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“It’s been a long time.”
Damian stays mute as he warily considers his father. He’s dressed up in his Nightwing costume, eyes hidden behind his domino mask, and Damian is slightly put off by the fact that he can’t read his father’s expression. It didn’t matter if his eyes were concealed because Damian had spent enough time with his dad to know what he was feeling through body-language, the lower half of his face, and the way he spoke. He didn’t need to see his eyes. Not typically.
Yet, here Damian was, unsure.
He hadn’t seen his father for the last couple of months. There was a good reason for it. Damian had caught wind of his grandfather’s plans for his body, and Damian didn’t want to be the reason for bringing war into Gotham. To deceive his enemies, he needed to deceive his friends, and so he disappeared off the grid. He had thought he’d done a good job of concealing himself, but somehow he’d ended up in the middle of London with his father standing across from him. They were standing on top of a shabby rooftop that looked like it could crumble if they added anymore weight, but Damian couldn’t even wish to switch when his father’s pinning eyes were keeping him stone frozen in his spot.
“Too long, if you ask me,” his father drawls.
Where had he messed up? Was it in Scotland? Norway? How had his father picked up on his trail? How had he known how to find him?
“So, what, you thought you could just disappear without telling anyone? Thought it’d be fine leaving your old man behind without a word?”
Damian could hear the building up lecture that was bound to come spilling out of his father’s lips, and he wasn’t eager to fall victim to it.
Silence falls between them. It is incredibly uncomfortable and awkward. Damian glances to the side for the briefest of seconds to mentally map out an escape route, but he doubted he’d be able to get far enough without his father catching him. He was tense. His father could probably tell through examination that Damian was readying to possibly bolt, but the idea of running was far more appealing than suffering an unpleasant stifling atmosphere. Damian wasn’t prepared to spill out his secrets. He wasn’t prepared to let his father know what he’d been doing for the past couple of months because he knew it’d immediately involve him.
“We playing the quiet game?” his father barks a single, unfeeling, laugh. Damian hates the way he sounds. Hates that he’s the reason his father is acting so indifferent and dispassionate.
Damian knows he’s not going to get rid of his father easily. He’s not so sure about possibly talking him out of asking questions, but he might as well try all his options.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
His father’s brows instantly dig into his forehead, and the whites of his mask narrow.
“The way I see it, I’m exactly where I need to be.”
Damian refrains from shuffling under his father’s scrutinizing gaze. He needed to look confident. He needed to look like he wasn’t a child fearing the possible rebuking from his father.
“You don’t understand,” Damian tells him. “You being here compromises both of us.”
Because Damian knew it wasn’t beneath his grandfather to capture hostages to lure him to the League of Assassins. His father was a prime target.
“Then help me understand,” Dick says. He takes one step forward. “Why does this compromise us? Why does looking for my son who I thought could be dead make this a bad situation?”
His father’s anger seeps out into his voice. Damian internally flinches, but he composes his face into an impassive expression outwardly. He tries to calm his beating heart.
“If I tell you, you’ll never leave me alone,” Damian tries.
Dick barks another cold laugh. “Oh, kiddo, I’m not leaving you alone. You’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”
Damian makes the effort to glare. His father’s stubbornness was irritating. Perhaps he thought the same thing of Damian, but Damian had a reason for acting the way he was.
“It is as I said,” Damian responds stiffly, “this compromises the both of us. It would be in both our best interests if you left, and returned home.”
Dick’s lips turn into an angry frown. Damian’s heart stops beating so fast, and starts skipping thumps altogether. He shouldn’t be this affected by his father’s features, shouldn’t be feeling the way he was, but Damian deeply cared about how his father felt about him. It didn’t matter how much he tried to make it otherwise. The truth would remain the truth.
“I think what’s in my best interest is returning you home where you belong,” Dick growls out, taking another step. Damian can’t move. Once again, he is pinned by his father’s piercing gaze. “In fact, you should’ve been there when I returned home from work on Tuesday, but guess what happened? You were missing. You were missing for four months. Do you know how worried I was, huh? Do you know how much panic you put me through?”
Damian gulps.
“So you better give me the best excuse you can manage-” another step, “or I am going to ground you for just as long as you’ve been missing.”
“You can’t do that,” Damian blurts out.
Dick glowers. “Oh. I can. I will.”
“I am not a child!”
“You’re my fourteen year old son. I’m your parent. It’s my responsibility to discipline you. To protect you.”
“You don’t need to protect me,” Damian spits, feeling his own anger rising, “I’ve been doing fine. I’ve been fine!”
“You running away tells me otherwise,” Dick says.
One more step. He’s almost right in front of Damian, and Damian takes an involuntary step backward.
“Now. Hit me with it. Tell me why you ran away,” Dick pushes.
Damian scowls. “I don’t need to tell you anything.”
“You owe me an explanation,” Dick argues.
Damian jolts when two hands slap on his shoulders, and pulls back as much as he can as his father’s peering face lowers to level their eyes.
“I-” Damian falters, hating the way his father made him feel so weak-willed.
“Tell me,” his father commands.
“I… I c-can’t,” Damian stutters like a fool. He’s having a hard time looking away.
“What’s got you so tight-lipped? Help me understand,” his father says.
Damian opens his mouth to say something, but nothing slips out. He closes his mouth, swallows, and goes quiet. Dick waits patiently for him to say something, and it is clear that he wasn’t going to say anything until Damian gave him an answer.
Damian’s traitorous mouth speaks for him.
“Grandfather,” he blurts out. “He-’
His father’s hands tighten on his shoulders. He feels his fingers digging into his skin.
“He wants- want… wants me to…”
He’s not sure why he can’t articulate anything, but it just might be because his heart was swelling up in panic.
“He wants me,” Damian gasps, spilling it all out, “he wants my body. He said he’d wage war in Gotham and-”
Damian shuts his mouth when he sees the rage in his father’s face. For a second he thinks it might just be for him, and he even thinks he might even deserve it, but his father then curses, “That bastard.”
Damian feels himself tugged forward into a hard chest. Damian melts against his will like butter on a pancake because he missed the warmth. He missed feeling his father wrap an arm around his shoulders, and he sometimes dreamed about his lips pressing a fatherly kiss into his hair. Damian feels himself loosen up, and he releases himself into his father’s emotional mixture of protective, desperate, tight muscles. The back of his head is cupped into a promise of not letting go, and there’s a strong arm firm on his back like the prison bar of a roller coaster. Safe. Secure.
“Dad,” Damian chokes, feeling so lost, and found at the same time.
“I missed you, baby,” Dick weeps. The anger was gone. There were only tears. Lost time.
Damian can’t help but follow his father’s meltdown. He starts crying, like a weeping statue perched on her fountain, and he bathes his father’s chest in salty tears.
Dick pulls away. It’s too soon. Damian wants to be in his arms again, but he supposes it’s not too bad to have his father cup his cheek. It’s not too bad to have him kiss his tears away.
“You should’ve told me,” Dick whispers. “I would’ve helped.”
“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” Damian shakily returns with a watery voice, “He hurt you before. I didn’t want him to do it again. I-”
“I don’t want him to hurt you,” his father returns just as tearfully. “I’m supposed to protect you. Why didn’t you come to me?” He’s broken when he says it. “Why?”
Damian can’t answer. His lips stay sealed as his father tugs him back into his hold.
“This is where you’re supposed to be. Understand? In my arms. Not- not anywhere where I can’t reach you because you’ll ruin me if you’re not nearby. Do you get that? Do you understand? You’ll ruin me.”
“And it’d ruin me if you got caught up in one of my grandfather’s schemes,” Damian sobs. “You can’t get hurt. You can’t. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you, dad.”
His father squeezes him so tight that Damian feared he might just break his bones, but it was such a welcome pressure that he didn’t mind the idea.
“I love you, too,” his father whispers into his hair. “We’re a family. You need to tell me these things. How would you feel if I disappeared on you?”
Damian bites his bottom lip.
He didn’t want to answer. He knew he’d search the entire earth to find his father.
“You can’t be disappearing on me. My heart can’t take it. Can you please promise me you won’t pull something like this again. Please?”
Damian doesn’t even think. He nods. His father’s pleas were so sincere, so genuine, that he considers it a crime not to relent to his simple wish.
“Thank you,” his father whispers, voice filled with emotion, “thank you."