Title: Breakdown
Disclaimer: I own nothing from the DC universes involved in this fanfic, make no money writing this and wish not to be sued for using these characters.
Summary: A little brotherly bonding between two of the younger Bat siblings caused by a truck breaking down in the middle of nowhere.
For: My beta, my inspiration and apparently a brilliant writer in her own right and style, Rose Midnight Moonlight Black. As it is, this is my present to RMMB for the last fic she wrote on my behest. It was only fair since she one-upped me on my last one-shot and this little game of writing tag is helping me better my writing style.
Warnings: This is connected to RMMB's Damian based fics and one of my own. If you haven't read them, that's fine, but this might make more sense if you did.

"…I'm going to kill Colin. Slowly, painfully, with whips and chains and motor oil to remind him to take this fucking piece of shit into the auto shop the next time I see him, I swear to God."

Looking up from under the green pickup truck's hood, little traces of oil and grease and whatever else that had been stuck under the truck's hood for quite some time and had simply decided to come off only to stick to his skin, Terry gave Damian Wayne, his apparent trainer and new 'big brother' a deploring look. It seemed to Terry that whenever and however often Damian was in a bad mood and/or situation, he responded with violence or the threat of violence. He rarely went through with it on his boyfriend, though, so Terry had little to worry about…still, he couldn't help the look.

"I thought it was your job to keep your cars and bikes in working order?"

With precision that had only gotten more accurate and deadly over the years, the older brunette threw the wrench he had been using not moments ago at the younger brunette. He almost hit, but (in no small part to the training Damian had been wearing him out with) Terry dodged at the last second, head ducking out of the way and hand coming up in time to grasp the metal.

Blue eyes narrowed like an angry cat at just as equally blue eyes and Damian hissed, "My cars and my bikes. This is Colin's piece of crap, and therefore only his responsibility. I wouldn't even be using it if all my cars weren't either in the shop or just got cleaned. Now we have to walk the rest of the way to town, damnit."

A little cheery after Damian's outburst, Terry tilted his head back to look at the sky, "Well, at least it stopped raining."

Damian frowned and, as though some mythological—well, in their business, who knew if mythical was really a myth anymore?—deity were listening in on their conversation, a crack of lighting whipped along the skyline and its brother thunder cracked. A few meager droplets started falling and Terry, aware of the dark look his much more black and shady and abysmally pessimistic companion was giving him, sighed to himself and hung his head, "…I stand corrected."

The mountains they were walking along overlooked the seaside and as such, the rain came down especially hard as they edged along the secluded highway Damian had chosen specifically so they could train without interruptions. The short and unsteady girder bits used along the side of the road to prevent reckless or drunk drivers from falling over and to their doom proved to be an interesting thing for Terry to walk along like the acrobat he should be while Damian continued on the safe, if somewhat muddy ground.

Both of them were wearing weather resistant blue coats that looked eerily similar (probably Colin's doing, as he had made them put them on in the event of it raining again, saying repeatedly, "It's Seattle, always expect rain.") with a hood and deep pockets that gave the appearance of a kangaroo's pouch, but Terry retained skin tight black shorts for running about in training, along with a pair of ankle high tan hiking boots that were proving invaluable on this walk/hike. Damian was wearing robust pants that accentuated his rather fine figure and black boots currently turning the color brown with the occasional green grass bits clinging in for good measure.

As Terry did a back flip and landing rather precariously on a much more rickety girder, Damian couldn't help the tiny little buzzing pinpricks forming along his hairline that screamed rather than ordered Damian to yell at the kid to be careful and his mouth opened before he could stop himself. At all.

"Stop that," he ordered, lifting a long arm and pulling the younger man down by the hood, "Training took a lot out of you. Plus, I'd rather not have to pay for the girders that fall out into the ocean."

Terry stumbled a little on the way down, his side bumping into Damian, but once he steadied himself, he gave his trainer a curious look, but stopped himself from giving a head tilt as they continued on.

The moments passed into minutes and Terry couldn't help from starting—or trying to start—a conversation. Preferably a civil one, but he had dealt with much ruder people than Bruce's son. And he could back talk much better than the demon, in his and Barbara's opinion.

"I'm bored, play a game with me?"

Damian seemed to balk a little at the ever so careless way Terry asked for things. Ah, what it must be like to be a normal person among the Bats…

"Game?" Damian scoffed, "And what game would that be with us walking out here in the rain with civilization miles away?"

Terry shrugged, speeding up his pace so he was walking beside Damian, rather than behind like a lesser animal such as a dog, "I don't know. Twenty Questions? Anything's better than just walking in silence."

"How juvenile," Damian could not help but grin, although it looked a bit like a smirk a vampire would give at the thought of blood rather than anything else. It made the kid fight a little harder for this.

"Excuse me, but I actually like talking and building up some minor trust with the people I work with, so could you just suck it up this once—"

"Calm down," Damian snorted, elbowing Terry in the ribs a little harder than needed to shut the kid up, "I'll comply, as long as it's only five questions each. I like my privacy. And the ground rules are simple—don't ask me anything about my boyfriend and I won't ask you anything too…uncomfortable."

In way and form of that little proviso, Terry felt something in him cringe; maybe his resolve or maybe something even more sturdy that should have held up longer. But, as it were and as he didn't want to be bored the entire walk back, he complied, giving a little chuckle in ascent.

"Shway. Who goes first?"

"You do."

That was not the expected answer, but Terry wasn't too suspicious. What could be lost by going first?

"Okay, then…who's your favorite brother?"

And there was that smirk again. Terry didn't know why it put him on edge, but maybe it was because he felt as if Damian knew he was going to ask that question eventually and he played the card quicker than he hoped. As everything was a game to Damian aside from family and lover, the younger man somehow felt like this was some form of cheating, no matter how weird that sounded. Though, he guessed since Damian knew he'd asked, perhaps that meant he'd have a straight answer.

Maybe.

"Grayson, of course."

"…But, I thought you drove him crazy for kicks when you were younger. Actually," Terry thought a little, hands that he'd kept at his sides diving into his pockets as the rain got heavier and started to douse his hair and Damian's, "I recall Bruce mentioning something about a guy called Pyg and you wandering off on your own after insulting Dick—"

"I was ten," Damian elaborated, pulling his hood over his head so he wouldn't have to listen to Colin bitch about him getting pneumonia from getting cold and wet when he got back, "But after a while, and despite his refusal to stop hugging me every chance he got like the cuddle whore he is, I found myself able to tolerate his presence. Now, my turn. What do you think of me? Not as a teacher, but as a person."

Oh, there was that sensation in Terry wiggling about again. Only this time it felt as though a barrel of concrete had slammed into his gut at high velocity.

"Well," Terry chewed his bottom lip a second, only stopping himself from ripping it until it bled out when the taller, more experienced man slowed down a bit more, face amused, "You're…ugh, you're not unhandsome, not completely horrible, not abusive. You seem to respect Bruce and you're training me so I don't die out on the field. You're not a bad person, as far as I can tell."

The rain above their heads swayed a particular way so it hit their backs, and not the top of their heads directly, as they passed a fork in the road, decorated by a big green sign with the words 'Seattle: Next Exit' in white. Below the sign were growing crocuses and mums and Damian focused on them as he chuckled, near happy, but not quite, "How sweet. It's your turn, baby bat."

Hideous nickname aside, Terry asked, "Why do you have cats?"

"I have one cat," Damian corrected, almost offended that the boy hadn't remembered from his rare visits at his home, "Alfred is one cat. And I have him because I like cats and some loathsome bastard left him in a box, in an alley, to die."

"I'm so sorry," was the man really getting angry over the memory of an abandoned cat when he didn't even blink at the sight of a mutilated corpse?

"Are you a whore?"

He could have stepped right over the puddle lying before them, but at such a question, Terry found himself planting his foot right in the center, drenching his foot in water as it slid a ways before he caught himself and jumped over. He gave Damian a puffed up look, "I-wha—What is wrong with you? No, I'm not a whore! Why would you even—gah!"

Damian let out a long string of laughter, deep and impressionable, "Oh, that might have been a waste of a question, but it was so worth it! You are much too easy to startle… We'll have to work on that in training later…"

Childish as it was, Terry stuck his tongue out at the man, quick to ask his next question, "How long did it take you to figure out you liked guys?"

"About as long as college lasted."

Terry, a few years ago, before he met Bruce, would have made a remark at that. Biting and mean and not at all appropriate, but then, that was before he met people he respected. He may not have entirely respected Damian, but he knew him enough to know if he made a remark right then, in that moment about collage life, dorm activities and so on, he'd either get a shiner for his trouble or a much more humiliating training session the next time Terry found himself visiting Dami and Colin.

Besides that, they were nearing civilization. Terry could just make out the first signs of life in the forms of all terrain vehicles driving near them and up an opposite road and could hear the sounds of dogs barking on secluded properties. And he wanted to play this whole game before Damian spotted the nearest gas station to call Colin to come pick them up.

"Do you love your girlfriend?"

Blinking, Terry didn't really even think about the question before answering to that. It was so…easy, "Yes, of course."

Damian said nothing to that, just continuing on, thoughtful enough not to trample a set of stray yellow flowers growing out of a crack in the pavement before them.

"Do you love Colin?"

"…Yes."

Damian had two questions left and Terry had one. They could both see a sign that was indicative of a very out of the way diner/gas station that they both had seen on the way up. A tiny sign, but still there. If either wanted to finish the game, now would be the perfect time.

"Do you think you're a good Batman?"

"…Eh?"

"Well, as far as I can tell, you're fairly self-reliant, have not screwed up royally in a good long time and actually want to protect Gotham. But, what I think doesn't matter so much as what you think. What do you think of yourself as Batman?"

Terry hesitated plainly, but tried as well as he could to give a satisfactory answer, "I think…I could do better. I know I'll never be the Bat that Bruce was—"

"Damn straight."

"—But I think, I could become good enough to at least protect his legacy. That's why you're training me, after all."

"Very good."

As those two little words left Damian's mouth, they found themselves standing just outside the tiny little diner/gas station's door, a few people coming in and out as the two dark haired men—who looked quite alike and who many could recognize to be brothers—just stood before the doors, not looking at each other.

"Go inside and order some lunch for us," Damian ordered, pointing toward the diner and heading toward the side of the building where the payphones were, "I'll ring Colin up and the idiot can come get us."

Terry didn't have time to answer as Damian disappeared along the side of the building.

He sighed, hand pressing the door in so he could find them a seat, a booth maybe, and order the actually well cooked food all tiny businesses offered in this area. For now, they each had one question left, but Terry knew that the game would be put off until another time.

But, maybe that was a good thing. It would give Terry a reason to visit again soon.