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The crowd’s cheers came muffled into the backstage of the tent. The equestrian acrobats finished prepping their horses while the Flying Graysons added the final touches to their costumes.
Dick kept twitching and pulling on his unitard, excitement mixing with nervousness. He couldn’t wait to be on the trapeze: all the way up there his family and him would fly for the public, shining under the projectors. But the earlier confrontation with that Zucco guy still loomed at the back of his mind.
His mom finished tying a vest around his dad’s dragon form: their act was all about defying gravity, so they tied their wings together to really sell the show and put the public on the edge of their seat. It was a routine procedure, but this, night, Dick felt uncomfortable.
The youngest of the aerialists shifted into his dragon form and preened his feathers again. The repetitive motion always helped him get excess energy out of his body.
“You’re ready, Robin?,” his father asked as he approached the young boy.
Dick shifted back and nodded.
“Yeah.”
The man left out a hum.
“You really sound nervous.”
“I… just can’t stop thinking about the guy from before.”
“Our director took care of it, you don’t have to worry about anything, son.”
Dick’s dad ruffled his hair and gently hushed him toward his mom. He greeted the strong man as he came back from his performance when he saw an unfamiliar silhouette lurking near the technical systems. A chill run down his spine but before he could say anything, the ring master’s voice called their names. Dick took a deep breath, trying to ignore the feeling of doom in his stomach and focus on the show.
—
Dick snatched another pillow from a guest room. He stepped back into the corridor on the tip of his toes, looking around to make sure no-one was awake, and swiftly made his way to the room he got assigned at Wayne Manor. The young boy struggled to call it his, but with Bruce allowing him to custom pretty much whatever he wanted, the place felt a little less… cold. But didn’t feel like his room, nor did the Manor feel like home.
The young man reached the door of the bedroom and opened it slowly to make sure it didn’t creak. Thankfully, the hinges were oiled and carefully maintained. The hinges in Dick’s trailer at the circus always made a small comforting noise whenever he used it. The boy dropped the pillow in his hands on top of the dozens spread in a loose circle on the bed. He climbed in the middle of the makeshift nest and rearranged it to his likings. But as he changed to his draconic body and nuzzled in his space, he found his heart aching for more. The pillows smelled like lavender, not the stronger cinnamon. They were bare with no hand sewn patterns while the fabric was really dull in colour. They felt comfortable, much like any pillow, but… they also felt cold, absent…
Dick started to pluck the feathers on his chest. He spread them around his nest, ignoring the pain stinging the bare part of his skin. The amphitere hoped they would bring more warmth, more softness… anything to make the ache of loneliness go away.
A whine escaped his mouth and his body shook as his sobs grew stronger. The young boy tried to stay as silent as possible, not wanting anyone to come. He wasn’t ready to deal with Bruce or Alfred. He wasn’t ready to deal with anything, the sorrow threading to burst his chest. He just wanted to be with his ma and pa, to feel their weight against him as he fell asleep.
A knock startled him.
“Dick, are you ok?”
The amphitere hissed and shifted to his human form. The wyvern’s insane level of hearing really crept Dick out.
“Go away!”
The door slightly opened and Bruce poked his head inside.
“I heard you crying, I just wanted to make sure you’re ok.”
“I’m fine.”
Bruce stared at him. Dick stared back. After a few long seconds, Dick broke contact and hid in his pillows.
“I want to be alone.”
Heavy steps made the floors creak as Bruce approached him.
“Did you pluck your feathers?”
“Go away. I told you I’m fine.”
Dick hid his face in his pillow. He hoped the man would take the hint and leave but soon enough, he felt the side of his bed sink. The young boy turned his head to glare at the man before pulling a blanket over himself.
After a long moment of silence, Bruce’s weight shifted and he asked:
“Do you want tea? Alfred often brew me a cup of chamomile when I couldn’t sleep after my parents’ death.”
Dick hesitated, before peaking from his pillow.
“I…want cinnamon tea.”
Bruce nodded.
Dick got up and followed his guardian into the kitchen. The tall man quickly found Alfred’s tea stash and pick out a bag full of the bark extract. As they waited for the water to boil, Dick sat at the large kitchen table while trying to avoid making eye contact with Bruce. The young boy shifted his weight around, an awkward feeling picking under his skin.
“Do you often pluck your feathers?” Bruce asked.
Dick froze..
“No.”
“You’re feeling worse lately?”
“I’m fine.”
The boy put his arms on the table and buried his face. He could her faint drum of his mentor’s finger against the marble furniture while the whistles of the kettle grew louder. After a few more minutes, Bruce turned off the stove and fetched two cups before setting the hot drinks in front of them. Dick grabbed the cup, blowing air onto the hot tea. Once cooled down, he slowly sipped the drink. It tasted almost like at home, yet something was missing… Maybe sugar? He couldn’t remember what his parents added to his tea.
“I miss my parents.”
Dick’s words escaped his mouth after a long moment of silence.
“I miss… being able to curl under their wings. I…I miss playing with their feathers or… or performing with them!”
His voice grew louder with despair like the pain in his chest.
“I want them to be there ! I want to be on stage by their side! I want them to preen me and sing me to sleep!”
Dick sobbed and tried to wipe his tears away. His body shook and ached, his chest tightening under the pain. Soon enough, Bruce sat next to the young acrobat and grabbed him under his arm. Dick leaned into the man’s side, his cries growing louder. He whined as Bruce brushed a hand in his hair, a motion both his parents liked to do.
After a little while, Dick’s sobs receded, leaving his body exhausted and shaking. He sniffed and looked at the tea on the table, probably lukewarm if not already cold. Still he reached for it and finished the spicy drink. Bruce leaned to grab his own tea and the two fell back into silence. Then the man got up and put the empty cups into the dishwasher. A deep feeling of longing pierced through Dick’s heart and the boy took a deep breath to ask:
“Can I stay with you tonight?”
Bruce turned to him with a surprised but sad expression.
“Of course.”
Dick’s guardian picked him up and made his way to his bedroom. The boy then decided to shift to his dragon form and wrapped himself around Bruce like he did with his dad. The man readjusted his grip and kept on walking. Once in his room, Bruce suddenly sat on the floor before shifting too. The large wyvern wrapped his wings around the small amphitere. The dragonet curled against his chest, the warmest point of the reptilian where his fire is created. And with the tip of his wing claw, Bruce gently went over Dick’s feathers to clean them from dirt.
-
The afternoon sun casted a golden hue over the Titan’s living room. Dick and his team, as well as a few other heroes, lounged in the lazy warmth of the headquarters after a long international mission across countries. The vigilante sat behind Donna as he braided her hair and helped his friend find a cute haircut.
From the corner of his eye, he looked around the room and all the heroes enjoying the evening: Garth, Victor and Garfield played a game on the extra large TV while Kory and Cassie happily chatted further away. Raven floated a few inches from the ground with a large book in her hands near Kon and Bart, who helped Tim remove the leftover pieces of his shedding. The drake clawed at the floor with irritation at the long process. Behind Dick, Wally and Roy were enthusiastically (but loudly) telling the latest exploits of their kids as they basked in a warm spot. Damian and Jon tried to catch their tails, and the two older heroes indulged in their game while still holding up their conversation.
With a content smile, Dick finished tying Donna’s hair and held one mirror behind her.
“This style’s better?”
Donna held up the second mirror and nodded.
“Yes! And can you take a few pictures?”
“Sure.”
The young man snapped photos with his friend’s phone until she turned around and asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Has anyone helped you with preening yet?”
Dick chuckled.
“Not yet, but it’s fine. I like helping others better.”
Donna shook her head and got up.
“Come on, you deserve some pampering too.”
“I’m ok, I swear I don’t need-”
A growl cut him short. Tim rushed in front of Dick and made a disapproving noise.
“You keep yapping about itchy feathers but you don’t do anything about it! We can help.”
“I promise you two I’m fine!” Dick argued.
Another growl. Dick looked at Donna who crossed her arms and looked at the vigilante with a stern look. Wally popped up next to her with an identical expression on his snout, and the vigilante could feel both Roy’s and Damian’s glare drilling the back of his skull
“Ugh, fine.”
He shifted and spread his wings for easier access. The little group got together to clean the dirt from the few scales Dick had and remove the sheath still stuck to his feathers. For a short minute, a tug of sadness pulled at his heart who still missed his parents’ affection. But as he was being cleaned up, Dick soaked in the warmth coming from not only the sun passing through the windows, but also from the presence of his friends and family around him. Then the amphitere slowly drifted to sleep, happy to feel the weight of a few others joining in for a nap.