Work Text:
Prompt: Dwelling
Damian sighed as he nudged his way through his art supplies scattered all over his desk. He usually kept his space agonizingly organized, not a thing out of place. Everything had an area, and everything had a spot, it would be put in it. But as he ran his hand through his hair, which he also always kept very neat and orderly, mucking it up from the styling he had put it in this morning, anxiety pooled in his stomach. A feeling he wasn’t the most acquainted with. He hated it.
He looked at the piece he’d made, a painting, and grit his teeth. There was something wrong with it. But he couldn’t place what. It was pissing him off. It had to be perfect.
“Little D?”
Damian turned to the door that was now ajar, his oldest brother peeking in, an easy grin on his face.
“What,” Damian bit back, annoyance seeping into his tone.
Dick shrugged it off, used to his youngest brother's hostility and pushed the door open more, barging into the room as if he had any right to be there. Which he didn’t. It was Damian’s private room. His art space was sacred.
“Marinette will be here in a few minutes, Steph said she’s willing to distract her if you need more time, but I suspect you’re done.”
“Well, you’re wrong.”
Richard’s eyes flicked over to the piece of art situated on the easel. He looked back towards the boy who had grown so much since they’d taken him in after his mother had dropped him off in Bruce’s care. He raised a questioning eyebrow, the disbelief blatantly clear in his eyes.
“It isn’t done,” Damian hissed.
“What’s it missing?”
Damian growled, the sound low and deep in his chest, “that’s the problem!” He threw his hands in the air as the frustration clawed at his chest and begged to be released, “I don’t know!”
Richard studied the piece again, tilting his head to look at it from other angles as well. He narrowed his eyes as he examined it, as if he was qualified to do such and could tell if something was any less than perfect. But still, Damian found himself hoping that his brother could place what was wrong with it because he needed someone to tell him.
“Looks good to me,” Dick shrugged, once again unhelpful.
“Get out.”
“Look, Damian,” Richard sighed, shoulders slouching as he shook his head.
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“That’s too bad then,” Dick told him as he moved to step in front of the painting to block his view of it. As if out of sight really did lead to out of mind.
“What then? Spit it out.”
“She will love it, whether you think it's perfect or not, it is because you made it for her with her in mind. That is what makes it perfect. She’ll treasure it forever. You know that.”
Damian felt the fight drain out of him, swirl down the sink and leave him dry, “I know.”
“Then why are you pushing yourself so hard on this?”
“I just…”
Dick waited for him as Damian trailed off, his eyes glazing over as he got lost in his head someplace that the oldest of the Wayne’s could not reach or see. Only wait for him to return and hopefully present it for him so he could dust off the top layer and reveal the gold beneath.
“You just?” He prompted after Damian didn’t continue.
“What if she realizes?” Damian said in a voice that just didn’t seem like his brother. It was almost… scared.
“Realizes what?”
“That I’m not good enough for her? That she deserves better? That I’m just an assassin, bred to be inherent of the League and trained to be the perfect weapon. I wasn’t meant for this life.”
Dick slowly approached the boy, allowing him time to move away if he needed. When he didn’t, he took that as his sign that it was ok and wrapped his arms around him, “You may not have been born for a life like this, but this is the life you have, and you’ve been growing every day. You’ve learnt how to live and how to break away from your training and become the best version of you you can possibly be. And no, maybe you’re not perfect. But who is? I can guarantee you Marinette does not guarantee you to be. After all, you remember when you met. You were still that brash kid who threatened anyone who dared even look at him wrong. She’s known you and seen you at your worst and she loves you anyway. It’ll be ok.”
Damian gripped the back of his shirt as he buried his face in his shoulder. The boy was not one for physical contact but sometimes, they could break him out of his shell. It was moments like this that Dick patched into his memory, wanting to hold onto them forever. He lost his family when he was young. He never had siblings. He didn’t think he needed any when he was just a boy. He had his mum and dad, and it was them against the world. But now, standing here, he couldn’t imagine a world without them. He realized he needed them just as much as they needed him. And now that he has this, he doesn’t plan on letting them go. Not again.
Damian pulled away slowly, Dick releasing his arms after one last squeeze to his shoulder. Damian cleared his throat, nodding and looking away from him.
“I understand. Thank you, Grayson…” Damian hesitated then corrected himself, “Thank you Richard. ”
Pride swirled in Dick’s chest, and wasn’t it funny how just one small thing could fill you with such warmth and pride and love?
“Anytime, Little D. I’m always here for you, ok?” He looked down at him earnestly.
“Understood,” Damian finally met his eyes again and offered him a slight smile.
Dick stepped aside again so Damian’s eyes once again laid onto his piece, “Now that you have fresh eyes, why don’t you look at this again and tell me what you think is missing?”
Damian walked over to the piece and studied it. It was a depiction of a sunset on the Pont des Arts. The water reflected the sunset into soft hues of orange and red and pink. The trees with leaves flying off, waving in the breeze a light green. The buildings in a way that wasn’t as geometric as Gotham and held a beauty he struggled to put into words. The clouds a hazy dusting on the sky that held the remaining sunrays. The fence lining the bridge full of life and love, shown clearly through all the locks clicked into place, the river below surely full of hundreds of thousands of keys to them that will never be used again. Two silhouettes at the end of the bridge walking hand in hand. Taken before the locks were removed from the bridge and banned altogether. A moment he got to experience before it was too late with the only person he’d ever want to do it with.
“I know what it is,” he murmured as he picked up a paint brush and quickly got to work.
Dick watched silently as he worked and when he stepped aside, he smiled widely.
“Now it’s perfect,” Damian smiled softly.
“Yeah, it is. Let’s go get your girl,” Dick bumped their shoulders together.
Damian nodded, fighting to keep the smile off his face as he rinsed his brush and followed his brother out the door.
They left the painting to finish drying, the red heart lock displaying ‘Damian & Marinette’ reflecting the studio lights as the door shut behind them.