Warnings: Explicit sexual content; age difference; inappropriate humor including jokes about pseudo-incest; drinking (but no drunk kissing or sex or anything of the sort)

Pairings: Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne; some brief flirting with Dick and an OFC

Credits: This is non-profit, fanmade work. All characters are owned by DC. The fanfiction was created by me, please do not repost without my permission.

A/N: As a forewarning, while Damian is a teenager in this story, he is still of age (eighteen). All of the characters were also aged up accordingly.
I originally posted this fic to AO3 around June or so. Constructive criticism is always welcome this story is a bit old and as such, I have no intentions to make any serious edits. Thank you and I hope you enjoy this. If you want to see any more of my works, you can find them on AO3 under the same username (lacemonster).

There was an old woman that lived below Dick's apartment. Everyday she went outside and fed the birds. Dick was a new tenant but it didn't take long for him to realize that this old lady had probably done this for months. Whereas other neighborhoods might have a few chirpers here and there, Dick's entire block was silent—save for the wiry bushes right outside his home. These birds from all over the block had been mastered by this old woman, swooping in and crapping all over their stoop and sidewalk, just waiting for their daily meals.

Every time he left the building, an entire flock of birds would come jetting out of the bushes, whirlwinding in the air like maniacs.

And every morning, those damn birds chirped and chirped and chirped.

"Shut up," Dick groaned into his pillow. Dozens and dozens of little rebellious flyers twittered in response. Growling to himself, Dick rolled over onto his back. He stormed over to the far bedroom window.

It was summer. Dick bought this apartment because it was the cheapest he could find in the area. For him, money wasn't an issue—but he didn't find a point in splurging on a nice apartment just so he could have a place to crash and store his shit. With all of his travelling, it was best to not buy a place he could grow attached to.

Unfortunately, cheap often went hand-in-hand with poor quality. The building was ancient—that meant no central AC. Dick had been living with a box fan in the window until he could build up the motivation to buy and install a window unit, and even the sounds of the whirling blades couldn't block out the sounds of the birds.

He ripped the box fan out of the window, which had to be duct taped just to stay propped up. The paint ripped off the walls along with the tape and he sighed heavily at the sight. He had to tug the heavy window down, nearly breaking the damn thing in his frustration.

The sounds of birds became muffled. It hardly felt like a victory. Dick was already sweating. He unceremoniously dropped the fan to the ground and crawled back into bed, hoping to return to his much-needed sleep after a night of long patrolling.

His heavy eyelids shut. He stirred once in his bed, tugging his pillow close. His mind even began to drift, the two redheads with the Irish lilts from his dreams beginning to return to him…

Chirp.

Dick opened his eyes.

Chirp.

He immediately shot up in his bed, his head turning toward the noise. A solitary bird sat on top of his bookshelf. It turned its head towards him, its chocolate-chip eyes looking right into his. It opened its beak and:

"Chirp," it said.

"You're mocking me," Dick said accusingly. It flitted toward the edge of the shelf, its red breast on display. At the sight, Dick was torn between laughing out loud and throwing his pillow at it. "You really are mocking me. This must be a prank."

The robin said nothing more, instead taking flight, its wings beating almost frantically as it took off into the next room.

Keep it together, Dick, Dick thought to himself, dotting the sweat off his brow. You are not talking to birds.

He looked around his room, climbing over the mountains of scattered clothing and junk, before coming across a plastic shopping bag. Good enough, he decided.

He found the robin sitting on the edge of his couch. Dick slowly crept behind it, his well honed reflexes allowing him to get close to the bird without being noticed.

The plastic bag swept downwards but the robin escaped, flitting to the top corner of the room, resting on top of a lamp.

"Nice try," Dick taunted, easily stepping up on a table for leverage. This time, the bird was swept in the bag. "Better luck next time," he said, the bird moving frantically around in response.

Dick opened the screen to his window, letting the robin free. It soared in the air, seemingly confused at first, but it seemed to find its way—taking off in one direction.

Dick watched the robin go before glancing at the birds huddled around the old woman. None of the birds bore red. Dick wondered briefly how the robin managed to get inside of his apartment, and how far it had flown from, but a yawn interrupted his thoughts. He shut the screen so no other birds would find their way in and he went back to his bed, hoping that his Irish redheads were still waiting for him in his dreams.

There were three other tenants in the building. The old lady was downstairs, she lived alone. Dick had never seen the person who lived across from her, but the door was always bolted up. On the upper level, opposite of Dick, he had only caught a few glimpses of the other tenant.

He was in the middle of his dinner when his doorbell buzzed. He went to the intercom panel.

"Who is it?"

"Sorry. I forgot my key," a feminine voice said.

Gotham was never trustworthy. Dick decided to go to the door and make sure it was his neighbor and not someone trying to sneak into the building. Plus, this way, he got to play the knight in shining armor.

Sure enough, his neighbor was leaning in the doorway, and she smiled gratefully when he opened the door.

"Thanks," she said, slipping past him, and his eyes couldn't help but follow her tightly clothed figure as she passed by him. She glanced over her shoulder, smirking almost as if she had caught him staring, and said, "You're the new tenant right?"

"Yup," he said quickly, making sure his gaze was at eye level. He made sure the front door was shut and moved towards the staircase but she stepped in front of him, drawing him in to chat a little longer.

"What's your name?" she asked, their eyes locking.

"Dick. Yours?"

"Myra," she said, and Dick could have sworn her voice was like a siren's. She tilted her head a little to the side, giving Dick a funny look. "You know, I don't say this often, but you have really pretty eyes. I know guys don't like to be called pretty, but I feel like handsome doesn't quite cut it."

Despite himself, he grinned and said, "I will take any adjective you give me."

She laughed and then said, "Hey, so I know we don't really know each other too well, but I kind of noticed that you're always alone. If you wanted to do something tonight and maybe make some friends in the city, my friends and I are going out to the club." She raised her eyebrows and said, "Come with? Cab fare is on me."

Party girl. Dick should have known better, she did seem pretty young and he could always hear her leaving her apartment at night. Regardless of her not being exactly his type, she was gorgeous and seemed nice. Still, Dick had to bite his bottom lip and shake his head. "Nah, sorry, I'm in the middle of dinner and I got work later tonight."

"Alright," she said, shrugging. "The offer still stands if you're free some other time."

It wasn't just work. As much as Dick loved to flirt, his life was too hectic to start building relationships, even if it was just a brief fling. But it was tempting, he decided.

She took the staircase first, climbing the stairs in front of him, her hips swaying with each step she took.

Very tempting, he decided, and he made sure to divert his gaze.

Dick stumbled through the front door, his bags hanging off his shoulder. He readjusted the straps before he climbed up the stairs to his apartment. Every muscle in his body screamed with every step. He fumbled hurriedly for the keys, ready to throw his bag down and pass out.

When he made it into the apartment, his first decision was to toss the bag on the couch, but after a moment of reconsideration, he took it into the bedroom. He unzipped the bag, neatly pulling out the Nightwing uniform, and carefully tucking it in its rightful place—the hidden panel in the back of his armoire—along with the rest of the equipment that was weighing down his bag. No one would come into his apartment but it was better to be safe and put everything out of sight—damn you, Bruce, Dick thought, blaming his extra caution on his upbringing.

He glanced over at his bed, finding it tempting, but he could smell his own sweat and decided he couldn't go to sleep quite yet. Sighing, he made his way into the shower.

Even though he just wanted to sleep, a shower did make him feel better. As he scrubbed, he idly thought about the patrol he was on. He had ran into some familiar faces while doing his own run. Bruce didn't say anything strange but he seemed to be in a bad mood. Dick didn't have any evidence to support that, aside from subtle things that Bruce said and did, but sometimes Dick felt like he could just tell when something was off.

He grabbed a towel, deciding that he might as well finish off his usual routine before retiring for the night. He brushed his teeth, staring into the foggy mirror the entire time. Dick couldn't tell if the darkness underneath his eyes had to do with lack of sleep or age—or maybe even both.

After cleaning up, he exited the bathroom with a towel around his waist. He was about to turn off the lights when something out of the corner of his eye forced him to do a double-take.

Dick quirked an eyebrow, noticing the open window in the living room. There was nothing unusual there—the cool breeze felt nice in the summer heat, so he kept it propped open. But it almost looked like…

He got closer to the window, stopping before it. He waved his hand through the space, almost in disbelief.

The screen was open.

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He never opened the screen. There was no reason to. He took a look outside to scan for any suspicious activity before slowly sliding the screen shut. Heart thumping, he surveyed the floor for any signs of activity—footprints, debris, bumped furniture. Everything seemed fine.

He took a step back, puzzled, when a voice alarmed him.

"I took a bottled water from your fridge."

"Oh shit—"Dick jumped in place. He quickly spun around, a familiar body standing there. Robin, still in uniform, with—sure enough—one of Dick's waters in hand. Damian seemed unfazed by Dick's panicked reaction, taking a sip. "What the hell, Damian, you—"

Dick stopped himself. He was still frazzled by Damian's surprise appearance—it wasn't often he was caught offguard, after all—but he had to compose himself. Dick took a deep breath before asking calmly, "What are you doing here?"

"Just stopping in."

Dick frowned. "Stopping in," he repeated, his tone flat. Damian's eyes narrowed.

"Yes. Stopping in," he reiterated. "Soap in your ears?" Dick's expression soured at the jab, especially since he was caught a bit… underdressed. Damian gestured to the apartment. "I see you've settled into your new place rather well."

The apartment was littered in unpacked or upturned boxes and stacks of papers from cases… as well as scattered clothes and more takeout food containers than Dick was willing to admit were his. As if on cue, a Jenga-like stack of books and binders that had been sitting on the floor finally came undone, sliding across the wooden floorboards.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting to entertain."

Damian had moved to a stack of taped-up moving boxes, wiggling around the top one with his free hand, as if to guess its contents. "You look like you're just waiting for the next move."

It wasn't untrue. Dick moved so often and his work schedule was so busy that there were times he'd finish his lease without unpacking everything. "I like to take my time. I grab what I need." Dick watched Damian carefully as he unpeeled the tape without permission. "What are you doing?"

"I'm curious," Damian said simply. "I don't think I've ever visited for more than a few minutes."

"You haven't," Dick said, shifting his weight to his other leg. "Which is why this is a little, uh, strange."

Dick wasn't used to having visitors period, but the last person he expected was Damian of all people. While he was closer to the current Robin better than most people, he and Damian simply didn't have the type of relationship where they hung out at each other's houses… at least, not outside of vigilante business and family holidays.

Damian made a small, amused sound under his breath when he pulled out a plushie from the box. "Aren't you a little old for toys? On top of that, isn't this a bit narcissistic?" he said, holding up the Robin doll, squeezing its middle.

"It was a gift," Dick said, frowning, snatching it out of Damian's hands. He felt oddly defensive. "Someone gave it to me on one of my first cases as Robin. It's handmade."

"Right," Damian said, continuing to shuffle through the boxes. Dick felt heat rise to his face but ignored it—there was no point in arguing, Damian was going to continue doing whatever he willed. Since the Robin doll was already unpacked, Dick made sure to set it carefully in an empty spot on the bookshelf.

"Tt. Seriously?" Damian said. Dick glanced over his shoulder, just in time for Damian to pull out a porno mag. Dick rolled his eyes, ignoring his faint blush. Damian quickly flipped through the pages, snorting a little. "What decade do you live in? No one buys this crap."

"I guess I'm old-fashioned," he said, snatching the magazine out of Damian's hands. He rolled it up and tapped the top of Damian's head with it, no differently than someone would do to scold their pet puppy. Damian allowed the action, unflinching. "And stop snooping and tell me why you're really here. Shouldn't you be getting off patrol? What's with the uniform?"

"I decided to stay out. I wasn't done for the night," Damian said, shrugging.

Dick watched Damian carefully as he continued wandering around the room. The teen occasionally picked something up and would turn it over to look at it before moving on. He seemed to wander without direction or purpose and the feeling that had been nagging Dick returned.

Something was off.

"Well, if you're going to stay, fine. I'm going to get dressed. Don't break anything while I'm gone."

"Tt."

Dick went back to his room while Damian made room for himself on the sofa by shoving aside a stack of papers. Dick made sure to shut the door behind him, something he rarely had to do since he lived alone. The old door required a good shove to make it stick shut.

Once in his room, he huffed a little to himself. The unexpected visit left a small crank in his usual routine. However, he felt it wasn't too late to fix things. He picked through his pile of discarded clothes, finding his cell phone in the pocket, and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

Damian might have still been in uniform, but by the end of patrol, it seemed like Bruce had been ready to go home…

Dick stopped at the thought, reflecting on the night. Come to think of it, Dick saw a lot of Bruce that night and not a lot of Damian. Damian had kept running off in a different direction.

Dick dialed the number and waited on the tone, expecting Alfred, but was surprisingly greeted by a lower voice.

"Hello."

"Do you know where your son is?" Dick said immediately.

"I'm going to assume with you. He sabotaged all of my GPS trackers."

Dick wasn't going to bother to ask why Bruce had Damian chipped. Bruce's paranoia was so staggering for so long that it had become unsurprising.

"Are you aware he has broken into my home?" Dick asked.

"Do you always let people break in?"

At that, Dick rose a brow. "You're being funny. You're never funny." Not wanting to belabor the point, Dick continued, "What's going on? Did you two fight again? He shouldn't just be wandering around."

"Right," Bruce said on the other line, sounding tired. "Keep him there if you can. We… had a disagreement."

"What did you do?"

"I'm going to ignore the implications of that question." Dick could hear Bruce's disapproving tone, the same warning voice he used before he went into a full-on scolding, but that voice hadn't worked on Dick since he wore red and green.

"Come on, Bruce," Dick said, rolling his eyes. Every memory of every disagreement he had with Bruce came to surface, mostly of his days in the manor. "I lived with you. I know what you're like."

"You know what living with me is like, but you have no idea what living with a teenager is like," Bruce said, his voice restrained. Dick nodded a little to himself, he couldn't argue with that. Plus Damian was particularly... complicated. Composing himself, Bruce said tensely, "Look, I can't force him back home. Not legally. As he's reminded me repeatedly since his last birthday, he's an adult now. So just look after him for me. If you can, make sure he doesn't run off."

"Wait, so I'm babysitting?" Dick said, sitting straight up, alarmed by this news. He was expecting Bruce to… well, be Bruce. To swoop into his apartment, Batman gear and all, capture Damian into a net, and toss him in the back of the batmobile and drive home.

"I'm not sure if that's the word I would use, it's more like surveillance. Why? Did you have plans?" Bruce said, his voice flat, almost challenging. Dick's head fell back, resisting a sigh.

"I mean, no, but… my place isn't exactly comfortable."

"Good. All the more reason for him to give up and come home. If you don't keep him there, he's going to run off somewhere else. He has money on him—enough to run off and do something stupid. So make sure he doesn't. If I barge in there now, it'll just drive him away."

"But—"

"Look, I'd rather have him there with you than out in the streets," Bruce said, practically barking. All of the tense rage had bubbled up and even though they were just talking over the phone, Dick felt his stomach drop. Bruce could scare a lion with his voice alone if the situation called for it. Bruce reeled himself back in, adding in a significantly calmer voice, "Let him work off whatever bad mood he's in and then I'll come get him."

Dick rubbed the back of his neck. He lost this round, there was no other choice. "Uh, sir yes sir."

Bruce hung up.

Dick pulled back the phone, his expression souring as he looked it down. Narrowing his eyes, he whispered, "You fucking owe me."

He got dressed in his sleepclothes and went back out into the living room. Damian had somehow found one of Dick's case journals and was reading through it. Huh, I thought I lost that.

There was no room for Dick to sit on the couch without moving all of his junk so he settled on the edge of the coffee table. Damian glanced up at him over the papers.

"So your dad said you two are fighting."

"I know. I could hear you talking a mile away," Damian said. He was exaggerating, Dick was sure of that, but he wasn't going to comment on it.

"So where are you going for the night?"

"Around."

Dick resisted biting his lip. Brat, he thought. He couldn't believe Damian was going to make him ask, but he forced a smile and said, "Do you want to stay the night?"

"Sure," Damian said, tossing the journal on top of a stack. He moved towards the kitchen table, where Dick just now noticed a duffel bag had been sitting.

Dick resisted rolling his eyes.

"Fuck off!"

Dick threw his pillow across the room, striking his window perfectly and interrupting the songs from outside. The birds that had been sitting on the tree branch were startled by the sudden thud, squawking one last time before flitting off.

Dick grumbled angrily to himself before rolling over in his bed, grabbing his phone and looking at the time. Late start. His charger was also apparently unplugged, according to the blinking red light. Great.

He considered staying in bed but he had far too many errands to run. He sat up with a groan, the soreness in his muscles reminding him of the long chase he had done during patrol hours, and went to start his day.

Hunger was slowly carving out its presence in his stomach. Deciding to eat before anything else, he left his bedroom in the direction of the kitchen. There, he was reminded that he had a guest.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had almost forgotten.

Damian was already awake and had cleared out space in the living room to do some morning stretches. He seemed alert and ready to the start the day. Dick yawned a morning greeting as he padded his way into the kitchen.

He opened the fridge and it was empty. Dick blinked tiredly before moving to the pantry, the cabinets, the cupboards—he wanted anything and found nothing. He leaned against his kitchen counter, trying to count in his head the last day he did his grocery shopping. But with his casework, patrol hours, interrogations and daily doings going through his head, the whole week seemed to blur together.

"Hey," Dick called over his shoulder. Damian was in virabhadrasana, his gaze never breaking. "We're going to the market."

"We?"

"I'm not leaving you in my apartment," Dick said. Bruce had left him in charge of watching Damian. Besides that, Dick had been more than a little annoyed by Damian's snooping. There wasn't much that he had to hide but he still liked to maintain his privacy. "So get ready."

At that, Damian stopped and gave Dick a look.

"Okay. I'll get ready," Dick corrected. Damian seemed satisfied with the answer and moved onto the next pose.

Once they were ready and Dick was locking up his apartment, a familiar face was heading up the stairs, dragging a bag of laundry behind her.

"Hey," Dick greeted, the inflection in his voice raising a bit. Even though he had rejected his neighbor's offer to take him out, he still felt obligated to be polite. Besides, he wasn't quite ready to cut off all ties.

"Hey yourself," she said. "Are you off to do more work?"

At that, Dick flushed a little. "I really was busy."

"It's okay, I'm just teasing you," she said, laughing. Her eyes darted towards Damian. Smiling, she said, "Your friend's real cute."

Dick glanced over at Damian nervously, unsure of what his reaction would be. Damian hated strangers (or people in general), and didn't take to it kindly when people referred to him. But to his surprise, Damian looked mildly amused.

"Friend of yours?" he asked, looking at Dick.

"Oh, right. This is my neighbor, Myra."

"Just neighbors, I'm afraid," she said. "But we don't have to be."

"This is Damian," Dick introduced. He made sure to add, "He's a teenager."

This didn't seem to deter Myra, whose dark eyes just seemed to sparkle mischievously in response. "I don't mind."

Dick laughed nervously and started to pull on Damian's sleeve. It hadn't even been a full day of Damian staying with him and already, he had to look after him. "Uh, we're going out."

"Oh, now it makes sense," she said, giggling.

Dick's face flushed as he realized his mistake. "Wait, I meant like, we're going to the store."

"It's okay. I might be a little presumptuous, as it turns out, but I'm not a bigot."

"He's not my… we're not…" Dick sighed. "He's my brother," Dick settled on saying.

"You two sure don't look alike," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"Adopted," Damian said simply, effectively stopping the awkward turn the conversation had taken.

"We gotta go," Dick said, and Damian gave him an unhappy look when Dick started pulling him by the arm. Myra shrugged and retreated back into her apartment, the door shutting with a subtle noise. When they made it past the landing, Damian immediately snatched his arm back.

"Didn't realize you were capable of flirting," Dick said dryly as they made their way down the staircase. At that, Damian let out a small noise under his breath, one that almost sounded like laughter.

"That's not it. I just found her amusing, is all," Damian said, smirking. "As Pennyworth would likely say, she's 'a character'. Are all of your neighbors like her?"

"There's a guy downstairs but I never see him. And then there's an old lady with a bird fetish."

"What?" Damian said, confused by the last bit.

Dick swung open the front door, the sound of the door alarming the roost outside. Damian flinched as suddenly, dozens of birds went skittering about, coming out of every bush and cranny. What seemed like a thousand chirps chorused as the birds flew in alarm.

After the swarm had settled, Damian opened one eye and said, "Ah."

"Have you ever been to the public market?" Dick asked, leading the way. He hadn't even thought to ask until now. He had never been there himself until later in life—growing up, Pennyworth did all of the grocery shopping.

"No," Damian said. "I've passed it, of course, but I've never been."

"It's great," Dick said.

"Hm," Damian said with a disinterested shrug and Dick's attempt to start a conversation was spoiled in a single syllable.

Bruce had been more than vague about what was happening in his father-son relationship. Damian hadn't said a word about it either. Dick was hoping to use the trip to pry a little, to get into Damian's head and hope to figure out what was going on, and maybe even help if he could. He knew all about growing up under Bruce's rule—and while Dick thought Damian had matured a ton over the past few years, it seemed even he wasn't above a little bit of teenage rebellion. Dick knew a thing or two about that and was hoping to talk it out, but Damian was always a difficult wall to chip at.

By the time they reached the market, Dick's stomach was rumbling. It didn't help that he was bombarded by the smells of hot food being sold at different vendors' stands.

"Damn, I forgot it was the weekend," Dick said, scowling. "This place is crowded."

Gotham's public market was as much of a tourist and culture point as it was a place to shop. It had dozens of people setting up shop to sell everything from food to trinkets to plain old junk. But it was also a good place to get a deal and a great way to support local sellers, so Dick did his business there each time. The only downside was having to deal with the crowds.

"Well, I'll be honest, I'm not much of a cook. But I can try making something if you want—"Dick stopped himself when he looked over his shoulder and found Damian to be…

Nowhere.

"What the hell?" Dick murmured, looking around the crowd. Damian's face didn't appear anywhere in the crowd.

For crying out loud. Dick sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, trying not to freak out. They hadn't even been outside for half an hour and he had already lost Bruce's son. He almost wondered if it was part of Damian's plan all along—to spend the night at his place and to go running at the opportune moment.

Dick knew Damian would be fine—and if anything, that was the problem. Dick was supposed to be watching Damian and Bruce would skin him alive if he found out that the teen fell out of his grasp. Damian was a little awkward but mostly independent, and by now, Dick wouldn't be surprised if the guy was already on a train to Metropolis.

Dick start shoving through the crowds of people, getting hit more than once by people swinging their shopping bags. He never thought finding someone who was nearly six feet tall and had a permanent scowl on their face would be difficult to find but then again, Damian was always full of surprises.

By what seemed like a miracle, Dick eventually found Damian bartering with some vendor in Arabic. Dick pulled him away.

"Stop doing that!"

"Doing what?"

"Your weird ninja disappearing act! Bruce would kill me if anything happened to you."

Damian just shrugged. "There's nothing that could happen to me here that I wouldn't be able to handle. Unless everyone here is secretly an evil metahuman or something, but even then..." Damian lifted the paper bag in his hand, changing the subject. "His wife makes homemade malban."

"That's great," Dick said flatly.

"They're pistachio."

Dick looked at Damian long and hard for a moment. His desire to wander off suddenly made too much sense—mostly because it felt so familiar. "Damian, it's okay to spread your wings a little," he said. "But you're still young. You have a whole life of independence ahead of you."

Damian quirked an eyebrow. "Is this your attempt to teach me a life lesson?"

"I feel like you're distancing yourself from other people. I get it—Bruce can be suffocating. But still—"

"I don't think you get it at all," Damian said coolly, cutting him off. His sudden sharpness was all too familiar to his younger self—his other, less calm side that would occasionally rear up its head. When Dick opened his mouth to maybe apologize or try to explain himself, Damian didn't stick around to listen to it. He turned on his heel and walked away briskly.

To avoid causing a scene, Dick bit his tongue and avoided calling out to him. Instead, he tried to chase after him. Damian expertly weaved himself through the crowd, getting a great headstart, while Dick had to apologize and squeeze himself between the clusters of people.

When he finally reached a clearing, he looked around for Damian, eventually finding him already half a block away.

"Damian," he said, catching up to him. He grabbed him by the shoulder. "Hold on—"

"This is the third time you've touched me today," Damian said, immediately shrugging off the hand, a spiteful look in his eyes. Dick took a step back, ignoring the pang in his chest. It was just Damian's character—he didn't like being touched. But still, it felt like getting through to Damian was going to be an insurmountable task.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Dick said, raising his hands in surrender. "I just want to talk. Something's bothering you."

Damian's eyes darted to the side. "I don't want to talk."

"Then why did you come to me?" Dick said. Damian could have climbed through anyone else's window. Maybe Tim or Barbara or even Jason, but…

The question seemed to sink in. Damian looked conflicted for a moment, though his head was still turned away. He clenched his jaw, as if biting back his words, but eventually he said, "You'll just take his side. You already have."

"Who? Bruce?" Dick asked. At the mention of the name, Damian shot a glare at Dick. Dick quickly backtracked. "Okay, I see it's a touchy subject. But let's talk about it." Damian's brow furrowed, like he was ready to argue, but Dick said gently, "I'm not working against you. I'm on your side, okay?"

The words settled in. Damian slowly nodded. "Okay."

"But I really do need to go grocery shopping," Dick added awkwardly, and he made sure that Damian was following when they headed back.

"He wants me to go to Gotham U."

The overhanging branches of a tree saved them from the sun's glare. Dick tried not to be distracted by the people passing through the park—namely the cute dog that was being walked by its cute owner.

"That's a good school," Dick said. He glanced at Damian oddly, who was sitting next to him on the park bench. Without asking for permission, Damian had grabbed a loaf of bread from one of Dick's shopping bags and started to unbag it.

"Yes—and completely unnecessary. But he won't put me as an heir to Wayne Enterprises unless I go," Damian said, his gaze focused on his hands as he ripped apart pieces of bread. He glowered as he talked. "I know how to a run a business. I studied college-level economics as a child. High school alone was a total chore. My classmates struggled with French when I'd already mastered seven languages. My classmates needed tutors for calculous when I'd already studied it thrice. They read every book in our English class as if they'd never read it before, when I've had The Iliad and The Art of War as bedtime stories. Classroom education is a waste of time."

"At least it won't be difficult?" Dick offered. Damian just shrugged sullenly and tossed a breadcrumb at a nearby pigeon. "So what if it's boring? College is a great experience. You get to meet people, make friends…"

Suddenly, Dick caught himself, the realization settling in. Damian was hardly preoccupied with making friends. It was usually people who made friends with him, and even then, Damian didn't seem particularly close to anybody. The closest people to Damian were sitting in Wayne Manor, far from the side of Gotham U's campus, and possibly the person sitting on the bench with him.

"I don't need friends," Damian said. A couple more pigeons hopped in the area of where he was aiming the bread.

"It's a life experience. It won't be too bad. Plus you can get away from Bruce."

"I like the manor. It's quiet. And Father and I don't always argue."

Dick was running out of ideas for Damian to stay. So he decided to be honest. Sorry, Bruce. "Maybe it's time to find your own path. I know I had to find mine. Bruce might be angry at you for it, but you'll be happier for standing up for yourself. If you don't want to go, don't go."

"Father will never relent. I want to take over the company, I just don't want to go to a stupid university to do it. And why should I? Haven't I proven myself enough? Haven't I been training my whole life to carry his legacy?" Damian said, his anger steadily rising with every word. He pulled off a particularly large chunk and tossed it into the circle of birds, where two pigeons pulled at it.

Dick leaned back, scratching the back of his head. "Bruce is just complicated. He wants things done his way. If you want something from him, it's just best to just follow his orders. Sometimes he knows best."

Damian stared at the circle of birds, who waited eagerly for the next piece. Murmuring, he said, "I just don't want things to change."

They eventually started heading back to Dick's place. Dick was mulling the conversation over in his head, feeling that he owed it to Damian to give him some proper answers, but in truth, he didn't know what to do. Both father and son were equally stubborn.

Not to mention, his problems growing up seemed to be the opposite of Damian's situation. Damian was fighting his way into the Wayne name. Dick had been fighting his way out.

"What about you?" Damian said suddenly, looking at him.

"What about me?"

"How did you know what to do when you left the manor?"

"I didn't know," Dick said, shrugging. "It just felt like I had to make a choice, and I went with my instinct. It wasn't easy. Bruce and I didn't get along for a long time. Honestly, I thought I had lost a mentor."

Damian said nothing but his silence seemed concerned. Dick nudged him. Damian allowed it.

"I'm sure it won't be that bad. Bruce and I are friends again now, aren't we? It's not perfect, but what relationship could be perfect with him?" he said in a light tone. "Besides, he's your dad. He'll never truly abandon you. Don't worry about it."

At that, Damian stiffened. "I'm not worried."

"Of course not…"

"Were those days rough?"

Dick pondered on the question. It wasn't perfect, that Dick knew for sure. He and Bruce had nearly stopped talking. He had joined the Teen Titans, getting himself into constant battles and drama and adding extra responsibilities to his shoulders. He had friends hurt and betray him. He had made some of his greatest enemies. He had lost people close to him.

But then he thought about the time he spent building his own identity. He thought about what it was like to work on a team where he felt equal and not like a subordinate. He thought about the late nights spent on patrol, running from rooftop to rooftop in what were arguably the prime years of his life, long before the knee injury and added age. He thought about experiencing love for the first time, not the shy glances and hand-holding he had with Barbara from his teenhood, but real love. The love where he would wake up next to her, and her green eyes would be closed shut and he'd be eager to make love, but the sunshine was so beautiful on her golden skin and fire hair that he never wanted to wake her up.

The days where he had a place he called home and he never wanted to leave.

"Honestly?" Dick said. "Those were some of the best years of my life."

Damian didn't say anything else. He quietly followed Dick back into the apartment building.

Dick couldn't let Damian's presence interfere with his work. He ended up having to leave Damian behind in his apartment and hoped that he wouldn't come home to find his apartment turned upside-down—or worse, to find that Damian had run off.

There was bar nearby that Dick visited. Dick barely drank but that was hardly the point of his visit—the bar was a popular spot amongst GCPD and a perfect way to pick up new cases or leads. All it required was a trained ear and waiting for a few drinks to get into some of the cops' conversations and hear their case-related stories. Dick had already created a fake identity for himself in the establishment and he always felt a little sneaky whenever he stepped inside the building. But that night, he was caught offguard.

At first, he thought he was placing faces on strangers, but he squinted his eyes and saw that the person across the bar was, indeed, who he thought it was.

"Jason? What are you doing here?" he said, approaching the little table. He thought the dim lighting was playing tricks on him until the ex-Robin looked back up at him.

"What, a guy can't order a drink?" Jason said, annoyed. He didn't even seem surprised that they had ended up running into each other.

"This is a cop bar," Dick said flatly. Jason stopped and looked at him. He leaned over the table, a daring look in his eyes.

"And? What reason would I have to worry about that?"

Jason's point was made. Dick couldn't go off listing every crime Jason had ever committed unless he wanted him arrested then and there, and lately Jason seemed to be on the good side. Dick just shrugged it off.

"Okay, fine, but that still doesn't explain why you're here."

"I'm meeting someone."

"Like a date?"

"I wish."

"Charming," said a flat voice. Dick looked up and saw Tim standing there. The bar was packed and when a cop brushed by, Tim seemed to grow impossibly uncomfortable. "Couldn't we have met somewhere else?"

"You said you wanted someplace safe and in public," Jason said, taking a swig of his drink. "And nothing else is open around this time. If you wanted to meet at the art museum or the library or the school playground, you should have just said so."

"What is this all about?" Dick asked. Tim slipped a package over the table which Jason took.

"Business," Tim said simply. "We're working a case together."

"And you didn't tell me?" Dick asked, his tone almost pouting.

"Christ, Grayson, it's a case. Not a party," Jason said, rolling his eyes.

"I would argue against that. I wouldn't do this work if I didn't find it a little fun," Dick said, smirking a little.

"It's nothing super crazy," Tim said, shrugging. "How are you? I haven't seen you in awhile."

"And that's my cue to order another drink," Jason said, moving towards the bar. Tim ignored him.

"Things have been… odd," Dick confessed. At that, Tim slowly nodded.

"Right. Alfred told me… things."

"If it involves a certain hothead, then the rumors you heard are correct."

"Damn," Tim said, resting his elbow on the table. "How long is he going to be there?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Dick said.

Jason arrived with three drinks, dividing them up.

"I don't drink," Tim said.

"Then don't," Jason said, annoyed. Dick didn't bother to point out that he didn't either, but after considering the drink a moment, he figured one wouldn't be too bad. "What are you two talking about?"

"Damian moved into Dick's place."

"Wait, wait, wait," Dick said, raising his index finger. His beer glass was sitting at his lips but he stopped to correct Tim anyways. "He's staying at my place. He never moved in."

At that, Tim snorted. "Either way, it sounds awful."

Jason seemed confounded by this news. He scrunched his face up in what might have been confusion, shock, disgust or worry—for once, Dick couldn't tell.

"What the hell? So you're babysitting? Do you have to feed him and take care of him?"

"It's not that awful. Damian can take care of himself. It's just been a little crowded, is all. My apartment isn't meant for two people."

"What, so now you can't masturbate in your own place anymore?" Jason said incredulously.

"Oh my God, Jason," Tim breathed, covering his face in embarrassment. His eyes seemed to dart around the room, as if wondering if people had heard—as if wondering if a bunch of drunk people in a bar actually cared. "Why would that be the first thing to come to your mind?"

"Uh, I'd probably just close the door?" Dick said, staring at Jason oddly.

"That's not the point," Jason said. Suddenly, he was both invested and upset on Dick's behalf. "The point is that it's your place and you should be able to do whatever you want. With a roommate, you can't piss with the door open or walk around naked or even have people over."

Dick hadn't had real roommates since he was a Titan, but he couldn't necessarily argue with these facts. "You're blowing this out of proportion. It's just for a few days. It doesn't bother me that much."

"A few days is all it takes to ruin your life. So let's say that hot lady cop who's been eying you all night asked you to take her to your place. You wouldn't be able to?" Jason said. Dick looked over Jason's shoulder to get an eye of the bar.

"Who?"

"Beside the point, Dick. The fact is, kick that little twerp out. Trust me, if he had the same training I had with the League, he's had more than enough survival training to last a few nights in Gotham until he gets his shit together."

"Hell no," Tim said, jumping in. "I'm sure Damian could survive just fine in the middle of the mountains with nothing but his bare hands, but that doesn't make it right." Tim leaned back a little and added, a tad bit quieter, "Besides, Bruce asked you to watch over him."

At that, Jason smirked. "And so we get to the real root of the problem. It's not about taking care of the teen menace, it's about being afraid of what Bruce would do."

Even in the dim lighting, Tim's face was red. "I didn't say that."

"So why not keep Damian at Titans Tower? I'm sure there are plenty of extra rooms and space. Beats being stuck in a one-bedroom apartment with Dick."

"Out of the question," Tim said immediately, his tone defensive. When Jason quirked a brow at him, Tim stammered to come up with a reason. "With Damian's history with Steph and Kara, Cassie would force him out in a heartbeat. Besides, there's room, but that doesn't mean there's always privacy and…" Tim sighed. "Okay, fine, it's because I don't have the patience for him."

"Who said anything about kicking him out?" Dick said, annoyed.

"Jesus, Grayson, you can't actually want him there."

"I mean, I don't want a roommate, but—"Dick rubbed the back of his neck, the conversation taking a turn for the uncomfortable.

"Still, it is odd that he would go to you before anyone else," Jason said, tilting his glass in Dick's direction.

"Is it?" Tim said. When Jason and Dick looked at him oddly, Tim shrugged. "I mean, it makes the most sense, if you ask me. Out of anyone in the family, Dick is probably the closest to Damian. And, well, it worked. Dick did take him in." At that, Tim paused. "I wonder if it's serious."

Dick wasn't sure if he should reveal Damian's secrets, so instead, he just said, "I think he's just a little nervous about branching out on his own and becoming an adult."

"But he already acts like an adult. Granted, it's mostly swagger and not actual maturity, but the kid is certainly aware of things that I wasn't aware of at his age," Jason said. "He just needs some life experiences, is all."

Life experiences. The phrase had come up before but it wasn't until now that Dick considered those words. Adult life wasn't glamorous but independance certainly was. Regardless of whether Damian chose to go to a university or do something else, it was clear that he had to move on. If he didn't, the rift between him and Bruce would only get worse. In the last few years Dick had stayed with Bruce, they had done nothing but butt heads, to the point of it nearly destroying their relationship. It was only after Dick had moved out and learned to be an adult that they were able to mend things. Damian had to do the same—and maybe to do that, he needed to be out of the house for a little while, to realize that living independently could be a great thing. And maybe Dick had to be the one to show him that.

"Still, I wonder what he and Bruce argued about," Tim wondered out loud.

"What does Bruce not argue about?" Jason said.

"Hm," Dick and Tim said at the same time. And all three of them, even Tim, had to take a drink at that.

Dick clenched his eyes shut. The sounds of distant chirping filled his ears. His head was pounding. He slowly opened his eyes, a sudden grogginess overtaking him. He moaned a little, rolling over to lay on his back—only to fall onto the ground.

He yelped in surprise as he hit the floorboards, the pounding in his head amplifying. He sat up, grabbing his head, and looked around—finding himself on his living room floor with the couch next to him.

"What?" he said out loud, his voice cracking a little. His throat felt dry.

He got to his feet, glancing around the room in a dazed confusion. He almost wondered if he was somewhere new but the furniture was all the same. However, it had been cleared up completely. He could see the floorboards again and the boxes had been neatly stacked in the corner. All of his casework had been placed back in the drawers where they belonged and all of the trash had been picked up.

Dick turned around, finding Damian near the window in trikonasana. A light breeze was coming in through the open windows but all Dick could do was recoil at the sunlight hitting his face.

"What happened?" Dick asked.

"Your place was a sty so I cleaned it while you were out. I threw out a bunch of junk you didn't need. You're welcome."

Dick made a mental note to go through his trash later. "Not that," he said, his voice raspy. "Why was I asleep on the couch?"

"You were drunk," Damian said, switching poses. He glanced up at Dick. "That scratch on your arm is from a tree branch, in case you were wondering."

Dick looked down, noticing a long shallow scratch on his arm and light smudges of smeared blood on his skin.

"How—"

"You climbed in through the living room window using the tree outside. I tried asking you why you didn't just walk in but you said something about Flying Graysons not needing the ground and walked into the bathroom bleeding. You came back out, sat on the couch and passed out. I slept in your bed. Speaking of which, your pillows were horrendous so I ordered some memory-foam ones on your online account. Its being express shipped so it should be here tomorrow."

It was too much information for Dick to take in while hungover. He just slowly made his way back to his fridge to grab himself a water. The fridge had been reorganized too. Dick rose an eyebrow but chose not to comment on it.

He returned to the couch, trying to replay the events from the previous night in his head but it was blurry. He remembered something about Jason and shots and that was all he needed.

"Poor Tim," Dick murmured out loud, his imagination filling in the blanks. Tim probably got stuck in between both of them drinking. He wondered how Jason was faring, though Dick didn't worry for long. Dick rarely drank so he probably got wasted long before Jason did. He could barely remember the night before so he doubted he accomplished building up his network for his cases. He sighed a little—just more work for him to do. His hangover would be his punishment.

Dick glanced over at Damian. Dick's eyes adjusted a little to the brightness, though his headache was still strong. Damian was continuing his stretches, the light hitting him in a certain way, and Dick was surprised by how calm he looked.

"I never pegged you for the type to do yoga," he said.

"I never pegged you as a drunk," Damian quipped, maintaining concentration on his pose.

"It was one night," Dick said, frowning.

"Tt." The room was quiet for a moment, save for the light inhales and exhales of Damian's concentrated breathing, before the younger finally said, "This is actually incredibly boring but it's been in my routine since I was in the League of Assassins. It works so I do it."

Dick slumped over on the couch, his chin resting on the armrest. Damian's eyes flickered in his direction but he pointedly kept his mouth shut, ignoring Dick's stare.

"You should go out on patrol with me tonight," Dick said, breaking the silence.

"Why? Do you need help stumbling into and puking on your opponents?"

"Did I actually puke?" Dick said, looking concerned.

"Nope," Damian said. He muttered, almost like a whisper to the heavens, "Thankfully."

"You haven't been on patrol since you've been here, right? So let's just work together."

"I thought you ran solo."

"Not always. You should know that."

"I really don't want to run into Father," Damian said, frowning.

"You'll be fine."

"You're really going to push me on this, aren't you?" Damian said with a sigh. Dick just smiled. "Fine. Whatever."

Their patrol had gone well, although one of the police signals they had picked up ended up dragging them towards downtown. As Dick took in the sparkling lights of the city, he remembered his conversation with Jason and Tim. About life experiences.

Part of the biggest life experience was just this, running around Gotham without Bruce telling him to stop or slow down. Damian, however, seemed too indifferent and serious the whole night. He would never say it out loud, but Dick knew that Damian was nervous that they were going to run into Batman, especially now that they were in his usual territory.

As they climbed the roofs, Dick saw that Damian wasn't following. At first he panicked but he saw that the younger crimefighter was not too far away, and had stilled on the edge of the rooftop.

Dick's eyes followed the direction Damian was looking. In the heart of the business district, even as all of the office buildings were off for the night, Wayne Enterprises still shone—its name lighting up the building, outshining and towering over all the names around it.

"He'll give it to you regardless," Dick said. Damian snapped out of his daze, seemed startled—as if he didn't realize that he had been staring. "As stubborn as he is, he will give it to you."

"I doubt that."

Dick shrugged. "So you say. But I've known him longer than you have. Trust me, it'll be yours. This whole university mumbo-jumbo—he's just looking after you, as backwards as it may seem. He knows you can do it, he just doesn't think you're there yet."

"Tt. And that's where both of you are wrong—I am ready for it," Damian said. He added, grinning a bit wickedly, "But you are right on one thing, it will be mine."

"That's the spirit," Dick said, rolling his eyes at the arrogance. "Come on. Let's head home."

Dick realized what he said only after he had said it. But Damian didn't comment on it and followed him closely on the journey back.

Dick got ready that morning, excited for the day. He had spent the past few nights cooking up a plan for Damian. Damian was in the living room, doing his normal routine as always, and while he was decidedly quiet, Dick noticed the way Damian had glanced at him curiously as he zipped around the house.

Dick finally took a seat on the floor next to him. Damian glanced at him once but returned to his poses. He seemed to be struggling with a particular one, his eyes furrowed in deep concentration. Dick thought it looked fun so he mimicked, moving into place with quick and efficient ease.

Damian glared at him, jealous and annoyed.

"Can I help you?" he finally said, begrudgingly. "Or are you going to start doing backflips down the hallway?"

"So I had some plans for us today," Dick announced. Damian didn't respond at first, moving into the next pose. Dick continued to mimic, his superior flexibility on display. Damian huffed a little.

"Alright then. Spit it out."

"It's a surprise," Dick said.

"Am I going to like it?"

"Eh."

"And why are you choosing to make me do this?"

"Because I want to introduce you to some life experiences."

"I don't need 'life experiences'," Damian said, uttering the phrase as if it were a curse. He finally broke his pose, sitting on the ground. The sheer amount of annoyance on his face almost made Dick rethink his strategy. Almost.

"It'll be fun. We're going on a trip."

"We have very different ideas of fun."

"You've been staying rent-free in my apartment. I think you owe me."

"So now you're guilting me?" Damian said, but he seemed more than amused by this. The dirty tactic seemed to work. "Alright, fine. I'll play your stupid game."

Damian had apparently never taken the Gotham subway before.

"Wouldn't it be more efficient to drive?" Damian asked as he struggled with getting his ticket to scan at the gate.

"In Gotham's traffic? No, definitely not," Dick said, scanning the ticket for him.

"Exactly how far are you taking me?" Damian said, eyebrows furrowing. Dick shrugged exaggeratedly, looking silly as he did so. Damian shook his head to himself, but Dick caught him smirking a little as he turned away.

On their way toward the platform, Dick caught Damian staring at the transit map, as if trying to figure out where they might be heading towards.

"Come on," Dick said hurriedly. Damian reluctantly tore away from the map and followed Dick to the platform. The train arrived on cue, herds of people pouring out. Damian looked visibly tense as people started bumping shoulders, rushing to get on. "You'll live," Dick said, joining the crowd of people. He heard Damian sigh behind him.

They made it on but the car was full so they had to stand. Damian looked fed up.

"You're really not going to tell me, are you?" Damian said. When Dick just smiled innocently, Damian rolled his eyes. "It's the pier, isn't it?"

They were heading in that direction but Dick didn't even want to give that much away, in case Damian figured out the rest for himself. "I'm not telling you. Just wait."

Damian frowned. At the next stop, more people piled on. Dick realized his mistake—it was right around rush hour. As the car became packed, someone accidentally brushed against Damian. Damian simply scowled and drew closer to Dick.

"You have to tell me how long it'll be before we get there, at least."

"Sorry," Dick said, and while he felt that he should apologize for the sheer amount of discomfort Damian was exhibiting, truthfully it was just difficult for him not to laugh.

The train went over a bump, all of the standing people swaying with it. Dick maintained his balance but Damian was bumped forward into him. Dick, instinctively, raised his arm to catch him.

"That didn't happen," Damian said quickly.

"No, of course not," Dick said, equally embarrassed, and he removed his arm. And the train kept going.

Damian stopped when the Gotham University sign was within eyeshot.

"You're kidding me," Damian said, stopping. His eyes darkened to the point of menacing. Dick was unfazed.

"I'm not setting you up for some formal, boring tour. I just figured we could explore the campus a bit. Maybe this isn't what you want to do—but it can't hurt to explore, can it?"

"Yes, actually. It can. This is a total waste of time."

"We already came all the way out here."

Damian frowned. Mostly because it was true. Dick knew he had him trapped and had to resist feeling triumphant. He led the way into the courtyard. Gotham University was so friendly and clean compared to the grungy streets of Gotham. A group of college girls walked by, a few of them glancing in their direction—ever since the incident with Myra, Dick couldn't be sure if girls were staring at him or Damian—and other students laid or played games in the neatly mowed grass.

"Please tell me the rest of your plans are going to be better than this," Damian said bitingly. It was amazing how instantly Damian could kill a mood. Dick wasn't bothered, turning around to reassure Damian, but he noticed a red blur in his peripherals.

"Damian—"Dick was about to warn, but without even having to turn around or look back, Damian caught a frisbee before it could hit the back of his head.

The frisbee player who was chasing it stopped, looking astounded. Damian, without even blinking, just tossed it back over his shoulder, where it unceremoniously landed in a trashcan.

"Uh, let's go this way," Dick said, when the owner's face turned bright red with anger. He pushed Damian into a new direction. They made it to another part of campus, that Dick hopelessly did not recognize. He was trying to figure out where to go from there when he heard voices, tons of them, that seemed to be growing. Dick glanced around, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from, eventually realizing it was coming from separate directions.

"What's going on?" Damian asked, hearing it too.

"I have no idea," Dick said. Around the fountain came a crowd of people, carrying signs. The voices were chanting. "It's just some protest. Let's go this way."

They moved but were stopped when another group of people blocked the way. Counter-protesters.

"Shit," Dick said, grumbling. Now they were stuck in between two crowds of angry people.

"Hey!" some guy shouted from one of the groups. Dick and Damian looked in his direction. "Which side are you on?"

"We're not on a side," Damian said, sounding almost indignant.

"Pacifism will get you nowhere!" the guy said, wagging his sign in Damian's face. Damian's gaze darkened, a look that Dick recognized too well, setting off all of Dick's warning signals. Before Dick could intercede, Damian had already swatted the sign to the ground. The guy gasped, followed by the rest of the protestors from his side.

"This is supposed to be a peaceful protest!" a bystander shouted, who had only caught the latter half of the scene. "You people are out of control!"

"You're the one out of your mind!" a counter-protester fought back.

"Why?" Dick said, slapping his forehead. Campus security came in to separate the groups, giving Dick and Damian an opportunity to escape. They made it to a clearing between some buildings. Dick was going to start scolding but was interrupted by the sounds of a guitar playing. Dick and Damian both glanced in the direction of the music. The guitar player was playing his acoustic, serenading a group of students with his nasally voice. The pitch in his voice went impossibly higher.

"Okay," Damian said, looking away. "I'm done."

Dick looked down at his phone. "We've only been here for twenty minutes."

"I'm done," Damian said through gritted teeth, in a voice that was far too reminiscent of his father's.

Dick's eyes darted to the side. It'd be a shame if they came all this way without doing something substantial. "Do you want to go to the pier after all?"

"Whatever."

The train toggled back and forth. This time, at least, they were able to grab seats. Even though they were brushing up against each other, Damian didn't seem nearly as unhappy as he was on the way down.

As they travelled back to Dick's place, Dick stared out the window. At first the window revealed sights of the city—old buildings and walls painted with graffiti—but as the train went under, and his ears popped from the pressure change, there was nothing to look at anymore. Dick wondered how long it would be before they made it back, and every minute seemed longer than the last.

When they returned, Damian immediately took a seat on the couch. It had been a long day.

"Do you now realize there's no convincing me?" Damian said, sounding a bit smug. "I mean, now that your plan has utterly failed?"

"Has it?" Dick said, flashing him a look. Damian huffed.

"You mean there's more," he said, looking defeated.

"No, I was just messing with you. However, I still haven't entirely given up. Move," Dick said, approaching the couch. Damian sat up properly so Dick could take a seat.

"So what grandiose scheme will you come up with next?"

"Nothing. I just want to talk. Obviously college life isn't tempting for you. So I thought I would tell you about my experiences and—"

"How come you haven't unpacked all of your things?" Damian asked, interrupting.

"Sorry?" Dick said, blinking. Damian gestured in the direction of the moving boxes that he had settled into the corner of Dick's apartment back when he had cleaned. Dick considered them for a moment before shaking his head. "Wait a minute, don't change the subject—"

"It's not a complicated question," Damian said, the look in his eyes almost challenging him. Dick frowned, his suspicion soaring. He was still sure that Damian was trying to divert the topic. Still, since he was interrupted, he forgot the speech he had planned, so he caved.

"I don't know. Because it's pointless? Because I'm lazy?" Dick threw out ideas. He had never stopped to think about it. "It's all just going to get moved again anyways. I'll get sent on some mission, or I'll decide to try something else. I don't want to settle in if it just means that I have to leave in the end."

"You're so whiney," Damian said, but he said it lightheartedly, looking slightly amused. Dick's expression soured at the accusation.

"Excuse me?"

"How do you expect to become settled if you don't allow yourself to? The only one stopping you is yourself."

Sometimes, in rare moments, Dick remembered how wise Damian was capable of being. He might have been on to something but Dick wasn't going to ponder on it.

He wasn't the one with the problem.

"I'll get to it."

"Perhaps we're both avoiding things we don't want to do," Damian said, leaning his head back, lost in thought. Dick didn't like the insinuation of that—what was he supposedly avoiding just by not wanting to unpack his things? "I've been thinking on what you said the other night—about Father thinking I'm not ready. And while I still find that idea to be completely asinine, I now suppose it's true in a way. It's not just change I'm worried about. Today's trip reminded me how much I absolutely detest people."

Dick stared at him flatly. He wasn't sure how to feel about this revelation. "That's... totally not what I was going for."

"Yes, I know. You failed spectacularly—and in that, it did make me realize that I'm not going to be able to run a business without having to deal with people that I despise. Perhaps you're right—it's not just about having the credentials. It's preparing me to be able to work with people without losing my goddamned mind."

"I mean, yes, but—"Dick stopped himself, frowning. He changed his mind. "Okay, sure. You nailed it."

"I know you wanted me to get all excited over 'life experiences'—or whatever sappy thing you called them—but such sentiments are useless to me."

"So you never want to experience meeting people? To hang out with people or have long lasting friendships that don't involve punching people?"

"That is the best sort of camaraderie."

"Or what about going to parties and doing something exciting and stupid?"

"What could be more exciting than what I do already? You said it yourself: I punch people."

"Or going on dates and kissing someone that isn't your mom?"

"Your understanding of my relationship with my mother is horribly askew. And if all of this stuff is so important, why don't you just show me?"

"Your timing for that question is pretty misplaced," Dick said, almost laughing, until he noticed the look on Damian's face.

Why did he look so serious?

Dick blinked. "Wait, what?"

"Why can't you just show me?" Damian asked, unfazed.

"You're talking about the other stuff I said, right? Like the friends and party bits I mentioned," Dick said, not sure if he was understanding Damian correctly. Maybe he was imagining things, but Damian seemed to be insinuating… but of course, Damian continued to look at Dick expectantly, and Dick realized his mistake. Damian was always serious. Dick didn't like the look in Damian's eyes, the way those crystal-blues seemed to gaze at him with a deep intensity. "I can't possibly—we can't possibly—"Dick stopped when he realized he was stammering.

"If it's so important, why can't I just do it with you?" Damian repeated. Dick ran a hand through his hair, unable to believe the situation he had accidentally talked himself into. His heart was already thumping a little faster.

"Because it's not the same. It'd be forced. You should let these matters develop on their own. Besides, do you even like—"Dick stopped himself. He wasn't going to ask questions about Damian's sexuality. Definitely not.

Damian's eyes darted to the corner of his eyes. Suddenly, he looked doubtful, in a way that Dick had never seen him before. Almost… vulnerable. "Is this not developed enough? I doubt another matter will ever come."

Dick knew, even before this conversation, that Damian had a hard time connecting with people. He hardly had any friends and the ones he had were mostly teammates. Even Dick had a hard enough time making friends with civilians—it was difficult empathizing with people whose day-to-day problems were vastly different than his own. He couldn't imagine what it was like for Damian, who was odd and stand-offish even in vigilante communities, to get along with a common everyday peer.

"Life past high school is different, Damian. Especially when you're at a university. You'll find people who actually have common interests with you, not just a bunch of kids you've been shoved in a classroom with."

Damian still seemed unsure. "You're the only person who seems to understand me."

Despite everything, Dick felt humbled by the statement… and concerned. Damian really didn't have anyone, he realized. "Look," Dick said sighing. "Maybe if we were just friends, I'd be willing to do it just once. But you're not just my friend, you're like… family. You're like a little brother. You're my best friend's son. I can't just—"

Damian didn't say anything, quietly letting Dick's words settle in. Dick stopped himself, sighing a little, his eyes mellowing in sympathy. Damian was so oddly vulnerable in that moment—he was never like this, he never sat around looking so defeated. Dick felt the need to raise his confidence, to nurture his usually well-minded pride back to life.

Besides, concerning Dick's track history… what harm could one more person add?

Dick looked at Damian, sitting quietly on his couch with his eyes glued downwards, and even though he knew he was likely going to regret this later, he told himself, Just once.

Dick gently grasped the sides of Damian's face. The teen looked at him, almost surprised, but whatever quips he undoubtedly had in store were silenced.

If Dick had to be completely honest, he never got sick of moments where he could stun Damian.

Dick closed his eyes and leaned in, pressing his lips against Damian's. It was meant to be simple, quick. But Damian's lips moved against his, and Dick found himself lingering just a moment longer. Damian was softer than he imagined, but there was something else there too. A spark of excitement that Dick had to bury as he pulled away.

Dick backed up, looking into Damian's eyes, and he immediately wondered if he just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Because when they locked eyes, Damian had this look. While he must have been surprised, he remained calm, and behind his eyes there was a sense of thought—he looked back at Dick, almost curious, as if he was waiting to see what Dick was going to do next. And with his lips still slightly parted, glistening ever so slightly from their kiss, it was almost as if he was waiting for Dick to do it again.

And Dick's heart skipped a beat when he realized he wanted to.

He decided he must have been alone for too long—that maybe he was starting to see a gateway in Damian to the things he had abstained from for so long. But he reminded himself that it was just one kiss—and it wasn't for his own desire, it was for Damian, so the teen wouldn't feel so alone. That this would never happen again, could never happen again, because Dick had morals that he had to uphold.

But their eyes were still locked, and even though a moment ago Damian's eyes were bright and clear, now they seemed to grow darker, almost more intense. And Dick found himself leaning in again, forgetting about the liberties he was taking, but before their lips could meet, Damian broke the silence.

"Tt. Feeling bold, Grayson?"

Dick stopped. He looked at Damian, whose own eyes instantly darted to the side.

"I didn't think you were actually going to do it. But to do it twice—that's rather heedless, isn't it?"

Heat immediately rose to Dick's face. The situation was slowly dawning on him. "Wait—"

"I will admit that it's almost admirable how easily you defied your own ethics, just for my sake. Almost, once you take away the factor that you just compared me to being like a brother to you."

"You tricked me," Dick accused, pulling away. Suddenly he felt like a fool. Of course Damian was naive in the ways of relationships, but he wasn't so naive that he would actually ask Dick to do that and not foresee any consequences. Still, he couldn't think of a reason why. Damian wasn't above tricking people, he even seemed to find some amusement in it, but that was a trick that had all the possibility to go wrong. And it did.

"I didn't do anything. You acted of your own accord," Damian said, rolling his eyes.

Dick fumed in place. He couldn't believe he had fallen for Damian's mind games. When he finally dared to look at Damian in the eye, he noticed that the younger crimefighter seemed strangely quiet for someone who had just accomplished a prank.

"I wasn't being entirely dishonest," Damian confessed. "You are the only person who understands me."

"Oh," Dick said, a bit dumbfounded, and Damian's decidedly quiet manner made sense. After a moment of silence, Dick said, face flushed, "This is going to be weird now, isn't it?"

Damian scoffed a little. "You mean you didn't stop to think of that before you kissed me?"

"Of course I did! I even said it'd be weird but you tricked me into doing it anyways."

"Again, I didn't trick you into doing anything…"

Dick woke up the next morning not to the sound of noisy birds (although they were singing somewhere in the distance), but to the sounds of movement coming from his living room.

Dick sat up, rubbing his eyes a little, before opening the bedroom door. The sleep in him disappeared when he saw Damian moving around the room.

Dick didn't find Damian doing his morning stretches as usual. Instead, the younger crimefighter was fully dressed and seemed to be gathering up his things. Dick watched for a few moments, his head trying to put together what was going on.

"Are you leaving?" he finally asked. Granted, Damian had swooped in unexpectedly, but Dick didn't expect him to leave so suddenly. Part of him wondered if this sudden departure had anything to do with the kiss—but everything seemed fine afterwards. They went back to their regular night, talked to each other just fine, seemed to have even accepted it and moved on.

But then he wondered why it mattered what the reason was or why he even cared—wasn't this what he wanted?

Damian slowed to a stop, passing around the items in his hands a few times.

"I've decided to go," Damian said, announcing it. "I realize now that my inability to go outside of my social comfort zone is only harming me. As of our trip yesterday, I've decided to get over my gripe of talking to people. And my father was right, in his own way. I can't expect anyone to take me seriously just because I'm his son. I'll have to earn it. It shouldn't be so difficult anyways—just four years, five if anything goes wrong. It's time to move on, and that being the case, there's no reason for me to stick around here. I can go home now."

"Oh," Dick said, and suddenly, the room felt quiet. Dick could feel his own steady heartbeat. "I mean, that's a good thing though, right? Bruce will be happy about your decision, so you won't be fighting any longer."

Damian frowned for a moment. Dick was taken aback by the look. Dick's eyes followed Damian as he grabbed his bag, the one that Dick had forgotten was even there. Dick was alarmed when Damian suddenly started heading for the door without even as much as a goodbye. Dick got up and followed him, calling after him but the door swung open and Damian was already out of his apartment.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Dick asked, stopping him in the hall. Damian shrugged off the hand placed on his shoulder and suddenly, it all felt far too familiar. Dick felt his heart sink. "What did I do?"

"You're not supposed to say that," Damian spat. Dick stared, unable to remember the last time he felt this much anger directed at him. But there was a deeper layer to it. Damian sounded almost betrayed and he wouldn't even look Dick in the eye, almost as if he was hurt. "You're supposed to say something. You're supposed to make me stay."

"I thought you decided to go," Dick said, raising his hands up in defense. "I can't make your choices for you." Dick knew he was in the right, but still, he couldn't help but feel guilty. That look that Damian had given Dick before he ran out almost pained Dick. "I'm sorry."

"Do you even want me around?" Damian asked quietly.

Dick stopped, unsure of how to answer. Damian noticed his hesitation. Instead of running off or berating him for it, however, Damian suddenly tugged him by the collar—pulling him in for a kiss.

Dick's face flared with heat, instant flashbacks of the night before returning to him. It shouldn't have been so easy to close his eyes. It shouldn't have been easy to draw out that kiss, which should have been quick and one-sided. But Damian had somehow hooked him in, and Dick found himself deepening it, his hand slowly raising and placing itself behind Damian's head to lure him in closer.

A sudden noise—the click of a door—broke their kiss. They turned toward it, finding Myra standing there, her eyes wide.

The three of them stood there in silence for a moment, staring at one another. Dick also just now realized he was still wearing the shirt and boxers he had slept in, since he didn't have time to change when Damian bolted out the door.

"Uh," Dick said, dumbly, unable to come up with an excuse.

"You two are pretty close for brothers, aren't you?" she said, looking at them strangely. Dick blushed. In that moment, he wished he could disappear. "It's okay, I've seen weirder things," she said immediately after she saw Dick's expression, as if reassuring him. But then her eyes darted to the side, looking suddenly doubtful. "Maybe," she said. She locked up her apartment and awkwardly scooted past them and headed for the staircase.

Once she was gone, Dick and Damian were on their own in the middle of the hall, where a moment of tense silence passed between them.

"I'm sorry," Damian said, breaking the silence. "That was a foolish thing to do."

Even when he was apologizing, Damian sounded tense. But it wasn't often that he admitted his faults so Dick didn't take it lightly.

"Let's talk about this inside," Dick offered. But Damian just shrugged, looking almost sullen.

"I don't think we should," he said finally.

"I see," Dick said simply, though his mind was reeling.

"I really should go home," Damian said, readjusting the strap on his bag.

Dick couldn't find it in him to argue. He watched Damian head out. He knew he was doing the right thing but he still couldn't help but wonder if he should have said something, especially as kept recalling the look on Damian's face.

Dick woke up the next day to the sounds of birds chirping. He yelled at them, per usual, and headed for his showers. As he finished up and stood outside his bathroom, his gaze zoomed down the hall toward the open window. The sun was pouring in. But unlike the days before, there was no one standing near that window. There was no one sleeping on that couch, or rummaging through things, or cleaning up those floors. Any evidence that there had even been another person in Dick's apartment had disappeared with Damian.

Dick didn't let it bother him. In his mind, people wandered. They came, they went. All he could do was continue his business as usual, and perhaps have a conversation with Damian later. Perhaps.

As Dick moved to do his business as usual, a gleam of something caught his eye. He moved closer to the coffee table, getting a better look at the shiny, designer watch sitting on it. Dick looked at it, a voice in the back of his head telling him to pick it up and return it. Instead, Dick's eyes darted away, and he pretended that he had never seen it.

After finishing up with getting ready for the day, Dick headed downstairs to check his mail. He slowed down when he noticed a body standing by the mailboxes. Curiously, Dick craned his head to get a better look of the person there. He carefully took the last few steps off the staircase.

Dick rose an eyebrow. He had never seen this person before. There was a middle-aged man, perhaps older, wearing a scarf even though it was the middle of summer, shorts that appeared to be boxers in actuality, and slippers that were so worn down that one of them had a hole near the big toe.

"Uh, hi? You must live on this floor. I'm Dick, I live upstairs," Dick said politely. The man's gaze flickered in his direction but he never turned or said anything in response. Dick heard him mumbling to himself as he grabbed his mail and quickly, almost rushing, shuffled back into his apartment. Dick watched him go, listening as several locks moved behind the door. Lock after lock after lock.

Dick blinked twice.

This time, Dick heard him coming through his window.

Dick stopped putting away his dishes and went to go take a look at the living room, where Dick caught Damian standing. This time, in civilian clothes, which only just made him look more suspicious.

"You could just, you know, knock."

Damian stopped in his tracks.

"I was sort of hoping you wouldn't notice, to be honest," Damian said. "I forgot something."

Damian spotted the watch almost right away. Dick found himself drawing closer to the living room, standing nearby as Damian picked it up.

"Do you plan on taking the window out? Should I turn away?"

Damian gave him a dry look. "I suppose the door will be fine."

"Do you have any idea how inconspicuous it looks to have some guy climbing through a second story window?"

"Well, the goal was to not be seen," Damian said, shrugging. He wasn't heading for the door right away, didn't even seem to want to put on the watch—he kept feeding the silver between his thumbs and fingers, and Dick watched the movements, feeling a bit entranced, until Damian wrapped his hand around it entirely and started to head out after all.

"You don't have to leave right away," Dick blurted out. Damian paused, looking at him questioningly. Dick's mind reeled slightly. He wasn't acting like himself. He struggled to correct himself, "I mean. You can visit. If you want."

Damian looked away. He was quiet, almost sullen, like that wasn't quite the response he was hoping for. Dick's throat felt dry, feeling as if he had said something wrong. Feeling as if he had said something dishonest, yet he wasn't quite sure how to correct it.

A small sense of unexplainable fear began to pool in the pit of his stomach. His heart seemed to thump loudly. Dick realized he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.

He was nervous.

The nerves seemed to plunge deeper when Damian looked right at him, the gaze a bit mysterious—almost as if he was expecting, waiting, for a response. In that short moment, which seemed like an eternity, Dick thought of how odd it was that they were standing there looking at each other. Specifically, how odd it was that Damian had managed to forget something, when he wasn't the forgetful type, and how he had failed to sneak in unnoticed, even though he had done it once before. Or perhaps it wasn't odd at all.

Perhaps what was odd was that Dick had secretly been waiting for this. Had been, for a long time.

Waiting for someone to come back.

Dick inched in closer, his hand resting on top of Damian's enclosed one. The fingers entangling until Dick fishes out the watch, the metal warm against his skin.

"I would have came sooner if you just told me," Damian said, voice low. But there's still that look in his eyes, that expecting look, and Dick knew that this watch—expensive as it was—was probably the least important thing.

"I know," he said, almost regretfully. He could still hear the steady beat of his own pulse.

Dick leaned in close, kissing him on the cheek. But his lips still lingered a bit too close to Damian's skin. When Damian turned his head towards him, their lips brushed against each other's, and the rest felt almost too easy.

They both sank to the couch, connected by the mouth, and it felt too much like they were picking up where they left off. Them, in Dick's apartment. The watch back on the table where it was. Damian's face, held in his hands. Kissing. Except this time, it was not simple or quick. There were no tricks, no excuses, no holding back.

Damian was kissing him back, lips moving against his, fingers tangling through Dick's hair. He kissed almost with a sense of urgency, expressing a type of passion that Dick had never expected from Damian before. It excited him. More than it should have. Especially as their breaths are shortened, faint noises escaping as they pulled away, their breaths intermingling. Damian crushed his lips against his, again and again. His lips feel better than Dick ever imagined. Tastes better.

Dick's heart was racing, heat rising to his face. They're moving too quick. When their lips met again, Dick moved his hand, the fingers curling around the back of Damian's head, pulling him in deeper. Dick didn't let go. His tongue tasted Damian's lips, and Damian's mouth pliantly opened, his face warming beneath Dick's touch.

Damian's inexperience began to peek out. He sat there, a bit too tense, as Dick tasted the inside of his mouth. He didn't seem to know what to do. When their tongues brushed against one another's, Damian shivered. But they slowed down, the kiss becoming more exploratory, the touch more sensual, less frantic. Dick controlled the pace, kissing Damian much slower.

Even so, Dick's heart was still rattling around, and his mind was drifting to places where they shouldn't go, thoughts of taking this further. Too far. His hand was travelling across Damian's skin—past his hair, behind his ear, down the back of his neck, stopping right where the collar of Damian's shirt met his skin. Even then, Dick's hands were slipping past the fabric, fingers reaching underneath the collar to touch the unexposed skin, wanting to touch more. He shouldn't want to touch more.

His thumb ran back and forth gently across the skin. Damian seemed to lean into the touch. Even let out a sigh against his lips. And even though they were slowing down, the sound sent a spark down Dick's spine. He didn't even think Damian was capable of making such a sound.

Damian seemed to sense Dick's sudden tension. He suddenly wrapped his arms around Dick's neck, pulling Dick on top of him. Dick was surprised by the action, the situation more complicated than he anticipated when he realized his body was just barely hovering over Damian's. He pulled back just enough to look at Damian, their eyes locking.

Dick felt frozen. Damian's gaze was as intense as always, but there was a small sense of calm in them, as well as something else. Any thoughts of Damian being possibly misguided quickly erased from his mind.

Damian wanted this.

Dick didn't know for how long or why. But he knew that despite all of Damian's stubbornness to leave, despite being so determined to stay rooted in Wayne Manor and have his birthright, he still showed up there. In Dick's apartment.

When he should have been at home.

And even now, while Damian was surely getting himself into something he shouldn't, he still knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted this.

Shit.

Somewhere in the back of Dick's mind, a voice told him to stop. Reminded him that what he was doing was going to have some serious consequences later. But he pushed Damian's shirt up anyways, and Damian helped him pull it off the rest of the way. Dick decided he liked the color of Damian's skin, warmed by the summer sun. He liked Damian's body, even in its sheer masculinity—liked it so much that he kept touching him, feeling the hardened abs to the slight definition of his obliques to his chest.

Damian's breath hitched as Dick explored his skin. His hands even slipped under Dick's shirt, the callused hands brushing against his skin. Dick shuddered a little, especially as Damian's hands settled on the inside of his hipbones, dangerously close to his waistband.

Dick kissed Damian behind his ear, then lower, sucking on his neck. Damian groaned openly. Dick was aroused now. His skin was heated. His jeans felt tight. He was painfully aware of what the situation was beginning to look like—Damian half undressed, underneath him, on his couch in his apartment… it was a scene that Dick visited many times in his life with other people. Perhaps, he was beginning to realize, too many times.

He was kissing Damian's collarbone. Wondering how far he can go before Damian finally stopped him or his common sense told him to quit for good. He tested himself further, fingers tugging at Damian's nipple, but the teen's fingers just dug into his skin and pulled him in closer. Their lips met again, mouths crushing against each other. Damian's mouth was hot, wet.

Dick was still wondering when this was going to stop, but his fingers hooked in the waistband of Damian's pants anyways, undoing the button and unzipping the fly. His hands went to his own belt, the metal buckle clinking as he undid it, and just as soon as it was undone, Damian's hands were on him, cupping his hard-on between the layers of fabric. Damian's hand was warm against his erection, pressing against the sensitive flesh. Dick moaned softly.

And suddenly Damian's head was ducking down, and even though Dick should have understood where things were leading toward, he was too shocked by Damian's boldness. Damian fished out his erection, his tongue running up the length, and Dick's hand gripped the edge of the couch.

Any room for protest he might have had instantly disappeared when Damian swallowed the head of his cock into his mouth. Dick grunted, his head falling forward, his long bangs brushing against his face. Damian was sinking his head further down, the inside of his mouth unbelievably hot and wet. Dick's cock was surrounded by that feeling. He felt impossibly hard.

He dared to look down at Damian. He couldn't get a good look at his face but his head was bobbing up and down his cock, swallowing him inch by inch, and Dick was openly moaning now. It was so difficult to not grab him by the the back of his neck, to push him down further, to hold him while he fucked his face. But Damian had never even kissed anyone before Dick, much less done anything like this, so Dick restrained himself.

He was too worked up. Damian kept sucking his cock, his mouth unbelievably perfect. He accidentally sunk too far, a crude noise coming from the back of his throat, and Dick felt a sudden shiver go down his spine.

Wait. He was going to come. Already.

Dick pulled Damian off of him, rather suddenly. Damian seemed surprised, almost seemed to wonder if he did something wrong, but all Dick could focus on was Damian's reddened lips. Dick quickly kissed him firmly, reassuringly.

As their lips met, Dick realized he didn't want this to end.

Damian hissed out a few curse words, words that Dick wasn't even entirely sure were in English, and it startled Dick to the point where he almost stopped. But Damian quickly wrapped his hand around the back of Dick's neck, pulling him in for a kiss that was almost demanding, and Dick's doubts slipped away. He curled his fingers inside of Damian, and the teen's whole body shuddered, his head falling back on the pillow.

Dick looked down where his fingers were penetrating Damian. Damian was hot. Tight. Seeing him stretched around his fingers made him groan. He wanted to be inside.

"Don't stare," Damian scolded him, his annoyance masking his embarrassment. Dick saw through it, especially since Damian was speaking almost breathily, and Dick smiled despite himself.

"Can I?" he asked, kissing the corner of Damian's mouth. Damian would never say it out loud, so he just nodded. The flimsy mattress creaks and shifts beneath Dick's weight as he settled between Damian's legs. He had been hard, painfully hard, the entire time he was preparing Damian. Each groan and sigh as Dick penetrated him had seemed to etch a place inside of his mind, increasing his arousal.

He started to push himself inside. Damian was wincing.

"Are you okay?" Dick asked.

"Stop asking."

Dick shut his mouth, for now, and there was a collective gasp as he got the tip inside. Damian looked at him, the warm light coming from his bedstand illuminating Damian's skin. Dick could see the dark flush on his face, and he found it beautiful in a way. Found Damian to be very beautiful, in fact, and he couldn't believe he had never really noticed. As he pushed in further, inch by inch, Damian's expression reacted. His lips, still wet from their kiss, slowly parts. His eyes were half lidded, the thick eyelashes giving him an almost sultry look.

"Fuck," Dick murmured out loud. He was all the way in. He dared to look down where their bodies met, the sight of being inside Damian base-deep seeming more than a bit crude and perverse. Damian's breaths were shallow, almost shivering, his knuckles white as he clenched the sheets. Dick waited for Damian to adjust to his size, even though Damian's body was wrapped so amazingly around him, even though he wanted nothing more to push in and fuck him hard.

Dick didn't realize the amount of exertion the whole thing took until he was still. He used the back of his hand the dot the sweat beginning to form on his brow. His apartment was way too fucking hot. Damian adjusted his legs, the movement causing Dick to flinch a little. He wanted to move, and Damian looked up at him in response. There was his permission.

Dick slowly pulled back and sunk in all the way, trying to let Damian get used to the feeling. Damian winced but did not complain. Exhibiting restraint turned out to be more and more frustrating with every stroke, every long push inside. But each one came easier than the last, and Damian was beginning to make subtle, soft noises. Dick's erection was so hard, so swollen. Every thrust felt better, almost like a relief.

He was pushing in harder, hips snapping against Damian's. The sounds of their bodies moving sounded perverse. Dick was aware of his own voice, his low moans. Damian was so tight. He watched with fixated interest as Damian breathed, his ribcage rising and falling beneath the skin, his lips parted ever so slightly, the deep flush painting his skin. He was even hard, his erection trapped between their bodies, rubbing against Dick's lower stomach. Aroused as Dick fucked him.

He grabbed Damian's hips to steady himself, pushing in deeper, a little faster now. Each push bringing him higher. Giving his cock the relief it had been searching for. His pleasure steadily rising. He pushed in and Damian suddenly cried out, wrapping his arms tight around Dick's middle, pulling him in close. Dick's heart skipped a beat, because as lewd as the whole situation was, Damian suddenly clinging to him was... oddly adorable.

"Like that?" Dick whispered in the crook of Damian's neck, and he can hear his own voice, breathy and seductive. Damian just moaned, his fingers digging into Dick's skin, and Dick had his answer.

He rolled his hips into Damian and was greeted by the same sort of noise. Damian hardly sounded like himself, sounded too vulnerable, too wanton. His moans sounded desperate, almost pining. It turned Dick on even more. He bucked into him faster, his weight resting on his arms on either side of Damian's head.

He was fucking him. His cock sliding in and out. Their bodies sunk deeper into the mattress, bed groaning beneath their movements. And Damian was holding onto him, moaning openly now, his legs spread to accept Dick between them.

Dick closed his eyes for a moment. Damian sounded great. He felt great.

"I could do this every night," Dick breathed, the words slipping out of him.

Dick felt Damian beneath him move. Damian captured him on the mouth, their tongues brushing against each other. And when they parted, Dick knew he was close. Had been for awhile now.

He got back up on his knees for better movement, pushing Damian's thighs apart. His hands ran down Damian's body, playing with his nipples, running down his hard stomach, palming over his cock. Damian squirmed at the ministrations, his hips angled to meet Dick's thrusts. He was so fucking close.

Damian's looked at him, his eyes dark and intense. "Say it again."

"What?" Dick murmured, uncertain. Dick's mind tried to grasp at his memory but he couldn't remember what he had said in his haze. He was too lost in his pleasure. Heat pooling in his groin. He didn't focus on it any longer, he fucked Damian faster, building the pleasure. The friction. Until finally, with a deep groan, he came.

He came inside of Damian, eyes clenching, hips stilling, as the orgasm ran through his entire body. Wet heat surrounded his cock. Damian moaned softly. Dick wanted to pull out and catch his breath, to collapse onto the bed as his body's fatigue finally caught up to him. But he wrapped his hand around Damian's cock, stroking it.

It didn't take Damian long. Suddenly he was bucking into Dick's hand, his body shuddering around Dick's pulsing cock that was still buried inside of him, and he cried out as he climaxed. The seed came out thick on Dick's hand, falling onto Damian's stomach. It was filthy but admittedly erotic, and Dick felt himself twitch at the sight. But he pulled out anyways, grabbing an abandoned sheet and cleaning them both, before finally sinking onto the mattress next to Damian.

Dick allowed Damian to use his shower. As he laid there, waiting for his turn, his breathing began to settle. He stared up at the ceiling, almost in a daze, thinking about what happened.

More importantly, he thought about what he should do next.

It was easy, in the heat of the moment, to forget about the consequences of his actions. But now Dick was wondering if Bruce knew that his son wasn't home. He was wondering if this was going to deter Damian's decisions.

He was wondering what this was going to mean for them and that thought, more than anything, struck a sinking feeling in Dick's chest.

He heard the water running in the other room. He was slowly becoming aware of the sweat drying on his skin. It felt gross. He was uncomfortable to the point of being envious and he decided fuck it, and got up.

Damian looked in his direction when he entered the bathroom but then went back to cleaning himself. Dick climbed in with him, the spray not quite enough to get them both, so he hovered in a little closer.

Damian looked at him, almost curiously, and Dick kissed him. There were water droplets on his lips, and when Dick pulled back he saw water on the tips of Damian's hair, on his eyelashes, his skin. Dick felt a sudden impulse to kiss those away too, but the thought excited him a little too much, and his body was screaming at him not to do it. So he didn't.

They were sitting on the edge of his bed, drying off, with a few of Damian's clothes piled on the bedroom floor.

"I don't want to leave."

Dick froze at the words. He glanced over at Damian but the teen didn't say anything else, his back turned to Dick, the towel slipping from his hair to his shoulders. Silent.

You have to, Dick wanted to say, but he didn't say anything. He reached across the bed and found Damian's hand. Damian glanced down at where their hands met. Dick squeezed his hand reassuringly.

Dick turned off the light. Damian was hesitant, almost uncertain, but when Dick laid down, Damian took it as permission.

Time passed. Dick was aware of the pace of his own pulse and the sounds of Damian's breaths slowing down. Dick finally dared to look at Damian, just barely able to see through the darkness. Damian's eyes were closed, he was asleep.

Dick felt a squeezing in his chest, the scene a little too familiar. And while it wasn't quite sunshine, the moon illuminated Damian's skin just as beautifully.

And that's when the fear began to sink in, a small sense of dread trying to rip its way through Dick's chest.

But sleep began to weigh in on him, overcoming his sense of worry. Dick was sure that soon the morning would come, the birds outside heralding the rise of the sun, and he'd wake up to their senseless chattering. And while Dick wished the night would last a little longer, he was both eager and terrified to see what the morning would bring.

He wanted to know if there was still going to be someone in the bed next to him.

I don't want to leave.

Dick's eyelids grew heavy. He idly kissed Damian's shoulder.

"Then stay," he said, his lips murmuring against Damian's skin, as if a secret.

Damian did stay. For awhile.

At first, infrequently. The nights where Damian snuck into Dick's apartment or stood knocking and waiting outside his door came in rare, unexpected moments—almost as shocking as that very first night Damian had climbed through his window.

Then, the visits came frequently, when Dick was left wondering when Damian didn't show up. When Damian was over so often that Bruce was starting to get suspicious. When Dick started to find random things lying around his house, like different shoe prints left on his doormat or a hair that was too short to be his sitting on his pillows. Some things just started to look different—now, his hand towels were all neatly folded, instead of hanging lifelessly off of racks, and his pillows had finally been replaced with those memory-foam ones that Damian had charged to his account.

And somewhere in that timeframe, Dick noticed some changes in his routine, like cooking his meals in doubles, or even changes in himself. The morning yoga routines had removed some of the cricks in his neck and spine. He felt he could breathe free.

Then, finally, not at all.

The summer was coming to an end. Damian eventually grabbed his last items from Dick's apartment, ready to move them into his own place. The fall semester was about to begin.

Dick didn't dare to ask what was going to happen once Damian's classes had started. At first, it was because he didn't want to worry him. He didn't want to dissuade Damian from going.

Eventually he realized that perhaps he did want to dissuade him, but that thought was even scarier.

Damian brought it up once, in what might have been a good opportunity to talk about it if Dick had chosen to.

"Do you remember when we took the train down there?" Damian asked, referring to the university.

"Yeah."

"That was sort of a long trip, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Dick said. At the time, he hadn't really realized it. But now, all he could think about was the distance. "It was."

Not much else was said.

"Shit," Dick cursed, as he looked at the clock. He had woken up late. Again.

It wasn't that he was in a hurry to get anywhere. Lately, he just kept oversleeping, decreasing the hours in his day where he could do things. He blamed the season. It was the middle of the day but the sun was nowhere in sight. Autumn kept teeter-tottering between summer and winter—lately, more winter than anything. The dark, cloudy skies made him want to hibernate until spring.

He was in no rush to get ready for the day. He slowly got dressed and moved into his kitchen. He opened the refrigerator.

Empty.

He eventually found some granola bars and made himself some coffee. He made himself decent but didn't bother getting overdressed, deciding there was no one to impress at the nearest grocery store, a cheap and shabby joint he had started going to since the market was closed during the fall and winter seasons. As he was getting ready to head out, he heard some faint noises coming from outside his door. He didn't have his shoes on yet but he quietly opened the door, peeking his head outside.

Myra was standing across the hall, fumbling to get the keys to her apartment. She was sniffling, which could have been from a cold, but Dick knew better. In the process of trying to find her keys, the strap of her purse slipped and half of its contents came tumbling out, and she let out a defeated noise as she sunk to the floor to pick it all up.

Immediately, Dick went out there to help her.

"You don't have to do this," she said, hiccuping, as they gathered up her things. Dick didn't comment on it but was surprised by the sheer amount of things that had managed to fit in the little bag—receipts, makeup, candy, tampons (was he allowed to touch those?), tissues, mail—but helped her pick all of it up and toss it back in.

"Are you okay?" he had to ask.

"Yes," she said immediately. But then a sob escaped her, unbidden, and her face scrunched up all at once. "No."

Dick took a seat next to her on the floor and allowed her to cry for a bit before asking, "Did something happen?"

"Everything's—f-falling—to—sh-sh-shit," she said between inhales, thick tears falling down her face. Since it was sitting on top of the pile in her purse anyways, Dick picked up the small packet of tissues and handed it to her. She breathed, her shoulders shaking as she tried to compose herself long enough to talk, and she choked out a thanks as she blotted her tears away. "I h-h-hate my job. Everyone t-t-talks down on me. Treats me like I-I'm stupid. And my bank charged me this s-stupid fee. And most of all my—my friends—my friends are awful and people fucking suck."

She was talking in rushed, staggered sentences. Dick waited for her to calm down in order to put together the whole story. He ended up sitting with her there, in the hallway, for almost an hour, listening to her life story and everything that had happened to her in a week.

He shouldn't have been surprised to find out that she had such a successful career. She was, after all, able to afford a place on her own. It's just that she never seemed to come home at a regular time and always seemed to be heading towards the bars or other nightlife.

She eventually calmed down and explained, "I shouldn't be surprised that my friends won't hang out with me anymore. They've all outgrown that lifestyle. I spent so much time working and making sure I had a career before I allowed myself to have fun."

"You did the responsible thing," Dick reassured her. "You waited until you could afford to spend money. You worked hard for it."

"But everyone else did the opposite," she said, scowling. "They partied in college and took their sweet time graduating and finding jobs, and now they're settling down while I'm just getting started. I wish I had just lived a little."

"You seem pretty lively to me."

"I know but I want people to share it with," she said, sighing. She rested her head in her hands, pouting a little. "It's just that all of my friends have moved onto better things and I'm just stuck here, alone. I get all these wedding and baby shower invitations and then I go out, hoping to meet someone or just cling onto the few friends I have left, and it never works out."

Dick should have told her to rethink her priorities, but it would have felt wrong coming from him. He had been running away from relationships for as long as he could remember.

He hesitated to answer. She filled the void, looking at him and saying, "It sucks, doesn't it? Being lonely."

Dick stopped, the accusation digging deep. Lonely. His breath felt caught in his throat.

"I—"he started, wanting to dispute that idea, but his mouth felt dry. She let her head fall back against the wall.

"It's okay. We're all lonely here," she said. "The old lady only has her birds. The guy downstairs just locks himself in his apartment and never leaves. And people like you and I never have someone to go home to."

She paused at that, a moment of thought crossing her features.

"Except you had someone for awhile. Your brother or boyfriend or whoever you said he was. I haven't seen you around here much, not since he stopped showing up. It's like you're never around."

It was true. Damian hadn't returned once since leaving for school. In the beginning, Dick had received an occasional text or voicemail, but Dick had been focusing on getting back to his old routine. His routine from before Damian had ever snuck in through his window. Heat rose to Dick's face—he couldn't believe it was noticeable. "I've been busy."

"Coming home isn't fun when there's no one to come home to. Trust me, I get it. Why do you think I go out every night?" she said. She looked at the time on her phone. "I'm so sorry for eating up your time with my rambling but thanks for listening. Really. I needed someone to talk to."

"It's not a big deal," Dick said. And it wasn't—he liked helping people, and seeing how much she had calmed down made him feel good. She even smiled.

They got up to finally part ways. Myra stopped him before he could head for the staircase.

"I think I'm still going to go out tonight, if you want to join."

It didn't feel as tempting as it had been in the past.

"I'm sorry—that's not really my type of scene," he said honestly. She smiled anyways.

"It's okay. I'll probably go anyways. I'm not going to give up on meeting someone."

Dick forced a smile in return and Myra finally went into her apartment. When the door closed, the hallway felt quiet.

Dick was racing towards one of his usual vantage points when he skidded to a stop, noticing some familiar movements in the corner of his eye. He stopped and watched for a moment, confirming who the bodies were, before taking off in the same direction, jumping the roofs until he caught up.

"What are you guys doing here?" he said, once he was close. Red Robin and Red Hood didn't seem alerted by his presence—Dick hadn't bothered hiding himself. Dick decided it was odd to see them so close to his neighborhood, and odder that they were grouped together. Dick wondered if he had missed some sort of Bat memo.

"Finishing up a case," Tim said. Dick wondered for a moment if Tim was referring to the same case he had mentioned months ago, or if the two had picked up a second case. Either way, it was strange.

"You want to watch us smoke this guy?" Jason asked Dick, the gunmetal seeming to gleam from his holsters. When Dick and Tim looked at him, startled, Jason looked back and forth between them. "It was a joke. Christ. Nevermind."

"Nah, I just wanted to see what you guys were doing," Dick said, shrugging. "I'll let you two go your own way."

"Alright. It was good seeing you. I haven't seen you around much," Tim said pleasantly enough. "You don't always have to patrol by yourself, you know. We could always meet up. I'm sure even Batman and Robin could use extra eyes."

Robin.

"How have they been, by the way?" Dick asked, trying to sound casual.

"Haven't really seen either of them much," Jason said. "I heard Robin went to school after all. Probably working on midterms or whatever."

"Yeah," Tim said, sighing. "Been there, done that."

"Quit crying. No one forced you to go."

"Unlike you, I don't plan on punching people for the rest of my life," Tim quipped, though his voice was lighthearted. "Besides, if I hadn't gone, I would have been the first generation on my dad's side to not attend university. I wasn't forced but there was a little bit of familial pressure." Tim shrugged. "But whatever. He's smart, he'll get through it. The only hard part is deadlines, especially when you're juggling vigilante work in."

Dick felt a small semblance of guilt. He should call. He still hadn't answered any of Damian's previous messages—at first unintentionally—and when he was finally free, he was worried that too much time had passed. He wasn't sure what was going to happen when he dialed that phone number now, and when Damian stopped messaging him altogether, Dick didn't know what to think.

Maybe Tim was right. Maybe Damian was just busy, like Dick had been.

But Dick was too afraid that maybe, the truth was that Damian had given up.

"It's weird seeing you two work together," Dick said, trying to stray away from talking too much about Damian. Tim and Jason looked at each other and both shrugged.

"It's just good knowing that someone's looking after you," Jason said. He said it casually enough, but the words carried too much sentimentality for it to not go unnoticed.

"How nice of you to say," Tim teased, picking up on it first, but then he added, "Especially considering that you left me for dead on the last mission…"

"None of those guys were armed. Let's just say I had faith in you. Besides, someone had to chase after their leader."

"Hm. Well, we should really get going. See you, Nightwing," Tim said, waving. Dick waved back as the two took off. Dick heard their voices going back and forth as they disappeared into the distance, but couldn't quite catch wind of what they were saying. It didn't matter, his mind had already been drifting somewhere else.

The blinking red and blue lights flashed through the propped doorway. Dick watched as the last of the medical examiners exited the apartment building. Next to him, Myra sighed, the sound long and sad.

"I feel so bad," she said, nearly whispering.

"This is just how things go. At least she went peacefully in her sleep," Dick said gently.

"I know. I just wish I had noticed sooner. I should have thought of it as weird when she stopped coming out—but she rarely came out anyways except when she was feeding the birds. I just feel bad," Myra said wrapping her cardigan around her a little tighter. "I wonder if her birds will come back in spring now that she's gone."

Dick stared down Wayne Manor.

Pennyworth had really gone full out on the decorations. Everything was fully lit, sparkling top to bottom in shining lights. An intricate wreath hung on the door, heralding the holiday.

Dick's heart was thumping loudly. It was the annual Wayne Christmas party and everyone was going to be there.

Everyone.

Dick heard light footsteps crunching in the snow next to him. Dick glanced over at Jason, who had a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

"Aren't you going to knock?" Jason asked.

"Uh, yeah, of course," Dick said but he didn't make any motion to move, his heart racing a bit faster. He changed the subject. "Since when did you pick up smoking?"

"I smoke every time before I go into this damned place," Jason said, grumbling. "Facing Bruce, even on the holidays, makes me nervous as shit. You too?"

"What?"

"You look terrified."

"Oh, no, I was just thinking," Dick said, eyes darting away. Jason gave him an odd look but just shrugged. He put out the cigarette on the head of a fake reindeer.

"Whatever. Let's get this shit over with," Jason said, moving forward like it was a mission. Dick followed him to the door, even though he wanted to scream with every step. This was going to be horrifically awkward.

Pennyworth let them in, was even dressed for the occasion instead of his normal uniform, and Dick couldn't help but make a jab. The laughter relieved some of Dick's nerves. Luckily for him, Barbara was already there, so Dick had someone to cling to for the rest of the night.

"You okay?" Barbara said after they exchanged their holiday greetings.

Was it really that obvious?

"Not feeling well," he decided as an excuse.

"Well, I'm glad you came anyways," she said. "It's nice to have everyone here."

"It's tradition," Dick said casually.

"True, but with everyone's busy schedules, it can be difficult. I'm just glad that we all have a place to congregate to every once in awhile." Her words were a bit sappy, especially for her. Dick raised an eyebrow at the drink in her hands, suspicion rising—Babs had a tendency to get overly affectionate and emotional when she was drunk. As if on cue, her eyes suddenly narrowed as she noticed some activity going on behind Dick. "Jason better not be stealing all of those shots."

Barbara ran off in the direction of the mini bar, where Jason had found a tray of shots and was downing one after another like his life depended on it. Just like that, Dick's safety social blanket was gone. Abandoned, Dick went around the room where he found Cassandra sitting on the couch. She was straight-faced as always, even with Titus laying on her lap. Her body was sinking into the couch, crushed underneath the weight of the great dane that probably weighed more than her, but showed no signs of being uncomfortable. Or… signs of anything, for that matter.

Titus looked in his direction as he approached, a knitted Christmas scarf tied around his neck. The image of him laying on the expressionless Cassandra was oddly adorable—mostly odd—and Dick had to resist taking a picture.

"Hey Cass. How are you?"

"Good," she said simply.

"I'm glad you came out all this way."

She nodded. She opened her mouth to say something and reclosed it again, concentrating to put the words together, seeming to test the words in her mouth before saying it.

"It's nice," she said, the words a bit stilted. "To be home."

Titus suddenly raised his head. Cass didn't flinch as the dog got off her lap and darted toward the entryway. Dick didn't bother to wonder what had grabbed the dog's attention—he had a strong suspicion as to who—so he immediately darted toward the next group of people.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," Bruce said when he approached.

"Oh yeah?" Dick said, raising a brow.

"Yes. I've told all of the others, but after New Years, I'm going to be out of town."

"Wayne Enterprises business?"

"Vacation, actually."

Dick nearly laughed out loud until he saw the serious look on Bruce's face. Of course, Dick thought. He reminded himself that Bruce rarely joked. "Really? Where to?"

"England. We'll be visiting my hometown and touring around," Pennyworth chimed in. Dick smiled despite himself. The news made him glad. The two deserved some time off.

"How long?"

"Three weeks," Bruce said.

"If all goes well," Pennyworth said, sighing a little.

Dick grinned. "You, gone? From Gotham, for three weeks, on vacation?"

"It is a bit excessive," Bruce said, frowning. Dick had just been teasing but of course, he should have known that Bruce was already worrying about it. "However, it should be fine. But you and the others will have to patrol the city on your own while I'm gone."

"Three weeks is the duration of Master Damian's winter vacation," Pennyworth explained further.

Oh. "Damian's going with you?"

"I do hope that you do not feel left out, Master Dick," Alfred said, growing concerned. Dick quickly fixed his fallen expression. He hadn't even realized the face that he was making until both Alfred and Bruce were staring at him.

"No, of course not. I'm glad for you all," Dick said. Alfred easily accepted Dick's words and went off to fix a situation at the mini-bar. Bruce seemed like he was going to say something more to Dick but Tim suddenly called him over. Leaving Dick alone, once again.

"Who do you suppose is going to get drunk first? Todd or Gordon?"

Dick jumped in place, the voice sneaking up on him. Dick glanced back and saw Damian—the only person who hadn't dressed for the occasion, per usual—who had Titus sitting on the ground next to him.

"Or Fatgirl?" Damian added as an afterthought.

"God, I hope not," Dick said, sighing. Last year, Stephanie had gotten drunk and kept flirting with Dick and following him around. Aside from it being incredibly uncomfortable for everyone, Tim kept eyeing him like a hawk for the entire night. "But definitely Babs. I think this is her first night off in… forever."

The timing just perfect, a laughter came from the mini-bar. Alfred was trying to subtly take away the tray of shots and must have had said something that had Barbara laughing. She clapped Alfred on the shoulder, overly amused, and Alfred smiled good naturedly and walked away. Once out of Barbara's sight, he winced and rubbed his shoulder.

As they watched the scene, Dick glanced at Damian out of the corner of his eye. It was good to see him. He seemed to be well, had even approached him. Not wanting to draw things out any longer, Dick finally fessed up.

"I'm sorry for not answering any of your messages," he said. Damian didn't look at him, his attention devoted to Titus who kept poking his nose into his hand. "I've been busy."

"Is that all?" Damian said quietly. He scratched Titus behind the ears.

It wasn't.

But Dick scrambled to find excuses. "I'm always going to be busy. I'm always going to have other obligations. And what we were doing was nice but we have to consider other things—"

Damian looked at him, annoyed. "You knew all of this already."

"I did. But we can't keep things a secret forever—"

"Then we won't."

"But—"

"Do you understand why I can't accept that explanation?" Damian said, cutting in. "If you didn't want to be with me, that's all you had to say." They locked eyes. "But that's not the case, and that's exactly what you're afraid of, isn't it? Ethics aside, morals aside, even myself aside, you're just scared that someone will stay with you." Damian's eyebrows furrowed, his expression strained. "But you're equally afraid of the alternative, and that's where things get cruel."

Dick felt his chest grow heavy, the accusation stabbing deep. Mostly because it rang true. Because it wasn't just about avoiding Damian at a party, it was something that he had been dodging for a long time, perhaps all his life. Maybe it had stemmed from his own insecurities, or maybe it was just his personality, or maybe he just wasn't ready to slow down, but he had been throwing away relationships all his life. But he was also afraid of being alone.

And it wasn't right to get Damian involved in all of this, and though Dick hadn't meant to, he had been cruel.

He really hadn't meant to.

As much as Damian walled himself up, as content as he was to being alone, he still snuck in through Dick's window. He still came back, time and time again. Dick couldn't say the same for himself. He was constantly jumping from place to place, running, but when it came time to finally come home...

"I am sorry," he said, honestly.

"Me too," was all Damian said.

Dick walked past his gate, surprised when he saw someone standing near the step. A young woman whose face seemed drenched from the rain. She was standing, shivering, near the door—but seemed to make no intention of leaving and going anywhere warm.

"Can I help you?" Dick asked her. She looked at him, at first startled by another person's voice, but relaxed when she saw him.

"I'm sorry. The buzzer to my uncle's apartment doesn't seem to be working. Do you live here?"

Uncle? "You mean the guy in the downstairs apartment?"

"Yes, that's him," she said, nodding. Dick didn't ask any further questions—he let her in. She immediately pulled her hood down and took off her wet jacket. She seemed to sigh in relief as the door closed, shutting out the cold winds.

"Thank you so much," she said. Smiling, she said, "Crazy weather, huh? It feels like it's going to be an early spring this year."

Dick found himself growing more and more curious. He never expected his downstairs neighbor—who kept himself bolted inside for all eternity and was only spotted in rare circumstances—actually had a relative. Especially one that seemed so… normal.

"It's no problem. But I don't think I've ever seen you before."

"I don't visit as often as I should," she said, looking embarrassed by her confession. "I live in Metropolis. It's hard for me to visit Uncle Terry."

"Honestly, I'm just glad he has loved ones. He seems very…" Dick trailed off, realizing that he might have been overstepping his boundaries. But the woman nodded in understanding.

"Uncle Terry has always been sort of odd. He doesn't like people very much. But I promise that he's harmless, albeit a bit unfriendly to strangers." Her voice emitting a small bit of enthusiasm, she added, "But I'm planning on moving to Gotham pretty soon so I plan to be around more."

"You plan on moving here?" Dick said, almost laughing. It was natural reaction from any Gotham native. Gotham was filled with people who were born and raised. Outsiders never lasted long before they got sick of it and packed their bags for the golden Metropolis. He was shocked by the prospect.

The woman shrugged. "Uncle Terry loves it here. I know he wouldn't want to move with me to Metropolis. Besides, I don't mind. For me, Home is meant to be shared with family."

She smiled kindly, to the point of almost beaming, and Dick found his expression softening in response. She said her thanks and headed towards her uncle's apartment, knocking on the door. Dick listened carefully as every lock slowly came undone, piece by piece, until the door finally opened. Dick watched her go in, the apartment door seeming to close gently as it welcomed her inside.

Dick stared at the corner of his room.

The towers of unpacked boxes had been abandoned there. Damian had put them there long ago, when he had cleaned the rest of Dick's apartment. The boxes had stayed there since. Damian had helped him unpack a few, near the end of the summer, but the project had been abandoned when Damian had to start focusing on his own move.

Dick took a box off the top. He grabbed his box-cutter and sliced through the tape. Its binds came undone and inside were hidden memories. Some of the contents made him laugh, some he thought he had lost long ago, and some of the deeper, buried ones, carried feelings of bittersweet nostalgia. Even regret.

When he gave the items a place, his apartment slowly transformed into something familiar—like it had been missing these items all along, like they had always belonged there. And while some of the items had to be let go of, he didn't slow down.

He kept unpacking.

The next morning, there was a surprise for Dick at the door.

He was leaving his apartment to run his daily errands when he found someone sitting on the steps. Even though the person's back was turned towards him, he instantly recognized who it was.

"Damian," he said, surprised. Damian glanced over his shoulder in response to his name but said nothing more, returning his gaze forward. Dick took a seat on the step next to him, noticing a backpack sitting in his lap. Damian was shuffling through it, looking for something. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Spring break," Damian said simply, pulling out a grocery bag that he began rifling through. Dick's heart began to beat a little faster at the news.

"I see. So what are you doing here?"

Damian stopped and looked at him, their eyes locking. "Guess."

Dick couldn't help but smile. Damian pulled out some bread from the bag.

"I'll likely being staying at the Manor over break. But I decided stopping by wouldn't be an issue," Damian said, ripping apart small pieces of the bread. He looked at Dick, as if challenging him, and said, "Unless you disagree."

"No," Dick said, finally. "I'd like that."

"Good," Damian said simply, speaking as if he expected as much. He tossed the bread crumbs onto the sidewalk. He was quiet for a moment before adding, "I was busy too."

"I know," Dick said. Swallowing, he said, "But you'll always have a place here."

"Summer will come eventually," Damian said. And even though he didn't outright say it, the suggestion was in there.

"Always," Dick said, reemphasizing.

There was a flutter of noise. Dick looked in the direction where Damian had tossed the crumbs. A bird had flown in from the bushes, followed by another. Their chirping, which had once annoyed Dick to no end, felt almost charming. It had been too long since he had heard it.

The first birds of the season, finally returning to their roost.