Chapter Text
Dick bent down to straighten Damian's bow tie, smiling encouragingly at the younger.
"Come on, Dami, you'll do fine! Just control yourself, but be yourself at the same time."
"Tt, Grayson." Damian drawled. "I don't understand how you stand them all the time."
"I don't always enjoy it," the ebony expounds, "But honestly, I'm good at my facade. It's like performing. The thrill of being in the center of attention runs in my blood." He then muttered something about 'You can take the boy out of the circus, but you can't take the circus out of the boy', which Damian ignored, and proceded to head downstairs to the gala, with Dick following him close behind, with comments like 'Straighten your shoulders', and 'lift your chin', and Damian had to swat his older brother away.
Damian had just reached the big room, but you wouldn't call it a room, but more like an fancily decorated auditorium or ballroom, when he and Richard were immediately swarmed by reporters. Dick flashed them a bright smile, and as always, the group broke up into half to follow the charming teen.
"How's it like being a Wayne?" one asked Damian immediately, and another woman piped up, "Ooh! Do you use hundred-dollar bills for paper?" and other stupid questions. He tried to push his way out of the crowd, but was surrounded by all sides. He shoved the nearest person to the ground, earning gasps and a few clicks of photographers who were already submitting their pictures online.
Dick came back, chatting and entertaining his fans, and had seemed to be laughing at his own joke, as other giggles erupted around him. He froze when he saw an angry Damian, and a fallen lady.
"Damian!" He scolded. "Play nice." Then he carried on to apologize to all the surrounding reporters for his "brother's" short-temper, and helped the poor woman up, who turned red at the prospect of the most handsome Wayne offering a hand to him. The remaining media glared or shot pitying looks at Damian, and the all tagged along to follow Dick.
He watched in the corner as Dick poured his victim a long, elegant glass of champagne, and charmed her. He felt envious - his older brother could get along so well and be so popular, attracting many women (and men), swaying them with his goofy attitude and his wide smiles. He also felt a pang of loneliness, and although he hated crowds, he didn't like being frowned upon or ignored either. He sighed and buried his face in his hands.
Once everyone was hushed out of the manor and the drunk ones were being rounded out, Dick ran to Damian with a worried look on his face.
"Are you okay, Dami?" he asked, concern penetrating his features.
"Yeah," was Damian's half-hearted reply as he grunted. "I just don't like galas."
Dick sat down beside him. "Look, I know all this acting and confidence can be tough, and I seem to do it easily, but inside I'm also very anxious, worrying about doing rights or wrongs. I do feel jealous of you too," he at last admitted.
Damian's face showed his surprise as the ebony continued, "You can be yourself so naturally, inside of being scrunched in a fake personality. I can't do that. I can't relax and be my true self." He wrapped Damian in a hug, and the younger tutted, glaring at his brother.
"How about this, let's make a deal. You teach me ease, and I'll teach you how to be as charming as me," Dick said dramatically.
"Tt. You are not charming, Grayson. You sound like an feverish elephant with a suit," the boy huffed, but a smirk crept onto his face.
With one arm still wrapped around his brother, Dick led Damian up the staircase, laughing at his remark.