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Stephanie's brows knit, then raised.
“...Oh my god...you've never been on a date before, have you?”
Damian decided that in retrospect, this was probably worse than just trying to figure something out on his own.
It was a stupid question, because of course he hadn't, when would that have happened.
Addmittedly, it also stung to be reminded that he was so...unversed in many standard adolescent experiences.
Because who else would have been stupid enough to say yes to a moody, petulant, abrasive--
“Whoa, hey, Damian come back--”
She caught him right as he was about to climb back out through the bedroom window he'd used to pay her a visit. He gripped the sill like it also deserved to be in pain.
“I'm short on time, Brown, so if you are unwilling to offer me the assistance I require--hag!”
Steph yanked him by his collar back into the room. It would have been an insane thing for most to attempt, but they'd reached a point in their relationship where Damian wouldn't have considered meeting her with any actual violence.
...Though, even if that was not the case, Stephanie Brown was indeed crazy enough to make the attempt anyway.
Their level of comfort and trust was also what afforded her the ability to cup his cheeks without risking a bite.
“Hey, I'm sorry, okay? I wasn't trying to tease you, I know you're kind of...in a constant state of panic over this boy--”
“I'm not--”
“I just forget sometimes how much we tend to miss out on. I actually think it's worse for the kids your age, at least I...well. I mean I wouldn't recommend my teen years to anyone, but I guess if we were doing a point-by-point comparison--”
“Stephanie, please--”
“Sorry, sorry. How can I help?”
Damian searched her eyes for traces of mockery, then relaxed some when he decided she was clean.
“I...want him to like me.”
Judging by Steph’s hastily hidden baffled squint, Damian decided that maybe he'd relaxed a bit too much and shouldn't have said--
“...Didn't he just ask to be your boyfriend?”
“...Yes--”
“And didn't you meet his parents?”
“Yes--”
“And doesn't he tell you he loves you constantly? I've heard him say it at least once every time I've seen you together for more than three-and-a-half minutes, so I can only imagine what he's like when you're alone--”
“Suffocating and shamelessly needy--”
She nodded. “Sounds about right. So just...baseline we need to be able to accept that he likes you. Okay?”
Damian fidgeted before he thought to stop himself. “...It is not that I do not believe him, rather that I...I want him to continue. Liking me. Assuming it will just continue without effort on my part would be foolish.”
Steph let go of his face after a moment, leaving him feeling both relieved and disappointed.
“I mean that's not a terrible way to look at it, but I'm completely sure you're going to use it to be as insane as you possibly can--”
“Fuck you!”
“--So what, you need ideas? There's plenty of nice restaurants in town that haven't been bombed in the past year or so, I'm sure he'd be happy with any of those swankier joints. Honestly, he'd probably just be happy to get a burger and fries with you--”
“Why do you keep--why on Earth would I want to settle for the bare minimum that he'd appreciate because he doesn't know any better?”
She snorted and went to sit down on her bed. “Not everyone is going to feel the need to make you work for their affection and respect.”
Damian scoffed. “Don't lie to my face.”
“...Oh, oh that wasn't a joke. Oh god. Oh my god.”
“What did I do now--?”
“Come sit with me and I'll help you figure out a plan that won't leave anyone in tears, okay?”
Damian paled. “You...think I'm likely to make him cry--”
“SIT YOUR ASS DOWN AND STOP THAT!”
He did.
No one was ever actually still. Muscles twitched and moved constantly, the body made little adjustments to keep its balance--breathing needed to happen. For most people. Kent forgot sometimes, but he was twitchy for other reasons.
Even still, Damian noted that Conrad was almost cartoonishly incapable of being at rest. He'd wiggle, or bounce or rock on his heels. The only time he was mostly still was when they were holding each other.
But the fidgeting he was doing at the table, the way he kept adjusting his little violet bow-tie, was clearly a nervous expression. Before Damian could figure out how to ask him if he was okay without making him feel called out, Conrad cleared his throat.
“Gee, Birdie, this is like...an anniversary spot. I think we're the only people here under 40. I wanna think that's why the staff keeps staring at us, but ehhhh...”
Damian barely managed not to wince. Shit. “Oh. I didn't...If the ‘vibes’ are off, we can always go somewhere else--”
“No! No that's--It's really nice! It's a cool place. I guess I just feel a little...Okay so, that restaurant you and your dad took us all to? When you met my parents and--”
“There's no way I could forget an experience that almost resulted in both myself and my father crying in public.”
Conrad snorted and covered his mouth. “Oh my god. Okay, fair. But that place was like...the ceiling of fancy we'd been willing to think about. So this is like being on Mars. Which isn't bad, I'm not complaining--”
“You can complain if you're not having a good time, I don't want to get in the habit of pretending things aren't as they are with you. I'm...tired of that.”
Conrad’s eyes widened and he bit his lip, likely to signify that he was thinking.
“...Part of loving someone is being willing to step outside of what you're comfortable with to meet them where they are. If you can deal with hotdogs and spaghetti, I can get used to dining with folks that would 100% call the cops on me if they saw me in their part of town after 7pm.”
Damian suddenly realized that he'd misunderstood where the problem stemmed from, and considered kicking himself. He decided against it however, and instead laced his fingers on the table and did his best to look like he knew what he was doing.
“Ah. I...didn't consider that. I suppose I'm so used to being constantly watched that I didn't register this as any different, but--”
“We have to kill this before we derail the date by getting into an apology loop.”
Damian searched Conrad's eyes for frustration and disappointment, and when he only found fondness and amusement, managed to relax again.
“Right. You're very good at getting me to apologize, that's a rare skill.”
Conrad smiled and rested his chin on his fist. “But I'm trying to get you to stop thinking you have to all the time. Also, what is a sunchoke?”
Damian perked up, glad to have a question with a definitive solution.
“Oh, they're tubers native to this continent, with a nutty, slightly sweet flavor. A type of sunflower plant. If you're considering the king crab that features it, I think you'll enjoy it. I haven't had crab for many years of course, but as I recall, the texture and sweetness of the meat are in line with your preferences, and--why are you looking at me like that?”
Conrad was cupping his own chin in his hands and looking upon Damian with a warm intensity that both frightened him, and made him want to move closer, though the table arrangement forbade that.
“It's just nice to see you excited about something. You practically glow. Kinda rude, really, that's my bit.”
Damian smiled.
“Shut up.”
They'd ended up in Robinson Park after dinner, sitting near an old fountain that hadn't been operational in years. Conrad was clinging to Damian like he was afraid he'd slip through his fingers. Damian couldn't admit that he loved it, the smothering, but he stopped offering token protests.
Conrad’s warm breath on his neck nearly made him shiver, though. “Wanna hear something embarrassing?”
Damian scoffed. “Fascinating to learn you can register embarrassment, yet don't preface everything you say with that question.”
“I could just say something lewd and filthy instead--”
“Fine, fine, say your thing.”
Conrad chuckled quietly and pressed his lips gently to the side of Damian’s neck before sitting up.
“I can't swim.”
“...Really?”
“I know, I know. And my folks are from an island, so it's even worse.”
“Why haven't you learned? You have the natural flippers--”
“Hey!”
“You could save so much on diving gear--”
“My feet aren't that big! I'm just a size 11!” It was almost a whine.
“Oh, so you can call my feet small, but when the clown shoe is on the other foot--”
Damian laughed at how aggressively Conrad wrapped him in another crushing hug. He didn't have the upper-body strength to actually cause him discomfort, but Damian still offered a half-assed wiggle as protest.
“You're so annoying.”
“I assumed that was what made you so hot and bothered by me.”
Conrad snorted. “Maybe, maybe not. Besides, you asked me out first, so if anyone is simping--”
“It's still you--”
“It's still me, yeah.”
Damian giggled softly at that and allowed himself to lean into the embrace.
“So, why bring up the swimming thing?”
“Oh. I was gonna ask if you'd teach me this summer.”
“Yeah?”
Conrad nodded meekly. “Yeah. I wanna go to the beach, I love the beach. But I wanna actually get into the ocean this time, cause I know that's where you'd be.”
“You've neglected to learn to swim for 16 years and suddenly want to, just to be closer to me?”
“Not ‘neglected.’ I'm...afraid of large bodies of water.”
Damian's eyebrows lifted. “You’re thalassophobic?”
“Nerd.”
“Wh--that's the word for it--!”
Conrad winked at him. "Oh, I know. But yeah. Dunno why. Completely irrational. Anything deeper than a bathtub freaks me out. So I just...I've never been able to stay calm long enough to learn.”
“So...so you're willing to defy a phobia on my behalf? I suppose that's romantic, but--”
“No, no it's more like...I'm not scared of anything when you're around. So I figure it's a good opportunity to learn.”
Oh, that was even more sentimental and ridiculous somehow.
Damian kind of wanted to cry suddenly, which was bizarre.
He didn't.
“...Ah. I see.”
“Mhmm. You ever go to the beach?”
“I'm well acquainted with sand and water. I don't often feel called to spend recreational time with them.”
His breath hitched when he felt Conrad’s hand slip under his shirt. At first he figured it was just more flirting, but then a thumb traced one of his more prominent scars, and he realized where the other boy's mind had gone.
“We could find a private beach? Or go after hours. So you can take your shirt off, I mean.”
Damian swallowed. “That's...that's not why I don't go to the beach.”
“No, I know you don't go because you hate fun. But I also know that I've never seen you wear short sleeves in public. So...you know, the basic deduction is that you prefer not to have people ask why you've been stabbed so many times. Or at all, because most people I know have not been stabbed once, much less..." Conrad paused. "...w-wait, how many times have--”
“I'm not telling you the number.”
“...Ooooh? You gonna make me count by hand?" It came out somewhat huskily, a purr that Catwoman herself would have been proud of.
Damian eeped when he considered what that would mean, and what it would...feel like. He couldn't help but start wiggling a little more intently.
“N-no, that's not the logical--we're getting off track!”
“Fine..." Conrad's long fingers spidered higher up Damian's side, clearly intent on pulling a squeak out of his chest that he refused to provide. "...Do you want to be able to take your shirt off at the beach, then?”
“I could just wear a rash guard”
“That's not what I asked, puppy.”
“I thought I was a bird?”
Conrad didn't answer immediately, and when he did, Damian thought he almost sounded a little strained.
“I didn't mean to call--stop distracting me! If you don't answer the question--"
Damian sighed. “...I suppose. So...yes, perhaps privacy would be good.”
“Bet. We'll go to Cape May.”
Damian made a face. “Really?”
“Yeah, we're not going to Cabo or whatever, we're going to the Jersey shore, we're going to buy terrible boardwalk food, watch tourists be...themselves, and then when the sun goes down, we'll skip over to a quieter beach and have a good time.”
“...That does sound somewhat...charming.” Damian admitted after a moment of feigned deliberation.
He could have sworn he heard Conrad's ring chirp. “Right? Oh! Maybe we can have, like, beach se--”
“Stop while you're ahead.”
Duke was fairly sure he shouldn't let Conrad sit on the batcomputer desk, but he was completely sure that he didn't care, and so continued updating reports while his fellow fluorescent adolescent idly kicked his feet and rambled on about his date.
“...So yeah, as soon as school gets out, Imma drag him around all summer doing stupid shit, ‘cause I know he'll like it. He's honestly so...easy to impress with average person stuff? He grumbles sometimes, but I think it's mostly out of habit at this point. He usually just wants to be held. Has anyone ever held him before? Apparently he was grown in a pod, so I wouldn't be shocked if he never got cradled as a kid--”
Duke’s head snapped up at that. “Sorry, what?”
“Oh! Did...did he not mention that? Was I not supposed to tell you that? Oh fuck, was that a secret, I didn't know that was a secret--”
“Shhh, hold on, calm down...” Duke pulled open Damian's file and scrolled to the ‘early life’ section. “...Whoa. Nah, not a secret, it's here. I just never...wow. That's kinda fucked up.’
“It's so fucked up! Everything he tells me about growing up is kinda fucked up! Super fucked up, even. And like, he tries to avoid telling me things that he thinks are fucked up, and that means the stuff he doesn't hesitate to tell me are things he just...doesn't realize are as bad as they sound! Like...dude...”
Conrad hadn't been wearing his mask, so when Duke looked back over at him, the distress in his eyes was clearly visible. It was kind of precious, maybe a little dramatic, but he got where the guy was coming from. He didn't disagree, either.
“Yeah. He's had a...rough time, can't deny that. He's a tough kid though, he'll be okay.”
“But he shouldn't have to be. ‘Tough,’ I mean. I wanna make it so he doesn't have to be anymore, so he can just be safe, and happy, and...himself.”
Duke bit the inside of his cheek. “What counts as him being ‘himself?’”
Conrad squeezed his eyes shut and winced for a beat before continuing. “When it's just us, and he's sleepy enough to not feel embarrassed about liking things, you know what he rambles to me about? Art supplies.”
“'Art supplies?'”
“Art supplies. And art trivia. It's never old stories about fighting villains or going to space or weapons or anything. He just wants to talk about oil pastels, or tell me why Artemisia Gentileschi was important, or geek out about a new way he's figured out he likes to shade fur. I can barely draw circles, but when I listen to him I wish I had the patience to learn to do more. To be more. It's never about work unless I have a question or we're debriefing from patrol or he's talking about one of his friends. I think if he could justify it to himself, he would just make art, spend less time getting shot at. But it's like...you and me, we started doing this stuff because something went really wrong and we decided we were going to fix it. I like helping people, you like helping people. But with him it's like...he has to. You know?”
Duke sighed. “...Yeah. I know. But you can't deny that this is a part of him. He does like being Robin. Likes being able to fight, likes helping people. I think he'd want to even if he'd grown up normally. It would just be less intense, maybe. What I'm saying is, 100% he feels like he has to, but I don't think it's fair to say that's the only reason he's still doing it. It doesn't have to be either/or. I don't think it can be.”
Conrad sagged under the weight of that.
“Yeah...yeah I know.”
Duke sat up and gave Conrad's forearm an affectionate squeeze. “You're doing plenty of good already. You'll never get him to quit, but you can help him balance. You just gotta keep your head, too.”
“I keep my head! I'm so cool and normal--”
“Baby bro, please don't start.”
Conrad’s voice caught in his throat and Duke thought he looked almost shy for a breath before shaking it off.
“...Yeah, okay, I'll keep cool.”
“Good man. You're with me tonight.”
Conrad visibly perked up at that. Duke could even see him emit a short burst of ultraviolet radiation.
“Really?”
“Yeah, that's why I'm even up right now. I wanna get familiar with your game. Maybe show you a light trick or two.”
Conrad popped off of the table and adjusted his jacket and shirt.
“Fuck yes! Can I ride on the back of your bike? I've never been on one. I could probably have asked Damian, but I dunno, I don't want to seem clingy.”
Duke couldn't help but chuckle as he joined Conrad in standing.
“Can't have Damian thinking you're clingy. Yeah, sure. C'mon.”
Damian didn't listen to their conversation intentionally. At first. They didn't realize he’d been deep in the cave checking on a new clutch of baby bats. They also didn't realize how well sound carried in that part of the place. He'd planned on finishing with the bats before popping out to startle the oblivious and chatty fireflies...but then he became the topic of conversation. So he lingered.
Those two were supposed to be the ones that liked him, and he needed to make sure that was still the case. Not because he didn't trust them, but because deep down he figured his novelty would wear off eventually.
Assuming that their love would continue to be offered without effort on his part would have been foolish, after all.
But no, they still cared. A lot, apparently.
He decided that was probably worse.