#mmmhn

a/n: Dick and Dami week day 2's prompt was paparazzi. I hope you guys enjoy :3

Dick laughed, walking with Wally to his place as he dramatically retold a story, cup of coffee in hand and shades hiding his eyes.

“Uh, Dick?” Wally paused in his storytelling, squinting at something behind Dick.

“Yeah?”

“We've got company.”

Tensing, Dick very pointedly did not let the smile on his face drop, and did not turn to look behind him. Instead he grabbed Wally's arm, tugging on it once.

“What kind?” he hissed through his tight grin.

Wally waved a hand in the air, getting Dick's cues and laughing like Dick had said a joke. “The creepy stalker Tim kind,” he answered after the fake laughter.

“Oh my God,” Dick groaned, hiding his face in his unoccupied hand. “That's the fifth time this week, and it's not even Wednesday yet.”

His best friend genuinely laughed then, and Dick grabbed his arm and speed-walked to try and lose the paparazzi.

“And I hate that I got what you meant when you called them the creepy stalker Tim kind.”

“Is it not accurate?!”

“Wait ‘til I tell Tim.”

“Wait for me to tell him you got it.”

...

Damian sighed lying on the grass of the Manor's vast yard with Titus and Jon. Titus was dozing to Damian's left, and he pet his dog distractedly as he spoke with his teammate.

“We're friends, Damian!” Jon insisted, sitting up and looking at Damian.

Rolling his eyes, Damian tutted. “We are not.”

“Am I really that unlikable?” Jon whined, flopping back on the grass.

Damian sighed, closing his eyes. “No,” he gritted out. “You are an acceptable companion, Jon.”

“So we're friends then.”

“We are teammates.”

“I'm taking that as a yes.”

Only a few beats of silence lasted before Jon spoke again, and Damian was tempted to sigh once more.

“Hey, Damian?”

“What?”

“Who's that?”

Sitting up, Damian looked around. “Who?”

Jon straightened and pointed toward the bushes around the fence of the Wayne estate.

In an effort to make out what his friend was talking about, Damian squinted, leaning forward a bit.

A glint caught his eye and Damian hissed, jolting to his feet.

“Nosy undesired stalkers,” Damian answered. Turning sharply, Damian started back for the manor, Titus at his heels. “Come, Jon. I believe Pennyworth should have snacks prepared.”

“Your butler is the best! Can I borrow him?”

“No.”

...

“You know,” Dick said, flopping backwards on the couch in Bruce's study. “Sometimes I wish you weren't rich and famous.”

Bruce raised a brow and looked up from the papers he was working on. Dick was staring at the ceiling, so he couldn't catch his son's eye, but he still looked over nonetheless.

“Why do you say that?”

As Dick opened his mouth to respond, Damian threw the door open, a greatly displeased air around him.

Sighing a little, Bruce looked over at Damian and asked, “Yes?”

“Father, I demand you file restraining orders against the photographers that continue to interrupt my day anywhere I go. They hover around my school!” he hissed, tossing his book bag at the couch and hitting Dick in the gut with it.

At Dick's low “Oof,” Damian looked over at him and raised a brow.

Bruce's own were furrowed and he asked, “What were you going to say, Dick?”

“Well, actually, it was something along the lines of what Damian said. I wasn't going to ask you to get restraining orders, though,” he answered as he sat up. He smiled at his little brother. “Hey, Dami.”

Damian nodded. “Grayson.”

Bruce frowned. “I'll see what I can do, boys.”

“Thank you, father.” With that, Damian was walking out of the study for his room, presumably to change out of his uniform if Bruce knew his son well enough.

Dick smiled. “Thanks, B.” He hugged Damian's bag close, resting his chin on it, and said, “So. What're you working on.”

Bruce shook his head, a smile twitching at his lips. Looking back at his work, he humored his eldest by informing him on the newest developments in the company.

...

“This is ridiculous, Richard. You look like an old man.”

“I used to do this with Jason when he was a kid!”

“I fail to see how that argument helps. Todd is a nonsensical fool, I am not.”

“That's mean, Dami, and I don't think you're giving him enough credit, but we're not discussing that right now: Just put the wig on!”

Damian's glare intensified, and he narrowed his eyes. “You have yet to explain your reasoning for this,” he said.

Dick rolled his eyes and shoved the blond wig at Damian along with the baggy clothes and shades, wearing a grey wig, fake moustache, and oversized clothes himself.

“To dodge the paparazzi, Damian.”

Damian opened his mouth, light pink dusting his cheeks and ears as he closed it and accepted the clothing and wig.

“Fine,” he muttered, entering the bathroom and emerging minutes later with everything on.

“Whose clothes am I wearing?” Damian sniffed, looking down at them.

“Oh, that's just stuff I found in the guest room,” Dick answered dismissively. “I raided Jason's closet for my clothes.”

Damian gave Dick the most unimpressed look, adn Dick grinned.

“You look adorable, by the way.”

His little brother flushed, scowling. “Tt. Are we going to watch a movie or not, Grayson?”

Dick laughed, hugging Damian quickly before leaving to find an inconspicuous car.

As Damian walked with him he asked, “You did this with Todd, when he was younger?”

“Oh yeah, whenever I visited. We'd dress up and see who could make the worse outfit.” Dick smiled thinking back on it. “I won almost every time, but we'd go out and do fun normal stuff. Go to the arcade, get ice cream, watch a movie…”

Damian nodded, but noticed Dick's smile start to slip. He frowned. “Grayson?”

“I… We didn't do it much, actually. I was still angry with Bruce, and, really, I only got close to Jason a few months before he… died.”

Damian didn't like the pained look on Richard's face so he said, “You can make up for lost time now that he has returned. Stop being sad, we are going to watch a movie and eat popcorn, and I look abhorrent.” He again looked down at his clothes. “Who makes clothes look baggy on purpose?”

Dick laughed a bit. “People who like it,” he answered. “And you're right, Damian. Thank you.”

“When am I not?”