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It had taken Dick a while. After all, he was still learning Damian’s tells, his quirks. And the man still kept so many secrets.
But it made sense in the end, finding him here.
And, as he parked the bike, as he walked slowly through the grass, around the mansion, under the entrance gates, he realized this might be why Damian insisted that they didn’t live here.
It still hurt too much.
He wasn’t hard to seek out, even amongst the dark shadows. The gravestone was off to the left, a few rows back. Right by Bruce’s parents.
Damian was kneeled in front of his father’s memorial. Cape melting over his whole body, head bowed, cowl back. The rain plastered his shaggy hair to his gray face. It was the look of a man who’d lost everything. The look of grieving. The look that Damian never let anyone see. Not the public, not his family, not his friends. Dick only saw it on accident. Only saw it because he caused that look himself once, a few weeks ago.
Dick wasn’t planning on sneaking up on him, but he didn’t want to disturb his mentor either. The man valued his quiet time. But when he accidentally kicked a rock, he knew the jig was up. Damian’s shoulders tightened, and Dick rushed to his side before he could turn to face him.
And he didn’t think. Didn’t plan or evaluate. Just threw his arms around Damian’s shoulders. Held him tight. Squeezed, as if the gesture alone could translate his empathy faster.
He felt Damian try to pull away, just slightly, but then gave up, instead reaching up and taking hold of Dick’s arm. “Grayson…”
“He’d want you to be happy, D.” Dick said, though sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “And he’d want you to be safe. And…and he’d want you to not hide your feelings from us. From Alfie and me, and…”
“I know.” Damian sighed, barely audible over the rain. “I just…miss him.”
“Me too.” Dick whined, leaning their heads together. “We all do.”
They lapsed into silence then. When Dick looked down at Damian’s face, he realized it wasn’t just rain pouring down his face. There were tears, too. He didn’t say anything, though. Knew Damian would be embarrassed.
“Maybe we should head home.” Dick suggested. “Cut patrol short for the night, go back and get warm. I bet Alfred will make cider for us if we ask nicely.”
“We will. In a little bit.” Damian promised. “I just…I just want to stay here a little while longer.”
“…Okay.” Dick agreed after a moment, as he released Damian’s neck and plopped down next to him. Damian glanced at him, and he grinned. “Sounds good to me.”
Damian pursed his lips, then returned the smile with his own soft, grateful one. After a second, he reached out with his cape, draping it around Dick’s shoulders and slightly over his head, blocking the rain.
“Father wouldn’t want you to get ill on my account.” Damian claimed royally.
Dick laughed, and leaned into Damian’s side. Damian not-so-reluctantly allowed it. “Thanks, Damian.”
Damian slowly closed the cape back around them, his smile remaining even as he looked back to Bruce’s tombstone. “Thank you, Grayson.”