The first time Damian hears the story of Nightwing and Flamebird he’s too drugged out to really follow it. He’s lying on a stretcher down in the batcave, an IV strapped to his arm, bleeding out from seventeen different wounds. The severe blood loss makes his head feel light and he only catches a word here and there, while Dick’s voice lulls him to sleep.
He doesn’t understand why Grayson’s telling him all that useless stuff about these old Kryptonian’s heroes who have nothing to do with the two of them. He knows Grayson still holds an inexplicable affection for his previous identity as Nightwing, but that too is hard too comprehend to him: Grayson should be happy to be the Batman now, because being Batman is so much better than the secondhand identity he had conjured up when Father had taken away Robin from him ― although Damian’s not so sure anymore that this is how the story went: Mother’s always told him that Father expected only the best from his partners, and that if they proved not to be good enough for the job he would not hesitate to find others, which is why Batman had so many different Robins over the years. Damian, of course, would’ve solved that problem once and for all by being the perfect partner his Father deserved. That’s what Talia used to say, and Damian never really had a reason to doubt her until now.
Still, the facts remained: Grayson was Batman now, and Damian was Robin, and they were perfect, better than any other Batman and Robin before (and that wasn’t Father’s fault, of course, but of his Robins’. Even Grayson had admitted that when he was Damian’s age, he was not as well trained as him). Nightwing was a relic of the past to which Grayson insisted on clinging on for no reason whatsoever, only out of a stubborn sentimentality that, in Damian’s opinion, he should have overcome already.
And he would like to say all of that out loud, explain to Grayson why he doesn’t need those stupid fairytales he’s sputtering out, but he’s too weak, too tired, and he just wants to rest.
*
Dick knocks on the open door and stands on the threshold of the room with his hands in his pockets, wearing his best smile the same way he had once wore the cowl. He hadn’t felt like smiling as he’d climbed the stairs to Damian's bedroom, but that doesn’t matter right now.
“So, I’m gonna get going”, he says, leaning against the doorframe.
Damian raises his head from the book he’s reading just to shoot him a brief look.
“Okay”, he answers, and to give credits where credits are due, the kid doesn’t sound angry, or betrayed, or hurt. Dick just happens to know better by now.
He sighs and lets himself into the room. It’s still mostly empty, a bit like how his other room back at the penthouse used to be before Dick managed to convince the kid to add at least some books and a nice sword collection up the walls. But, even empty, this room is still familiar, like the Manor is familiar, the home Dick didn’t think he would’ve ever come back to again. But Bruce’s here now, Bruce’s back. This is home again, and Damian will learn to love it the way Dick had. The penthouse was just temporary anyway, they all knew that.
Dick sits at the foot of the bed, crossing his legs over the new comforter Alfred’s bought for the kid.
“You know I can’t stay”, he starts, because they’ve had this argument over and over, and having to repeat those words still hurts every time, but they’re necessary and Damian needs to hear them, and Dick’s ready to deal with all the kid’s protests all over again if that’s what it takes. But this time Damian doesn’t ask him to stay.
“Take me with you then”, the kid says and he’s not looking at him, he’s still holding up the book in front of his face like a shield between himself and Dick, and Dick had wanted to hear those words coming from Damian’s mouth, he’d hoped to hear them ― and at the same time he’d also been scared to hear the kid make that request. Because the truth is that there’s nothing in this world Dick wouldn’t give to grant him that wish, no one he wouldn’t fight to keep the kid with him. Except for Bruce.
He can’t do this to Bruce. Not now, not ever.
So he smiles again, even if Damian still refuses to look at him, just to keep his own voice in check.
“I can’t do that either, kiddo”, he answers.
Damian’s grips on the cover of the book stiffens just for a moment, as the boy takes in yet another rejection. Dick opens his mouth to reassure him, but Damian’s quicker than him.
“Because Robin belongs to Batman?”, the kid asks from behind his book, and Dick’s forced to pause.
“Because you belong with your dad”, he answers gently and the words taste bitter in his mouth because they’re true. “This is your home, and Bruce is your father. I know things were complicated with him before, but you wanted to know him and he wanted to know you, and now you both have the chance to do so. I know you want this, Damian.”
Damian doesn’t answer right away, but Dick can see the top of his head shaking.
“You don’t know what I want”, Damian says eventually, and now his voice is hard and dismissive, and Dick supposes he deserves that.
But I know what you need, Dick doesn’t say. It wouldn’t matter. Damian would feel betrayed anyway and there’s nothing Dick can do about it but to wait for time to heal the wound enough to allow the kid to understand why he’s doing what he’s doing. Dick knows he will. He’s a smart kid.
“Listen, Bludhaven is not that far away”, he continues quickly. “I promise you I'll come home every time I can, and if I can't, well, you know where my apartment is.”
Dick slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a key. He places it on the bed at Damian's feet.
“You know, I never gave Bruce a copy of this”, he says. “But I want you to have it, okay?”
That’s enough to convince Damian to put down his book. He looks at Dick, then at the key lying between them.
“Father wouldn’t need it anyway”, he objects after a moment. “I wouldn’t need it.”
Dick smiles again, and this time he even feels it a little bit.
“I know that, you little bat”, he answers. “But I want you to have it anyway. Do you understand?”
Damian blinks, then he sets his mouth in a serious line and nods solemnly at him.
“Yes.”
Dick feels his smile softens and he reaches out to poke at Damian’s bare foot.
“I love you, kiddo”, he says fondly, and he hopes Damian knows how true it is.
Damian just goes back to his book and Dick takes the hit quietly. He’s not expecting any other answers from the kid, so he stands up and walks to the door. It’s not a bad way to leave things, after all.
But Damian’s voice reaches him when Dick’s almost out in the hallway already.
“You told me a story once”, the kid says nervously, and Dick knows right away what story he’s talking about. He remembers it so well.
That’s why he doesn’t turn back, why he doesn’t tell Damian that yes, he’s thought about it since the very beginning. Batman and Robin belonged to someone else, too many people were involved in it. Nightwing and Flamebird could’ve been theirs. Something new, or so old to be new again. It would’ve been nice. It would be wrong.
“I told you lots of stories, kid”, he answers, with his back still turned. He’s coward enough not to want to look into Damian’s eyes as he deliberately hurts him. “Just be good for your dad, okay?”
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