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Of the major cities in the Northeast that Sam has spent any amount of time in, Bludhaven is by far his favorite.
Gotham and New York are too full of themselves, too certain that they’re the center of the goddamn universe. Bludhaven is more like DC—the real DC—where people actually live and work. Bludhaven doesn’t take itself too seriously, and Sam likes it here, and that’s about half the reason he comes here when asked.
The other half is sitting next to him, legs swinging carelessly over the ledge of a skyscraper, heedless of the drop below.
Dick Grayson is interesting in a way Sam can’t quite explain and hopes he’s never asked about by anyone else. There’s just something about the way he never holds back that Sam’s always found attractive, something about his willingness to help that Sam can’t help but admire, and something about the way he swings out into the abyss that reminds Sam uncomfortably of himself.
It’s probably not really Sam’s place to bring that last part up. But if he doesn’t, maybe no one will. And he’d rather bring it up and lose Dick’s goodwill than not bring it up and lose Dick entirely.
Sam’s wings are folded neatly over his emergency parachute on his back. Dick’s grappling gun is laying on the roof between them—there is no emergency parachute in his skin-tight uniform.
“What happens if you miss?” he asks.
“What?”
“If you miss,” Sam repeats, nodding his head at the grappling gun. “What happens?”
“I try again,” Dick says.
“And if you miss again?”
Dick’s ever-present grin slips off his face, briefly revealing something darker and uglier before he covers it back up with shrug.
“Then I guess I fall.”
He says it nonchalantly, like it’s not something he ever thinks about. But Sam’s been there before, playing that game of roulette, throwing himself off of heights and not caring whether he makes it to the ground in one piece.
There’s a spiderweb of fault lines in Dick’s facade, and if Sam presses too hard he thinks he might crack it entirely. So he doesn’t.
“I would miss you, if you weren’t around anymore,” he says instead.
Dick’s shoulders relax a fraction when he realizes Sam isn’t going to push the issue. He pulls a lopsided smile back on his face, one that’s not very convincing now that Sam’s seen beneath the mask.
“Do my best not to make that happen,” he says, reaching out to hold Sam’s hand.
It’s not quite a promise, but it’ll have to be good enough for now.