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Halloween. The night where they threw candies and ran around the dimly lit Gotham.
Dick loved Halloween; it reminded him of going trick-or-treating with his parents and running around as Robin with Bruce as the sweet smell of candy and blood infused the air and infected his nostrils.
So Dick had suggested Damian and him go on patrol together, go trick and treating. The latter had vehemently denied it, shouting his usual banter about not being a child. Dick just grabbed his scowling brother’s cape and jumped into the Batmobile.
It was a quiet night until the Joker attacked, though he was taken down effortlessly.
Damian proudly showed Dick his batarangs covered in blood; Dick cheerfully clapped and pushed the Joker’s limp body into a horrified Jim Gordon’s hands.
“The psychos just keep getting younger and younger,” the older man sighed, taking a whiff of his cigarette before chucking it onto the floor and kicking the Joker’s body down the stairs.
“Come on! We’ll be just in time for the good sweets at the rich part of the neighborhood!” Dick exclaimed, cartwheeling off the building.
“We are the rich part of the neighborhood Grayson.” Damian fondly replied, clearly exasperated.
-
“That was fun wasn’t it?” Dick asked, looking at Damian from his position on the ledge of the rooftop, munching on the Mars Bar he has stolen from him.
“Did you take my chocolate bar, Grayson? Tt, it was adequate. Not enjoyable worthwhile nor beneficial, but adequate.” Dick laughed at the stoic tone of Damian’s voice, handing him a gumball.
Suddenly, a loud ring rang out from a speakerphone. Immediately alert, Dick motioned for Damian to peer down.
Below was a police officer who looked scared out of their wits.
“Guys? Uh, I’m new here, but like can you come down?” Dick shrugged, turning to Damian. No harm right?
In a few seconds they were beside the troubled officer.
“God, you guys are younger than I thought. Uh, so you guys can’t jump onto and off buildings like that okay? It’s dangerous. You could die.” Dick held in a laugh as he watched the officer’s face pale at the murderous glare Damian sent him.
“Thank you for the concern, but we’re trained professionals. Yes, even the kid.”
“But your willingly putting yourselves in danger-“
“Neal?” Oh come on. No way Peter was in Gotham. Of all days.
Damian groaned, slapping a gloved hand to his forehead.
“Your names Neal?” The police officer incredulously asked.
“No..Yes?” Dick tried, nudging the small figure inhaling coffee sweets like his lifeline beside him.
“Stop chewing on Airheads and help me!” Dick hissed as Damian made a face of digust.
“These airheads are truly for airheaded and shameless people like you Nightwing. So sweet.”
“Bro! Why are you droning on about airheads!” Dick muttered, clamping his head in frustration.
“Neal? What are you doing in a costume? Isn’t Gotham completely out of your radius?” Peter demanded.
“Halloween! I dunno who this Neal dude is my name’s Dick!” Dick cheered, throwing up thumbs up signs.
“Dick?” Peter asked, cocking his head.
Dick sighed. Time to let the truth come out but in the most unbelievable way ever.
“Sorry guys, I’m actually Bruce Wayne’s son, and I operate as Batman on odd Sundays.” Dick sent Peter a beaming smile, and started sprinting away.
“Neal! Get back here!”
“My names not Neal!”
“I fucking hate my job,” the officer cried out, tears dramatically rolling down his cheeks as he banged on his car in desperation.
“Want a salted caramel toffee to go along with those tears?” Damian asked, holding out a sweet.
“No-Actually you know what? Yeah. Yeah! Thank you. Aren’t you gonna follow him?”
The only response the officer got was Damian smacking loudly on a gumball.