Work Text:
Tenth Star
"Fly me to the moon~"
Damian had been throwing together a quick dinner at Dick's apartment, adamant on not letting Dick anywhere close to the kitchen lest he set off the smoke alarm, again, for the fifth time, in three days. The acrobat had spent a good four minutes pouting but decided to pull out his old record player. He slid out a disc from his record collection and set it in, slowly turning the volume up when the distinctive crackling started.
Dick was now singing, dipping and swaying with the beat in the bass, dancing with himself in the living room, "Let me play among the stars~"
"Richard, why do you listen to such distasteful... noise. It can't even be considered music," Damian rolled his eyes as he plated the food on the kitchen counter.
With a smile, Dick reached for his hand and pulled him away from the counter into a playful waltz, "Oh, come on, little D, this is the good stuff," he pressed his forehead against Damian's and continued singing, "Let me what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars~"
"In other words, hold my hand~"
The feeling of Dick's hand resting against the slight curve of Damian's back and the closeness of his body heat made Damian flush red as he looked away in embarassment. This reminded him of what his father did during WE galas. How there used to be a different lady on his arm every night. It unnerved him. "You're supposed to do this with someone you fancy," he muttered.
"In other words, baby kiss me~"
"No, little bird, you do this with someone you love," Dick sang, as he gave the younger man a twirl. He squeezed Damian's waist lightly, "Relax," he murmured, "Feel the music. We're not training."
"Fill my heart with song, and let me sing, forever more~"
Damian hadn't realized how stiff he'd become. For galas, he always followed the steps per the instruction of the videos he'd pulled off the internet, treating it like a formality; something he had to do, not wanted to do. He'd blatantly insisted to his father that he didn't need a teacher and would spend hours perfecting his technique alone in his room. He could never quite understand why his dancing patners always left before a song finished. He had the footwork and each move of seventeen forms of dance mastered to the tee. It must have been the females who attended the galas that were always lacking in skill; they were never able to follow his lead. And yet here he was, the song nearing its end, hand in hand with his partner who was grinning from ear to ear, eyes closed, clearly enjoying himself. No one could read his actions, let alone understand him, like Dick could, they moved fluidly across the floor with incomparable grace. 'The true Batman to his Robin,' he pondered with a secretive smile.
It fascinated him, how Dick swayed from side to side with that irresistible confidence even Damian, pride-master 9000 himself, envied. 'Wait. Did Richard just say, love?' He immediately shoved himself out of Dick's hold and backed into the counter, flustering himself further, because Robins didn't walk into counters. His face was burning with shame.
"In other words, I love you~"
Damian had been the one to 'throw a curve' and asked for his hand in marriage after a particularly violent patrol that had left Dick with a slashed thigh, three broken ribs and a punctured lung. Damian realized he wouldn't be able to function without Dick and immediately proposed the idea of being together, for eternity, 'unto our next life, and our lives after that,' in front of the whole family. He would have smashed Todd's face in for his hysterical laughter if he hadn't been gripping Dick's hand in desperation, waiting for an answer while cursing himself for his innate fear of rejection.
His father hadn't taken it lightly, his face had gone somber, and Dick, seeing the reaction, merely smiled and told the boy that he appreciated the sentiment. It had taken an additional thirty-six setbacks over five years to get Dick to accept their dinner date today. He would never admit it, but watching the dynamic between Todd and Drake constantly provided him with motivation. He wanted to achieve something similar to what they had, their trust, their bond, their intimacy. Love was a complicated concept for him to grasp and he still wondered if Richard felt the same emotional and physical attraction for him as he did for Richard or if he was simply giving him a chance out of pity.
"What's wrong, Damian?" The track had changed and Damian was hit with an emptiness from the loss of body heat.
"Nothing. The food is getting cold," he replied curtly, returning to the kitchen to finish preparing their dinner while attempting to compose himself. Slightly worried that he had offended his dance partner and now with the mood sorely ruined, Dick rubbed the back of his neck nervously and went to turn off the record player. The disc was old and must've been scratched as the air was filled with the opening two measures of 'Ain't No Sunshine' on loop.
"Sorry."
Damian looked up from his plating, he hadn't expected an apology. He kicked himself. He should have been the one to apologize, for ruining the moment.
"Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Sometimes I forget. I shouldn't have pushed it."
"No, Richard. I am sorry for shoving you. It was uncalled for."
A nervous silence settled over the two again, both unable to meet each other's eyes, the only sound the clinking of a metal ladle on plates. Damian spoke first, "I... The experience. It was enjoyable."
Dick's eyes lit up and a warm smile flitted across his face. Damian's cheeks reddened slightly at the sight, filling with pride from being able to coax out such a reaction from the man he loved, but he continued, "Your skills far exceed those of the women my father invites to entertain his galas," he glanced to the side.
"Aw, baby bird, you flatter me," Dick resumed repackaging the disk into his cabinet, purposely turning his back to hide the impossible pinkness of his ears. Damian rarely bestowed compliments, which meant they were always sincere.
"The food is ready," Damian announced, softly. They picked up their plates and headed into the living room, Dick sneaking in a mouthful as Damian turned on the television. Spending dinners with Dick always filled him with warmth. Bathed in the light from the television in the darkened living room, the two enjoyed the show in comfortable silence, with Dick resting his head on Damian's shoulder having fallen asleep after finishing his share of the meal. The corner of Damian's lips lifted when he saw the cleanly-licked plate Dick had set down on the coffee table, satisfied his consultation about suitable dinner meals with Alfred had been fruitful.
"I love you," Damian absentmindedly whispered to him, running his fingers gently through Dick's hair. Dick's clear blue eyes immediately fluttered upwards, meeting his. Emotions were coursing wildly through Damian and he pulled back, about to book it for the door. Dick beat him to it, springing up from the couch.
A few painstakingly long minutes passed before Dick spoke, "Damian. Look. I love you, I really do. But I," he inhaled painfully, "I don't think this is going to work," Damian made a move to say something but Dick held up his hand gently to let him finish, a request which Damian respected. "You're young and I'm eight years your senior and I was practically your father when Bruce wasn't here. And I know you probably don't think this, but you're probably mistaking your admiration for me for adoration."
"Are you denying my feelings for you?"
Although it was soft, there was a slight tremor buried in Damian's voice. Dick glanced away, desperate to ignore it, "I'm just saying there are better options than me."
The air had sunk heavy, canned laughter faintly droning from their unfinished TV show as Damian's eyes bored into Dick's face and Dick's eyes focused on the stain on his carpet. Hesitantly, Damian broke the hold over them, tearing his gaze away from Dick and gathering his bags, moving their dishes into the sink. Cautiously, he place a hand on Dick's shoulder. The man had been digging his fingernails into the back of his other hand, drawing blood.
"Do not worry. I will not refuse to see or work with you," he saw Dick's face relax slightly, "But I will need a little time."
Dick gave a single nod, knowing if he spoke then all would have been for naught, and Damian left, shutting the apartment door quietly behind him. And Dick sunk to the floor in his dark living room, burying his face in his arms, with the shock of the realization of what he had done, reverberating through him.