I've had this for a while on my computer. Then I had a what-the-heck moment and decided to publish it.

Don't know where this came from. It's just something to help me get over my writer's block. I've always felt like there was something more to Dick Grayson too, like maybe he was so happy because laughing is better than crying. And I was in a funk about no YJ.

Combined, this idea popped into my head. Not strictly a crossover, it just includes both fandoms, so I figured I'd add the Batman fandom. On with the story!

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.

Dick stared into the flames. He was at the back of Wayne Manor, far enough from it that the lights from the Manor didn't reach him. He was near the woods, but still far enough away. Years ago, he had found this old fire pit back here when he was younger.

It had been nothing but a raised metal pit. (It still was). There were log benches around it, but they had been in a state of disrepair. He had thought it looked sad and lonely, so with a little work he got it working again. It hadn't been used in years, but eventually after he fixed it him and Bruce had lots of campfires out here.

Barbara would come sometimes, along with his other friends, and they even got Alfred out here on a few rare occasions. Very rare. He used to love it whenever that happened. The fire pit held so many memories. After he left, he hadn't thought about it until he came across it the other day chasing after Titus (he had escaped out the back door - darn dog).

Wayne Manor was on sort of a hill, so you couldn't see the fire pit from the back door, which was at the bottom of a sort of hill. That was why he had never noticed it in the first place.

When, by some miracle, Jason, Tim, Cass, Steph, Damian, Babs, Bruce, and he were all at Wayne Manor for a three-night stay, he got the brilliant idea to do another campfire. To celebrate (as sad as it sounds) all of them being under the same roof without killing each other. It was supposed to be on the last night. This night.

The others didn't come. He was the only one out here.

With Dick alone, it made him think of how the last campfire was when he was thirteen. Years and years ago. He was twenty-two now. Jason was nineteen. Tim was seventeen. Damian, whom Dick took care for a year when he was twenty-one and Bruce was MIA, was eleven. Babs was his age. Steph was seventeen. Cass was eighteen.

None of them had ever been to a campfire here. They never got the chance. Now that they had one, they didn't take it.

The fire crackled. Dick should've expected none of them would stay for the campfire. He didn't know why he bothered. He didn't know why he didn't give up hope. He suspected it was because of his background. He was taught to never give up on family, no matter how tempting they make it.

A breeze made the leaves on the ground rustle. It was fall, and the trees were changing color and losing their leaves. Dick had on a black hoodie and jeans with some brown hiking boots. The wind ruffled his black hair, a little shorter than his usual look. Shorter on the sides, longer on the top so he had bangs hanging over his forehead.

Dick had been feeling nostalgic when he got it. He sighed. By now, at least half of them were out the door. Maybe more. And they definitely weren't heading here.

He didn't blame them. He wasn't exactly on the best terms with any of them. Jason - well, he wasn't on good terms with anyone, except perhaps Tim, Alfred, and Leslie. That didn't stop Dick from trying even after all the times Jason pushed him away.

Tim - Dick betrayed him. Dick could relate to that. He only wished he could've explained it to Tim better why he choose Damian as Robin. Tim was still his brother. Dick loved all his brothers, and he tried to spend time with all of them. Unfortunately, they weren't exactly keen to spend time with him.

He knew what they thought of him as. Annoying. A nuisance. An idiot. A huggable, too sensitive little kid who loved to freely. He knew that a part of them wondered how he was a hero.

A few times, Dick knew he would get through to them, but they' push him out just as quickly as he'd get in. It was getting tiring. He continued his mental checklist. Cass - the girl he considered his sister was too strict, and she had a tight schedule. She couldn't be bothered by something like a campfire, especially with a family who tried and nearly succeeded in killing each other multiple times each month, if not week.

It all depended on whether or not they were in the same city. And Cass herself, while she wanted a family, just wasn't the best at interacting with people. In fact, most of them lacked social grace. Steph - Dick hoped this girl, his other "sister" would show. If she did, she'd probably be dragging Cass with her.

She reminded him the most of himself in a way, but at the same time she was completely her own person. He half expected her to be here the most out of all of them, but clearly she didn't want to be here any longer than she had to. That was the difference between him and her, he supposed. He refused to give up on this family. Steph had already given up.

She was never technically adopted by Bruce, too. More of she became part of the Bats through her becoming Spoiler, dating Tim, and being trained by Barbara, who she shared an apartment with. He was fairly certain Cass crashed there whenever she came back from traveling.

Bruce - Dick and Bruce haven't really talked for years without the other getting mad eventually. Sure, they could work together just fine. To the outside observer, one who didn't know them when they were Batman and Robin, they fought together almost as well as they did when they had been Batman and Robin.

But they had lost that special something that made them really formidable. You would have to have seen them fight when they were Batman and Robin, Dick knew, to understand. He doubted they would ever get it back.

Damian - Dick knew it was too much to hope that the kid would be here. Damian was too closed off, and hadn't really trusted Dick ever since he moved back to Bludhaven after Bruce came back. Still, he thought . . . Dick sighed. It was too much to hope. Yet he did anyway.

His pity party was interrupted when a snapping sound was heard. Someone had stepped on a twig. A curse was soon followed. The young voice was very familiar.

"Damian?" Dick asked in disbelief. He twisted around from where he had been sitting slouched on the ground against the log bench.

Damian scoffed, trying to cover his nervousness and embarrassment. "Don't act so surprised, Grayson. You did, after all, invite everyone to a campfire."

Dick stared dumbfounded. Damian looked awkward and slightly out of place just standing there.

"You came."

"Did you expect monkeys to fly? I merely came because you looked like an idiot sitting out here alone." Damian said.

Dick didn't bother pointing out that you couldn't see him from the back door, only the shadows of the fire dancing on the trees in the night, the flames flickering.

He gestured eagerly next to him. "C'mon, sit next to me. I'll show you how to do a s'more."

Curiosity got the better of Damian. Last year, Dick had been too busy to even try to take Damian for a campfire, or teach him about the wonders of s'mores. Plus, they hadn't been living in Wayne Manor, they had been living in the penthouse in the city.

"S'mores?" Damian asked cautiously sitting next to Dick, a good three feet between them.

As usual, Dick ignored the personal space, scooting closer. Damian was secretly glad Dick ignored his personal space, however much it sometime irked him. Dick, out of all the family was the one who took Damian in. Adopted him as his brother, and completely ignored him, bulldozing past his walls.

For Damian, a boy who was trained since birth to be an assassin, it was nice to know that someone cared. Not that he'd ever tell Dick that. Or that the real reason he came out here was because he missed spending time with Dick. Going from Dick Grayson to Bruce Wayne was a huge adjustment, and Damian couldn't help but feel hurt when Dick left.

Left him. So he did what he usually did. He attacked what hurt him, except this time it didn't make him feel only made him miss Dick hugging him and calling him little brother, telling him that eventually, it'll be all right. Having someone there to catch him when he made a mistake.

So when Dick scooted closer to Damian, he didn't lean away.

Damian leaned toward him, and rested his head against him. Dick just smiled and explained s'mores. Afterwards, they spent a half hour attempting to make a s'more. Quite a few of Damian's s'mores caught fire, to which he always panicked at. Internally, of course, but Dick could tell.

Even though he had been with the Bats for a year and a half (most of which he spent with Dick) Damian still panicked inwardly at a mistake. He was used to being punished when he made a mistake. After all, in the League of Assassins there could be no mistakes.

Dick just laughed at one of the flaming marshmallows that flew off of Damian's stick when he waved it around frantically, attempting to put the fire out. Luckily, it flew into the fire. This only caused Dick to laugh harder. Damian found himself joining in with a small smile. On another attempt, the flaming marshmallow flew off into the grass.

Since the ground was damp, it didn't catch fire, though Dick and Damian both stomped on it, Dick chuckling quietly. A small smile was on Damian's face. Another flaming marshmallow flew right at Dick, and he caught it . . . with his mouth. Damian gaped. Dick ate a flaming marshmallow.

He suspected the man would be able to eat anything, but now he knew for certain. Dick just chuckled at Damian's expression. Dick got out a marshmallow and calmly roasted it afterwards, making it golden. Damian demanded that Dick show him that, determined to get it right. Dick had to explain that everyone liked their marshmallows differently.

Damian didn't care. He just didn't want the marshmallow to be on fire. The first marshmallow Damian didn't set on fire was severely burnt, but it wasn't flaming, so the boy took that as a good sign.

Damian ate it, and decided it was wonderful. They roasted more marshmallows, occasionally snacking on a Hershey bar, graham cracker, or a plain marshmallow. Damian blamed the sugar, but he chucked a marshmallow at Dick on impulse. Dick dodged, but a second one got in his hair.

Pretty soon, they were having a marshmallow war. Thankfully, or unfortunately, Dick had gotten many marshmallow bags, around fourteen. (Don't judge him, they had been on sale). They used two bags just teaching Damian to roast marshmallows. They ate a whole lot more.

Eventually, they settled down. The small smile on Damian's face was a little bigger, almost not invisible anymore. Dick had eaten another smoking marshmallow when Damian had gotten upset that he burned it. Dick claimed it was perfect, and ate it.

Finally, Damian asked a question he'd been dying to ask. "Grayson, where'd you learn to swallow flaming marshmallows?"

Dick responded without hesitation. "From the circus. The fire-eater taught me. We used to have these campfires on the last night in a town. I always loved to try and learn the other acts. At a campfire once when we were outside of this town . . . "

Dick's voice trailed off. With jolt, Damian realized that he had never heard a story about Dick's childhood. Sure he knew the basic story, grew up in circus, parents were killed, adopted by Bruce Wayne, and became Robin.

For the first time ever, it was occurring to Damian that there may be more to the story. That there was so much about Dick that he didn't know. Damian was curious. Dick always told Damian - and the others - about what he did as Robin, but it was always with him fifteen or above.

His younger years as Robin were left alone. Just like his years with his parents - his actual parents, the kind who loved and cared for him, with a mother who didn't want him to become the greatest assassin - were left alone. Dick went silent. The expression on his face, or at least the half Damian could see was unreadable.

Damian found that unusual. Dick was always talking, always moving. Dick never took anything seriously, found trouble in the most unlikely situations, and got kidnapped constantly. There were times, though, where Damian wondered if it was all an act. If Dick was capable of more than he let on. If he purposefully found trouble.

If he let himself be kidnapped and made to look helpless. Because sometimes, Dick would get this look on his face. Sometimes, in a fight, Dick would throw a move that a day before he claimed he could barely do. And in the fight, he did it perfectly.

Sometimes, it seemed like Dick acting like a carefree idiot was an act. Sometimes, dare Damian say it, he seemed smart and came up with a plan that made sense. Damian wondered just how much of an act it was.

Damian spoke. "Well, Grayson, will you tell me?"

Dick looked at Damian. He yawned. "Maybe some other day. It's getting late. We've spent the whole night out here, I think it's almost six-thirty in the morning."

Damian tried not to feel disappointed. His curiosity only grew. They went inside. Dick had decided to stay the night, since today was a Saturday and he didn't have work Sunday or Monday.

I promise I'll get to the YJ part. I'm just kind of building up suspense and Damian's curiosity. The story itself might by only four chapters, most of which are written. I need to finish the second one, and the fourth or fifth one. I'm warning you now, I don't have a real plan for this story. Only ideas.

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