Archive of Our Own ^beta

One

Dick couldn’t tell you how he ended up here.

Jason didn’t even work with him all that often. They usually stuck to clearly demarcated lines in their cases. The last attempted homicide between them might’ve been a while back by now; that didn’t mean Dick was necessarily comfortable around him, and he refused to apologize for that.

This time, there had been no way to avoid cooperation. Considering everything, it had gone okay. Two human traffickers were behind bars that hadn’t been before, so Dick considered it a win. After the arrests, Jason had suggested a drink, and Dick, not wanting to reject him without reason, had taken him up on it. One or two beers, and then they’d head home.

One beer had turned into fruity cocktails had turned into tequila straight from the bottle. Maybe it was their competitive nature that wouldn’t allow them to back down when the other ordered something, maybe it was the stress of the past few days slash years, but Jason was basically spread all over the booth now, Dick comfortably nestled into the corner beside him, their shoulders touching as they passed the bottle back and forth.

“So, little wing, are you seeing anyone? Or is there a hot chick waiting for the Red Hood in every city by now?” he settled on. That was what a big brother was supposed to ask, right? Never mind that he had to look up at Jason as he said it. He’d never asked Damian that question—but that was a bad thought, and bad thoughts deserved tequila.

Dick took another sip.

“Nah.” Jason took the bottle from him and examined it critically. “Goddammit, Dick, are you trying to kill yourself? How much of this did you drink?”

He was one to talk, slurring as he was. Dick graciously overlooked that fact, insisting: “What do you mean, nah? There’s gotta be someone.”

“Well, yeah, Tim.”

Jason grimaced at his own words, though Dick wasn’t sure why. His head felt slow and fuzzy. “What does Tim have to do with this conversation?”

“I’m in love with him, dickhead.” Jason snorted. “Hah. Dickhead. That’s never not funny.”

Dick had heard that joke about a million times before; he was drunk enough to chuckle anyways.

“How long?” he asked when he’d calmed down. Kinda embarrassing, him not noticing his little brothers dating. Urgh. Phrasing it like that made it sound weird.

Jason shrugged. “Dunno. Years.”

Funny that he was so blasé about that. Dick had pegged him to be the type to remember anniversaries to the minute. Not like Tim really cared about that stuff, though, so it was probably fine.

Now that Dick thought about it, they were sweet to and about each other all the time. Fighting crime together counted as, like, a prime dating activity in vigilante circles. Dick remembered all the times Tim had mentioned he was grabbing breakfast or dinner with Jason.

And it made total sense. Tim was the main reason Jason had calmed down considerably in the killing department, and Jason had been loyal to Tim whatever happened, arguing his side every time, even with Damian. Dick didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before. They were so obviously a couple.

It was unfair, he thought mutinously. Jason and Tim had just seemed to click from the beginning. They were clearly made for each other.

“What the fuck are you talking about. Are you forgetting what I did when I first met him?”

Jason’s voice was both incredulous and ashamed, but Dick wasn’t paying any attention, his thoughts going down a path they had traveled, many times before. Only this time, he spoke them out loud. “You two are so… I just—I just want Damian to—”

And then, to his utter humiliation, Dick broke down in tears.

Fucking tequila.

He didn’t remember anything that happened after that. That was probably a blessing.

Two

Jason was in his late twenties now. It had been almost ten years since he’d returned to Gotham. Dick got drunk with him less than a week ago. Talking to him shouldn’t feel like making polite small talk with a stranger, but it did.

“Yeah, I tend to turn the heater up, too,” Jason was saying, sounding bored with himself. He’d been tapping away on his phone for most of the day. “Tim likes it a bit chilly, though, so I’m getting used to it.”

Dick didn’t take his eyes off the target as he sighed. If only the man would do anything more exciting than sit in an office all day. He mournfully remembered the Mafiosi of his youth, all of which would rather have been caught dead (and in many cases were) than sit in front of a computer all day.

Jason’s phone buzzed again. His brother didn’t even bother to apologize before grabbing it to reply.

“Tim?” Dick finally asked, more to start the conversation again than because he had any doubts.

Jason hummed in agreement. “He needs important mission intel.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “He’s bored at work, isn’t he?”

“So am I.”

“Oh, excuse me, is my company that terrible?” Call him a hypocrite, Dick still felt insulted.

“No, but trying not to talk about the elephant in the room is. You know. Our little tequila evening.”

…Dick had really hoped they could just keep ignoring that. Jesus Christ, go right for the sore spot, won’t you, Jason? Dick had never regretted the bluntness his family was famous for more than at this moment. Well, there had been that time Steph had described ‘pegging’ to Damian after he, being twelve, had asked why Dick was walking so funny after visiting his then-girlfriend… and the time Bruce had given him The Talk again after noticing he was interested in boys… and the time Babs had—okay, maybe this wasn’t even top five, because there had also been that time where—

Jason’s voice interrupted that thought process, which was probably for the best. “I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

Dick searched his face. Jason looked calm, open, a little bit hopeful—as if he was willing Dick to trust his word.

“Okay, cards on the table, I don’t actually remember what I told you,” Dick finally admitted. “So, uh, please describe the elephant to me.”

Jason hesitated. “Oh. I could forget about it, too, if you like.”

“No,” Dick decided, though he did consider it. Still, he was curious now. And surely it couldn’t be that bad? He couldn’t have been drunk enough to— He couldn’t have been. “Tell me.”

Jason’s phone buzzed. This time, he ignored it, still looking strangely hesitant. “You told me that you’re in love with Damian.”

Dick stopped breathing.

Literally; the ringing in his ears grew louder and louder until he felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him. “Dick. Dick! It’s fine. You’re fine. No one else knows.”

Dick took a gulp of breath, then another, forcing out: “Don’t tell him.” Then: “Don’t tell Bruce.”

“Never,” Jason promised. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Dick wasn’t so sure about that, but—what choice did he have? Weirdly enough, it was that thought that calmed him down. There was nothing he could change about it now. All that was left was running damage control.

At least Jason had waited until they were alone to bring it up and hadn’t told anyone else. That had to count for something, hadn’t it?

“I haven’t—I never told anyone.” He’d barely admitted it to himself.

“I know.” Jason’s smile was sheepish, but there. “You, uh, made me promise the same thing about fifteen times already.”

Dick groaned, embarrassment finally setting in. “God, I’m so sorry. Fucking tequila.”

“Tell me about it. My head hurt for a whole two days after.”

The target chose that moment to move, and they both moved into instant alert—but it was only to the bathroom. Once the man was typing away at his desk again, they relaxed, and Jason finally answered Tim’s texts.

Then he leaned back on his hands casually and peered at Dick. “So. Damian, huh?”

Dick seriously considered ignoring him, but—it might feel… nice. To talk about it with someone. Even if it was Jason.

“Yeah. I know you two don’t—” Dick gestured with clasped hands.

“Hey, no, Damian and I, we’re good,” Jason reassured him. “Tried to kill each other a few times, laid down some ground rules about how to not insult people the other person cares about, and voila, no assassination threats in months now.”

Something in Dick wanted to protest. Damian was so much more than threats of violence, always had been, and it annoyed Dick to no end that people still held his upbringing against him.

Then he realized how ridiculous he would sound saying that to Jason of all people, and instead settled on: “So you just don’t talk about Bruce and Tim at all?”

Jason shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“Huh.” That sounded exhausting, but who was Dick to judge?

“Gotta say I’m a bit surprised, though. Didn’t think you’d go for him.”

Dick tensed, expecting any of the reasons he told himself at night—Damian was too young, too vulnerable, too much his brother—

Jason continued, grinning: “He’s not even a redhead.”

Dick threw his com at Jason’s head, but he was laughing.

Three

Dick unironically loved it whenever a group of bats gathered to work a case (or an Arkham breakout, as it might be.) Sure, there was a lot of bickering happening, but wasn’t that what family was about?

Honestly, it was even better without Bruce. Less tightly run, more fun. Seeing Damian in Bruce’s cowl instead was still weird, though. It wasn’t like Dick himself hadn’t donned it plenty of times. Hell, even Jason had done it once or twice, which had been one hell of a trip for everyone involved.

All of which was a good thing—Damian should have more than being Bruce’s mirror image. Dick was so proud of the way he’d grown into himself, had taken on his own vigilante identity.

However, it was a reminder that the child he had helped socialize, the Robin to his Batman, had, indeed, grown into a man. A man that didn’t smile often, to be sure; one that still liked to keep the world at bay, that trusted few, showed his heart to even fewer.

Something sharp dug into his side. “Earth to Nightwing, Earth to Nightwing.”

Dick started. Fuck. He’d been staring at Damian again, hadn’t he?

With a grateful smile, he elbowed Jason right back. “It’s called thinking, ever tried it?”

“Not your particular kind, no.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I occasionally suspect there are fluffy clouds moving behind these eyes and nothing more.”

“Aww, Little Hoodling,” Dick sang, sliding his arm around Jason in a deceptively friendly move, “one day, you’ll be a real boy, too.” Then he moved—or tried to.

It was like trying to flip a car.

Dick tried again. Sure, there was little leverage like this, but he’d been able to flip Damian (who wasn’t that much lighter than Jason, and just as tall) the other day without much effort; why was this so much more difficult?

But Jason didn’t move. “Bit heavier than you remembered, Nightwing?”

Dick made a show of sticking out his lower lip to cover how startled he was. Had it really been that long since he’d been roughhousing with Jason? He could swear it had been a thousand times, but… apparently not.

Dick couldn’t regret getting away from Bruce back then. It had been necessary. But he was glad they now had a chance to move on as a family.

Okay, maybe some people would be a bit more worried about the dozens or so homicidal criminals heading their way disrupting any reconciliations. Dick never had been one of these people. Tim and Jason fought together like a well-oiled machine. As for him and Damian…

Well. They were the best, weren’t they?

Coming back to the cave, high on adrenaline and full of cravings for Alfred’s cookies, had always been one of the best parts of the job for Dick. Add in the all-too-rare opportunity to spend some quality time with Damian… the night, or morning, was looking up.

Jason, God bless him, headed right for the showers. Tim, however, lingered, looking ready to set up camp at his workstation.

“Why are you here and not in the shower?” Dick waved a hand in the direction Jason had disappeared to. It wasn’t meant to imply anything dirty, except it was.

“I need to write a mission report,” Tim protested, true to his little workaholic form. Dick would’ve expected that to lessen a bit now that he was getting some. Though now that he considered it, Jason was a workaholic, too.

“We can do that, right, little D?” Dick smiled at Damian, who grumbled but acquiesced. “Go ahead and have an early night, dude. You look beat.”

“Uh. Thanks.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Damian said, already sitting down and spreading maps on the table. Dick, not wanting to annoy him further when he’d basically forced Damian to stay for the rest of the night, made haste to join him.

When they’d gathered the full picture of the events of the night, he frowned. “What I can’t figure out is: Where did they get those supplies from? There does not seem to be a single origin point.”

“Hmm.” Damian was chewing on a pen again. It was adorable. “Flyover?”

“No planes detected.” Dick rechecked the flight radars.

“Plenty of people know how to hide from our equipment. You said it yourself: Someone paid a lot of money to stir up this much trouble.”

“We would’ve noticed the packages, though.”

Damian nodded, conceding the point. “Water?”

“The river is meant to be well-guarded…” Dick’s voice trailed off, and they both sighed at the same time.

“We should go over the guard postings; check for suspicious activity.”

Engrossed as he way with their discussion, Dick barely noticed Tim and Jason leaving, only calling a cursory ‘Take care!’ after them before Damian demanded his attention again. Eventually, they had to begin writing their reports, though, and Dick concentrated on his laptop to do so. The silence was comfortable, and time flew by.

Damian silently vanished at some point, returning some minutes later with a plate of cookies and two mugs full of steaming hot chocolate. It smelled heavenly.

Dick smiled up at him as he took the mug—his favorite superman one, he noted. “Thank you.”

Damian didn’t smile back, but there was a slant to his mouth that told Dick he was pleased. When the other sat down again, he did so right next to Dick on the bench, their thighs touching. “Show me the surveillance video again.”

“Of course.”

Dick was pretty sure Damian had it on his computer, but maybe not. Not like he was going to deny the opportunity to be this close to Damian. Bruce was away, after all. And even if he checked the surveillance footage from the cave, what was there to see? It wasn’t like he was doing anything untoward, Dick told himself. He just took a little more comfort from being close to Damian than he did when it was any of his other siblings, that was all.

Their heads were bent over the video for almost an hour; neither broke focus up until a new figure entered the cave.

“Morning, Duke.” Dick waved at the newcomer.

“Hi, guys. How was the breakout?”

“Fine. We handled it.” Damian seemed annoyed. Dick didn’t know why; he’d been fine until just now, and he and Duke usually got along well in their own way.

Duke seemed unfazed, merely looking around. “Where’re the reds?”

“They’re fine,” Dick reassured him. “Just headed out already.”

“Let me guess.” Duke’s voice was dry. “They’re feeding each other waffles.”

“I think it’s pancakes today.” Damian matched him in tone, and Dick chuckled.

“Let them have some fun, eh? At least Tim gets fed this way.”

“Too. Much. Flirting.” Duke shook his head and moved to the back of the cave, presumably getting ready for his shift.

When Dick looked up, Damian was staring at him in a way Dick had never seen before. He felt himself flush, wanted to ask—but Duke returned with his uniform and a question about the new batarangs, Damian looked away, and the moment passed.

Four

“If he’s coming to Wayne functions now, we might as well make Jason officially a part of the family again.”

Dick did his best to smile at Tim reassuringly, unsure if this was Tim’s way of floating the idea of Jason being reintroduced to the public as his boyfriend. Playing it safe, he pointed out: “Bruce doesn’t know how to ask, and he thinks Jason will say no.”

“He might not.”

Of course he wouldn’t, not if Tim asked him to. Jason was so whipped. Dick wasn’t kidding himself: If Tim hadn’t been complaining for weeks about having to attend this event, Jason wouldn’t be here. He was even making nice with some socialites to give Tim a break, for God’sGod’s sake.

Dick let his gaze wander over to where he’d last spotted Jason and flinched when he saw that Damian had joined him.

Their youngest had been late; out on a call as Flamebird. Dick was sure it had been important and all that, but he didn’t think it warranted him being deprived of this sight for so long.

If Dick liked seeing him in the batsuit, Damian in formal wear was… The dramatic lines of Damian’s suit, a close approximation of the styles his maternal family favored, made him look like royalty.

The people around him seemed to think so, too. There was a woman at Damian’s elbow, laughing and touching his shoulder whenever he spoke. The man across from him couldn’t tear his gaze away, either, visibly undressing Damian in his mind.

Dick kind of wanted to punch him. Or better, yet: Go over and show them that Damian was supposed to be his, mark him and dishevel him and have him look at no one else; let him do the same to show that Dick belonged to Damian in return.

His hands went to his own throat without any conscious input, pressing into bruises that weren’t there. For cover, he loosened his tie, clearing his throat as if to force himself to breathe normally.

When he dragged his thoughts back to his own conversation, he saw that Tim, too, was staring at the group with hunger in his face. For a second, he felt an unexpected kinship with his brother, the urge to share what was plaguing him growing strong—but no.

He just couldn’t.

“Well, you would know better than anyone else,” he absently pointed out the obvious instead.

“I know that if he keeps throwing Damian to the wolves like that, he won’t live long enough to answer Bruce.”

Dick laughed. “Aww, you know Damian only means his death threats 30% of the time these days. Still, I’ll go rescue him. Coming?”

Tim waved him off, and as Dick advanced on the group, he noticed Jason peeling off. Well, about time. Jason had left Tim’s side for a whole twenty minutes already, surely a new record. Dick had no idea how those two thought they were being subtle.

Even before he began to speak, he felt Damian looking at him.

All attention was welcome to Dick, but being the focus of Damian’s… It was like no one else existed to him but Dick, and Dick craved that feeling more than anything in the world. Damian, he knew, judged everything and everyone. Being regarded like that and still found worthy was headier than any wine.

Buoyed by the feeling, he turned his best smile at the group: “Excuse me, ladies, gentlemen, but I need to steal Damian away from you for a few minutes. Our host has been asking for him.”

Damian nodded gravely, turning to leave immediately. There was a fleeting touch to Dick’s elbow that spoke of thanks for extracting him from the situation.

He himself stayed for some minutes before making his own excuses, vaguely ambling back towards the buffet. It never hurt to look drunker than any of them would allow themselves to be at this kind of event.

The sound of laughter drew his eyes to the dance floor.

Jason and Tim were dancing. If Dick tilted his head at a thirty-two-degree angle and squinted just so, he could call it a quickstep. They looked ridiculous; two very-grown men, twirling each other like they were delicate princesses and giggling the entire time.

And yet.

There was a bitter taste in the back of his throat. He’s never been someone to hide his love. If Damian were his, he’d want to proclaim it openly and proudly, just like Jason and Tim were doing now.

They never could. Even if, by some miracle, Damian returned his feelings, they were siblings in the eyes of the world. There was no coming back from that.

“They’re making a spectacle of themselves.”

Dick shivered. He hadn’t noticed Damian coming up behind him. Now the warmth against his back and Damian’s low whisper against his ear were unmistakable.

Damian had grown so tall, almost towering over Dick; tall enough that he could rest his chin on the top of Dick’s head, and for one long moment Dick thought he might do precisely that, pull Dick into him by the hips and envelop him so fully—

But Damian cleared his throat and stepped back. Dick swayed on his feet, shame and arousal burning in his stomach in equal measure.

Immediately, Damian’s hand was on his elbow, steadying him with care most would not suspect him capable of. Dick leaned into it gratefully before he knew what he was doing.

Christ. He needed to get out of there.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m not feeling so well,” Dick blurted out, immediately wincing at how obvious a lie it was.

Incredibly, though, Damian let him get away with it. He merely looked over to Jason and Tim, and nodded as if he understood; though what it was he understood, Dick didn’t know. “Do you require assistance? I will call Pennyworth, let him know you are coming.”

Great, and now Dick felt terrible for making Damian worry.

“No, it’s fine.” He smiled, hoping it was convincing. “I just need to get some rest, I think.”

“Take the night off,” Damian ordered. “We will cover for you at the office.”

There was nothing for Dick to do but agree. Maybe a night off would help him get his shit together. Ever since he confided in Jason and found out about his relationship with Tim, his mood had gotten worse. A good night of sleep could only improve things.

Impossible as it was, he felt Damian’s gaze on him all the way home.

Five

“Damian is back,” Tim told them through the coms. “Everything is set up for tomorrow.”

“Alright. Get some sleep, babybird.”

Jason’s voice was so soft. Something in Dick ached, listening to it.

That was the one good thing to come out of this mess: being privileged to see this side of Jason. Dick had to admit to himself that he hadn’t let himself see it before.

Still, he wouldn’t be Jason’s older brother if he didn’t tease him: “Getting all sappy on me, are you?”

“Excuse me?”

The genuine confusion on Jason’s face was hilarious. “Babybird.”

“Oh, that.” Jason tried to shrug it off. “Just a nickname.”

“You’re so sweet.”

Jason grumbled to himself. “Watch yourself, or next time I’ll let you act the loving couple with Damian.”

Images rose unbidden in Dick’s mind. Damian smiling down at him, pulling him into his arms at the reception, pressing a kiss into his neck… And then later, Damian shirtless, looming over Dick, caging him in, looking for all the world as if he wanted to devour him…

Dick swallowed. Maybe Jason had a point.

They got ready for bed in comfortable silence. At least it wasn’t awkward being half-naked around the other anymore. Dick was pretty sure there was a gun taped underneath Jason’s nightstand, but at least he was polite enough to hide it.

They slid under the covers, though neither of them turned off the string of fairy lights that were probably supposed to add to the romantic atmosphere. As it was, lovers staying up all night was exactly the image they wanted to create, so it served their purpose.

Still neither of them slept, too alert to their surroundings. Dick was content to just lie here, maybe doze off a bit, until morning came.

Then Jason inhaled and rolled over to his side. “No, you know what, I’m gonna ask. Why are you not hitting on the brat again?”

Dumbfounded, Dick sputtered: “Because—reasons!”

“What reasons?”

Jason sounded genuinely curious, and it felt like the kind of thing you shared with your brother, or maybe, a friend. The thought lifted Dick up enough to finally voice the thoughts in his head every night.

“He’s a lot younger than me.”

“Always knew you would turn into a cougar,” Jason teased, but there was nothing mean about it. “Seriously, Damian knows his own mind. He’s not underage, or even close to it. Somehow I don’t think you were attracted to him when he was a teen.”

Dick thought of Damian as a particularly gangly teenager and grimaced. “No.”

“Let me guess—realized one day that he’s a man now and boom, there were all these feelings?”

Dick smiled at him. “Was it like that for you and Tim?”

“Not really. I always saw him as an equal, even when I shouldn’t have,” Jason admitted.

Dick sometimes forgot that Jason was only four years older than Tim. When he’d come back from the dead, he’d been a grown man to Dick (and, he suspected, Bruce,) not a nineteen-year-old. Trying to kill everyone and start a criminal empire did that to you.

“You both got over that, though.”

“Yeah, I guess we did.” Was that a blush spreading over Jason’s cheeks?

It was funny. For all that he was encouraging Dick to open up to him, Jason didn’t seem all that used to talking about his own feelings.

“Anyway,” Jason deflected, “I know you fucked people much older than you, so that’s not the only reason. Neither are the murderous in-laws, though they frankly should be. So what’s holding you back?”

“He’s my brother. I know Bruce wanted me to be his brother.”

Jason considered the point. “Are you actually morally concerned, or is it mostly about not wanting to fail in Bruce’s eyes?”

“The latter,” Dick admitted. It was difficult to explain. He considered both Jason and Tim his brothers, yet ne he wasn’t bothered by them dating at all. With Damian, there was a strong feeling of loyalty, similar to that of a family member, but the love itself had changed. And theirs was a peculiar family, anyway. Roy had often joked that dating another vigilante was a little incestuous because of how small a group they were. Maybe it was no wonder that shit was all getting mixed up in his head.

So that was… fine. Weird, but fine. Dick could rationalize that to himself. But failing Bruce? Even after all these years, all those arguments, the thought still made him physically recoil.

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “I cannot believe I am saying this, but: There’s nothing you could do that would make that man love you any less.”

And Dick could see that hurt to admit, the ‘unlike me’ unspoken but present, so he joked weakly: “Oh, please, we all know Duke’s his favorite.”

Jason looked grateful, but he persisted: “I mean it, though. Why do you regard Damian as more Bruce’s son than the rest of you? Don’t tell me it’s the blood thing, because we both know that’s utter bullshit.”

Dick didn’t have an answer for that.

“You know there’s an easy way to settle this, right?” Jason asks when Dick didn’t speak. Throwing the blanket off, he got up and rooted through his suitcase. Dick watched as he pulled out his laptop and declared: “We’ll just call Bruce.”

Dick sat up in alarm. “You’re going to bother Bruce in the middle of a JL mission to ask about—this?”

Jason shrugged, though he couldn’t fool Dick. His neck muscles were tense. “Damian’s gonna kill me tomorrow anyway; I have nothing to lose.”

“Why would Damian kill you?” Dick felt very lost.

“No reason, Dickiebird, no reason.”

Dick decided to ignore that, and Jason’s amused tone, to focus on the important thing here. “We can’t call Bruce. He’s on another planet, and anyway, there’s no need—”

“Look, you want me to talk to him? I could ask him.”

Dick couldn’t think of a single less subtle thing for them to do. Bruce would know Dick was listening right away, and if not, as soon as he checked their mission log when he returned.

Maybe that was Jason’s point, though. Was he really going to keep hiding this?

Dick took a deep breath. “I’ll call.”

When Jason slid the laptop over to him, he looked almost proud.

It seemed like ages until the connection was set up. Finally, Batman’s familiar cowl appeared on the screen.

“Nightwing,” Bruce’s voice was crackly with static, but the concern was audible. “What happened?”

“Nothing bad,” Dick reassured him. “I hope. Just. Do you have a sec?”

Bruce looked torn. Dick saw Jason twitch and guessed he was tempted to interfere, to tell Bruce this was important. Pity that neither of them could be sure if that would help or hinder.

In the end, Bruce nodded.

It was, perhaps, a good thing Bruce seemed to be pressed for time. There was no way for Dick to prevaricate; he had to come straight out with it: “I think I’m in love with Damian.”

And then he held his breath as he waited for Bruce to lecture him.

Bruce didn’t miss a beat. “I trust you and have no reason to doubt your choice in partners. I trust Damian to know what he wants, too. Please don’t hold back on my account.” He paused. “Just… don’t tell me any details.”

It was a terrible joke, but Dick laughed nonetheless.

He couldn’t be sure, but there was a sound in the background that sounded like an explosion. Bruce looked away from the screen for a moment. “I have to go. Be safe.”

“Thank you,” Dick told him, sincerely.

Bruce shook his head. “Not for that.” The connection closed.

The room was quiet as Dick tried to digest the fact that one of his top ten fears (after, you know, everyone dying) had been laid to rest in the span of five minutes, just like that. What did you even say?

“That went better than expected,” he finally settled on. “Thank you.”

Jason shrugged. “Yeah, look, there are a few trauma points he can’t deal with it—” he pointed at himself, then shaped a gun with his fingers, “but he’s a detective. He knew and had plenty of time to chew it over. That speech was practiced to hell and back. You probably just released him from the misery of wondering how the fuck to bring it up with you.”

Dick chuckled. If it sounded a bit wet still, neither of them mentioned it.

“Also—I like the kid, I do,” Jason said, “but we’re all glad if he doesn’t end up with a civilian.”

It felt different, seeing Damian now that Dick was allowing himself to hope, to want. He had no idea if Damian would even be receptive, had never allowed himself to consider the notion before. When they all met in the cave after the mission had ended, Dick let himself smile at Damian openly, full of delight at being able to do so without wondering what would be caught on camera.

Damian didn’t smile back. He grabbed Dick by the arm, scowling, and told him: “We’re leaving.”

“What about the—” Jason began to ask, but Damian was already dragging Dick away.

Resistance seemed futile. He shot an apologetic glance at Jason, who waved him off, looking way too amused.

It was only when they were alone that Damian let go of Dick, glaring daggers at him and the world, but not speaking. Dick patiently waited him out. Damian would tell him what was eating him, or he wouldn’t. No prodding in the world would speed up the process.

“Why Todd,” Damian finally demanded to know.

Dick frowned. Apparently, Jason’s statement about him and Damian getting along hadn’t been truthful. Well, after all that Jason had done for him last night, and the weeks before that, he wasn’t going to just let Damian question his place. “He has proven himself an able and trustworthy partner on these missions.”

“I’m not talking about the mission,” Damian hissed.

“Then what—”

But now that he had begun, Damian wouldn’t stop talking. “I don’t understand. You were looking at me, and I thought maybe—finally—but then there was Todd, and I don’t want you to be in love with him. He’s going hurt you. What does he have that I don’t? Tell me and I will change it.”

Oh. Oh.

“Damian,” Dick couldn’t help but smile as he reached out to touch Damian’s arm, “I’m not in love with Jason. He’s with Tim.”

Dick hadn’t realized how tense Damian had been until that tension left him to be replaced with hope: “You’re not in love with Todd?”

“I’m not.”

Damian’s other hand rose to cover Dick’s. “Then—”

“Yes.” Dick knew his feelings must have been written all over his face. He didn’t care. “Yes.”

Damian made a sound like a sob and bend down to kiss him.

Dick’s plan: Test the waters. See if Damian was interested at all. Maybe start some slow romancing if there was hope.

Dick’s reality: He was swept away by the force of Damian’s kiss. It was unpracticed, to be sure, but there could be no doubts about the feelings behind it. Damian’s hand on his cheek spoke of devotion, his teeth on Dick’s lip of passion, and his eyes were on Dick’s the whole time, never once looking away.

It was being devoured, and Dick loved it.

And One Time He Wasn’t

Unsurprisingly, Dick didn’t get to do much work that day. Or the next. When they finally emerged from their rooms to debrief with Tim and Jason, he was feeling stiff and bruised in the best of ways. To his surprise, Damian pulled him close as they walked, his hand heavy on Dick’s hip. Dick melted into him, pulling him close in turn.

Now that he had it, Dick didn’t know how he could have denied the two of them this feeling for so long.

Thus tightly wound, they entered the cave—and stopped. It took a second for the image to sink in: Jason was sitting in Tim’s lap, their fingers linked in front of his stomach.

Like so many things with those two, it should’ve been funny—Tim was by no means tiny, but he was considerably smaller than Jason. Instead, it looked right.

Jason grinned at him. “So. We’re together now.”

Dick, still high on the events of the last day, said: “Oh, how nice.” Then: “Wait, you weren’t before?”

Tim groaned and hid his face in Jason’s back, only the red of his ears still visible. Jason, however, didn’t look embarrassed at all, just distinctly unimpressed. “Dick. Are you telling me these two geniuses thought the two of us were dating, while you thought I was already dating Tim?”

Dick blinked. “Tim thought that too?”

“That’s it,” Jason said, “I’m revoking your detective licenses. All of you.”