Chapter Text
The city stirred before the sun did.
A low hum built beneath the quiet filled with distant sirens as Gotham’s crime never ends, the occasional rumble of a train, and the soft rush of early traffic threading through Gotham’s veins.
But above it all, lighter and brighter, came the birds.
Their calls wove through the dawn, sharp and insistent, spilling through the air like the first breath of something new. Their songs were bright and returning, a chime to let people know that Winter had finally loosened its grip and would let the world begin once again.
It was the call of Spring.
Dick inhaled slowly, eyes still closed, a faint smile tugging at his mouth as he listened. For a moment, he let himself stay there half-asleep, wrapped in that soft, in-between quiet where the world hadn’t fully caught up to him yet.
Then he turned.
His hand slid across the bed beside him, reaching without thinking, seeking warmth.
Except, he only found cold sheets and an emptiness beside him that he felt echo in his heart.
Dick’s eyes opened.
The smile faded, not entirely, but enough to soften into something quieter as he stared at the empty space beside him. His fingers lingered there for a second longer, pressing lightly into the mattress as if that might change anything, before he exhaled and let his hand fall back to himself.
Right. Dick frowned, the pang in his chest growing slightly more painful. I’m alone.
He pushed himself up slowly, running a hand through his hair before reaching for his phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up dimly in the early light, and his thumb moved almost automatically, scrolling and tapping away, until he found the message.
Grant’s last message to him.
It was only a couple days old now.
“Might take longer than expected. Won’t make it back in time. I’m sorry.”
It was a very simple and direct message. Very Grant.
Dick stared at it for a moment, his mouth pressing into a thin line. It wasn’t unexpected—not really. Grant had told him ahead of time, had warned him the moment things started stretching longer than planned. And it made sense.
Most of Grant’s contracts weren’t small, quick jobs that could be wrapped up neatly in a day or two; they were long, complicated, high-risk assignments that required a level of precision and endurance most people couldn’t maintain. People didn’t go to Grant—or Slade—unless they wanted something done right, clean and final, without loose ends or mistakes.
That kind of work didn’t allow for distractions. It didn’t bend for birthdays.
Dick had known, logically, that this would happen. Missions didn’t pause just because the calendar said it should matter, and neither of them had lives that could afford to stop simply because things had… shifted between them.
And things definitely had shifted.
Since Valentine’s Day—since the Monarch Theater, since Dick had finally stopped running and taken the step forward instead of away—everything had changed. He’d walked into that theater expecting it all to be a joke. Instead, he’d been met with something absolutely real and steady and that had been there for years without him fully understanding it.
Grant hadn’t been joking. Hadn’t been exaggerating or caught up in the moment.
He loved him.
He had loved him for years, and Dick, for all his emotional intelligence, for all his ability to read everyone else, had somehow missed it. Or maybe he hadn’t missed it. Maybe he had just been too afraid to name it for what it was.
But accepting to be Grant’s Valentine’s—accepting him—had been the best decision Dick had ever made.
And ever since they’ve gotten together, everything had felt… easy.
Easy in a way that still caught him off guard when he thought about it too long, because he had expected it to be complicated, expected there to be some kind of adjustment period where they had to figure out how to be together. But there hadn’t been. It had felt natural almost immediately, like slipping into something that had always been meant to fit.
Their kisses had felt right from the start: familiar in a way that made his chest ache, like something he’d been missing without realizing it. Their dates hadn’t been forced or overly planned, just the two of them moving through the city, talking and teasing like they always had, only now there was something softer threaded through it, something warmer. And the mornings—Gods, the mornings—waking up tangled together after a long night, neither of them in a rush to move, content to just exist in the same space, to share quiet touches and sleepy smiles and the simple comfort of not being alone.
It was all so easy and, dare he say, perfect.
Which, that, was the strangest part of it all.
Besides the closeness, the intimacy, the way their touches lingered longer and meant more—nothing had really changed.
They were still them. Still friends. Still partners in every way that mattered.
Just… more.
Better.
But just because they were together—and didn’t that make Dick smile and blush like a teen all over again—that didn’t mean everything else stopped.
Grant still took contracts. Still disappeared for days at a time when something ran long or complicated. And Dick—Dick still went out every night, still moved through Gotham as Nightwing, still lived in a world where timing rarely worked in his favor.
He knew that.
He also knew why this contract mattered so much.
Grant had told him just enough—not the details, never the true details of it—but enough for Dick to piece it together.
A little girl had got caught in the crossfire of something she had nothing to do with and how her life had been turned into leverage for men who didn’t care what lines they crossed. So now, she was in the kind of situation that didn’t allow for failure. The kind that needed someone like Grant—someone who wouldn’t walk away until it was done, until she was safe, until there was no longer a threat left standing.
Dick’s chest tightened slightly.
It was hard to be upset about that.
Sad, sure. He missed him, missed him in a way that felt sharper now that he knew what it was like to have him fully. But if it came down to it—if the choice was between Grant being here or Grant making sure that kid lived—
There wasn’t a choice.
There never would be a choice between that.
But it didn’t stop the small, sharp twist in his chest or how he wanted to cry like a child all over again because the man who had spent years with him on his birthday, the man who was finally his, wasn’t here with him.
Dick huffed softly under his breath, shaking his head as he dropped his phone onto the bed and swung his legs over the side.
Dick sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face as he pushed himself up from the bed, forcing his thoughts to settle.
There was no point in lying here and letting himself spiral, no point in clinging to that disappointment when he had known, from the very beginning, what loving Grant would look like. This distance, this unpredictability, these missions that ran longer than expected were all part of their relationship. It always had been, even if their relationship’s title changed from friends to boyfriends.
And Dick had chosen it anyway, chosen him, because what they had was worth it.
Even on days like this.
His phone buzzed suddenly in his hand, pulling him from his thoughts. Dick blinked, glancing down at the screen as a new notification lit up.
A joyous birthday to you, Richard. May this year bring you light, victory, and peace. You are deeply loved. — Diana
He stared at it for a second, surprised.
He read it once, then again, then again, before something soft settled in his chest.
Then another message came in. Then another.
His brows lifted slightly as more names followed—people he hadn’t been entirely sure would reach out this year, not after everything. Not after Spyral, after the distance and the tension that still hadn’t fully settled.
Then his phone buzzed again, and he blinked at the name lighting up the screen: Babs.
Dick froze, his thumb hovering over the screen. Babs, of all people, he hadn’t expected her to text him. Not this year at least, not after the way things had ended between them, and not after she’d made her feelings clear about him and… Grant.
He opened the message slowly.
Happy Birthday, Dick. Hope you have a good one.
That was it. Short. Simple. But for a moment, it might as well have been a floodgate opening. He had expected nothing. He had expected silence, maybe even the cold shoulder he’d sometimes feared she still held. Yet here it was: a little thread of connection with her still reaching out.
He thought about Grant, about how complicated their old triangle had been.
Back then, he hadn’t understood why Barbara had been so upset whenever Grant came up. But now… he realized.
Grant had always loved him fiercely, truly, and in ways Dick hadn’t fully recognized at the time, just as he had loved Grant, though he hadn’t been able to name it.
A quiet, soft warmth settled in his chest.
Babs’ message wasn’t just a text, it was a reminder that even when things were messy, even when feelings had tangled, she still cared about him.
After Barbara’s message, just as Dick is letting the surprise settle in, another notification pops up. He blinks, smiling before even seeing the name: Kori.
Happy Birthday, Dick! We need to hang out soon so you can tell me all about what you’ve been up to. I miss you and love you always! <3
Dick chuckled quietly, shaking his head as a warm, lighthearted feeling spread through him. Kori always had a way of making him feel noticed, of reminding him that even with all the chaos of their lives, there was still fun, laughter, and loyalty around him.
Dick let out a small breath and smiled and that smile only grew bigger as not only did Babs and Kori text him, but so many others did as well. After everything, after he lied to all of them, people he cared about still wished him a happy birthday.
One message after another appeared and something in his chest eased.
His phone began to blow up with names from countless years of training, of history, of people who had helped shape him into who he was now. Not all of them had long messages—he saw a few and decided he’d have to go back and read them all the way—but each wished him birthday wishes and remembered.
They hadn’t forgotten him—or, more likely, ignored him.
Dick huffed out a quiet breath, a small smile returning as he pushed himself up and headed toward the bathroom, phone still in hand. He propped it against the counter as he grabbed his toothbrush, scrolling absently through the messages until one caught his eye—a video.
From Clark.
He tapped it open.
The screen filled with familiar faces—Clark, Lois, and Jon—all crowded a little too close to the camera, slightly off-center and clearly not rehearsed.
“Ready?” Lois said, laughing softly.
Jon bounced slightly where he stood, barely contained excitement lighting up his face.
And then they started singing.
It was off-key, a little chaotic—especially when Jon began to fly and knock into them in his excitement—but completely sweet and genuine.
Dick laughed around his toothbrush, foam threatening to spill as he leaned forward against the counter, shoulders shaking slightly. He let the video play through to the end, watching it twice before finally rinsing his mouth, his smile lingering.
More messages waited for him when he looked back down and he just set his phone down for a moment, bracing his hands against the sink as he met his own gaze in the mirror. The earlier tightness had eased, replaced with something steadier and warmer with each ping.
He wasn’t alone.
Even if it felt like it, even if it felt like everyone wanted nothing to do with him now, he still had people who cared about him.
People he loved dearly.
He dressed quickly after that, moving through the motions with practiced ease. His clothes were quickly yanked on, his messy hair was pushed back into something manageable, and his phone was tucked into his pocket. The apartment was just a little bit less quiet around him as the city began fully waking up beyond his windows, light creeping in where darkness had been.
He rushed to the door, ready to head out to his first stop of the day, but before he left, he paused, his hand resting on the handle. His shoulders stilled as that quiet, disappointed feeling crept back in.
The feeling that reminded him that he was going to head out to celebrate his special day without the one person he really wanted beside him all day.
Dick closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose before shaking his head once, firm.
He didn’t need Grant. He had other people he loved and who loved him back. He had a full day ahead of him.
Just because his boyfriend wasn’t here—just because the absence of his lover lingered a little heavier than he wanted it to—didn’t mean he was alone.
And these silly feelings certainly didn’t get to take the whole day with it.
Dick straightened, rolling his shoulders back as he pulled the door open.
“Yeah,” he muttered to himself, voice light despite everything. “Not today.”
And with that, he stepped out into the waking city to head to his first stop: Wayne Manor.