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Stephanie grinned at Damian across the booth’s table as he glared at the French fry trapped between his fingers, as if he was trying to vanquish it with his mind.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” Stephanie smirked as Damian’s brow ticked in annoyance. “A highly trained member of the League of Assassins such as yourself can handle a fried potato.”
“I am not afraid,” Damian replied, with far less outrage than he would have used in the months prior. Now, he simply scoffed and rolled his eyes at the smug blonde across from him. “I only have suspicions that the amount of salt included with the “French fry” will not provide any benefits to my training regimen.”
“French fries benefit people in other ways,” Stephanie said, already dipping hers in ketchup (it was too early in the day to get Jokerized fries). “They provide joy. Happiness. Glee.”
“Those are all synonyms,” argued Damian, now gazing slightly more despondently at the French fry. Stephanie was conscious of Damian’s wariness around enjoyable things, thinking that he either doesn’t deserve them or that it will hinder his abilities. But that’s part of the reason why Stephanie decided to take them to Batburger: Exposure therapy. Plus, she really wanted a Bane BLT.
Damian himself had gotten a kid’s meal, to his immense displeasure, but they had vegan chicken nuggets available, surprisingly enough, so Stephanie was able to convince him to get the meal, the name of it notwithstanding.
Stephanie had pretended not to see the small, delighted grin that shaped itself on Damian’s face when he grabbed his Nightwing toy out of the box.
“Even so, I know you enjoyed the moon bounce,” Stephanie pointed her French fry at him, mock-accusingly. “And experiencing happiness failed to kill you, so I’m sure this won’t slay the mighty Damian either.” She then squinted her eyes at Damian’s meal, questioningly. “Ya know, I’m surprised you haven’t had French fries before. You’d think Dick would’ve had you try them sooner or later.”
“Most all of our meals were provided by Pennyworth, even if we went on an excursion elsewhere, to a zoo, for example,” Damian explained, still tilting the French fry between his fingers. “I’ve never known the man to make this dish before, and I doubt he would enjoy the task.” Damian and Stephanie chuckled at that, imagining Alfred, their resident culinary mastermind, looking upon them in horror if they ever requested he make them French fries.
The reason Alfred wasn’t looking after Damian right now, while Bruce and Dick were meeting with their lawyers, was that Steph had offered to take him here to Batburger for lunch.
After Bruce had returned from his little journey in the timestream, Dick wasn’t about to let Damian go after raising him for nearly a year and developing a father-son relationship so strong that Damian actually admitted to respecting and caring for him (shocking, she knows). After some fights (though none in front of Damian) and numerous long discussions, they finally worked out a custody agreement. Barbara had shown it to Stephanie, and, personally, she had doubts that even those two geniuses could understand the convoluted system they had made up, but, hey, whatever works. They were officially signing the agreement today, thank God, after weeks of negotiations.
Stephanie could tell how uncomfortable it made Damian to be the cause of strife between the two people he “holds in the highest esteem” (his words), but they made their best efforts to remain civil, and that civility was becoming more and more genuine as time passed. Overall, Damian was relieved that he wouldn’t have to give up a relationship with either of the people he adores. When he thinks no one is looking, she can see the joy on his face when everyone gets together for Sunday brunch. Dick. Bruce. Alfred. Steph. And even Tim, no matter how much they exaggerate their annoyance with one another.
The kid just wants his family to be together. No one could fault him for that.
“Welp, here’s to trying new and exciting things.” Stephanie held out one of her French fries for Damian to tap his with. He rolled his eyes, but obliged, following the motion by bringing the French fry up to his mouth and chewing thoughtfully.
“It tastes manufactured, greasy, and horrifically salty,” he said, contemplatively. “Just like most things in this country.”
“But not inedible?”
Damian shrugged. “I’ve ingested worse things. Poison, for example.”
Steph rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky I know you well enough to understand your sarcastic insult approach to jokes. Now,” she started, a distinct gleam in her eye, “we’re gonna take this French fry thing to the next level.” She pushed her milkshake towards Damian, seeing recognition flicker in his eyes.
“Seriously?” he questioned doubtfully.
“Seriously.” Steph nodded her head solemnly. “This is the highest form of being that a French fry can exist in.”
Steph saw Damian’s mouth tick up for a quick second before going along with Steph’s antics. He really has gotten better at social interaction in the time that she’s known him. Dick had told her that he was setting up a playdate between Damian and Superman’s son, Jon. “A near-indestructible eight-year-old is probably the best bet for surviving a playdate with an eleven-year-old highly trained ex-assassin,” he had joked. Stephanie agreed, but doubted Dick’s attempts to secure all of their available kryptonite in a place where Damian wouldn’t be able to access it. Damian’s bound to find some sooner or later.
Damian had successfully scooped up some of Stephanie’s milkshake with his new French fry and tried the new concoction. “The drink does seem to improve the fry’s flavor,” Damian said approvingly.
“See? I am all-knowing in the ways of the French fry.” Triumphantly, Stephanie took her shake back and dipped in her own fry.
Damian went back to playing with his new Nightwing action figure as he continued to eat, content in a way that's becoming more and more common as time goes on. Stephanie smiled at the boy whom she had long since recognized as her little brother (back off, Tim, he’s mine…ugh, but I hate sharing), glad that they could now give him the childhood he deserved. She has a lot more big sister duties to come: helping to pack for his first sleepover, teasing him about crushes, beating him in Mario Kart. Now, she can finally check introducing him to French fries off her list. What can she say? A hero's work is never done.