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Damian does not know ASL.
Luckily, Tim is a big brother now and has even more reason to learn how to speak. Also luckily, he has a tablet, two bigger brothers, two dads and a sometimes grumpy, always devoted, grandpa to help him get his messages across.
Tim, who only attends half days at his school, gets home around noontime that day and goes straight for his little brother's room. Damian hasn't been cleared to go to school yet.
He knocks, because that's polite, and waits anxiously by the door for Damian to appear.
"Dami!" He says, happy that it came out. "Come! P'ay!"
"What?" Damian asks, looking at him with open uncertainty.
It's stage one of Tim's plan to get his baby brother into the family more fully.
He reaches for Damian's hands, but the other boy pulls back, making Tim pout.
Luckily, Bruce is coming down the hall.
"You two okay?" Bruce asks.
"Want Dami come p'ay. Play," he signs when the word refuses to come out.
He's always had trouble with "L's."
"Ah," Bruce says in understanding.
"What did he say?" Damian asks, looking back and forth between the two of them with some mix of frustration and jealousy splashing across his face.
"He said he wants you to come play," Bruce says.
"Han'," he says, reaching for Damian's hand.
"He wants to hold your hand," Bruce adds, a smile creeping at the corners of his mouth.
"But why?" Damian asks, his voice ending in a near whine.
Damian doesn't give him his hand either, making him pout again. Baby brothers are difficult!
"Han'?" He asks again.
"Baby, I don't think he wants to hold your hand," Bruce says apologetically.
He resists the urge to stomp his foot.
"Come?" He says instead, pointing toward Bruce's study, where the giant pile of legos awaits.
"Okay," Damian says reluctantly, following him slowly.
He takes Bruce's hand instead. It's big and warm and he likes holding it because it makes him feel safe.
Maybe he should give Damian a velociraptor. He could get another one and name it 'Val.' He likes this plan. He decides to bring it up with Bruce later when they're alone.
Damian follows them to Bruce's study. He points to the big pile of legos and his current project, a massive maze for marbles built entirely out of legos. There's a viewing side made out of clear bricks and he's building up from the bottom, adding twists and turns as he thinks of them. Some of the turns also have random outcomes, depending on speed and gravity and how he dropped them in at the top. It covers part of one wall and has already caused Bruce to go out and buy more clear legos.
"P'ay wiff 'im?" He says when they're inside the study.
"What?" Damian asks stiffly.
"Timmy wants you to play with him, with his legos," Bruce explains, watching them with interest.
"I don't know how," Damian says, looking vaguely upset.
"I show!" He reaches for Damian's hand again and is relieved when Damian lets him have it.
His brother's hand is cold and kind of clammy.
He pulls his brother over to the pile and sits down in a pile of limbs.
"Si'," he says, pointing at the carpeted floor next to him. "Sit," he signs, in case his dad hadn't figured it. "Da-dee too," he says to Bruce. "Si'. P'ay."
"Okay, baby, for a bit."
They play for more than a bit. He shows Damian how to link blocks together, how to make sure the walls will be interlinking and pressed fully together and then offers Damian a spot to add more track to his maze. Damian declines. It almost makes him pout.
But then Bruce suggests that he and Damian build spaceships instead and he brightens again.
Alfred collects them for dinnertime nearly five hours later, breaking up the moment. He sees Damian startle at the realization that so much time has passed and silently cheers.
His dad carries Tim downstairs and offers to hold Damian's hand at Tim's insistence. Damian lets him, looking befuddled and bewildered the whole time.
--
"Da-dee," he says, going up to Bruce one afternoon at the conclusion of school. "We need to go to the shelter and get kittens," he signs.
"We do?" Bruce asks, looking surprised.
He nods.
"Why the sudden interest, baby?" Bruce asks, leaning back in his chair and looking at him intently.
"It's important," he signs, not elaborating.
"How many kittens are we talking about, anyway?" Bruce asks.
He holds up two fingers.
"Yeah, okay," Bruce says, standing up. "Should we bring your brother?"
He knows that he means Damian. Jason has his own place now, though he still visits Tim quite a lot.
He shakes his head in the negative.
"Is su-p'ise, da-dee," he says earnestly.
"Ah, I see," Bruce says, reaching his hand out for Tim's.
They bring back two barely weaned kittens, one white and one black. They're sleeping in between Tim's first and second shirts, their little claws drawing blood despite his best efforts. He knows that Bruce isn't happy that he's letting himself get hurt, but he refuses to let them go. They're very little.
He feels very protective.
"Dami!" He says, going up to his brother in the library. "Dami, peh-sents!" He manages, sitting down carefully next to his little brother.
Bruce sits down next to him and puts an arm around his shoulders.
"Timothy, what are you talking about?" Damian asks, sounding cold and confused at the same time.
"'im. Or 'immy. No 'phee," he says, switching between speaking and signing. "Da-dee, tell him."
"Damian," Bruce says in his tired voice. "We've been over this before. Tim is Tim. Or Timmy. He doesn't want to be called, 'Timothy.'"
Damian frowns.
Tim thinks he looks very cute.
"Well, I don't want to be Dami either," Damian says stubbornly, little chin sticking out.
"Dami-nnnnn," he says slowly.
It's a lot to say. But he'll manage for his brother.
"Peh-sents," he repeats, reaching in his shirt for a kitten.
He pulls the white one out and hands it to Damian, who goes completely still at the sight.
"What's this?" Damian whispers, cradling the kitten in his hands gently.
"Cat," he signs when the word doesn't want to come out.
"Yes, but whose?" Damian whispers.
He doesn't know why Damian knows the sign for cat. It seems like an important question to address, but maybe not right now.
"You. I haff one too," he says haltingly, catching Bruce's big dopey grin out of the corner of his eye.
He pulls his cat out. It's the black one and it instantly starts licking his chin, making him laugh because it tickles.
"B'uce helped," he manages before his tongue seizes up and refuses to make any more sounds.
"Thank you, Tim," Damian whispers, looking flummoxed and delighted and vaguely terrified.
"Welcome," he signs, happy.