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Damian sighed as he watched Dick’s head bob down. He’d been coming closer and closer to the counter top this last hour and he knew it was only a matter of time until the boy either knocked his drink over with the jerks to stay awake or gave in to the temptation of sleep.
Dick had been frantically pacing around the room since he came knocking at their door in the middle of the night, constantly moving but unable to pick a destination. His mouth had mumbled a mile a minute about some accident, a slip-up, and how he “didn’t mean to do it;” however, much to Damian and Colin’s dismay, they had yet to get the boy to explain what “it” was even hours later.
Damian wanted to press him further and possibly call Father for any extra information, but it was Colin who convinced him that calming Dick into sleeping seemed like the better option. After a good night of sleep, he’d be able to tell them anything they needed to know. Colin always knew what to do; even after years of marriage, he needed his advice to make the right call. No wonder Jon kept calling him a sap.
So, here they sat with the dredges of hot chocolate in their cups watching Dick finally nod off. They’d been through two cups already and Damian wasn’t sure he could stomach anymore; he’d tried to sneak some sleeping pills into the boy’s drink when he was distracted, but Colin’s eyes threatened bodily harm for the effort. It was understandable that Colin had an aversion to drugging people (especially children) after everything he went through growing up, but surely he could’ve made an exception for this?
“See? I knew it would work,” Colin whispered as he collected the mugs for washing. “Out like a light.”
“How long will he stay that way is the real question.”
He stumbled off his chair when Colin whipped him with the kitchen towel playfully. “Hopefully long enough. You got him?”
Damian brushed a stray strand of Dick’s hair out of his eyes as he whispered back, “not if you keep hitting me like that.”
“I thought the Great Nightwing could do anything.”
“He can.” Damian snuck his hands under Dick’s small thighs, carefully leaning him into his chest until he could wrap one secure arm under his butt and gently cradle the boy’s head with the other. “But you found his only weakness.”
Colin leaned over the sink, the obvious response on the tip of his tongue, but Damian watched as his face melted into a soft smile instead. “Yeah…I think I have.”
He could feel the blush overtaking his face at the sentiment. It was true, he’d grown quite attached to the young Robin since he joined the family.
All that eagerness and burning need for justice reminded him of the old days when he, Colin, and Jon had been scrappy amateurs ready to fight the world. Every smile, every leap sparked memories of the trio clumsily flying together for the first time or the undercover adventures Damian had dragged them on; Dick was like the living embodiment of Damian’s youth and he would protect them both at all cost.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
Colin’s smile didn’t waver as he quietly eased the faucet on. “I’m looking at you how I always look at you.”
“I know.” He rolled up his sleeves before they got wet and the glimpse of Colin’s soul marks pushed all breath out of Damian’s lungs. Some days he still couldn’t believe Colin was his.
Soulmate bonds weren’t unheard of in their world, but they often came with a price most were unwilling to pay. If you happened to find the one who bore your matching hand marks after an initial touch--even though many marks were too common and deemed practically useless, such as a handshake--you’d expect it meant a Happily Ever After for all parties involved. Quite the misconception. The universe may bring a pair together but it always demanded something in return, something which most failed to recover from. For them, their trial came when the venom in Colin’s veins began eating away at his health.
Thankfully, with help from practically every member of the justice league and their magical alternates, they managed to slow Colin’s deteriorating condition; the catch being he could no longer help Nightwing and Flamebird fight crime as Abuse. As much as he hated to admit it, it had almost affected Damian more, losing a partner he’d relied on since childhood. Colin, on the other hand, had taken the permanent benching with grace.
He constantly joked that retirement suited him better whenever Damian hesitated about going out for a mission.
And it’d become a tradition, a kiss upon his forehead as Colin’s blessing to go without guilt. They’d survive, they’d always survive…because they were them. But it hadn’t been easy. Still wasn’t.
“I’ll meet you when I’m done.” Colin blew him a kiss with the soap bubbles on his hand and Damian bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud.
He was always so grateful to have that kind of easy silliness in his life to balance him out, what with Colin, Jon, and now Dick and the other Bat kids around; there seemed to be a new one everywhere he turned. Damian liked to think it was his superior transition from childhood assassin to adult vigilante which inspired Father to take on more kids, but he knew in his heart it was never that simple.
It had been a steep learning curve coming from Nanda Parbat to Gotham, and with a father who knew almost nothing about raising kids back then, there were times he thought things would never change--that he would never change.
So full of anger and with a host of insecurities instilled in him by both parents, making friends proved difficult to say the least. Without Colin, a boy so traumatized and yet ready to keep fighting for others, and Jon, a super-powered misfit whose hope for the good in people rivalled that of his father’s, Damian didn’t know where he would’ve ended up.
Dick shifted against his chest, hands grabbing fistfulls of his shirt as he rubbed his nose against Damian’s neck. The snot from his earlier crying session felt cold and unpleasant but he held back the shiver to avoid waking the boy. Whatever ordeal he’d been through must have been truly terrible. Just thinking about it boiled his blood.
He managed to get the boy into his designated guest room--after so many visits, it seemed only right to give him his own place--and laid out in bed without incident. Dick’s hands eventually released his shirt, giving Damian time to slip them under the covers to grasp the blue blankets instead.
It was easy to forget how young Dick truly was when he bounced around rooms and faced down villains three times his size without batting an eye. But in moments like this, when he curled up in the room they’d initially saved for a child of their own before Colin’s health problems took precedent, it was easy to pretend that this boy (the same age he had been upon coming to Gotham) truly was theirs. Their reward for all the suffering they’d endured both together and apart.
Bending down, he pressed a soft kiss to the wild black hair, careful not to wake him up. There would be time tomorrow for answers and God help the poor souls who caused his Baby Bird to come running to him for salvation. With all the strength he had, Damian managed to convince his feet to walk to the doorway, but some paranoid instinct told him the boy would disappear if he didn’t keep watch.
Standing in the doorway on guard is how Colin found him as he wrapped his arms around him from behind. No one else could get away with such a move, especially when Damian was in one of his moods, but everything was different with Colin. And this hold, with his arms secure around Damian’s broad chest, happened to match the hand marks imprinted on Damian’s torso.
Their first meeting consisted of Damian tripping back into Colin’s panicked embrace during a fight with one of Zsasz’s goons. He’d instinctively raised his hands to cup Colin’s thin forearms to tear them apart, but the buzzing warmth that had melted over them in that instant stuck them to the spot. They managed to shake each other off to win the fight in the end and agreed to never bring it up again, but every time he looked at the marks in the mirror he knew he couldn’t let it go so easily.
At the time, he’d been angry at the universe for delivering him yet another obstacle between him and his goals (goals others had set for him) and Colin had met fire with fire over being rejected so rudely; fighting together against common enemies eventually smoothed over the rough edges of their friendship. If only he’d known sooner what their friendship would grow in to.
“Jon always says I’m the sap, but I think it’s you,” Damian whispered as he brought his hands to cup Colin’s forearms and complete the hug. It was their go-to sign of affection, remembering the moment that had brought them together when they needed each other most.
Leaning back against Colin, Damian felt his sharp chin dig into his shoulder. They swayed a moment, watching as Dick kicked around in his sleep--that boy was always moving, no matter what--enjoying the peaceful silence.
They were home. They were together. They would help Dick by any means necessary because he was theirs as much as he was Bruce’s.
Colin moved to nuzzle Damian’s neck, only to cringe back in disgust. “Is that--”
Damian chuckled as he cracked Dick’s door closed and walked them both out, still joined in their hug. “Yes, it is. Snot, drool, and hot chocolate smudges. If only my grandfather could see me now.”
Smiling too hard for a proper kiss, Colin pressed his lips against Damian’s cheek. In return, he couldn’t help tightening his hold of the too-thin arms in his hands--a constant reminder that Colin still struggled, even if he acted like things were fine all the time.
“They only add to your appeal, beloved.” Colin mouthed against his overheated skin.
Damian flushed at both the sentiment and the endearment. He’d heard it so much from his mother that it seemed inevitable to slip out when around Colin. He’d run off the first time he said it out of sheer embarrassment but with Jon’s help, Colin had managed to track him down for an explanation. He didn’t use it much anymore but hearing Colin say it felt right.
“I love you too.” After almost a decade of marriage, it’d become easier to say out loud. “Let’s hope he’s more coherent tomorrow morning.”
Colin hummed, finally releasing his hold to lead them to their bedroom. “We drank all the hot chocolate so we’ll have to call Jon if he becomes worked up again. Jon is still his favorite.”
“Lies. Lies and slander. I am obviously his favorite.”
He pretended to think about it as they stopped in the bathroom. “Hmm, I’m pretty sure the list goes Clark, Jon, Kon--”
“You’re just listing Kryptonians now.”
“Well, he has a type.” Colin pulled him close for a proper kiss as he wiped the mess drying on his neck. “It’ll all be okay.”
Damian sighed against Colin’s lips and bumped their foreheads together gently. He always knew how to comfort him. “I know. Thank you…”
Damian never expected to enjoy the domestic life as much as he did, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not even for that beautiful sabre he’d found in a Master’s shop during his last visit to Nanda Parbat. Sadly, it had been deemed “not for sale” by the owners no matter what he offered. Even Colin had agreed on its exquisite beauty, but he’d give up a hundred sabres to keep holding Colin like this for the rest of his days.
Tomorrow there would be explanations, probably more tears, and only minimal bloodshed if Colin had any say in the matter--Damian had gone soft in his old age--but at least there wouldn’t be anymore hot chocolate.
He wasn’t sure he could stand any more sweetness in his life.