Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

This fanfiction is hosted on Archive of Our Own, where you can read it for free. If you’re reading this on a different website, it was posted there without the author’s consent.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand —
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep — while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

— A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe

“They look cute in their little uniforms,” Roy commented, leaning back against the seat of his truck.

Dick snorted, watching as Lian tugged the tie around her neck while Damian batted at her hand. “Even Damian complained about the blazer. And Damian believes that fancy clothes are supposed to be uncomfortable.”

Roy grimaced. “Lian tried to eat her tie in protest. For a week.”

“I was wondering why it had wet patches all over it.”

“Menace, that one,” Roy said, shaking his head. But his voice was fond, and when Dick glanced over at him from the passenger’s seat, his eyes were soft as he watched their kids go into the building.

Dick’s window was rolled down, letting in the surprisingly warm air. He leaned his head towards the window, breathing in the fresh smell of flowers. Everything about Seattle was in direct contrast to Gotham, and Dick couldn’t find it in himself to feel even slightly guilty for moving here with Damian.

“C’mon,” Roy said, starting up the truck. “Got some deliveries, and then we can get to that picnic you’ve been teasing me about all week.”

“Keep your expectations low,” Dick warned him, running a hand through his hair. It was getting on the long side, reaching down to his chin. Mia had tried to braid it last night, though Roy’s attempts in their childhood had been far less painful. “The last time we went on a picnic, Alfred made the food.”

Roy made an appreciative noise. “God, I remember that,” he said. “Must’ve been back in… elementary school.”

“Summer break,” Dick supplied. His memories of that summer – those few years, really – were filled with honied weekends and breaks spent camping and sleeping over at alternate houses every time. They’d built a treehouse in the thick woods just beyond Wayne Manor, a clubhouse of their own for when the house felt too cold. Dick had gone there even when his friends hadn’t been around, just to surround himself in their warmth.

“Alfred’s picnics were great,” Roy said, “but I think we were all a little too scared about breaking the teapot to fuck around like normal.”

Despite the strange nostalgia that thinking about his childhood gave Dick, he huffed a laugh. “Alfred wouldn’t’ve cared,” he said honestly. “He just wanted us to have fun. The house didn’t really have any… cheap tea sets.”

“That I can imagine.” Roy flipped on the radio, and a soft rock group came blaring out of the speakers. He turned it down to a normal level, and then slapped away Dick’s hand when he tried to fiddle with the channel. “Hey, I drive, we listen to my music. Next time we can carpool with you two.”

Next time. Dick turned the words over in his head, revelling in how they tasted coming out of Roy’s mouth.

Everything had gone off the rails ever since Bruce had died. Dick knew it was wrong to blame his late adoptive father, but it was easier, sometimes.

But after a year, a long never-ending year that Dick still had nightmares about, they were out of Gotham. Away from the smog and grey days, it felt as though the series of events that had happened after Bruce’s death were only a dream. And he and Damian were in Seattle because Bruce had decided that Dick understood Damian far better than he did, and had agreed to let Damian live with him.

Of course, they were here entirely for selfish reasons. Dick had been ready to make the move to New York, only a couple hours away from the rest of their family in Gotham, but Roy had shown up at the funeral.

He hadn’t seen Roy in five years. He had barely recognised Lian next to him, tall and wearing an all-black outfit that she kept fidgeting in.

Dick hadn’t even known what to say to him, but Roy had fixed that, just like in their childhood.

“Hey, Rob,” he said quietly. “Ollie told me. Thought you’d like… friends here.”

Dick’s smile was watery when he’d finally made eye contact. It might’ve been strange to some to cry into the shoulder of a friend he hadn’t seen in so many years, but not for them.

The funeral had been smaller than Dick had expected. The immediate family were there, of course. All of Dick’s adopted siblings were there – Tim, Cassandra, and even Jason, who’d shown up halfway through in his leather jacket, leaning against his bike in the distance. Dick wouldn’t’ve even noticed him there had it not been the cloud of smoke from the cigarette between his teeth.

Kate, and Lucius and his family. Commissioner Gordon and Barbara. Some of Bruce’s friends who Dick had only recognised after Tim or Alfred had discreetly whispered their name to him under their breath. Clark and Lois – the reporters from the Daily Planet – had been there as well, though strictly as Bruce’s close friends. Dick would’ve said no to anyone else, had he not known Clark almost as long as he’d known Bruce.

And Damian had been there, of course. Damian, who they’d only known about for a few months before Bruce had died. Dick didn’t know if that had made things better or worse for the kid, to be uprooted from his normal life after his mother had died, to suddenly be greeted with his father and all his adoptive siblings, to then have his father die within months of knowing him.

“How was school?” Dick asked Damian as they got an early dinner ready.

There hadn’t been many affordable buildings in the city, but with Dinah’s help, Dick had found this little two-bedroom apartment. It was tiny – anything would feel tiny after the months they’d spent after the funeral in Bruce’s penthouse – but it was theirs. And Dick had always hated the massive empty hallways of Wayne Manor.

There, on the fridge, were the drawings Damian had created in his art class – his teacher said he showed a real gift. On the wall in the hallway towards the bedrooms were a dozen framed photos, featuring their family and friends, pictures from Dick’s childhood, and one of Talia and Damian that Damian had brought with him.

“Fine,” Damian said. His voice still held an accent, though he worked hard to mask it. Dick preferred it when they were alone, though, when he allowed himself to speak comfortably without worrying about sounding American. “We’re preparing for an ‘athletics carnival’ next week.”

“Sounds exciting,” Dick said, and he meant it. Damian had come to them with a startlingly well-rounded education, complete with things like fencing and horseback riding, and proficient in five languages. The only time he touched Bruce’s money – his inheritance money – was to make sure Damian didn’t forget the extracurriculars he enjoyed. “Anything in particular you want to go for?”

Damian shifted. He was over on the counter slicing up vegetables for the stir fry, and his hand worked away at the knife faster than Dick had ever seen on a ten-year-old. “The high jump,” he said finally. “Though we’re to try all the events. It’s a small school.”

Small school indeed. Dick had decided on the place because Roy sent Lian there, and Dinah and Ollie – who’d lived in this city for years – had recommended it to him. Dick hadn’t even looked at any other schools. But Damian was liking it, far more than he’d liked Gotham Academy (though even Dick had hated that place, and he knew Jason wasn’t fond either).

“Are pare—guardians allowed?” he asked, mentally berating himself on the slip-up.

“I didn’t ask,” was all Damian said on the matter.

Their routine was simple, because it had to be. Dick worked a couple of jobs part-time, at the mechanics, at the local gym as a trainer, and held gymnastics classes for children as well. He didn’t count the times he helped Dinah out at Sherwood Florists with deliveries, because he refused money for that, though he knew Roy sometimes slipped cash into his wallet when he wasn’t looking.

But he always picked Damian up from school, and tried to drop him off as well. About a couple months into moving here, he and Roy had developed a system to share the load of dropping and picking up Lian and Damian, so now it was a little less hectic on mornings he had work early.

“Bring that over to the table,” Dick called to Damian. “And… yup, need some cutlery here, too.”

Damian made a tt sound. “Your memory is becoming abysmal in your old age,” he said.

“You say that now,” Dick said, “but I’ve yet to forget to pick you up from school yet. I think you’re Bruce’s only kid who hasn’t been left afterhours. Though Cass is an exception.”

He regretted saying that the moment it was out of his mouth, at the way Damian looked down at his plate.

“Ah, sorry,” he said immediately. “Not exactly the most uplifting topic for dinner.”

“Speaking of the dead is good for dealing with grief.” Damian said it like he was quoting out of a textbook.

“Where’d you learn that?” Dick asked, amused despite everything.

“Mr Pennyworth. He said so to me when he called last week.”

“I… see.” Dick hadn’t been aware that Alfred and Damian were speaking over the phone. He himself had last spoken to Alfred maybe a few days ago, to return a call he’d missed. Alfred kept subtly asking about visiting the two of them, about missing his grandsons and the big empty house, and Dick… well, Dick wanted for the two of them to settle in a little more. Besides, where would Alfred sleep? They needed to at least buy a spare mattress before then.

“Lian’s grandfather is very different,” Damian said, “from Mr Pennyworth.”

Dick had no idea how to respond to that. Lian alternated between calling Ollie ‘uncle’ and ‘grandpa’, she considered Hal her uncle, and Dinah was just Dinah. It was a mess when you threw in all of Roy’s siblings, who were her aunts and uncles as well – even Emi – not to mention all of Roy’s friends.

“Alfred’s… a little older than Oliver,” Dick said, already knowing he’d be repeating this conversation back to Roy the following morning. “And he’s British.”

Damian nodded solemnly. “Clearly,” he said, and left it at that.

Roy had moved to Seattle after the accident that had cost him his arm. He’d already been planning on moving down there temporarily, because Lian had been sick – very sick, in fact, with some sort of illness that doctors hadn’t even been able to pinpoint.

That had been a little over four years ago, when he’d still been living in New York and working a multitude of jobs to support himself and his daughter, had still been dating Kendra and seeing Jade from time to time. It was funny, what half a decade could do to a person.

Take Ollie, for example: four years had resulted in him adopting a daughter, and discovering a son, daughter, and sister he’d never known about before. Roy’s family had somehow boomed, all while he’d been out of town trying to create a life for himself. It was lucky that he’d had so many friends in New York when it’d happened, because at some point during those years, he’d forgotten how to call home.

“Is she still not up yet?” he asked Mia, who’d come prancing down the stairs.

It was a Monday, which meant Lian – and usually Roy, as well – stayed over in the building (read: castle) that the shop was run from. Mia and Connor normally had classes, but they were home on break for the next couple of months. Kids these days, Roy had teased the two of them, when I was your age, I didn’t come home for years after I graduated high school. He hadn’t noticed the look that had passed between Ollie and Dinah, too busy listening to Mia as she’d leaned forward and told Roy her and Cissie’s plans to meet with friends over break.

Now, Mia took one look at Roy, and then glanced at the clock and snorted. “You really expect her to be? It’s seven in the morning.”

“And she’s normally up at six,” Roy sighed, running a hand through his hair. It was getting on the longer side, and he knew he should get it cut soon – it was a pain to maintain – but sue him if he liked the way certain people sent appreciative glances his way. Roy wasn’t vain, but he knew the sort of stigmas that a missing limb brought with it, not to mention the scars.

“I’ve got her,” a voice called from the top of the stairs, saving Roy a trip. He blinked in surprise, though it really shouldn’t be a surprise at this point to see how eager Ollie was to spend time with his granddaughter.

Moments later, Lian was downstairs, and Mia had helped Roy finish getting breakfast on the table. He might’ve found cooking for the whole family tough, had he not spent a large portion of his early twenties feeding his whole friend group when they’d decided to share an apartment in an attempt to save money.

Pancakes, fresh fruit, oatmeal… they mostly avoided meat when Connor was staying over, and Roy found that the older he got, the better his body felt about less meat. He’d mentioned that to Ollie once, regrettably just before dinner, and the look on the older man’s face had brought Roy right back to his very early childhood.

“What’s the rush?” Connor said, walking through the door. He carried a yoga mat with him, dressed in tights and a loose hoodie.

“What time did you get up?” Roy flipped the last of the pancakes onto a plate, and slid it across the counter to where his brother had just sat.

Connor blinked down at it. “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t realise you were making breakfast. I already ate.” And then he glanced at Roy’s face and said, “Though I could eat again!”

“That’s what we like to hear,” Roy said, sliding the maple syrup and strawberries towards him. “Bet you ate… what, that weird smoothie stuff you’re into nowadays?”

Connor had become a, in Emi’s words, ‘gym bro’. Roy had no idea how it had happened – Connor had grown up in a monastery, had learnt martial arts and archery and how to sit still for longer than Roy could sleep, and somehow adult life had gotten him interested in gym.

Connor was making a face at him. “I miss Cissie being here for you to pick on,” he said. “She drinks the same thing and you know it.”

Mia snorted. “She drinks that crap ‘cause of her trainers.”

“That last green one was nasty,” Connor admitted. “You guys just haven’t tried the right ones.”

“I have no desire to try anything you recommend,” Emi said, appearing beside Roy’s elbow. “Nephew, pass me some more.”

Roy prodded her side with the end of his spatula. “Folks your age get indigestion from eating as much as you do.”

Emi gave him a sweet smile. “So what’s the rush? You never answered.”

Here it was. Roy didn’t have to glance at the other side of the room, to where Ollie and Lian had disappeared; he knew his plans were extremely clear to everyone present. “Lian and Damian have a playdate,” he said. “We’re heading to that big new park that opened the other week. Don’t—quit with the looks. It’s not like that.”

They did this every time, had been doing it ever since Dick had showed up with his younger brother in tow, the younger brother that none of them had ever seen before who was apparently actually related to Bruce.

“I’m not doing anything,” Connor said instantly, mouth full. “But if I were—”

“It’d be so you get a,” Mia dropped to a whisper, “fucking hint.”

“Rude,” Roy said with a frown. “On a Saturday morning, too.”

“Did you pack him flowers this time too?” Emi asked, with a look on her face that said she clearly knew the answer.

“Hey, Dinah packs those flowers, and Ollie and Hal gave each other flowers all the time when I was a kid.” There was a moment’s silence. “Not the best example, but you lot give your friends flowers. I know you got Kara flowers when you went to Metropolis, Mia.”

Mia sniffed. “And what makes you think I wasn’t dating Kara at the time?”

Roy faltered, glancing around for Cissie, but she wasn’t there. His eyes fell upon Dinah, coming down the stairs in her robe. “Morning,” he called to her. “Did Mia and Kara ever date?”

Dinah’s eyes met his, squinting a little. “Is that a trick question?” she asked him, and Connor sniggered. “They dated for a whole year.”

Roy raised his eyes to the ceiling. “When I was away, right?”

“We’ll pretend if it makes you feel better,” Emi said, patting his arm. “Also, can you drop me off in town on your way to Dick’s place?”

“Why,” Roy said, “couldn’t Ollie have found you lot before I became an actual adult?”

“If you drank smoothies regularly,” Connor told him, “you’d find more energy within yourself on busy mornings.”

Roy threw the oven rag at him.

But it wouldn’t stop plaguing him. The what ifs that kept following him and Dick around. They’d never properly dated the way he knew they’d both wanted to, though that was mostly because it’d been more of a ‘wrong place, wrong time’ sort of thing – Dick had been with Kory, and they’d all thought the two of them were it for each other, just like Roy had thought the same about Jade, about Donna… maybe even Kendra.

When Dick had appeared on Roy’s doorstep, asking if he and Damian could stay the weekend while they sorted things out with finding a place to live, it’d felt a lot like fate was finally giving them a chance. Roy had known even then, though, that Bruce followed Dick wherever he went, even six months after his funeral. It wasn’t like Dick had left Gotham in a happy place with his family, though he didn’t like to talk about it very much.

The first few weeks were the worst. Damian had had a difficult time adjusting to school, to Seattle, to everything. He and Dick had barely known each other, and were freshly grieving for two very different people. It was easier, in a way, for Roy to get to know Damian than it was for Dick, because he knew Dick looked at the kid and saw Bruce’s chin, Bruce’s hair, Bruce’s quiet manner and bone-deep stubbornness.

That had been when Ollie had stepped in. He’d offered to take Damian and Lian out to some fair that was happening, some winter thing that promised warm treats and fun games. It’d be perfect, he’d said, and when Roy had agreed, Dick had as well, albeit with far more reluctance.

If Roy hadn’t been gone on Dick before then, before when he’d watched Dick hand him his daughter for the first time, before when he’d watched Dick on the gymnastics hoops when they’d still been strangers to each other, before when they’d played Robin Hood and his band of Merry Men and he’d watched Dick’s face as he rallied their group for their passionate cause, then… well, then seeing Dick crouch down to Damian’s height, one knee drawn up to his chest, writing his number down on Damian’s hand in Sharpie and telling him to stick to Ollie and hold Lian’s hand would have done it.

“C’mon,” Roy had murmured to Dick, grabbing him by the elbow and guiding him to the car. “Ollie’s good with kids. Lian’s used to him, so he’ll be able to focus more attention on keeping Damian with him. They’ll be fine.”

Dick had looked at him for a moment, and then nodded. Roy had always wondered what Dick saw in his eyes that made Dick trust him so implicitly, especially with his kid now. He knew what he saw in Dick’s, the reason that had resulted in Dick being the one to hold Lian before Roy ever had, but Roy? Roy had changed a lot, since their youth, but he still didn’t know if he was worthy of being held in such regard by Dick Grayson.

“I think Tim might visit,” Dick said one day, frowning slightly.

“Tim?” Roy repeated. They had a picnic rug spread out on the lush green grass, and a hastily packed picnic basket between the two of them. It was warm, warmer than it’d been in days, and they were both avoiding the patch of sunlight that was currently in the process of overtaking their rug.

“Yeah, my brother Tim.” Dick’s voice slipped into a teasing tone as he glanced sideways at Roy. Roy was half lying down and turned towards Dick but facing the skatepark; his prosthetic arm gleamed in the faint sunlight that trickled through the leaves shading them. “My… well, can’t really say the one I’ve known the longest now that Jay’s back, but he’s—”

“Relax, Rob,” the nickname slipped out almost without Roy’s consent, “I remember Tim. But isn’t he…” There was no delicate way to put this. “Didn’t he go a little off the rails when Bruce died?”

Dick grimaced. “Yeah, uh…”

The thing with Tim was that he’d refused to believe Bruce had died. In fact, his refusal had been so strong that Cass and Dick had tried to have him hospitalised at one point, when Steph had called Cass up in the middle of the night frantic about how Tim’s entire apartment looked like a conspiracy theory red thread board. They’d gotten as far as getting Tim to see a therapist – and considering he’d been nineteen at the time, and written in Bruce’s will to be taking over WE, that had really been all they’d been able to do. And then a week later, Dick had woken up to find that Tim had left the country, with a hastily scrawled note to let Dick know.

He'd tried getting in touch with his brother, but Tim had ditched his cell phone after the first time Dick had gotten through. Emails went unanswered. The only people that Tim seemed to be speaking with were Tam Fox and Cass; Dick had no idea what he’d done wrong, but he didn’t have the luxury like some to go galivanting off around the globe. Because Bruce had left Tim with his company, but he’d left Dick with an eight-year-old child.

“It’s hard to explain, I guess,” Dick said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Cass says he’s doing better, but she’s still in Hong Kong, so unless he stopped on the way from wherever the hell he was before going back to Gotham, then I dunno how much weight I really give it.”

“Hey,” Roy said, “Most of my siblings were friends with him back in the day. When he comes by, you can probably get a general gist of what’s going on with him from them?”

Dick snorted a little. “What’re the chances he’s actually here to see those three than to see me and Dami?”

“If it makes things easier, then that’s good, right? I know Damian wasn’t the biggest fan of his other siblings.”

“Understatement right there. Before we came here, I just thought he didn’t really like other people very much, but now, seeing him with your family, even with Dinah and Hal and Eddie of all people…” Dick shook his head. “I think maybe my family really fucked things up with him, y’know?”

The thing with their childhood was that it’d been hard to complain about a parent seriously without feeling the need to jump to their defence every time your friends also complained about your parent. There had been things about Ollie that Roy had understood, things like listening to Roy when he’d said he didn’t like school and going on month long camping trips instead, that had resulted in his friends giving each other sidelong looks even before Roy had gotten to the actual thing he’d wanted to complain about.

But he knew what that was like. There were things that Dick said about Bruce that Dick probably didn’t even blink at, that Roy and Wally and Donna and Garth – before Vic and Kory and Raven and Gar and Joey had joined their little gang – had paused at. And part of him got that some of those were genuinely habits of the two of them, young recluse billionaire and his foster ex-acrobat, had developed over their strange beginning together, but the rest of him, the Roy that remembered the way Dick had looked when he’d come to New York and told them that he wouldn’t be going back to Gotham ever again, just knew.

 But if it’d been hard to talk to Dick about Bruce’s shortcomings when he’d been alive, it was downright impossible now (not to mention feeling a little sleazy as well). Roy didn’t really see a point to it, if he were honest. So all he said was, “Well, you two are family. He’s got us for as long as he wants us.”

And Dick turned to him, the exact moment Roy glanced in his direction, and smiled heartbreakingly. “Thanks, Roy,” he said. “I really appreciate that. You – all of you – have been—if it hadn’t been for you guys, I don’t know if we would’ve made it work here. Hell, I don’t even know if I’d’ve made it work with Dami.”

“You kidding me?” Roy sat up now. “That kid worships the ground you walk on. And that was all you. You made him feel safe, loved. And I’m not surprised; you have a habit of doing that to the people around you.”

Dick opened his mouth to say something, surprise clear on his face. Roy wouldn’t take those words back for anything, but he knew Dick got self-conscious with compliments like that. But he was saved from having to respond, which was as much to Dick’s relief as it was to Roy’s disappointment – at that moment, Damian and Lian ran up towards them.

“Did you see?” Lian’s voice went high at the end, and Roy was saved from having to hide a wince as she threw herself half into his lap.

“‘Course I did,” Roy told her, wrapping his arm around Lian and sitting upright awkwardly. “You two were fantastic.”

Lian’s face turned pouty. “You didn’t watch.”

Dick snorted a little. “Watch what, peanut?”

“Our pirate fight,” Damian said this time, arms crossing a little. He was watching Lian and Roy with a look that Roy constantly saw when they were together, evaluating and analysing and… just the slightest bit puzzled.

I think he misses his mother, was what Dick had said, when Roy had broached the subject one night. And I think watching you guys operate reminds him of Talia more than anything. The unspoken thundercloud that was Bruce and his barely kindled relationship with his newest child had remained between them, unspoken as always.

“Sorry, kiddo,” Dick said, sitting upright and crossing his legs to make room for Damian on the picnic rug. Damian sat down gingerly, making sure to keep his shoes on the grass. “You two both look a little red; how ‘bout we have a little snack break and then you can show us again? Bet you this time’ll be better now that you’ve had practise.”

Dick was somehow incredibly good at mollifying children; Roy supposed it came with the teaching job, not to mention all the younger siblings. Roy wasn’t… well, he wasn’t terrible, but he was good with Lian. That didn’t necessarily apply to every single child he ran into.

“Good thinking,” he said, tilting to the side to knock shoulders with Dick. “Here we have… icypoles! Homemade, with fruit!”

So maybe these weekly picnics had opened up a domestic side in himself that the Roy of a decade ago had never envisioned. But the Roy of right now, who had a bouquet of flowers in the basket to hand over to Dick on the drive home, had no regrets about where his life had ended up.

He just wondered if Dick did.

The weeks passed in a blur. Dick kept track of time using Damian’s school, and it seemed like every Monday was followed by a Friday; weekends were a blink of an eye. They’d arrived here during the winter, right when the brisk autumn air had started arriving with a bite in it; now, it was almost spring, and everything around them reflected that.

Or perhaps, Dick thought to himself, that was just because Roy’s family worked out of a flower shop. Sherwood Florist had begun as a little refuge for Dick, a place where it was always spring. But lately, he’d been able to pick apart the differences – the smell was the biggest change, for starters, and now there came a wave of gardeners who got their special order bulbs and other essentials, all to begin prepping for the upcoming spring.

The only issue was that Damian couldn’t stick to any extracurriculars.

“Your art showing is this Friday, isn’t it?” Dick said one morning, munching on a piece of toast as he watched Damian glower at his omelette.

Damian shifted in his seat. “I no longer do art,” he said stiffly. “I’ve taken pottery instead.”

Dick blinked. “Pottery, huh?” He tried frantically to count just how many times Damian had changed clubs and classes – were kids even allowed to do that at this age without guardians knowing? “That sounds fun. Make us some vases to hold all the flowers Roy keeps bringing over.” It was lucky neither of them were allergic to pollen, because they probably would’ve died by now. Dick could see out of the corner of his eye the latest bouquet that Roy had given him, all suave and nonchalant, as though Dick hadn’t spent a great portion of his teenage years daydreaming about this very thing.

Damian’s frown deepened, and he hunched over his plate of food even more, a feat Dick hadn’t thought possible. “We’re only learning the basics now. It’ll be some time before we can get good enough to make things.”

Dick nodded a little hesitantly. “Well, as long as you’re having fun, kiddo.”

Damian glanced up at that, but just when Dick thought he was about to say something, the phone rang, and he looked back down at his plate.

With a sigh, Dick answered his phone. Ollie – he was probably inviting the two of them over for dinner. “We really gotta have the Queens over for dinner,” Dick mused as he answered the call. “Now that we’re sort of on our feet.”

He looked up to see if Damian had an opinion to give, but Damian had vanished, plate empty and in the sink.

This was… just a rough week. That was what Dick tried to tell himself, but the truth was, he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Alfred to show up and say that Damian belonged in Gotham and with someone more experienced, that that was what Bruce would’ve wanted.

But if he were really honest with himself, Dick had expected a bigger fight when he’d said he’d be taking Damian and moving to Seattle. And when no one (namely, Alfred) had said anything, had merely nodded and asked whether they’d be flying or driving there, it’d felt a little like the ground shifting away from under Dick’s feet. But more than that, there was the anger that had risen, taking him entirely by surprise, because here was this little boy – Bruce’s son – and no one wanted him.

It hadn’t even seemed like Bruce had wanted him, even when Bruce had taken in so many children and given them a home. Dick had travelled back and forth between Gotham and Bludhaven for the entirety of the time that they’d known Damian, and that Bruce had been alive. At first, it’d been more to keep Tim company, to give Bruce a chance to spend time with Damian without feeling as though Tim were being left out, but slowly it’d become increasingly apparent to Dick that Bruce was… not doing that. And if he was, it was backfiring rather spectacularly.

“Hey, Ollie,” Dick said warmly. He cooked as he spoke, stirring the pasta sauce that sat simmering on the stove. “You guys need help dealing with the spring craze?”

Ollie snorted under his breath. “I’m hiding in the storeroom,” he said in an undertone. “Letting Hal deal with this absolute clown. Apparently she’s Gardener of the Season in Gardener Weekly.”

“Hal’s here?” Dick asked, surprised. Hal wasn’t supposed to be visiting for another month or so – he worked in the Air Force, and didn’t take leave very often.

“Yeah, uh,” there was a shuffling noise and then a muttered curse, “this was a surprise, I think. Though apparently Dinah’s known about it, and he didn’t exactly seem all that thrilled to see me, so I’m guessing the surprise is for the kids.”

Dick smiled despite himself. “He’s probably jetlagged,” he said. “I remember you two from when we were kids.”

Ollie groaned theatrically, though Dick was half sure he was just trying to lift big bags. There was a high demand for their manure. “Don’t remind me of our age, please,” he said. “Speaking of age – and it has nothing to do with the thirty orders of potting mix we received this morning – you and Damian are invited to come by tomorrow night. I’m cooking, and since none of us really know how long Hal’s staying for, might be good for you two to catch up before he’s off.”

Dick didn’t know the exact details of the arrangement between Dinah and Hal and Ollie, but he sensed something was up, because normally Ollie’s mood was ten times brighter when Hal came by. “Tomo—aw, hate to miss out on your cooking, Ollie, but Damian’s got his big soccer game tomorrow night.”

“That’s right, I completely forgot,” Ollie said. “Damn, I was planning on dragging Dinah and Connor there with me, too. How ‘bout you two come by anytime this week, whenever you’re free? I always end up making double, so it won’t be a bother.”

“I—of course,” Dick said, “and hey, how about barbeque on our roof this Saturday? We’ve lived here this whole time and never even used the place. And I know you won’t be polite about my cooking being bad. Bring everyone along, we’ll make it sort of a housewarming we never had in the first place.”

If Oliver was surprised by this, he didn’t let it show in his voice. “We’d love to, Dick,” he said. “I’ll let the others know – Dinah and I are free, and Roy’s always free for you.” He seemed to realised he’d mis-stepped, or said something just a little too on the nose, because he cleared his throat and went on to say, “And I know Mia’s home then, too.”

 “I’ll call everyone,” Dick told him, wondering if Ollie could tell how quickly his heart had started pounding in his chest. “Uh, sorry again about tomorrow. Hope Hal survives your chilli.”

“Y’know, one of these days I could very well cook something else,” Ollie told him.

Dick snorted. “But you won’t.”

“Hal probably flew all the way from wherever he was stationed just for chilli he can’t handle. Who am I to disappoint him?”

That was when it started to go wrong, in the most unexpected way.

Dick hadn’t expected anyone to be at Damian’s game, but he sure as hell expected Damian to be there.

“Hey,” he said to one of the other adults standing around, “all the kids are out on the field already, right?”

Belinda, who was one of the grandparents that came to every school event, glanced at him and then looked around. “You’re looking for your boy? I swear he was here just a moment ago…”

“That’s okay,” Dick said, trying not to show how much this was already freaking him out. “He’s probably popped into the bathroom or lockers for something. If he comes out, could you let him know I’m looking for him?”

“Of course, sweetie.”

It was funny – Dick had expected judgement when he’d first enrolled Damian in school here, with himself as his guardian. At the very least, he’d expected rumours. But maybe he wasn’t around enough to really hear any, or oblivious to them, but it seemed as though everyone in Damian’s class had just taken it in stride that their situation was the way it was. Only Damian’s teacher – and anyone Dami wanted to tell – knew about Bruce, about Talia, that Dick was technically Damian’s adoptive brother.

Maybe it was the fact that Dick had expected this to go the way his own schooling had, back when Bruce had enrolled him at Gotham Academy all those years ago.

“Damian?” Dick poked his head into the locker room, cursing himself for not saying no to that extra shift and telling Damian to go to the school’s after-school care. It was a big game – they should’ve celebrated before, done something to hype Damian up. “You in here?”

There was movement, but Dick deflated when he realised it wasn’t his… kid. “You’re looking for Damian?” a timid voice asked, and Dick was faced with the biggest pair of glasses he’d ever seen.

“Yeah, have you seen him? I’m his… parent.”

“I know.” Glasses looked at him appraisingly. “I haven’t seen him since we left afters.”

“Since you—” Dick closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath. “Did he leave his bag here?” Where were all the teachers?

The kid shook her head. “We walked over here with all our stuff, and they locked up behind us.”

Dick opened his mouth to ask another question, and then realised that he was speaking with an eight-year-old. “Thanks for letting me know,” he said, flashing a forced smile. “Good luck out there.”

With that, he practically ran back out of the building, his gut churning at all the possibilities. Damian had never given any indication that something was—but he probably had, and Dick had missed it. He’d missed that something was up, that—unless Damian had been kidnapped.

But he’d run away before, a small voice in the back of Dick’s mind said. He’d run away from Bruce and Alfred, and Dick had been able to find him then, because he’d known Damian just a little bit better than everyone else in the city at that point.

It didn’t seem like that was going to be the case now.

Dick pulled out his phone and tried to call Damian, hoping he had his emergency phone with him and turned on. He cursed under his breath when it went straight to voicemail.

And then he began trying to look for one of Damian’s teachers, anyone who looked even remotely familiar. They kept getting parents to coach, so Dick wasn’t even entirely sure who the current coach was, and in the crowds with the opposing team, it was hard to spot anyone.

“Mrs Lutz!” Dick called, and the woman turned around, clearly surprised. “Hi, sorry, have you seen Damian?”

“Damian?” Mrs Lutz frowned a little. “Not since he left my class, dear. He told me he was to report to afters, so I sent him with the group.”

“Apparently no one’s seen him since they left to come here.” Dick ran a hand through his hair, trying to ignore the fact that his heart was pounding hard enough to jump out of his chest. “Do you know who was in charge of afters?”

Mrs Lutz had already taken off at a brisk pace, and Dick jogged a little to catch up. She marched straight up to a tiny stick of a man, decked in a tweed suit and complete with a little walking cane. “Boris,” she said, “you were supervising afters today, yes?”

Boris glanced up at her, and then at Dick. “Yes,” he said, drawing the word out like a question. Dick resisted the urge to tap his feet impatiently; this was taking far too long. The kids had been out here for half an hour already – who knew where Damian might be now?

“My kid, Damian, was he with you when you came here?” Dick practically shouldered Mrs Lutz to the side, but it didn’t seem like she minded. “He’s about this tall,” he indicated to about his waist, “he’s got black curly hair, he’s a little… shy.”

“Yes, yes,” Boris was nodding, “he was with us when we left to come here. I assumed he was with the team warming up, o-or in the locker room—”

“Is there anywhere he might go?” Dick asked. “The school building, maybe?”

Mrs Lutz shook her head, and then seemed to change her mind. “You live near here, don’t you?” she asked. “How about Boris and I search the school, and you see if Damian went home?”

Dick blinked “Went home? It…” he had to turn around a little, so these adults couldn’t see him blinking rapidly, “it doesn’t really seem like Damian’s any happier there than he is here, lately.”

Mrs Lutz snorted. “That might be what it seems like, from your side of things, but Damian looks forward to going home. He doesn’t stick around on the play equipment, or try to read a few extra books or linger in the classroom after school’s done. He’s the first out the door the moment the bell rings, and you should see the way his face changes when he sees you.”

Dick didn’t know how to respond to that. “Uh,” he said. He didn’t know how to verbalise just how much knowing this, realising that an outsider could see Damian’s feelings when he himself couldn’t, meant to him, when his whole family had declared Damian to be an impenetrable closed book.

“You go,” Mrs Lutz was saying, “I have your number; I’ll give you a ring if I find him.”

Dick found himself running, not to his car, but along the trail that he and Damian had taken on the mornings before the arrangement with Roy. Just the two of them, walking through the underpass and Damian commenting that he’d like to learn how to graffiti, in a way that Dick knew was just the kid testing his boundaries. Dick had offered to teach Damian how to ride a bike, had even been looking into getting one second hand.

It'd reminded him of Tim, if he were honest. Tim and his skateboard that he’d named so fondly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Tim go to a skate park.

Getting back to their apartment took longer than Dick would’ve liked, even though he knew it was quicker by foot from the school playing field than it would’ve been for him to have gone back to the car and driven home. He ran up the three flights of stairs, taking multiple at a time, and then wasting precious time in front of the door as he dropped his keys twice in an attempt to unlock the door.

Surely Damian would’ve opened it, when he heard someone outside. But it was probably all the stranger danger instructions kicking in – finally – and he was more likely sitting in his room, headphones clamped over his ears to drown out the world as fully as he could. Dick didn’t care, right at that very moment; all he wanted was for Damian to be in their apartment, safe if not entirely sound.

The apartment was dark and cold when Dick stepped inside. His heart dropped when he noticed that Damian’s shoes were missing from their tiny little shoe rack beside the door.

“Damian?” he called out anyway, placing his keys in their place purely from muscle memory. “Dami? Are you here?”

Their home wasn’t large, and there were very few places to hide. If this were the Manor, then it would’ve been damn near impossible to find Damian if he really didn’t want to be found – Dick remembered several occasions in his own childhood where Bruce and Alfred had scoured the entire place and still not come near locating Dick, all because he kept choosing different places to cry in.

Dick poked his head into every room, checked under Damian’s bed, in his closet, behind the shower curtain. And then, finally, he called Mrs Lutz.

“Oh dear,” she said, her voice going all quiet. “I was hoping you had good news.”

“He isn’t there either?” Dick hadn’t held out much hope for Damian still lingering in the school building, but it cost him something to lose yet another option now.

“We’ve checked his building, the bathrooms. Unless he broke into the high school… but the security system hasn’t been turned off.”

“Mrs Lutz, is it okay if I call you back? My… I’m getting another call.” Dick almost hung up before she’d even responded, but he knew she wouldn’t hold it against him. He’d made bigger mistakes in the extremely short time he’d known her. “Roy? Roy, I need to—something happened, at the game—”

“He’s here,” Roy interrupted Dick’s stammering, cutting to the chase just like he always had. “Damian’s here. We didn’t know that you didn’t know – that you weren’t coming here; we thought you’d changed plans last minute with Damian coming here – and when you didn’t show up, we realised…”

Dick’s legs gave out, and he slid down to the ground, not even bothering to make it to the nearest chair. “He’s okay?” He barely got the words out, the relief and anger warring within him.

“He’s fine! Just… I don’t know what sort of misunderstanding you two had, but he seemed to be under the impression that you were coming here. I don’t—I think you should talk to him. About… y’know, giving up on soccer too.”

Dick scrubbed a hand down his face. “He gave up soccer?”

“From what I can tell. He seemed pretty confused when we asked him about missing the game – but like, in a ‘why’re you people so dumb’ kind of way, y’know?”

And despite himself, Dick huffed out the faintest laugh. “Uh,” he took in a deep breath and found it in himself to stand up again, and reached for his keys, “might take me a few minutes to get there. Left the car at the school when I came home to check for him.”

“Hey, I’ll get Mia to pick you up. She’s out on a juice run anyway, it’s no trouble.”

Roy got off the phone and stepped over to Damian, who sat quietly on the swing in Dinah and Ollie’s porch. His feet were flat on the ground, but he was wearing his hood over his head, and his back was hunched forward; Roy, from six months spent observing this kid, if only to have some sort of answer when Dick inevitably asked him rhetorical questions, could tell he was probably nervous.

“Dick’s not gonna be mad at you,” Roy murmured, sitting down beside him. “In fact, I bet you five bucks he’s going to wrap you up in the biggest hug the moment he sees you.”

Damian shifted beside him. “I know that,” he said, but his posture loosened a little.

Roy waited a little longer in silence, his own feet itching to push against the ground and have the swing rock back and forth. “You’re always welcome here,” he said. “You don’t have to be accompanied by Dick. Or if you’re having an argument with Dick, and you want to hide out somewhere…”

Damian turned to look at him, a little frown on his face. “You don’t need to continue playing nice, Harper,” he said frostily. “I don’t plan on running off before Richard gets here.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Roy said. “Just telling it like it is, kid. You ask Ollie and Dinah, or any of my siblings, or hell, Lian, and they’ll tell you the exact same thing. You’re family now.”

He didn’t have a chance to see what Damian’s reaction was to that, because at that moment, Mia pulled up in Dinah’s truck. Roy clapped a hand on Damian’s shoulder, and rose to meet them.

Roy had been right: the moment Dick saw Damian, he half jogged towards him, and then faltered a little before pulling Damian towards him and holding on tight. Damian didn’t seem to hesitate before wrapping his own arms around Dick. From where Roy stood, he could see Dick’s mouth moving, murmuring something that he and Mia couldn’t hear.

“Oi,” Mia called. “Don’t just stand there. Hal told me to bring a shittonne of juice, and between us there are three useful limbs.”

“If you brought anything green, I’m sending you right back to the store,” Roy warned, coming over to help. “Mi—how much juice does Hal think people drink?”

“Why’d you think I was going to come here instead of going to your game?” Dick asked, and immediately berated himself for not easing Damian into it. Then again, Damian wasn’t the sort of kid who appreciated being eased in, to anything.

Damian shuffled his feet against the wood of the deck. “You were speaking of dinner here, and expressed that you were regretful you couldn’t make it.”

Dick resisted the urge to run his hands through his hair, or sigh, or do anything that might indicate to Damian that he was feeling anything less than relieved. “Did you stop eavesdropping right before the conversation turned to Ollie saying we could come by anytime during the week? And when he said he was sad he couldn’t come to the game?”

Damian blinked. “He wanted to come to the game?”

“And apparently you aren’t even on the team anymore. I don’t get what’s going on with you, kid. You were… I thought you were settling in.”

“I tried all the things you wanted me to try,” Damian mumbled. “And they were alright. I didn’t want to spend too much time doing one thing just to have to move again in a month.”

“Move in a month? What gave you that idea?”

“You said that Tim’s coming to visit soon. And Mr Pennyworth might be as well.” Damian met Dick’s gaze head on. “Since they haven’t been here since we moved, I assume it’ll be to convince us to give up this madness and move closer to Gotham.”

Dick couldn’t help himself; he let out a relieved laugh. “Dami, you really think I’d let them uproot us, right when we’re finally at a good place here? We have a life, and—” His gaze betrayed him as his eyes shifted to the window, where he could see silhouettes moving around.

“Yes, Harper was quick to tell me he thinks of us as… family.” Damian was quiet for a moment. “We really won’t have to move back there?”

“Not if you don’t want to. I meant it, when I said I wanted a fresh start for us.”

But Damian still wouldn’t let it go. “Your family’s there,” he said. “Don’t… I thought you moved all the way here because of me.”

Dick didn’t know what to say to that, how to put all his complicated thoughts into words that Damian could understand. In the end, he settled for the simplest thing first. “You’re my family as well, okay? Bruce gave you to me to look after. He trusted me to raise you, and make sure you’re okay. That’s how I like to think of it, anyway. So even if I did come here because of you, it’s because I wanted to. You gotta understand, Dami, I wouldn’t’ve done any of this if I hadn’t wanted to as well. And… it’s different, and hard, and I have no idea what I’m doing half the time, but this is probably the best I’ve been since I lived in New York.”

Damian shifted beside him. “Then why’re you so reluctant to have them visit?”

Dick ran a hand through his hair. “Always with the hard questions,” he said ruefully. “Nah, just… they’re complicated. They wouldn’t judge us for living in a tiny ass apartment, but they would judge other things. I think Alfred might just have a conniption if he saw our TV dinners.”

“Would they judge us for living here and not moving back to Gotham?”

“Maybe,” Dick said with a sigh. “Probably. I don’t know.”

The urge to defend the rest of his family rose in him like a tidal wave, but he fought it down, because the truth of it was that he didn’t know anymore. He didn’t know how Tim was right now, didn’t know where Alfred stood with wanting Damian back in Gotham when he’d seemed so weary at the funeral about Bruce having lived and died there his whole life, and Cass had moved to a whole different country. Jason was MIA.

Dick had been trying so hard to hold together the fragmented pieces of their family, and it seemed like he had been the only one who’d even wanted that. If anything, he’d made things worse, because Tim was now back in Gotham, just when he and Damian weren’t. More than a significant part of Dick was worried about the upcoming visit, and what it might entail.

“Come,” Damian said suddenly, standing up. He stuck out his tiny little hand in Dick’s direction, and Dick, bemused took it and let Damian ‘pull’ him up. “We should go inside. Oliver has made vegetarian chilli for me and Connor.”

“And Emi apparently,” Dick murmured absentmindedly, letting Damian take him back inside.

The warmth of the house hit him like a physical barrier – Dick hadn’t realised how chilly it’d gotten, even during these early days of spring. They could hear voices from the dining hall, the clinking of cutlery every once in a while.

Damian walked into the room with no hesitation, and it made Dick wonder just how Ollie and Dinah had managed to get the kid to open up so fast. Damian had spent almost as much time here as he had in Gotham, before Bruce had died.

“You go on,” Dick found himself saying. “I’m gonna—bathroom.”

Damian looked at him a little uncertainly, but nodded and continued anyway. Dick stepped down the hall, intending on going to the bathroom and splashing water on his face, but couldn’t bring himself to stop eavesdropping.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dinah was saying. “You doing better?” Dick couldn’t hear if Damian responded to her, but a second later, there was the sound of a scraping chair. “Here, there’s a spot next to Lian.”

“That one’s for you—” Shuffling, chair scraping, and the sound of dishes moving around. “I added eggplant this time, like you wanted before, so if you hate it, it’s on you.”

Was it a sign that Dick was a bad parent if he couldn’t picture what Damian’s face looked like now, couldn’t tell how he might respond? But he wasn’t surprised when Damian said, “It would be impossible to ruin a dish with eggplant.”

Dick almost snorted at that, some of the tension in him easing.

“Dick’s not coming?” That was Roy, and Dick quickly ducked into the bathroom before he could hear what Damian told him.

Dick hadn’t spent quite enough time in this house to know the ins and outs of it, especially not when Hal was staying by either. But he wasn’t surprised to find that there were no extra brushes or toiletries down here; Hal was probably sharing Dinah and Ollie’s bed.

He wiped his face with the spare towel they kept here, and when he heard footsteps outside, he opened the door. “Hey. Didn’t mean to make you get up from dinner.”

“I was finished a while ago.” Roy was watching him. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, spoke with Damian…” Dick shook his head. “It’s funny, I was debating whether or not to call you the moment he went missing. Would’ve saved everyone a whole heap of worry if I had.”

Roy leaned against the doorframe. “Then call next time,” he said. “I know how your pretty little brain works. If Damian was missing, or he’d run away, or even if you guys’d run out of bread for lunch, you can call. It’s not a bother.”

Pretty little brain. Roy’s compliments ever since he and Dick had slotted themselves back into each other’s lives had been strictly friendly, nothing like the flirty speech he’d perfected back in New York, nothing like the awkward teenage slang he’d used when they’d been kids. Dick had just thought that Roy had wanted to establish boundaries.

“I know,” he said now, finding that it was easy to smile. “But I’m sorry to break up dinner anyway. Let me make it up to you? All of you?”

“You don’t have to,” Roy started to say, and then seeing the look that Dick was giving him, changed tracks. “Sure, why not. If this is anything like the time you wanted to plan a surprise party for Garth—”

Dick half-heartedly punched Roy’s shoulder. “That was my first ever attempt at baking! You were older – you should’ve known better!”

Roy shrugged, and when he turned around, Dick was distracted by the gleam of Roy’s ear piercing. “C’mon, I’ll tell Damian about how Ollie’s cooking was when he first tried feeding me. You won’t believe the heart eyes the kid’s giving the potatoes.”

“Y’know,” Ollie said conversationally, “Dick’s a single parent.”

Roy blinked. “What?”

“Dick’s a single parent, you’re a single parent…” Ollie did some wavy gesture with his hands. “In fact, Hal asked us last night if you two were thinking of moving in together.”

“Hal did not.” Roy was only half sure of this, because Hal would’ve at least asked Dinah rather than Ollie. “What’re you trying to do, set us up?”

Ollie snorted, adjusting his gardening gloves. “Setting up wouldn’t do a thing with you two,” he said. “But I can’t help but thinking.” He shifted so he was leaning against the garden bed they’d just prepared, shovel dangling from his fingers. “I think it’s better, the way you’re doing it now.”

Roy officially had no idea what was going on. “What I’m doing now,” he repeated dubiously.

“Look, all I’m saying is, I had my doubts when Dick first arrived, and with a kid too. I thought the pull of Gotham would be too much for him again, and I’ve seen first hand how hard it is to raise a pre-teen on your own, with no family around you to help.” Ollie nudged Roy at that. “And you weren’t even half as prickly when I first met you.”

Roy nudged him back, settling down beside him as well. “If anything, you made me prickly.” He regretted it the moment he said those words, having had a different meaning to them than the one he knew was going through Ollie’s head right now.

“That’s part of why I worried,” Ollie said. “You two had your fling back in college, and the way you are when you love someone… you’d follow Dick to the ends of the earth, and I don’t think I’ll ever meet a single person you bring home who I’ll think deserves that.”

Roy heaved out a breath. “I know how you feel about the people I’ve dated—”

“Donna was nice,” Ollie said mildly.

“And yet you refused to meet her when we were dating,” Roy responded.

“I knew her since she was a kid! What did I have to meet her again for?” Ollie shook his head. “I just… worry. About Dick. The problems you two had the first time, they weren’t even about yourselves.”

Roy knew what Ollie wasn’t saying, the fact that the thing that had ended him and Dick before they’d even crossed into the realm of serious had been Dick and Bruce.  

“But you don’t have to worry about me and Dick. I’m… even if I wanted something, I wouldn’t. Not right now, anyway. You know how Dick thinks – if things go badly, or if he doesn’t want to start something, he’d overthink things, probably avoid the whole family. And right now, he and Damian need all the support they can get.”

Roy didn’t know how much of that he was coming up with on the spot, because he also knew that if Dick asked him on a date, or did something as simple as reach over in the car and grab Roy’s hand, Roy wouldn’t refuse him. Roy wouldn’t even think about refusing him.

Roy didn't know if there was any part of him that was capable of refusing Dick Grayson, and at this point in his life, with all the decades he'd known Dick, he'd come to accept that, rather than find it thrilling or fearful, that one person might hold this much power over him.

Ollie looked at him for a moment, and then reached over to pull Roy’s hat down over his eyes. “Look at you all mature and adult. You grew up way too fast.”

“Someone clearly had to,” Roy said lightheartedly, just before flinging a shovel-full of dirt at Ollie. "Now what's this about Hal leaving before the barbeque?"

Ollie's smile seemed to slide off his face. "You know how Hal is," he said, looking away. "I don't know if there's anything we could do to make him stick in one place. Dinah would probably be the same, if it wasn't for the shop. Any day now I expect her to tell me we're taking this baby on the road."

It wasn't like that, Roy knew, though he didn't know how Ollie didn't. It was more that Hal's sense of responsibility was too great. Maybe it was easier for Ollie to tell himself that Hal didn't want to stay, rather than admit that Hal did, probably more than anything, and couldn't bring himself to.

"Look at us shmucks," Roy said, wiping a hand over his brow and grimacing when he felt the dirt and dust of his hand smear. "Gone for guys who take their responsibilities too seriously."

"They wouldn't be our guys if they didn't. C'mon, kid, I think I saw Connor making lemonade in the kitchen." Ollie pulled Roy up, holding him steady when Roy stumbled a little.