Warnings: underage; blood drinking/implied sexual content

Pairings: Dick/Damian

Credits: This is a non-profit, fanmade work. All characters are owned by DC. This fanfiction was written and created by me.

Summary: Vampire AU.

Based on an anonymous prompt: a lighthearted vampire AU where Damian, due to being the youngest, is the only one in the batfamily whose fangs haven't grown in yet. Which, naturally, he gets teased for.

Mostly fluff and humor, with some feels.

A/N: Thanks to the anon who suggested this awhile back. I originally wanted to post this on Halloween but then I remembered that I have both school and work on Halloween, and I decided to post this today.

I also thought today was suiting because it's my two year anniversary of posting on AO3! The very first story I posted on this account was Sleep, which was also a DickDami fic. Thank you all so much for the support over the years, it means the world. :)

This is ultimately supposed to be a cute fic, but there are some deeper feels. Also, while there's no "sex", per se, the blood drinking is kind of mature, so be wary of that if that bothers you.

Damian was perched on the edge of a rooftop, his mask zoomed in on the entrance to a popular nightclub. Vamps, it called itself, which felt a little too on-the-nose. The smell of humans was notably absent—all the recent attacks kept most of them from leaving their houses at night. Damian couldn't blame them. His father's briefing included images from the last attack. It seemed to Damian that more blood was spilled than drunk that night. Any human would be terrified.

Damian kept an eye on the entrance, trying to find their serial vampire. He could sense movement behind him—light footsteps. Jason noticed their visitor too, and gave a small grunt of acknowledgement.

"Did you find him yet?" It was Grayson.

"Working on it. Let me guess… Batman sent you," Jason said.

"I did tell him that you could handle it," Dick responded, and Damian could imagine the small smile on his face. "And of course, he didn't believe me."

"Jeez," Jason said suddenly, sounding surprised. Damian could immediately tell that his reaction had nothing to do with his father's skepticism—Damian had to wonder what Dick was doing back there, but he didn't dare to tear away from his observations now. "You look… pale. You sure you should be running Batman's errands? Maybe you should wait until after the hunt."

"That's a sly way of asking me to leave." There was a lightheartedness to Dick's voice.

Jason snorted. "I'm serious. Just looking at you makes me feel faint."

"How thoughtful."

"Look, I'm just saying, I'm only planning on catching one bloodsucker tonight. Not two. I don't want to have to stop you from using some poor Gothamite as an appetizer, is all."

"Thanks but I think I have better control than that."

Damian tried to stay out of the conversation—he was supposed to keep watch and he didn't want to admit to eavesdropping—but he was curious.

He forced himself to scoff. "What hunt?"

Damian wasn't expecting the arm that suddenly hooked around his neck.

"The one you're not invited to, Baby-Fangs," Jason teased.

Damian instantly snarled. He hated that name. Brown had started it and it was slowly picked up by Drake and Todd as well. He yanked himself out of Jason's grip with more force than necessary, wanting to make it hurt but having to be mindful of Richard's presence. Dick did look pale and a little lethargic—the sign of a vampire who hadn't feasted for too long—but Damian was certain that even in this state, Dick could still turn things around and scold him, if it came down to it.

"Don't call me that!" Damian spat at Jason. Even under the hood, Damian could imagine the man's stupid shit-eating grin. An instinctive growl rumbled through Damian's chest and Jason suddenly burst out laughing.

"Even with your teeth bared, I still can't see them," Jason said, arms wrapped around his stomach.

"Red Hood," Dick said, frowning. Jason ignored him, not bothering to lessen the howling laughter that poured out of him. To Damian's horror, Dick suddenly turned to him. His ex-mentor placed a gloved hand on his shoulder. "You shouldn't let it get to you. For some vampires, it just takes longer. They'll grow in eventually. You're still developing—"

Damian swatted the hand away. Dick didn't—possibly couldn't, in his state—react in time.

"Spare me the talk. You wouldn't understand. You're a Turned."

At that, Dick's brow furrowed.

"I was turned when I was around your age. And like all children, I had to wait to get my fangs. Only those who are turned in their adulthood receive fangs right away. You have to wait, just like everybody else your age."

"If they ever come," Jason said, relentless. "With tiny ones like that, I'm surprised if you'll even be able to bite a rat by the time you're fully grown. You'll have to drink from a cup forever."

"I do not drink from a cup!" Damian said, lurching forward, and Dick picked him up off the ground to stop him from attacking the cackling Jason.

Damian looked at his reflection in the mirror, his red eyes staring back at him. He leaned in closer, his nose nearly pushed up against the glass, and hooked his finger under his upper lip.

He stared disappointingly at his fangs. They were sharp like a proper vampire's, yes, but their length was no longer than a human's canine tooth would be. Most vampires his age would at least be able to stretch their jaws—but Damian's barely budged.

The blood lingering in his body was sufficient enough to allow him to blush with shame and embarrassment. His bloodline was rich. His father was a Turned, yes, but his mother's bloodline was pure—extending far back, to some of the earliest vampires. A boy of such heritage should have strong fangs, not dinky human-like teeth.

"Damian?"

Damian was so distracted that he hadn't heard Dick's footsteps. He broke away from the mirror at once, hoping that he hadn't been caught. Dick seemed to eye him closely for a moment but eventually said, "Alfred just finished bagging up the remainders from the hunt."

Indeed, Damian could now see the color in Dick's face. Almost enough to be warm. His eyes, which had been colorless the past few nights, were now a dull blue.

But there was a solemnity to his face, like he was still suffering from fog.

'Fog' was another one of Brown's oh-so-clever descriptions, but Damian could admit that unlike 'Baby-Fangs', the phrase was actually useful. Stephanie used it to describe the sluggishness that the Turned experienced from not feeding. When a vampire drank, the blood flowed through their systems, making them almost lifelike. For a Turned, it was like being human again—at least, that's what Damian had been told. Damian had never been a human, so his experience after feeding was just feeling stronger than he usually felt. But for Turned ones, like Dick, too long without feeding felt more than just tiring. It felt like being dead.

'Fog' was used to describe that dysphoria. Damian's father was good at controlling fog but Dick still struggled from time to time. After a hunt, Dick was full of energy. All smiles and laughs. But that meant there was just that much larger of a crash when his body no longer had the supplies to keep him animated.

Either way, it seemed unusual to see Dick with such a serious expression so shortly after a hunt. It unnerved Damian.

"I'll be down in a minute," he said quickly. Anything to get Dick to go away.

But Dick leaned against the doorway, one foot crossing from the carpet onto the tiles. He offered a small smile.

"Who knows? Maybe you'll get to join the next hunt."

Damian bristled defensively.

"Don't mock me," he said at once.

"I wasn't," Dick said. Damian believed him—out of all the teasing Damian got for being the youngest, Dick rarely joined in. Dick seemed to struggle with choosing his words, trying to tip-toe his way around Damian's growing anger. "I just meant—I figured that maybe you felt left out, since you couldn't join."

Damian did feel left out. Everyone in the batfamily went on hunts together—with the exception of Damian, whose fangs weren't long enough to pierce through any animal's flesh without assistance.

There were laws against vampires hunting humans. Vampires survived in the world by feeding off of animal blood, or were otherwise imprisoned. But packaged cartons and bags couldn't compare to a fresh drink—Damian knew, because he was raised on fresh, human blood. Had lived off of it for years, until he decided to give it up and live with his father.

Their vigilante work often forced them to fight their own kind. Their moral code was strict—they couldn't ever feed off humans. Damian couldn't count the times he was forced to let a human bleed, knowing fully well they'd be dead in a few minutes anyways, thinking that it was a waste. Damian knew the others felt it too, as hard as they tried to fight it. Hunts were how the family rewarded themselves for working so hard—every few months, Bruce would reserve the hunting grounds, and they let themselves run free. They even went as themselves, instead of wearing costumes.

It was a tradition that existed before they were aware of Damian's existence. He was the only one who hadn't gone. In ways, Damian felt like he wasn't a part of their family at all.

"I don't care about your stupid trip," Damian said at once. "I just want to get stronger!"

"Of course," Dick said, lightly rolling his eyes. He patted the wall. "Well, whenever you're done sizing yourself up in the mirror, come downstairs."

Damian's eyes widened.

"I wasn't—"he started to stammer, but Dick was already off.

Drake was born a vampire.

Damian liked to believe that was the only trait they had in common.

The older boy had this stupid habit of picking the tip of his fang with his thumbnail whenever he was lost in thought. Damian watched him closely, eyes narrowing as he observed their length. Even Tim, who was tiny and pathetic, had longer fangs than Damian.

Without thinking, Damian blurted out the question that was sitting on his mind, "When did you get them?"

Tim finally pulled his hand away. He turned away from the batcomputer and looked at Damian cautiously, as if expecting a prank. Damian felt embarrassed.

"Your—mask," Damian said, scrambling for a save. But he didn't have the same charismatic smoothness as, say, Dick.

"My mask," Tim said, repeating the words with a tone of skepticism. "I got my mask the same time everyone does." Tim raised an eyebrow, said mask lifting with it. "Natural or Turned—you'll have to wait to get yours... Nubby."

"'Nubby'?!" Damian said incredulously, eye twitching. He hated that dumb smirk on the teenager's face.

"You kept talking about how much you hated 'Baby-Fangs', so we decided to come up with a new nickname. You can thank Duke."

"He's human!" Damian said, throwing his arms in the air.

"Then he probably knows a 'Nubby' when he sees one," Tim said, going back to the screen.

Damian wanted to chomp on Tim's head—but he realized, with fear, that it might not hurt. So he settled on pushing Tim instead.

"Hey!" Tim said, annoyed. Damian just went in, fists flying, and Tim tried to keep him at arm's length away.

"Take it back!" Damian said.

In the middle of the commotion, Damian was suddenly yanked back by his hood.

"What are you doing?" Dick said, snarling, long teeth bared.

"It wasn't me!" Damian said, feeling even more outraged at how Dick instantly took Drake's side. "He started it!"

"That doesn't give you the right to attack me!" Tim said, straightening his vest.

"What did you say to him?" Dick said, sighing in exasperation. There was something in his words that made Damian feel even more like a child. It was frustrating. Even when Dick took Damian's corner, Damian was still unhappy.

"Nothing I just—"Tim started, but his shoulders fell. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, confessing the truth, "I called him 'Nubby'."

Silence. Then a chortle.

Damian looked up at Dick, betrayed. The vampire covered his mouth with his hand but it was already too late—Damian caught that smile. He shoved Dick too.

"I hate you!" he said. Dick's arms wrapped around him and Damian thrashed around, trying to fight him off.

"Hey, hey, hey—I'm sorry. It's not funny," Dick said. Damian ignored him, kept wriggling around, shouting curses. In his fit, he tried to bite Dick's arm—but his teeth barely left a dent in the fabric. "It wasn't right of you to hit Tim." Dick turned his head toward Tim, adding, "Still, you need to quit teasing him. You and everyone else."

"It's not like he wasn't asking for it," Tim said, muttering.

Damian had enough.

"Stop babying me!" Damian said, finally pushing Dick off. Humiliated and frustrated, he threw his mask and bracers onto the ground, letting them bounce off the floor one by one. He unhooked his hood and cape on the way to the staircase, practically flying up the steps toward the manor.

Hours after the fight, Damian could hear the creak of his bedroom door, followed by soft footsteps on the carpet. Damian turned on his side, facing the wall of his coffin, his shoulders hunched up. He heard the top as it slid open, the pitch blackness replaced with dull, artificial lighting.

"Damian," Dick said, his voice almost apologetic. But Damian didn't move. A heavy sigh. "Come on, I know you're awake. You love sulking in the dark. It's practically genetic."

Damian's fingers curled into fists—and then released. He didn't know what to do. Part of him wanted to turn around and talk, and the other part of him wanted Grayson to go away forever.

To Damian's surprise, he heard the edge of the coffin groan. The mattress shifted under Dick's weight as he climbed in.

Then the sound of the top sliding, followed by that familiar darkness once again.

Stephanie and Duke weren't the only ones with creative names. 'Coffin' was a tongue-in-cheek term that Dick had used when he was a boy, that caught on with Bruce and Alfred, and eventually was passed down to the rest of the family. In actuality, they were just beds with thick, closed-up walls and ceilings, where no sunlight could come in and burn them when the morning came. Damian thought it was ridiculous when he first encountered them—a closed curtain was sufficient, so long as the vampire wasn't particularly sensitive. But like everything else in Bruce's house, precautions were made.

Unfortunately, because of the sheer amount of material and the intentionally contained design, even the adult-sized coffins weren't very large and could be a little cramped.

Damian dared to turn around, elbows and shoulders and knees bumping into things. Damian's enhanced eyesight could still see Dick fairly clear in the darkness. He spotted the small smile on the vampire's face.

Damian glared back at him, knowing that Dick could see him just as well.

"You're getting big," Dick said suddenly. "We're running out of space."

Damian felt oddly unenthused by Dick's words.

"Tt. Of course. I'm not a child anymore," Damian said.

Dick didn't say anything. And even so, Damian doubted his own words. Damian was used to silences—his father loved that just as well as he loved 'sulking in the dark'. Dick, however, used them sparingly.

At Dick's quiet demeanor, Damian felt the tension slowly slip away from his body. His anger had raged during the hours of patrol that he had skipped, thinking up of all the words he'd yell at Dick when he inevitably returned to apologize. And even though Dick hadn't apologized, Damian could feel all the anger and negativity slip away. He couldn't be mad, Damian decided stubbornly. Because if he hated Grayson, he'd have no one left to like (except his pets of course). And so, they were stuck together.

Almost literally.

Dick's eyes were already closed. He had made himself comfortable. Damian considered telling Dick to go away. They hadn't shared a coffin in months. But Damian admittedly liked sharing.

He liked listening to Dick sleep, especially when there was still color to his flesh and eyes. In the dark of night, Dick's breaths were few but deep. Like he was savoring each breath. Sometimes, when Dick was in deep sleep, Damian would scoot in closer, waiting for a heartbeat. The dead organ would occasionally pulse with life, given his body had absorbed enough blood. A small remnant of something human hiding in the vampiric venom. Damian could feel his own do the same—but not nearly with the same frequency as Dick's.

When Damian had first heard it, he had discovered it by accident, when a crack in his coffin forced him and Dick to share for a week. Since then, Damian had found ways to sneak into Dick's bedroom, trying to catch those sounds—until Dick would inevitably catch him and invite him inside the coffin.

So Damian didn't send him away, even though Dick never apologized. And even though he was exhausted, he waited for Dick to fall asleep first, so he could creep a little closer to his chest, and listen.

Dick was laughing so hard that his body was shaking. Damian could feel each rumble.

Damian knew that the teasing should have made him angry—but it only made him feel more determined. His arms stretched, trying to grab the video game in Dick's hand—fingertips sliding off the case. Dick wrapped his free arm around Damian's shoulders, twisting them around on the carpet.

Damian growled, wrestling for a few moments longer. The sight of flesh passed Damian's vision—

Damian nipped at Dick's hand, as he had time and time again when Dick decided to play like this. But this time, Damian felt his teeth sink in.

Just as sudden, Dick's hand jerked away.

"Ah," Dick said, wincing. Damian blinked in surprise, not expecting the reaction. Dick's hold was released and Damian immediately rolled off of him. He kneeled on the carpet, looking closely at Dick's hand, seeing that the teeth had pierced through his skin. Damian stared, almost in wonder, as two dark red droplets rose to the surface.

This had never happened before.

Damian's eyes dilated at the smell of blood. He knew it was bad blood—vampires were never supposed to drink from other vampires. To do so would be akin to stealing leftovers from a starving person—it would zap Dick's energy, not to mention the taste was supposedly dull. But he couldn't help himself—it was bad blood, but it certainly didn't smell bad, and it filled Damian with a hunger that was no different than any other fresh blood he encountered.

Damian snapped out of his stare, looking up to find Dick's gaze on him.

"I'm sorry," he said. He wasn't one to apologize but the words slipped out almost instinctively.

"It was an accident," Dick agreed. In contrast to Damian, Dick was always one to forgive. Damian felt a sense of doubt wash over him, worrying about his lack of control. He was so excited by this development that he had forgotten that he had hurt Dick. Damian could feel Dick's eyes on him—the older vampire seemed to consider him for a moment before mussing his hair. A comforting gesture. Damian felt embarrassed—he wanted to grumble a complaint and slap the hand away, but he didn't. He quietly accepted the gesture.

He shifted in place, feeling uncomfortable.

He couldn't stop looking at the bite marks.

"Can I?" he finally asked.

Dick didn't ask him what he meant. He froze at the suggestion, gazing down at Damian with a serious expression. Damian found himself shrinking in place, knowing that he asked the wrong thing. Maybe even said a bad thing, that Dick could tell Damian's father about, which would then result in a reprimanding.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Damian," Dick said after a moment, with a strange gentleness. Damian admittedly didn't enjoy the answer, the sweet smell still lingering in his nose, but he was walking on a thin line and so he did not argue.

"Go ahead," Damian heard his father say. But like always, it came with a catch. "But this is the only time I'll allow this."

The deer was outside of hunting grounds, struck by Alfred's car. The animal was clearly in pain, minutes from death. Bruce never approved of killing—hunting was a necessity, and had to be done within the confines of the law—but they were miles from help and he was willing to make an exception to place the doe out of her misery. Damian also suspected that his reaction was noticed by his father. The scent had hit Damian like a freight train. He had gone without fresh—truly fresh—blood for so long.

When he finally got down on his knees and drank, it was like his entire body underwent a transformation.

There was nothing that compared to drinking straight from the source. Nothing. The blood was still hot, still potent. It went down his throat and filled his insides with a warmth.

Damian was long raised to believe that vampires were better. They were the predators, and humans were the prey. They were the stronger, faster specimen. They could live forever, if only they fed properly. All of this made them superior.

When the blood passed his lips and was absorbed into his body, Damian could feel the life returning to his organs and muscles. He tried to imagine what it must feel like—to be like this all the time. To be full with life, twenty-four hours a day. Seven days a week.

It wasn't until he lived at the manor, spending time with turned vampires like his father, that he began to ponder life over strength. For the first time, he doubted his superiority.

Could it really be considered immortality if he was never alive in the first place?

When the rush of the drink coursed through his body, Damian could almost understand. He could understand his father's bitterness. He could understand the fog in Dick's eyes.

If someone had told him—back in the days when he proudly called himself the descendant of Ra's al Ghul—that he'd wonder what it'd be like to be a ten year old human boy, he would have lopped their head off with his sword, and laughed as he drank their blood.

Damian could hear Stephanie's wild giggling from the other side of the training room. He sneered to himself in annoyance as he moved to put his equipment away. Stephanie barely acknowledged the way Damian shoved past her, too busy gossiping to Cassandra.

"I found out why Kate left patrol early," Stephanie said, wiggling her eyebrows. She leaned in closer, whispering her secret even though Batwoman wasn't even in the same building. "I saw it. The mark was all over her neck."

Cass tilted her head in confusion, her expression urging Steph to go on.

"'The Kiss'," Steph clarified, giggling. Cass covered her mouth, red eyes widening.

"Who?" Cass said, a small intonation of wonder to her voice.

"Renee, if I had to guess," Steph said.

"Seriously, Brown? Could you be any more of a teenager?" Damian said, unable to listen to this childish gossip any longer. Stephanie crossed her arms, a smug look on her face.

"You don't even know what I'm talking about, Baby-Fangs."

Damian suddenly doubted himself. A kiss, right? He knew what that was. But there was a way in the manner in which Steph and Cass were speaking that made the everyday act seem suddenly forbidden.

"Don't call me that," Damian said instead. Brown's stupid smile only got larger, her fangs gleaming at him mockingly. Damian huffed and started to walk away.

"Just so you know, Alfred's not going to be able to explain it to you, Nubby."

Damian took Stephanie's words as a hint. He couldn't ask a human, it seemed, so he settled on pestering Dick.

In the confines of the coffin, where they were at their most private, Damian asked, "What's 'The Kiss'?"

Dick was suddenly awake, tilting his head in Damian's direction. "Where did you hear that?"

"Brown mentioned it."

"Of course," Dick said, rolling his eyes.

"So what is it? It can't be like a human kiss. Brown made it sound more serious than that."

"It's when a vampire feeds off another vampire. And then the other vampire takes it back. You know how humans sometimes call kissing 'swapping spit'? It's… kind of like that. Except you're swapping blood."

Damian couldn't possibly understand the purpose of this. "But why? I thought drinking from other vampires was bad."

"It is," Dick said. His hand reached to scratch his head, his knuckles accidentally colliding against the low ceiling of the coffin. "But The Kiss isn't just about taking. It's about giving as well. That's what makes it different."

Damian was silent, still not understanding. Dick sighed a little, expression thoughtful.

"You know that rush you get from feeding? How you feel… all alive? The Kiss is like… being able to experience that rush. And then giving it to someone else."

"But what if one vampire just takes it all?" Damian said, almost arguing. The whole concept was still gross and excessive to him. Not to mention it defied everything that he was taught.

"Well, it's about trust. You wouldn't do it with someone you didn't trust."

"Have you done it?"

Dick seemed flustered by the question. "Well, I mean—a few times—"

Damian stared at Dick hard, eyes filled with judgment.

Dick stumbled over his words. "Lots of couples do it."

Knowing that Dick had done it lessened Damian's distrust of the act. Still, he didn't quite understand.

He thought back to when his teeth had pricked Dick's hand. Damian could still recall the scent of that bad blood. In the nights that passed since, he had laid his cheek to Dick's skin and breathed, trying to find that smell again. But it was never the same. There was nothing to describe what he had sensed at that moment—it was too unique.

Admittedly, he had thought about it a lot since then.

"When I bit you that day…" Damian trailed off, not sure of how to explain how it made him feel.

"That was just playing around," Dick said simply. Almost dismissively. Damian scrunched up his nose a bit, but didn't bother to explain himself.

"Can we try?" he said instead.

"Try what?"

"Don't play dumb," Damian said, embarrassed that Dick was going to make him say it. Dick's eyes widened slightly—there was genuine surprise in his reaction. A true fool.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Damian expected as much. He fell silent, waiting for his usual anger to bubble up, but it never came. He readjusted his laying position on the mattress, pretending to get comfortable, when in reality he was trying to turn away from the rejection.

If 'The Kiss' was a matter of trust, Damian was the worst candidate. No one found him trustworthy.

"Come on," Dick said, voice quiet. "Stop sulking."

Damian scowled but said nothing. Damian could hear Dick's heavy sigh. A hand gently shook Damian's shoulder.

"Fine. We can do it, okay?" Damian instantly flipped back around. Dick's eyes shifted to the side, he looked strangely embarrassed—surprising, given he did actually embarassing things on a daily basis without skipping a beat. In an almost stern voice, Dick added, "But if your dad hears about this, he might yell at me. So do it somewhere like… like here."

Dick pointed to the inside of his upper arm. Damian looked at the spot skeptically—Dick usually wore short sleeves. But really, the only places Dick did cover up would probably be too indecent to bite… so Damian followed his instructions.

Dick lifted his arm. Damian was careful to not hit his head on the coffin, rising up. He wrapped his hands around the limb, feeling the faint warmth underneath. A strange sort of excitement filled him—his eyes dilated, his mouth watered. Yet his stomach twisted with nerves too—afraid he'd mess up, or go too far, or that it'd be as horrible as he was raised to believe.

He could feel the stretch of his jaw and fangs. Then suddenly, he heard a small, mirthful breath, and his eyes darted up at Dick accusingly.

"Stop laughing," Damian said.

"I'm not," Dick said, covering his mouth. Damian's expression soured, his excitement fizzling out.

"What? What am I doing wrong? Just say it, coward."

"You're not doing anything wrong," Dick said. He couldn't contain his laugh anymore, though he tried—his chest rumbled, tiny huffs escaping past his lips. Damian growled and Dick quickly explained himself, unable to hide the grin on his face. "You just—you just had this very intense look in your eyes."

"What am I supposed to do? Keep them shut?"

"It was just the combination of your expression and the little fangs—I'm sorry, it was very cute, I couldn't help it—"

Little. Damian bristled with anger.

"Stop mocking me," Damian said. The moment was ruined. He started to turn away but Dick's arm followed him. But as sorry as he seemed, the amusement wasn't completely gone in Dick's eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"Dick started, and he kept rambling, but Damian was more focused on the offered limb waving in front of him.

Almost vengefully, he bit.

Dick's words were cut off by a small, pained sound.

Damian only tasted flesh. No different than when he'd nip at Dick's hands when they played. He wanted that scent—that same one from that day, when his teeth made contact with Dick's blood. He grabbed Dick's arm, and though Dick wasn't pulling away, Damian forcefully held him in his place. Jaw aching, he forced his fangs in deeper by biting harder. Bruisingly hard.

Damian knew it hurt. It had to have, based on his effort. He could hear a subtle groan, muffled behind closed lips.

His fangs broke past the skin, and the blood appeared in a sudden release. Damian tasted it on his lips and tongue, the smell suddenly flooding through him.

Damian couldn't say how it compared to a fresh kill—it had been too long. But it was the closest thing to human blood that he had drunk in a long time. And in recent memory, it was the sweetest he had ever tasted.

Warmth rushed past his lips, down his throat. He could feel the drink filling every cell in his body—his heart pulsed. His insides felt hot.

Fangs embedded deep, Damian looked up at Dick. The mocking in Dick's eyes was gone—he had this strange look in his face. Damian couldn't discern what. Something affectionate and yet deeper than that, something more rare. Damian vaguely remembered seeing such a look a few times when they were teamed up together, when Damian did something remarkably good or kind—or sometimes for no reason at all, and Damian happened to catch Dick staring.

Damian's head felt suddenly fuzzy. His vision blurred until his eyes fluttered shut. He sucked, warmth spreading from his throat to his chest to his abdomen and even down to his toes. The scent seemed to fill the whole coffin.

"Damian," Dick said suddenly. But his voice was gentle, always gentle, never demanding.

It snapped Damian out of his haze.

He pulled back quickly. He could still taste it—sweet and red on his lips. It was difficult to resist the urge to lick it away—he wiped his mouth with the heel of his hand.

He felt so full.

When he looked at Dick, there was a visible difference. Damian blinked, feeling suddenly alert, wondering if he had gone too far. Dick covered the fang marks on his arm with his hand, trying to blot the bleeding, but his grip was loose. He rolled onto his back, the mattress swallowing his lethargic body. His eyes were cloudy, nearly white.

Damian quickly rolled up his sleeve, holding his forearm to Dick's lips. Slothlike, Dick took Damian's arm, but when his fangs unsheathed, Damian felt suddenly frightened. Damian had faced enemies who wanted him dead—but Damian had never seen Dick like this, and the size of his fully-grown fangs near his thin wrist made Damian second-guess himself. He'd be impaled.

Damian easily pried his arm back. Instantly, upon doing so, he felt ashamed of his cowardice. He could do it but—his arm was too much. He wished Dick would tell him what to do, but the vampire seemed too dazed to speak.

Dick's arms wrapped loosely around Damian's shoulders. Damian watched Dick carefully, all while letting himself be lured into his embrace. Damian was pulled on top of Dick's body—Damian was embarrassed by how easy, how natural, it felt to expose his neck like he was prey.

Damian's eyes clenched shut but he didn't dare to make a sound when the fangs sunk into his throat. Unlike Damian's bite, which was awkward and forced, Dick's bite was smooth and seamless. Damian's skin stung, and the slightest movement brought a sharp pain. His fists tightened around the sheets, trying to bear through it.

The high that Damian had been riding on was slowing down. But there was something strangely comforting in Dick drinking his blood. Though the energy was being drained from Damian's body, he could feel Dick's embrace growing warmer. Dick sucked on his neck, the sensation tickling Damian's sensitive skin. And the more Dick drank, the lazier Damian felt.

Suddenly, just as quick as they had pierced him, the fangs withdrew.

Dick breathed in. Damian felt wobbly as he removed himself from Dick's embrace and fell back onto the mattress.

Damian stared at Dick for a moment. Dark, dilated eyes looked back at him, watching him just as closely. Dick's lips were stained dark red. His expression hazy.

But his eyes weren't quite the same color as they were before Damian bit him.

"You didn't take enough."

"This is fine," Dick said, his body seeming to relax into the mattress. His eyes were half-lidded, looking almost sleepy. "I don't want to take too much."

"It's an equal exchange," Damian said, frowning. "That's what you said. It was about taking and then giving—"

"It is. But I don't want to go too far." Damian was unsatisfied with that answer. Dick gave a chortle, his hand ruffling Damian's hair. "What's wrong with having the better end of the deal? I can never make you happy, can I?"

Damian did feel unhappy. "Stop."

Dick removed his hand. As if that was the problem, instead of his excessive nurturing habits.

Stop babying me.

Frustrated, Damian tugged on Dick's shirt, pulling him in closer.

"Take more."

"What?" Dick said with a tone of surprise.

"You want it all, right? That's why you stopped yourself too early. Because you want to go further but you're afraid to," Damian said, insistent. Dick's eyes were back to normal, and yet all Damian could think of were the times he had seen them colorless. He thought of each and every week, when Dick began to slip into the fog, and the joy began to fade away from his eyes. "You want to feel human. I know it."

Dick's brows furrowed slightly.

"Take more."

"I can't."

"You'll give it back."

Dick hung his head, unanswering.

"You trusted me to go first."

Before Damian could find another argument, another plea, he was pushed onto his back. Damian looked up at Dick, startled, the vampire's larger hands pushing down on Damian's wrists.

Dick crawled over him, head ducking into the crook of Damian's neck. Fangs perfectly finding their marks and digging back into the same place. Nestling in like it was home.

Damian winced, hissing between his teeth, as the sharp teeth dug their way into his still sensitive flesh.

The energy was draining from Damian quickly now. Damian shuddered, his skin turning cold while Dick's grew furnace hot. Hot against his neck and wrists. He could feel goosebumps rising on his skin.

The sounds of Dick's drinking seemed to grow louder. Dick made a low, deep sound, his lips humming against Damian's throat, and something about the sound made Damian's head fuzzy. Dick's body on top of his felt fire hot in comparison to Damian's skin. Too hot.

"Stop," Damian said, realizing that Dick would not, and his voice felt hoarse.

Dick immediately pulled back. And despite the exhaustion—Damian couldn't recall the last time he had felt so drained—Damian felt suddenly alert when their gazes locked.

Damian had never seen Dick look like this. Not even on his best days.

His eyes were rich with blue.

Almost like.

Like he was alive.

Damian had never seen eyes like that.

But the amazement was brief. It was difficult to keep his own eyes open. He could feel himself on the verge of sleep.

"Damian," Dick said, and that's when Damian remembered he couldn't go to sleep just yet.

He groped blindly in the darkness, hands finding warm flesh. The scent of the blood underneath beckoning him.

"Wait, Damian—"Dick started, but he cut himself short when Damian bit.

"Did you guys see it?" Stephanie said, fangs gleaming.

Damian stayed seated on the counter, the wall of bat tools behind him. Jason and Tim glanced at each other, shrugging, before turning back to Steph.

"See what?" Tim said.

"Dick has marks. Not one, but two." Steph gestured up and down her upper arm.

Damian's stomach flipped. Dick hadn't been too happy about the two marks—especially since the second one was very noticeable, and mapped the way to the first. But Damian hadn't been in the right state of mind—he smelled blood and he bit, not thinking about the consequences. As for himself, he always wore high collars, so the mark on his neck was nothing.

"Maybe they're bruises," Tim said, his mouth in a thin line. Steph shot him a dry look.

"Bruises?" she said. "Heck no. Those are fang marks. Our boy had a busy night."

"Wait, that's what those were?" Jason said. He barked with laughter. "Who's the lucky woman? A vampire rabbit?"

Damian clenched his jaw shut, bristling up with anger.

"They did look small… You don't suppose his girlfriend's a high-schooler?" Stephanie suggested, looking uncertain.

"Come on," Tim said, quick to defend Dick's honor. "He would never. Maybe the person was just… tiny."

Damian's hands wrapped around the edge of the counter.

"That or she didn't know what the fuck she was doing," Jason said. "Would explain the two marks. Maybe she didn't get it right the first time."

"Don't you morons have anything better to do?!" Damian snapped.

The three stopped and looked at Damian, surprised.

"Whoa," Steph said, suddenly drawing in close. Damian was so startled by her reaction that he just sat there while she pried open his mouth. "What happened to your fangs? Did they grow in overnight? I'm not imagining this—they are bigger, right?"

Tim peeked over Steph's shoulder. "Huh. They do seem a bit longer. But I wouldn't say they're grown yet."

Damian tried to shoot back an insult but his voice was garbled by Steph playing around with his mouth.

"Guess we can't call you Nubby anymore," Jason said.

Steph looked over her shoulder at Jason, no doubt smirking. "I guess Dick's mystery lover is the new Nubby now."

When Stephanie finally released him, Damian made sure to keep his mouth shut.

They sat side by side, the moon full, their legs dangling off the edge of a rooftop. Damian kept his gaze forward, watchful as ever, but he could see Dick slouching in his peripherals. The fog again.

"When my father…" he began to ask, but he trailed off into silence, not sure how to pose his question. Damian decided to keep it simple. "Do you regret being turned?"

Damian had heard it many times.

The story of the ten year old human boy.

The boy who had seen too much but couldn't prevent his parents' deaths. The boy who had been dragged off by a low level member of the mob, was shot and left bleeding in an alley when the Batman arrived.

The only other option Dick had was death. But sometimes, Damian wondered if that was preferable to living this strained existence. The line between knowing what it meant to be alive but being unable to go back. To be unable to walk out into the sun without it hurting. To continue on, separate from his parents. And it seemed to Damian that Dick's ensuing silence meant that he had at least thought about it.

Damian finally realized that Dick's eyes were watching him. Damian looked back, red meeting blue, and was greeted with a sudden smile. "If I wasn't a vampire, then I wouldn't have met you."

Damian's eyes widened in surprise.

His heart pulsed once.

He quickly turned his head, his hood concealing his face.

"Tt."