Work Text:
Dick took a slow breath as he cupped his mug between his hands, breathing in the rich scent of pine and coffee. The blanket he had bundled around his shoulders fought against the cool weather valiantly, and Dick took a moment to simply bask in the autumn air. A soft breeze blew at his hair, making the strands tickle his skin and sweep over his eyes.
He needed to get a haircut soon. Maybe this time he could get Wally to do it for him, Dick himself always liked the act of cutting his lover’s hair. Wally offered his back more easily than Dick tended to, though, so perhaps cutting his hair wasn’t as significant as for him as it was for Dick.
Dick leaned back on the patio swing carefully, rising his steaming mug to take a slow sip of his coffee. He didn’t like coffee that much, not anymore. When he had been Nightwing and juggling his duties as Dick Grayson and the Bludhaven protector, coffee had been a must have. Now, Dick only indulged when he was feeling particularly nostalgic.
He had dreamt of flying over the rooftops with his family, Bruce, Tim, Jason, Cass, Steph – they were all present. Damian had been there, by Dick’s side. Like he should be.
Dick took a mouthful of coffee; relished in the way it burnt his tongue. Anything was better than thinking of Damian, because very time Dick though of his baby bat, he tended to have bad days. Dick didn’t like having bad days, knew Wally always got so worried for him when he did.
Damian wouldn’t want Dick to have bad days.
Dick looked over slightly when he heard the door open, and he smiled softly when Wally shuffled outside. The deck creaked slightly under his weight and Wally yawned softly, running a hand through his tousled hair, the other scratching his stomach. The red head smiled when he caught Dick’s eyes and padded over quietly.
“Morning, baby,” Wally said, leaning down to brush a kiss against his temple before sliding next to him. Dick offered his blanket knowing that Wally wouldn’t accept; he liked when it was colder due to his high body temperature. Dick saw Wally’s eyes go to the beverage in his hands, saw the way his eyes softened. “Bad night?”
“No,” Dick said.
It wasn’t necessarily a lie. His night had been good, and his dream had been even better but then he had woken up, sat up in bed and thought about how he would go check on Damian, find out what he wanted for breakfast, and then reality had crashed down onto him.
Damian was dead. Dick always forgot at the worst times.
Dick leaned over, dropping his head onto Wally’s shoulder. He snuggled further into his embrace when the speedster draped his arm around Dick’s shoulder, rubbing soothing circles at the base of his neck.
“I woke up today,” Dick said softly, because if he said it any louder, he felt that it would truly break him, “And I was going to go to his room to wake him up and we could make some breakfast.”
Wally kissed his hairline, hugging him closer. Dick breathed in, Wally’s usual scent of ozone and spice mingling with pine and coffee. He breathed out, counted to ten, calmed himself.
Grief never really went away. Dick still mourned his parents decades later, he knew grief, walked hand in hand with it for most of his life. But losing Damian had been different. It had been different than losing his parents, than losing Jason. Damian’s death had hit him harder than anything ever had because he hadn’t lost a brother or a parent, but he lost a boy who he had thought of as his.
His son, his baby, his Robin.
Dick didn’t think this grief would ever subside.
“M’sorry,” Dick mumbled into Wally’s shoulder. He knew Wally would understand.
“Hey,” Wally said gently, “Don’t be. It’s okay.”
Damian probably wouldn’t have wanted Dick to be so torn up about his death. He probably didn’t think anyone would be.
He deserved better, they all had.
It had only been a few days after Damian had died (a few days after Bruce had carried the body of his son back to the cave, a few days after Dick had cradled him close and cried and cried and didn’t accept it because Damian was his baby and he couldn’t be dead, he couldn’t leave so soon, Dick was supposed to die first; he wasn’t supposed to bury his son–) that Dick decided that he was going to leave the mission behind. He had visited everyone and left them with notes and sad smiles and then he had gone off the grid, only to be found by Wally after a few days.
Wally had cried and hugged him, and Dick had kissed him after Wally sobbed into his shoulder about knowing better than to disappear. Now Wally stayed with him in their house and woke Dick up with kisses over his face in their bed. It had been an easy transition from best friends to boyfriends, even if it had taken them months. Dick was grateful every single day that Wally found Dick worthy enough to wait for.
“You want my coffee?” Dick asked.
Wally’s nose wrinkled, as usual. “I don’t get how anyone can drink that.”
“Baby,” Dick teased.
Wally smiled, pressed a kiss against his cheek, “But I’m your baby.”
Dick laughed, not as loud nor as powerful as he would have a year ago. But he knew neither of them expected laughs like that anymore.
“Yeah,” he said, kissed him properly, “Yeah, you are.”
_-_
Dick went through his daily routine mechanically. Wally tended to be gone most of the day, off doing hero work or his day job, and Dick would be left home. Sometimes he would venture to the small town nearby, spend the day with the friends he had tentatively made. At other times he would spend the day in nature, take care of the few animals they had, or just take care of their house.
It had been a purchase he made when he was fifteen and Bruce had given him too much money for allowance ‘on accident’. Bruce had been shocked to learn Dick had used the money to buy a cute little house in the middle of a forest and had muttered how it would barely be used but had supported it anyways. He had been so different then, before Dick had left, and Jason had died. Easier, lighter, brighter.
Dick had set the spare bedroom up with Damian in mind, knew it wasn’t exactly healthy to set up a room for a boy that was no longer alive. He couldn’t go into the room.
(Sometimes he’d stand outside it, and a part of him would be convinced that Damian would come bundling out any second now, just like he had before. He tried to snap out of it before Wally found him like that, staring blankly at the room that had been for his son. He wasn’t always successful.)
Dick liked to think he was doing better. He liked to think that things were getting easier.
When Wally came home, there was soot on his face, and his hair was a bit singed. He had a goofy, sheepish smile on his face, and there was something in his posture that put Dick on edge.
“You okay?” Dick said, abandoning the flowers he had been tending to. Lilies; Damian had mentioned liking them once.
“Yeah,” Wally said in a rush, and then he cupped Dick’s cheeks and kissed him. Dick leaned into it, carefully pushing a hand over Wally’s torso to find any injuries. “I did something.”
Dick relaxed a bit when he saw the look in Wally’s eyes. Happy, the tilt of his lips easy.
“Yeah?” Dick asked softly. Wally pressed another gentle kiss to his lips.
“Iquittheteam.” Wally said in a rush.
“What?” Dick pulled back, “Why? Wally, you love the team...”
“I love you more,” Wally said, his voice so honest Dick couldn’t even find a sliver of doubt within himself.
Dick shook his head slightly, “I don’t want you to quit for me, Wally.”
“I did it for us,” Wally murmured, holding his hands. He didn’t seem to care that there was mud over Dick’s gloves but seeing as he looked and smelt like he had just come out of a fire, Dick wasn’t surprised. “I don’t like making us both worry about not coming back home. I want to live a normal life and have a shitty job and come home to you every day knowing that I didn’t make you worry once.”
Dick kissed him. That was the closest they’d get to a marriage proposal, he knew. At least for now. Wally smiled, eyes shining. He had always been able to read Dick much better than anyone.
“Okay,” Dick whispered, and it felt like sealing a promise. It scared him, but it was Wally. Dick was always safe with Wally, so he nodded a bit, felt his eyes sting. “Okay.”
Wally peppered a few kisses against his cheeks, grinning like a fool. Dick had never seen him look better. Dick let out a soft breath, simply enjoying the moment. The birds chirped and the wind rustled the leaves, and it was nice. It was always so nice with Wally.
After a long moment, Dick grabbed Wally’s hand and started towards their home. Wally rustled to put take his sneakers off, leaving them by the doorway – Dick noted that the soles were almost completely gone. Speedsters, honestly.
“I’ll make lunch,” Dick said.
Wally grinned at him, and Dick took a moment to swipe at some of the ash on his face. “Sounds good, babygirl.”
Dick rolled his eyes fondly and shooed Wally towards the washroom. “You smell.”
Wally dramatically pressed a hand over his forehead, faking injury. Dick snickered, watching as his lover disappeared into the other room.
_-_
Damian noticed it instantly – Richard’s absence. At first, he had thought it was because Richard was waiting with the others. Only Father had been present when Damian had been revived, after all. But then Damian was brought back to the manor, and everyone present had been shocked to see him, as if they hadn’t known Father’s plan.
It had brought comfort. Richard obviously didn’t know that Damian had returned from the dead. He’d show up the second he learned. Only, hours passed, days passed, and there was no sign of him. His Nightwing suit looked undisturbed in the Cave. Nobody talked about him.
“Where is Richard?” Damian asked eventually.
Father did not reply. Pennyworth looked over to him, a sad look in his eyes. “He left some time ago, Master Damian.” he said slowly, “We haven’t been in contact with him since he left.”
Damian gave a curt nod. Richard simply didn’t know he was alive, so he hadn’t returned. That was an acceptable reason.
“Where is he?” Damian questioned.
Father stood, and the look on his face was blank. “We don’t know, Damian.” he said, and it was close to the voice he used as Batman. To the point, clipped. “I’m sorry, son.”
Richard would have gone about it differently. He had gone about it differently. Richard had always been different than any other guardian he’d had in his lifetime.
“Very well.” Damian said. He tried to fight the hurt that rose in his chest.
_-_
“We don’t need a dog.” Dick said.
“But look at her,” Wally pouted, holding the puppy up. Dick tried to stand firm because he didn’t even know how to take care of a dog, but then she tilted her head and her ears lifted and he melted. “She’s the sweetest thing ever!” Dick carefully didn’t mention the teeth marks that were still healing on his hand.
“Okay,” Dick muttered, and lifted a hand for her to sniff. “I guess you’re awfully cute.”
The dog barked at him; Wally hugged her against his chest. Dick supposed they could use a dog – use the company. Wally had mentioned that the house was lonely whenever one of them were gone.
“I already took her to the vet,” Wally said excitedly, “She’s ours.”
Dick smiled, exasperated and fond. “Of course, you did.”
Wally grinned at him and leaned forward to peck his lips. “What should we name her?”
Dick looked back to the grey, blue-eyed puppy. She was a cute puppy, certainly. Damian would have liked her.
“Haley.” He suggested.
“I love it,” Wally said. Dick smiled.
The three-legged dog hesitantly walked around her new home the moment Wally set her down, and Dick watched intently. He thought back to the day Damian had gotten Titus, how the boy had followed the bundling pup around everywhere.
Damian would have liked Haley.
_-_
Dick carefully nudged the door to Damian’s room open and flicked the light on. The walls were painted a light peach, the ceiling had clouds. Some of Damian’s things that had been left in the penthouse were here, sketchbooks stacked on the desk, novels in all different languages on the shelves. There were photos hung on the tack-board that Dick had found when going through Damian’s things. There was one of them as Batman and Robin, Damian grinning and Dick looked like he was unaware of the photo even happening.
Dick carefully made his way into the room, feeling out of place and on edge. He moved over to the bed and sucked in a shaky breath as he smoothed his hand over the Nightwing themed duvet. Damian had been so embarrassed when Dick had found the blanket, and then he had made it a point to always take it to wherever they were staying.
Dick looked up at the pictures he had painstakingly put up, the ones of Titus and the few of him and Damian together. There was a picture of Talia that Damian had kept hidden with the rest; Dick had been tempted to burn it. Destroy it like she had Damian.
After a moment, Dick turned back to the bookshelf. There were books and scrolls Damian had come to the manor with, and a few he had collected on his own. He brushed his fingertips against the spines of the books and noticed that there was no dust on the shelves despite him never entering the room since he had set it up. Wally must’ve been keeping the room clean.
Dick knew Wally would have loved Damian.
Dick recalled the day he had given the cowl back to Bruce, after he had been cleared to go back to action. Damian hadn’t talked to him for days, and when Dick had started preparing to go to Bludhaven, Damian had snuck into his room and had asked if it was bad that he wished he could be Dick’s Robin, not Bruce’s.
We were the best, Richard. No matter what anyone thinks.
Dick knew grief. He’d walked hand in hand with it his whole life. He’d lost his parents, Jason, Bruce, Wally. And while some of them had come back, miraculously, the feeling lingered no matter what. Dick doesn’t think anything could compare to this – this constant, crushing grief that he had for Damian.
“We were the best,” Dick whispered.
“I know,” Wally said.
Dick turned to him, smiled faintly. “You’ve been cleaning in here.”
“Yeah,” Wally murmured, “You okay?”
“No,” Dick said, “But I’m trying.”
Wally kissed his forehead, and Dick closed his eyes, leaning into him. After a moment, Dick turned back to the bookshelf.
He left the room with Wally’s arm around his shoulder and a book in his hand.
_-_
It had been quite easy to find Richard – so easy that Damian suspected no one tried to look for him. Maybe that is what Richard wanted, maybe Father and the others just didn’t want to find him. This had always been his preferred safe house, the one he always told Damian to head to if he was ever in danger. Damian is sure the other’s must know the place existed.
They should have still told him that Damian was alive. They should have hunted him down the moment Damian walked into the Cave because Richard was his Batman. Richard should have been there, and Damian should have woken up to him smiling and pushing Damian’s hair back, like he always had on the nights Damian was plagued with nightmares.
The fact that Richard wasn’t there was simply unacceptable.
Damian trudged through the vegetation that surrounded Richard’s current home. He didn’t trust taking the roads, wasn’t sure if he wanted to be seen yet. But, knowing Richard, there was likely something in the woods to see uninvited visitors anyways.
Damian landed silently on a log and looked through the brush. There was a smaller white and grey house. There was a long porch, a swing swaying slightly in the wind. Damian felt his breath catch when his eyes landed on Richard, and he took a moment to watch as the man tenderly took care of the flowers planted around the porch.
Richard’s hair was longer than he usually had it, and when the breeze pushed a lock of curls into his face, he pushed it away with a slightly disgruntled face. A dog by his side yapped and Damian saw the way his face eased into something like a smile.
It was strange, feeling like he wasn’t supposed to be watching this. Like he didn’t belong.
Damian inhaled slowly, tried to ease his nerves, and then silently started to march forward. Richard turned to him, eyes narrowed slightly and the shovel in his hand gripped like one would hold a weapon. After a long moment, Richard’s lips parted, and he blinked wildly.
“Richard,” Damian choked out.
Richard stumbled to his feet, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to say something. Damian took a step forward and then another and another before he was sprinting forward and trapping his mentor in a hug. Arms slowly wound around him, and Richard let out a breath that sounded like it was punched out of him.
“Damian?” Richard asked, so soft it was almost lost.
Damian looked up, and Richard’s lip wobbled, tears in his eyes and he stared back. There were so many things he wanted to say to him – like how he had missed him, how he was upset Richard hadn’t been there. Instead, Damian said, “We were the best.”
Richard’s lips pressed together in a thin line and tears leaked from his eyes. He kneeled down in front of Damian, fumbling to take his gloves off before his calloused palms cupped Damian’s cheeks.
“We were,” Richard replied. He pulled Damian in close, clung to him desperately as if he expected Damian to disappear and he held back just as tightly. A part of him, too, felt like he would disappear if Richard let him go.
_-_
Damian looked around Richard’s house as he sat at the table. The man was bustling around in the kitchen, making lunch but never letting his eyes leave Damian for too long. It was a pleasant little place, clearly belonging to Richard. It just had his charm from the sporadic paintings on the walls to the well-loved blankets folded on the couch.
Damian suddenly felt awkward. Like he didn’t belong.
“How,” Richard paused, cleared his throat. Damian saw the way his hands shook as he carefully sliced into a loaf of bread, “How long...?”
Damian shifted in his seat. “Four weeks.”
Damian watched as Richard’s eyes watered, and his lips pressed together. “Oh,” Richard said eventually, and Damian could tell he was trying to keep himself together. He had seen it too many times, the way Richard seemed to desperately keep a mask up, to pretend to be fine.
He wondered if retirement made that mask slip so much, or if it was just because of Damian.
Damian looked away, scanned the home again. It was well loved. He wondered if Richard was happy here.
“It was easy to find you.” Damian said.
He could hear the smile in Richard’s voice, “Was it?”
“Yes,” Damian whispered, “I am your Robin, after all.”
Richard didn’t say anything. Damian didn’t comment on the way the man had to take a few minutes to stop himself from crying – he too, was near tears.
_-_
Wally returned home when Damian was in the middle of talking about how everyone back in Gotham was, and Dick was so trapped by his words – how his chest moved with each breath, and he talked around a mouthful of soup and bread and how he looked at Dick with eyes so full of life – that he didn’t realize his lover returned until he was announcing it.
Damian tensed, and Dick reached over and carefully set a hand on his to calm him down.
“In the kitchen,” Dick called.
It took a second for Wally to walk through the door, and when he did, Dick watched the way his jaw dropped, and his eyes widened. Oh, Dick realized, he hadn’t told Wally about Damian.
“Damian is alive,” Dick blurted out, as if it wasn’t obvious now.
Wally seemed out of his element for a long moment before he nodded and smiled. His eyes were worried, but he seemed to be taking it well. Better than Dick was, that’s for damn sure.
“I’m happy to finally meet you,” Wally said, just a tad awkward.
Damian squinted at him for a long moment before sending Dick a quizzical look. “You’re one of the speedsters. The retired one.”
“That would be me.” Wally replied, smiling. “And you are Dick’s Robin.”
Damian puffed up at that, looking very pleased. Dick watched them for a moment and felt something in his chest unfurl. His next inhale felt unburdened in a way it hadn’t for a very long time.
He thought to the room upstairs that had Damian’s things, and of the family in Gotham that must be worried for them both. He thought of his lover by his side and the future they could have here, with no hero work. All that would matter would be them and their little world. Dick wanted Damian to join it, to stay with them.
He leaned over and pressed a kiss against Damian’s forehead, simply because he could. Wally smiled at him, a soft, content thing sent over Damian’s head.
Dick didn’t know what was in the future. But he was hopeful for the first time in years, and he knew that counted for something.