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Dick takes a sip of champagne, staring at the intricate oil painting framed meticulously on the ruby-red walls.
“Yes, yes, very pretty. Let’s go, Neal.” Peter grumbled, elbowing the (triple) con man in the arm.
“Give me a minute.” Dick carefully brushed his fingers over the area where Damian should be.
The portrait was empty, at least to Dick.
Steph on the furthest left, Tim beside her, arm crouched on her and Cass’s shoulder, Alfred next to Cass, sending a sentimental smile towards the three, Bruce sitting on a plush velvet sit right smack in the middle. Even Jason was a small blur at the back; the artist had clearly started painting him before deciding not to and trying to erase him.
Damian should be there. He wasn’t the internationally deceased triple con man. For Heaven’s sake, he was Neal Caffrey, but Dick Grayson; and his whole family thought he was dead, except for the obvious Bruce Wayne.
Dick swallowed a lump of air.
The people around him; laughing at the portrait.
Did they not see the tightness in Bruce’s shoulders, the way Alfred seemed burnt out, the way Cass’s eyebrows are creased slightly, Steph’s too-wide smile, Tim looking like he was holding in a deep breath?
His stomach twisted in an uncomfortable knot that he hadn’t felt for the longest time.
“Neal.” Dick spun towards Peter’s worried expression, putting on his most convincing smile to mask his significant grief, gripping his wine glass tightly.
Peter bought it. After all, there were very few people who could read Dick Grayson that weren’t family.
“Timothy Drake-Wayne’s arrived. I’ll go and do the usual no crime boss protocol.” Peter said, motioning to the familiar raven-haired teen that was not supposed to come here. Dick held back a shocked gasp. He chewed on his cheek, worried.
This was going to bust his mission, wasn’t it?
“Wait. Don’t tell him about me. His assistant and I have some bad blood.” Peter rolled his eyes and nodded, stalking over to where the teen’s back was conveniently facing Dick.
Dick eyed Peter as they talked for nearly twenty minutes, leaving Dick to fidget anxiously.
Dick flopped onto a black leather covered seat at a cream silk table, pouring himself more champagne.
He looked down at the kid next to him who’s face was covered by the table-mat, reaching down to tie his shoelaces.
Dick chuckled at the sight, stirring his glass elegantly in a way Alfred had drilled into him. The kid huffed angrily as he fought with the table-mat before popping out of the table.
Dick’s breath caught.
Damian?
Oh right, he was drunk.
Damian’s eyes widened as he stared at Dick before heavily leaning back on his chair, eyes dull in comparison to the shining lights above them.
“I miss you.” Dick smiles slightly as he sends a fond look at Damian. Damian looks surprised.
“I miss you too, Richard.” Damian used his first name. Well, he is a hallucination, so he’ll do whatever Dick wants him to.
“You know, the only reason I took up this job to completely betray our family? You, Damian. Without you, I didn’t have a reason to stay there.” Hallucination Damian seems taken aback. Did he really think Dick didn’t care about him? Dick could scoff at the thought.
There was not one universe where Dick didn’t love Damian like his life depended on it, he bet.
“When I came back from the dead, all I could think about was you, Richard. If you cared enough to come get me, because you weren’t there. Quite presumptuous and egoistical of me, I must say.” Damian stared up into the high, painted ceilings, a creeping hint of sorrow in his voice.
“I would never. I would have gone, but-“
“Your deceased. Yes. You are probably in Heaven, that’s why I didn’t see you.”
“Weren’t you in Heaven?” Damian shook his head, and Dick inhaled sharply.
“Let it be, Richard. It is painful enough you are of my imagination; do not behave like yourself. It makes it far more strenuous to leave you.” Damian’s eyes were glinting the slightest with tears, jaw clenched tightly.
Dick just wanted to hug him.
But his heart would break.
He knew his hands would pass through nothing but air, and he would be sitting next to nothing but an empty seat soon.
Dick let it go, albeit reluctantly.
He wouldn’t waste his precious time with Damian.
“Would you… have come and found me? If I had gone to Heaven as well?” Dick hated that his imagination created such a realistic Damian. It would make it so hard to part with the kid.
“Without a single doubt. I would have.” Dick stated the words with such sincerity that Damian couldn’t help but believe him.
“Neal? Time to go. All out suspects have been interrogated.” Dick forced down the lump in his throat as he sent Damian one last look before mournfully following Peter out the building.
“Why were you talking to Damian Wayne? Do you know him? Are you in trouble again? Are you drunk, Neal?” Peter asked him a multitude of questions as they neared the van.
Dick stopped in his tracks, nearly getting hit by an incoming car.
“What did you say?”
“Are you drunk, Neal?”
“No, about Damian Wayne.”
“Do you know him?”
“You can see him?”
“He’s was reintroduced to the public nearly half a year ago, Neal. Keep up with the times.”
“Are you sure that was him?”
“One-hundred percent. Now, can we go?” Dick’s heart blossomed with hope for the first time in a long time.
He turned around in the parking lot, sprinting towards the building again.
He burst into the huge room, wildly searching for Damian.
He spotted him silently lurking at a corner of the room, dragging him outside in one quick movement.
“Damian!” Dick eagerly grabbed his shoulders, eyebrows raised in incredulity. Damian blinked before carefully laying a hand on Dick’s hand.
A moment of silence passed before Damian clutched Dick in bone-crushing hug that the man returned.
“Is this- real?” Dick whispered, gingerly patting Damian’s back.
“Is it?” Dick barked out a laugh at Damian’s sarcasm, though he made no move to let Damian go.
“How are you alive?”
“How are you well and breathing, Richard?”
“Spy thingies. Bruce knew.”
“Chaos shard. Apokolips. Father knew?”
“Aren’t you going to tell me I’m an ass for hiding, for doing this at all?”
“Don’t you already know your an ass? I don’t really see the point in me having to bother with it.” Damian wasn’t even trying to hid his grin, standing proudly with his hands on his hips beside Dick.
The door beside them burst open to a mildly vexed Peter and a ruffled Tim who dropped his glass of wine when he saw Dick, staining the carpet.
Dick winced.
“Oh, Alfred’s not going to like that.”
“Your alive?! Damian, why didn’t you tell me?” Tim pointed an accusing finger at Damian.
“I just found out, Drake.”
“Mr. Drake, do you know my CI?”
“CI? You’ve really fallen off the deep end, huh?”
“Shut up and come here.”
“Do not step two inches further, Drake. I will not hesitate to cut off your toes.”