code, but because he knew it would hurt his brothers. And even though he'd never admit it, that mattered.

"I know her," Damian said stiffly, avoiding eye contact. "Wanted to take my chance."

Jason chuckled. "You accused your girlfriend of being part of a gang?" He snorted, clearly finding the whole thing hilarious.

Damian froze, his eyes widening in horror. "She's not... I... we're not... no."

Tim, ever observant, raised an eyebrow, glancing knowingly at Dick. "Heard that one before," he muttered, and Virgil promptly high-fived him.

Dick, sensing an opportunity, leaned forward. "It's okay to like her."

"I'm obviously allergic to her," Damian snapped, glaring directly at Dick as if he could will him into silence.

Jason, ever the sarcastic one, cocked an eyebrow. "And you say I'm the stupid one. Damian, you can't be allergic to one specific person."

"Reminder: I'm the blood son," Damian shot back, refusing to let his defenses drop.

Jason grinned, but before he could say anything else, he was cut off by Virgil. "Reminder, I slept with—"

"You mention my mother, and I will choke you with your own small intestine," Damian growled, his voice cold with warning.

Virgil was unbothered by the threat, though he took a moment to cough theatrically. "It was technically rape," he said in a mock-serious tone, adding unnecessary drama.

Damian wanted to glare at Virgil for speaking ill of his mother, but the truth was... it was true. He hated hearing it, but he knew the reality of the situation.

Before Damian could retort, Dick cleared his throat. "Jason, Virgil, please stop making a scene. People are staring as it is." His voice was stern, but his eyes were more amused than anything else.

Jason and Virgil exchanged a glance, and before long, they were both laughing hysterically. The tension had eased, and for a moment, it almost felt normal.

"Useless," Dick muttered under his breath, but the amused look in his eyes betrayed the words.

He turned back to Damian. "Dami, why do you think you're allergic to her?"

Damian could feel the weight of the question. It wasn't something he had expected to answer, but now it seemed like the right time to voice what had been bothering him. He tried to list out symptoms in a vain attempt to keep control of the situation, but his words only seemed to make things worse.

"Damian," Tim said softly, "you like her."

"No, I—" Damian's eyes widened in realization.

Jason clapped his hands in exaggerated excitement. "You accused your crush of being a terrorist. That's classic," he laughed, clearly enjoying Damian's misfortune.

Virgil, ever the supportive friend, patted Damian's hand with sympathy. "Give Dick your phone," he instructed.

Damian, though confused, complied.

"Dick, pull a fifteen-year-old girl," Virgil said, which made Damian scowl.

Dick immediately snatched Damian's phone and began typing furiously. "Not when you say it like that," he muttered under his breath, but Damian didn't care. He was already too deep in this mess to back out now.

After a few minutes of frantic typing, Dick handed the phone back to Damian. "Correct this to your words but still get the meaning across."

"The meaning?" Damian asked, confused.

"You messed up. And that won't happen on my watch," Dick said with a satisfied grin.

And so, through the twisted magic of Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne had sent his first message to Svetlana Orlova.