#dickanddamiweek2021

[sufroyo]

[Image description: Nightwing and Robin are sitting on a bench in the Batcave. Nightwing is grinning as he ruffles Robin's hair, who is adjusting his boot as he tries to elbow Nightwing away playfully. Other members of the family are scattered around the cave in the background. END ID.]

dickanddamiweek2021, Day 7 - Nicknames / Hidden Injury / "Are you happy?"

i took my liberties and ended up with more of an answer to the prompt,,,,,,but thats a wrap!! (°▽°)/ thank u to the folks @dickanddamiweek for hosting this event i had tons of fun creating and seeing everybody else's works!! 💙💚

[coleroz]

Dick&Dami Week, Day 5: First "I love you"

(Over a day late because I didn't get the chance to post this until now (-_-))

[mlim8]

Finger Stripes - Dick and Dami Week Day 1 - #JustSiblingThings

BONUS PATROL SCENE UNDER CUT:

Day 1 - #JustSiblingThings for @dickanddamiweek​

So I had this idea for a few months now, ever since this outfit of Damian’s in Infinite Frontier was shown. LIKE HE HAS FINGER STRIPES AND YOU WANT ME TO NOT THINK IT’S BECAUSE OF HOW MUCH HE ADMIRES DICK?? 

This is a liberal take on the Day prompt with the “SiblingThings” being Jason teasing the crap outta Damian but also Dick and Dami just hanging out :’) Finding something to relate to together.

[s2pdoktopus]

What if they are slightly better at emotions

My ramblings are here ⬇️

You have unfortunately chosen death.

This is just crack to be honest.

This is just a what if Bruce gets stuck in time for a bit longer. Just enough for Dick to convince himself that, yes, he can be a good parent to Damian. Just enough for Damian to be comfortable with his place, at least, in Dick's heart.

Anyway, when Bruce came back, the did is done. He's kinda too tired to process everything tho and shut off the situation for a while. When he did get his bearings back, he has already seen how happy both were and chose to never bring it up unless Dick and Damian themselves opened up to him. Not that he'll berate them if they do.

The press was on this strange situation for a while but when the stubborn Waynes kept their mouths shut, soon enough they got tired of asking.

They make conspiracy theories instead.

Tim wisely ignored the growing complexity of their family tree, sometimes wondering if, even with his detective skills, he can figure out how to draw it. Since he's way past that education level and only Damian might get such assignments, he stopped worrying over it. His younger bro-- nephew(?) Is a great artist so maybe he can map it out.

The entire batfamily aside from Damian is aware of the competition between Dick and Bruce. While Bruce accepts the whole... Thing. It doesn't mean that he's gonna back down from trying to give Damian affection. Or winning Damian's attention. Not that it should be a competition but somehow, it became just that. Emotions are weird, okay?And even if he was okay, he's still jealous.

The Batfamily sees this, wonders how he'll treat Damian if there was nothing to prove or fight for. Secretly they all agree that, even if it hurts to see the stoic Batman fight for his own flesh and blood's love (or trust even, Dick did god's work gaining that), Damian is doing well with Dick, achieved a lot of personal milestones with Dick and gets the best of what their cold, dark, detached family could offer from Dick. They all secretly wonder aloud, when the comms are off (they are EXTRA careful about this) if he would ever try with Damian if there was no competition at all.

There is still the argument of who Robin should be with during patrols, they all make bets when this happens. So far, Steph has collected 50 dollars from their new gambling game.

Jason finds it amusing and like Tim, stayed out of the drama. He stayed away from the manor really and kept them all away from his life in general. He doesn't really hate them. But "like" is not the right word either. Even then, the cold war between the Bat and his golden child reaches him. He doesn't really complain about this either.

An example of this "war" happens on the Demon's first birthday as Dickie's son which happens to be also Bruce's first time to celebrate the occasion with him. A party is to be thrown and invitations are sent. Jason is pleased to receive an invitation from Dick AND an invitation from Bruce. They are completely different in design but has the same information. He prays for the others who are affiliated with both.

When Kori asks him who Dick's child was and why was she not informed (because of course Dick is just slightly better at managing his life from canon) Jason just told her to attend and meet the baby boy herself. He blesses his family's poor communication skills and imagines all of Dick's friends loosing their shit over "Dick's baby".

[grousemouse]

Yes, Dick gave Damian the novelisation of Cheese Viking.

This is my entry for Day 1 of Dick and Dami Week for the prompt, “Did you really mean that?”

[ID: A comic featuring Damian Wayne sitting cross legged, holding a book open titled ‘Cheese Viking’. He asks Dick Grayson, “Did you really mean that?” Dick’s hand reaches down to affectionately mess up Damian’s hair, replying “Of course, Lil D! Every single word.” Damian looks annoyed, and attempts to swat away Dick’s hand. Dick’s hand retreats, and Damian looks fondly down at the book, where it is revealed that Dick wrote ‘Lil D, I’m so proud of you. -Big D’ inside the cover page of the book. END ID.]

[incorrectbatfam]

The Hardest One-Syllable Word

Dick and Dami Week day 5: Dami Calls Dick “Baba” | First “I love you” | “You’re not my father!” “I am well aware.”

Summary

Talia does not understand how Dick Grayson can throw the word “love” around like it’s free (nor how Damian goes along with it).

Talia almost did not recognize her son.

The way he entered the quaint coffee shop, his backpack slung over his shoulder despite having two straps, was not the Damian she knew. The way he said “what’s up” and engaged in frivolous small-talk with the barista as they concocted his fruity drink was not the Damian she knew. His turtleneck was a carbon copy of Bruce Wayne’s; the Jane Austen book under his arm had Jason Todd’s name written along the spine; the sleeves pushed rather than folded up resembled Timothy Drake. Even the tune he hummed under his breath sounded like something his Kryptonian friend would listen to.

It wasn’t just the inconsequential details. When he sat down, she could tell something fundamentally changed.

“Hello, Mother.”

She cleared her throat. “Hello, Damian. How have you been?”

He folded his hands hesitantly. “I have been well, Mother. And you?”

She followed his eyes, for they were not looking at her. They looked at the scratch on the tabletop and followed the swirling patterned wallpaper behind her. Anywhere but at her. Talia’s first instinct told her he was hiding something.

“As have I,” she said.

.

.

Read the rest on Ao3

@dickanddamiweek

[harpist-errant]

Dick and Dami Week 2021

Art Edition (goes along with anipologist/Riverdaughter’s a thing with feathers)

Both have the theme of “Did you really mean that?”

Re-draw of this....dreadful panel. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out, especially since this is my first shot at drawing Damian.

[preciousthingsareprecious]

Out of Sight

Guys! Here it is is!! Dick and Damian week! I am obviously super excited. I’m loving all the content you all are posting, and I’m here to share a fic of my own.

Day 2: Dami’s First Birthday with Dick / Comfort / “He’s my son!”

Summary: 

“I’m looking for my little brother, he’s ten, this high with black hair and has a green bowtie.” Dick held his hand out to Damian’s approximate height.

“If I see him I’ll send him your way, now please.” the man waved Dick towards the rest of the crowd.

He shook his head, “You don’t understand, I think he’s still inside. He was supposed to meet me if we got separated and he hasn’t yet I need--”

The man’s face fell, and with it Dick’s heart.

“What?” he almost growled, “What’s going on?”

Ao3 Link

~

“So there Bruce is, standing in front of the most gorgeous lady I’d ever seen laughing like she’s not just stunning and--”

There was a tug at his elbow. Dick ignored it and continued with his story.

“And I’m 16, slack jawed, and carrying a blue raspberry slurpee. So of course I’m going to trip over my own two feet.”

This time it was an elbow in his side. Dick shifted a bit. The two women he was talking to didn’t seem to notice.

“One foot catches another and down I go. I thought for sure I was going to faceplant, but someone caught me. When I looked up, I saw Bruce, absolutely coated in my drink! He was-- Damian please .”

His little brother had closed the distance between them and dug his heel into Dick’s foot. When Dick looked down at him, the boy was all innocence, foot already snapping into place beside the other. A trick he was regretting teaching Damian right now.

“I do not mean to interrupt, but our tickets to The Pirates of Penzance say we are to arrive ten minutes early and if we do not leave soon we will be late.”

Damian was laying on the innocent act really well. They had no plans to see the musical. In fact, Damian had vehemently rejected Dick when he’d asked him a few weeks ago if he’d wanted to attend. So this act, for that’s what it had to be, must have been a ploy to go home early. Most days, Dick wouldn’t mind the kid giving him an out from social affairs, but this wasn’t something he wanted to miss. Lucius had specifically asked him to come.

They were in the middle of a special party thrown for Wayne Enterprise’s new hires. Everyone, from full time staff to interns, who’d been added to the staff in the last six months had flooded into the building’s first floor ballroom, they’d brought family along with them and friends. Dick was pretty sure there were people here who had nothing to do with the staff, but had shown up for the open bar alone. Lucius had stressed how important it was for them to meet at least one of the Waynes, and of how inspiring it’d be for Dick to give a stirring speech.

Dick made a show of checking his watch and beamed down at his brother, “We’ve still got some time, I promise I won’t let us be late, alright?”

His brother puffed out his cheeks and pressed his lips together, obviously trying to decide if it was worth it to keep the eager child routine up. At last he nodded, a single sharp nod.

“Fine. Then I will amuse myself elsewhere.”

With that, the kid spun on his heel and stomped away.

Dick shot the ladies an apologetic smile, “One second, I want to make sure he’s not upset. Then I’ll be back to regale you with the story’s thrilling conclusion.”

“Of course.” one of the women smiled.

He darted after Damian, and ahead of the boy to walk backwards until Damian stopped with a huff. They were in a crowded room, but somehow Damian had already made his way to one of the few quiet bubbles.

“Want to tell me what that was all about?” Dick asked.

Damian crossed his arms, “I simply do not wish to waste any more time with these plebeians.”

“Aaand?” Dick pressed.

The boy glared at him, “And it should be obvious.”

Okay, he was not expecting that. Dick wracked his brain for what he could have missed. Any signs Damian was upset? Any people who’d bothered him? Had he forgotten an important date or something?

“Remember what we talked about with using our words. Misunderstandings are made and broken by stating clear intentions.” Dick said.

“Tt. If you cannot remember, then apparently I am the one who misunderstood.” Damian snapped, and pushed past him.

By the time Dick turned around, his brother had melted into the crowd of unfamiliar faces. He swore. He wished he could remember what it was that had Damian in such a grumpy mood.

He thought back on the immediate. On Damian’s mood and actions over the course of the day. The kid had been happy enough when Dick had suggested they go to the meet and greet together. He hadn’t wanted to go alone, and he figured after they could do something after like go to the arcade or-- Oh .

“Crap.” Dick muttered.

They really were supposed to see that musical tonight. Days after Damian had told Dick in no uncertain terms what he thought of people who watched musical’s he’d barged into the Penthouse with three tickets to a showing of it at Gotham’s Summer Musicals in the Park event.

“It is something you enjoy doing, correct?” Damian had asked, “You and Pennyworth used to go?”

How Damian had figured that out Dick would never know. He didn’t think Alfred would have told him, not outright. It had been their thing, and Dick was hoping to advance the tradition.

And, well, lately Dick wanted to share everything with Damian. The kid had wiggled his way into Dick’s heart in a way that made him feel warm to think about.

“Damian!” he called, not too loud as to make a scene, but loud enough he hoped his brother heard him.

He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. Well, he could. He hadn’t known about this event until yesterday, and in the flurry of scheduling it and figuring out patrol in case it went really late all thoughts of fun had gone out of Dick’s head.

A short tuft of dark hair made for one of the hallways and Dick moved towards it. The next moment, someone was shouting.

“He’s got a gun!”

The words were followed seconds later by two unmistakable gunshots.

The crowd around him swarmed. Like a pack of terrified gazelle being chased by a lion, the room exploded into movement as the people all around him began running, pushing, and shoving in an attempt to get out of the building.

Dick was caught in the swell of people, his body being pushed towards the door before he could stop and find his brother.

“Damian!” he yelled this time, “Dames!”

He stopped, doing his best to plant his feet as a stone against the tide. His gaze ripped across the flood of people. Dick only had a moment before someone shoved him from behind and he was moving again, stumbling along with the crowd, jostled from position to position until he burst through the doors and the remaining rays of sunlight hit his face.

Dick tumbled out of the crowd as soon as he could, and went back to his search. He moved along the edges, knowing Damian would do the same. They’d drilled this time and again. Damian knew the rules, if they got separated in a crowd, get out and find the other along the edge.

His heart was racing. He could hear sirens coming closer. The police detail for the party must have already called for backup. Dick could hear them now too, corralling the crowd, moving everyone to a designated safe zone, but doing their best not to let them disperse.

Dick was still moving, prowling in his search for his little brother.

He took a few seconds to pause and shoot off a quick text to Damian, asking where he was, and telling him to follow procedure, and that he was looking for him.

“Damian!” he called again, hoping his voice could be heard above the din.

Where was he? They should have met up by now. Dick should be dragging his kid into his side and holding him close, apologizing for forgetting, and the fact that they were sure to miss the play. His heart should be slowing down.

But he couldn’t find Damian. What if? What if he was still inside?

Dick rushed back towards the door only to be stopped by one of the officers moving to stand in front of him.

“Sir, please, I need you to move over there.”

“I’m looking for my little brother, he’s ten, this high with black hair and has a green bowtie.” Dick held his hand out to Damian’s approximate height.

“If I see him I’ll send him your way, now please.” the man waved Dick towards the rest of the crowd.

He shook his head, “You don’t understand, I think he’s still inside. He was supposed to meet me if we got separated and he hasn’t yet I need--”

The man’s face fell, and with it Dick’s heart.

“What?” he almost growled, “What’s going on?”

“There’s still some people inside, but--” the officer trailed off.

“Tell me.” Dick did growl now.

The officer straightened against Dick’s anger, but his face was pitying, “The gunman’s locked himself up in the ballroom with hostages. We don’t have much information right now, but when we do we will let you know.”

The phone in Dick’s palm buzzed two short quick bursts that were Damian’s signature. He checked it, and saw one word: inside.

Dick’s head flooded with white static. His thumb hovered above the phone, wanting to send a message, to beg for more information. He couldn’t, couldn’t risk alerting anyone to Damian’s presence or the presence of a phone. If Damian was safe enough to text, Dick wasn’t going to put him in danger by messaging again.

The officer turned his head and seemed to catch someone else’s attention, waving them over while Dick stood frozen, “Jerry! This guy’s kid is inside, talk to him for me?”

Dick didn’t bother correcting the man, his mouth had gone dry. His heart once racing, now felt like it had all but disappeared.

Jerry, took Dick by the shoulders and moved him away from the other officer. They didn’t head towards the main crowd, but to the police cars that had rolled up to the scene. Vaguely Dick noted that police tape had been drawn up, pulled across barriers, and officers were working to soothe worried nerves.

As they moved to a group of officers, a familiar tan coat stood out from the crowd. Salt and pepper hair that was more salt than pepper at this point shifted around uniformed officers until Jim Gordon stepped towards Dick, his face a look of relief.

“Dick, I heard you were inside, thank goodness you’re alright.” he said, before glancing at Jerry, “I’ve got him.”

The officer nodded, and moved away, the absence of his hand leaving Dick’s shoulder cold.

“Dick?” the Commissioner asked.

“Damian’s inside.” Dick said, still not quite believing it.

Jim swore.

“I brought him with me because I thought it’d be a nice night. He always wants to see more of his dad’s company.” Dick rambled, head still lost.

Lost. He’d lost his kid. He’d let Damian slip away and now he was stuck inside with someone who’d brought a gun to a party. With a kidnapper . All of a sudden the shock that had been freezing him cracked, and he came back to himself. He was Batman, he could deal with this. He had to, for Damian.

“What do we know?” he asked, “How can I help?”

Jim looked him over for a moment, as if considering the possible consequences to telling Dick to let them handle things. Dick squared his shoulders and set his jaw.

“He’s got them in the ballroom. From our officer inside it’s just the one guy, but he’s claimed to have planted a bomb inside. We have no real way of knowing if that’s true or not, so we’re treating the whole thing as if he’s telling the truth.”

Dick nodded, it was a safe play to make, “Any demands?”

“Money.” Jim crossed his arms, eyeing Dick, “I get the feeling he came in looking to grab one person, not a whole room full.”

Dick swallowed. Lucius had said he’d sent out an email letting everyone know Dick would be there and be giving a speech, as a way to get them excited and convince more people to come. The lure of snatching a Wayne at a busy party was obvious.

“I’ll pay. How much does he want?” Dick said It was the safest way to get Damian out of there.

Jim shook his head, “I can’t let you do that. We’ll find a way to neutralize him.”

Heat flared up in Dick’s head, his hands tightened to fists at his side, “This is the best way to get him to let everyone go.” he argued, “And if need be, you can lure him out so you guys can grab him.”

“You know Wayne Enterprises doesn’t give into ransom demands.” Jim countered, “They won’t authorize the payout.”

“Then I’ll pay.” Dick said, “Tell me how much, I promise I can get it.”

He was frantic now. His earlier worry doubled into panic and fueled by frustration. If only he wasn’t outside. If only he weren’t in this crowd. He could take care of things in the building as Dick Grayson, or even as Batman. But no. He was stuck arguing with the one man who should understand his predicament.

“Dick--”

“He’s got Damian,” Dick snapped, “He’s my son! I won’t let him die because you won’t let me pave the way to get this guy!”

Jim’s eyes widened, then his face softened, “Alright. We’ll try it. It’s going to take some time though. He wants cash, not a wire transfer.”

“I can do that.” Dick nodded.

Moving released some of the tension built up within Dick. Not all of it. His chest felt tight, like a vice had been wrapped around it and was squeezing. He knew it wouldn’t let go until Damian was in his arms again.

He checked his phone frequently for texts. Hoping that Damian would update him, and praying he didn’t risk it.

At some point Alfred arrived to help. Together they put in phone calls to banks, tallied up how much cash was hanging around the manor for just such an occasion --Bruce really had been prepared for everything-- and worked to collect the rest of the cash as quickly as possible.

Dick kept one eye on the building, and the police. Hours passed as they waited on money to transfer and banks to make this one time exception. Pizza was sent into the building, the scent making Dick’s stomach twist. The sight, like something out of a tv show.

His only comfort was that the kidnapper was keeping in contact with the police and promised no one had been hurt yet. He seemed mollified that his requests was being taken seriously.

At least, he had been at first.

In order to collect everything, Dick had needed to leave the scene and get the final part of the cash from a bank personally. When he returned from his last stop it was to a Jim Gordon wearing a very concerned face.

“What happened?” Dick asked, the vice across his chest tightening further.

Jim shook his head, “He’s afraid it’s all a trap. Thinks we won’t let him leave. He stopped responding right after you left.”

He wasn’t wrong. The last thing the police really wanted to do was let the kidnapper walk free. But they shouldn’t have let onto that. Dick didn’t think they would have.

“Good thing I’ve got the money together then.” Dick said, hefting the briefcase, “Let’s see if he answers to that.”

Dick insisted on being there for the call, and was rejected.

“I can’t let you do that. It’d be a new voice when we’ve established communication already.” Jim told him, “Besides, Dick, you’re too invested. You yell at him like you yelled at me and things get a whole lot more complicated.”

He didn’t have a good argument against that. So, Dick moved back, not into the crowd still piled up at police barriers, but to stand along with some other officers. They were watching him closely, probably warned by Jim already to keep him from doing anything stupid. For all the perks of personally knowing the police commissioner, this was not one of them.

Tension shifted in the group as Dick watched Jim on the phone. The call went on too long. Dick knew these kinds of calls, it should have been faster. And the way the Commissioner's jaw tensed wasn’t a good sign.

He wanted to push out of the crowd and snatch the phone. Demand Damian be given back to him.

All Dick could do was worry. Worry and wonder how his brother was doing. Worry that he was safe. He’d been drilled in this too. They’d spent hours going over the procedure for what to do if one of them was ever stuck in a multiple hostage situation. It was, unfortunately, a common enough occurrence in Gotham and Dick had wanted Damian prepared for anything.

He hated that it was coming in handy.

If only he’d just kept Damian close. If he’d remembered their plans, then his brother wouldn’t have felt rejected and walked away from him.

Jim was moving. Handing Dick’s briefcase over to a plainclothes officer they’d picked just for this. Just in case the guy demanded a civilian do the hand off. How Dick wished he could be that guy.

He shifted so he could keep an eye on the front doors of the building. The men and women around him shifted to match his stance. Dick didn’t care, his eyes were locked onto the scene in front of him.

It took forever, but at last the doors creaked open and out came two figures. A man in a long trench coat with dark messy hair and a wild look on his face Dick could read from back where he was. And Damian.

Dick was afraid his chest might crack open.

His brother was pressed close to the man’s chest, the barrel of the gun flush against his skull. Before Dick could get a good look at his expression or see if he was hurt at all, people closed in around him. Towards the front, the officers beside him, everywhere police were preparing for the worst.

When Dick went to step forward a hand shot out. He looked over and found Jerry. The man shook his head. He knew it was better if he stayed still and let things play out, but all Dick wanted to do was shove through the crowd and slam his fist into the kidnapper’s face.

All he could do now was listen.

There was a low murmuring across the crowd. Then the kidnapper’s voice, high and panicked.

“Slide the briefcase over!”

A quieter response Dick couldn’t make out.

“I said do it! Want me to blow the kid’s brains out?!”

Dick stepped forward, heart in his throat. He was stopped by Jerry, his hand now holding him by the arm.

A beat of silence. Another. Dick felt like a speedster, ready to vibrate out of Jerry’s grip he was so tense.

“I told you to stand back! I’m warning you! I--”

Two shots rang out.

Dick bolted. Ripping free from Jerry’s hand he shoved his way through the crowd. They were buzzing with activity, but not the absolute flood he’d fought earlier. Dick cut through them like a warm knife in butter.

He burst forward to see three of the bomb squad officers swarming to the front doors. They were already entering moving in to start clearing the place. But that’s not what had Dick’s attention. No, his eyes were glued on the prone forms a few feet in front of the doors.

A pool of blood was already spreading on the ground, stark and red against the grey concrete. There was an officer hunched over them. Dick couldn’t even see Damian, just the kidnapper and that trenchcoat, flared out as he’d fallen.

“Damian!” Dick yelled, sprinting now that no one was in his way.

He slid to a stop, dropping to his knees so fast and hard they cracked against the ground painfully. He ignored it, and the admonition from the officer beside him, as he shoved the other man up, and off his brother, ignoring the man’s grunt as he did so. Nothing but Damian mattered.

Curled tightly on the ground lay Damian. Blood soaked a shoulder and some of his hair, but even in his frenzied state, Dick could see it wasn’t Damian’s.

“Dames.” Dick breathed, and reached out for his brother.

Slowly he put a hand on Damian’s shoulder, away from the blood, and squeezed, “Hey there, Kiddo, it’s me, it’s Dick.”

It took a moment, but Damian uncoiled, head lifting from where he’d buried it in his arms, body ever so gradually loosening from how he’d wrapped in on himself as they’d fallen.

“Richard?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m here. You’re safe.”

At those words Damian launched himself, up from the ground and into Dick’s arms. Heedless of the people around them or the buzz of the crowd. Dick wrapped his arms tightly around his brother, breathing freely at last as he felt Damian’s warmth in his arms, weight against his chest, breath on his neck.

“I’m sorry.” Damian murmured.

“Me too.” Dick said, pressing a kiss against the crown of Damian’s head, “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

He wanted to apologize for forgetting. For letting Damian out of his sight. For not being there every moment his kid was in danger. But there would be time for that. For now, he relished in the fact that Damian was back, he was here. He was clutching Dick like a lifeline and hadn't let go yet.

Beside them, someone else had moved forward. Jerry knelt down and looked them over, a small smile slipping across his face.

“I’m glad you found your son.” he said.

Damian made to wiggle out of Dick’s arms, but Dick just tugged him a bit closer, “Me too.” he said, “Me too.”

[dickanddamiweek]

After many amazing prompts, we’re happy to announce the prompts for the Dick and Damian 2021 event! If you have any questions about the event or the prompts, feel free to send an ask and we will help you out! An alternate prompt list will be released later this month. Thank you!

(Text for prompts under cut)

—March 7th - #JustSiblingThings / English as Second Language / “Did you really mean that?”

—March 8th - Dami’s First Birthday with Dick / Comfort / “He’s my son!”

—March 9th - Trust / Adoption Papers / “You’re shaking”

—March 10th - Comfort Food / Fear of Abandonment / “Please don’t leave me”

—March 11th - Dami Calls Dick “Baba” / First “I love you” / “You’re not my father!” “I am well aware.”

—March 12th - Proud / Protetctive Brothers / “You’re safe”

—March 13th - Nicknames / Hidden Injury / “Are you happy?”

[fidothefinch]

maybe it's enough (to know that we were here together)

For Dick & Damian Week 2021, day 2: "He's my son!"

I wrote this over the last two hours. Fair warning, it is not proofread. Title from Kina Grannis's "For Now," for fake-deep reasons.

(More warnings: this story strongly features hospitals and difficulty breathing (and poison). Please take care of yourselves and skip it if it will hurt you, especially because of the last year we've all shared <3)

Nightwing woke up with a gasp like it was the first breath he had taken in a long time. He floundered for a moment, instinctively worried he had just surfaced from Gotham’s harbor (it wouldn’t be the first time), but it only took one hard smack of his wrist to recognize the very solid ground beneath himself.

Panting, he leveraged himself to his side to empty his stomach onto the concrete.

Something was wrong. He tried to check his surroundings, but he was only able to make out grey blobs that may have been buildings and wildly swinging lights.

No, they weren’t swinging. That was just his vision.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could just will vertigo away. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to; growing up swinging from a trapeze conditioned him to enjoy the swoop in his stomach. But right now, he was either on a boat or drugged.

Sirens doppler-ed towards and away from him, somewhere down below. Definitely drugged, then.

He lifted one hand to his pounding head and was happy to find his domino was still in place. So were his gloves. But when he checked, he was missing an Escrima stick and a handful of wingdings. He grappled with his memory, trying to pull up some idea of what could have happened. A fight, obviously. But was he in Gotham? Blüdhaven? Somewhere overseas?

He flipped to his back and stared at the sky, still breathing like he had just run a marathon. Drawing in air was like drinking through a silly straw. Above him, the sky was a mottled green-black, the wind rolling the clouds inland. The motion threatened to make him sick again. He considered the merits of rolling to his side, just in case, when his eyes caught the flicker of a familiar shape against the clouds.

The Batsignal.

So, he was in Gotham. Now that he thought about it, that felt right. He could recall riding in earlier on his bike, the wind whipping through his hair, weaving through wild traffic. But traffic had been going the wrong way? Everybody had been leaving the island. . .

He sat up suddenly. “Robin!”

Sitting up was a bad idea. He pushed through his temporary blindness to wobble to his feet, anyway. “Robin!” he called again.

Damian didn’t answer. He was nowhere to be found.

More sirens rang down below him, passing in the same direction the last set had. Dick scrambled to the edge of the roof to watch the ambulance pass. What he found took his breath away. Cars lined both sides of the road, all headed toward the bridge that led off the island. All empty, abandoned. There didn’t seem to be a soul in sight, except the emergency response vehicles speeding down the clear sidewalks.

Everything snapped into focus, and Dick’s memory returned. Somebody had called the Gotham PD with a thirty-minute warning before releasing an aerosolized drug into the sewer system. Nightwing had sped into town as quickly as he could, and Batman teamed him up with Robin to cover the south quarter, and they had gotten separated—where was Damian?

Dick leapt off the building, shooting his grapnel as he fell to swing into a perfect arc to the ground. His bike wasn’t within eyesight, so it was too far. He took off, running after the ambulance.

Toward the hospital.

-

“Sir, you can’t be here.”

Dick had never seen the hospital so busy. Patients were lined up along the walls and hallways, crammed into the rooms like sardines. The staff actually ran between beds, looking haggard and exhausted already. Dick stood out like a sore thumb in his Nightwing gear, but nobody had the time or energy to move him.

Except the head nurse, behind the desk. “You have to leave,” she said. “We don’t have room.”

“Is Robin here?” Dick asked. He had scanned the pinched faces of the patients he passed on the way back into the ER, but nobody was familiar. He was almost thankful; the victims of the poison were sweating profusely and gagged on their own breath.

“I can’t tell you that,” the nurse said.

“I need to know that he’s okay,” he pleaded, leaning into his palms. They had been planted on the desk for stability, but now they were the only thing grounding him in his panic. “Please.”

All of Gotham was supposed to be evacuated, but there were still so many people too slow, too many people without a way off the island. When the threatened poison hit the city, there were too many people left behind. Nightwing had rushed over from Blüdhaven as fast as he could, but by the time he had joined the rest of the Bats it was too late. Half of Gotham was sick. Dying.

And somewhere in the panic, as noxious steam shot from the sewers and spilled from the vents, he had lost Robin.

The nurse studied his face, her lips pursed. “Robin was admitted two hours ago.”

Dick’s knees nearly buckled with relief (it had nothing to do with his legs feeling like jelly). “Where is he?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?” Maybe the words were clipped, but he didn’t have time for this.

“No visitors. Hospital rules.”

“He’s just a kid!”

“Then maybe you should have helped him evacuate,” she said, levelling a glare at him that could melt glass. “Instead of encouraging him to run straight into the line of danger.”

Now Dick growled. “You don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“I think he’s better off here than with you.”

“He’s my son!” Dick slammed his fist on the counter between them, making the nurse jump. He would have time to feel guilty about it later. “If you don’t tell me where he is, I’ll find him myself.”

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, not getting any words out.

“Nightwing!” somebody else called. Dick spun around (too quickly), and another nurse was gesturing quickly behind herself. “I’ll take you to him.”

“Moira—” the head nurse started. But she wasn’t fast enough to catch Dick as he weaved through the maze of gurneys.

The nurse had dark circles under her eyes, and her bun was frayed. “Pediatric wing,” she huffed, already jogging down a wide white hallway. Dick followed, heart racing. “His oxygen was too low. He must have gotten a face-full of the stuff.”

“What does that mean?” Dick asked.

Her face screwed up. “He’s on a ventilator.”

Dick’s heart squeezed in panic at the words. He began to mentally prepare himself for what he would find.

The nurse he was following stopped abruptly, almost making him run into her. She flipped a hand at a set of double doors. “Stairs,” she explained. “You’ll have to go up to the third floor. Room 329.”

Dick didn’t question why she wasn’t coming; she had work to do. He nodded as he pushed through one of the doors. “Thanks.”

By the time he reached the third floor, he could tell that he had been dosed. Maybe not as badly as the other patients there, but three flights of stairs should have been child’s play for him. He arrived to patient hallway sweating and panting too hard, jelly legs making their displeasure felt.

There were doctors and nurses in this wing, too, but they were also scrambling too quickly to give him more than a passing glance. The crammed hallways on this floor were even more disconcerting, because the flushed, moaning faces were those of children.

None of them were the one he was looking for.

He forced himself to slow down, not able to bear the idea of passing Damian’s room and missing him accidentally. When he found room 329, he steeled himself before barreling through the door.

There were two beds crammed inside the small space, made possible only because the beds were child-sized. The smiling clouds painted on the ceiling were a harsh contrast to the dark, noisy machines wound around the beds.

Damian was in one of them.

Dick rushed to his side, sparing barely a glace toward the other child. Damian looked tiny, dwarfed by the size of the gurney and the mouth of the ventilator. His domino was in place, but somebody had flipped the screen over the eyes back, so Dick could see that Damian was asleep. The IV in his elbow connected to several bags, and Dick had no doubt at least one of them was a sedative. They would have to, to put him on the ventilator.

Dick snaked his gloved fingers into Damian’s bare ones and squeezed lightly. Even through the gloves, he could feel the smallest pulse.

He legs threatened to give out beneath him again.

And, well. Then they did.

A passing doctor saw him just as he had sprawled on the floor like a starfish. “Nightwing? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Dick shook his head, gesturing to his chest about the tightness still persisting htere. “Just dizzy.”

The doctor clucked his tongue, reaching out to the chair wedged into the corner. “Think you can get in this chair?”

Dick nodded (a mistake), and with the doctor’s help he was able to slide into the seat. The doctor flit out of the room and returned less than a minute later with a nasal cannula and oxygen tank.

Dick waved it away. “I’m fine.”

The doctor rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh, and I am, too.”

Dick didn’t fight it when she applied it. The steady stream of dry oxygen through his nose was a relief, and his head began to clear again almost immediately. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” the doctor waved.

Dick stopped her on her way out the door again. “Wait.”

She paused, obviously a little irritated at being interrupted.

Dick blushed in apology. “When will he be taken off the ventilator?” he asked, gesturing toward Damian, in the bed.

The doctor only shrugged. “When he’s ready.” And she left, hustling toward her next patient.

Dick pulled his glove off and ran his free hand through Damian’s hair, brushing back the strays. It was still damp with sweat.

However long Damian was asleep, Dick would be there when he woke up.

[jinmukangwrites]

Dick and Dami Week 2021 Day 1

"Did you really mean that?"

-o-o-o-o-

After a bad run in with Two-Face, Damian asks Dick about things that were said.

-o-o-o-o-

The med-bay is silent, and all Dick can do is sit in an ancient plastic folding chair with his head in his hands. He hates this chair, it's uncomfortable and brings spikes up pain up through his tailbone into the entirety of his spine if he sits in it for too long... but for some reason it's a chair that no one in this makeshift patch-work of a family can throw away and replace quite yet. It's the chair you sit in when you're waiting for the person in the cot besides you to wake up. Dick's sure Alfred used to sit in this chair for Bruce before Robin was even a thought. Just like Bruce would sit in this chair for Dick, or Dick for Bruce, or Tim for Jason or Steph for Cass or Duke for Alfred or.…

Or Dick for Damian.

Damian's in the cot right now, an IV shoved into the crook of his arm and a bandage wrapped around the top of his skull. Little red speckles dot the white material; the bandages will have to be changed soon.

Damian's in the cot right now. Hurt. Beaten. Bruised.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29900148

And Dick's here in this uncomfortable as fuck chair, waiting for him to finally wake up.

This is his fault.

Well, maybe it isn't directly his fault, but he's... something less than a father to this kid, and he damn well considers him to be something like a son. It's been Dick's job and pleasure to watch over him. Being helpless and not strong enough… fast enough… to protect him is something he considers a failure.

He should have been stronger tonight. Faster. Better.

Instead he was held back, kicking his legs and begging, as Two-Face swung a bat against Damian's head.

Dick will never forget or forgive the smirk Dent gave him after Damian crumpled to the ground; his head already laying in a growing puddle of his own blood. Of course, that was the moment the mighty Batman had decided to descend into the abandoned courtroom with Orphan and Red Robin by his side. Dent didn't last too much longer, eventually ending up laying on the floor resembling something like a slab of meat under a butcher's hammer.

Dick's hands shook the entire way back to the manor. He wished he was able to make Dent hurt that badly with his own two fists, but well, getting Damian back to safety was the higher priority.

Maybe Jim will let Nightwing pay Two-Face a quick private visit before he gets sent back to Arkham.

A small, barely cut off whine brings Dick out of his tunneling thoughts. It's amazing how difficult and easy it is to bring a smile to his face as Damian lifts a fist to his face to rub one of his eyes.

All Dick has to do is sit and wait for Damian to fully come to awareness and realize that he's being watched.

"Richard?"

"That's me," Dick answers. He leans forward to help Damian sit up by placing a few pillows behind his back. Then he sits quietly as Damian composes himself, wanting nothing more than to bolt forward and wrap Damian in the tightest, most warmest hug to ever exist. However, Damian usually wants space after things like this, and if he wants a hug he'll find a way to hint at it.

If he even wants a hug from Dick, that is. This is Dick's fault after all.

After a few moments, Damian let's out his signature tt. "What happened to Dent?"

"Help came," Dick says. "Got us both out before major damage could be done. You'll have a headache for a while though, kiddo."

Damian frowns, which almost causes a laugh to bubble through Dick's throat. However, he keeps the fake/real smile on his face in silence as Damian looks down at his hands with a furrowed brow.

Eventually, Damian speaks again.

"As they were dragging me away... I heard you..." Dick's heart drops. "I heard you demand that you take my place. You yelled that you'll kill Dent if he hurt me. Did you really mean that?"

Dick feels his lips thin against his will. "I..." he starts, not really knowing how to explain in a way that works. He takes a deep breath and tells himself to just be honest with the kid. Damian responds well to honesty, even if the truth hurts more than lies. "Dami... I was scared... I thought that I was about to watch you be beaten and killed. If Bruce- if your dad didn't come when he did I don't know what would have happened. What I would have done. I... don't want to watch you die ever again. I would rather it be me."

Damian continues to look at his hands, picking at a scabbed scar on his ring finger. Dick doesn't know where he got that one but he does know he shouldn't pick at it. He doesn't say anything about it. He just waits for Damian to talk.

Damian takes a deep breath then looks Dick in the eyes. "I understand."

There it is. The hint Dick was oh-so-hoping for. Dick stands from the chair and settles down next to Damian in the cot, bringing his arm around Damian's shoulders and holding him close to his side.

"I was... scared too," Damian says after a moment of comfortable silence. Dick focuses on the breaths he can feel from the chest besides him. "But I'm happy it ended okay. I don't want to watch you die either."

Dick sighs and squeezes his kid a little closer. "Let's just both agree to be more careful from now on, then."

"Agreeing to be more careful won't stop bad things from happening," Damian mumbles through a yawn.

"No it won't," Dick replies softly, "but it will make us both feel better for now."

"Alright… I'll agree then."

Dick finally finds a genuine chuckle. He settles more into the cot and holds Damian as close as he dares. Which is very close.

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, baby-wing," he whispers, unsure if Damian can even hear him as his breathing pattern has settled back into slumber. He says it anyway, closing his eyes. "And I definitely mean that with all my heart."

[sufroyo]

[Image description: Dick and Damian are dressed as Batman and Robin, holding mugs of hot chocolate. Dick says, "Hot chocolate makes you grow taller if it's made with milk. It's science!" Damian, unimpressed, replies, "No, it doesn't." End ID.]

dickanddamiweek2021, Day 4 - Comfort Food / Fear of Abandonment / "Please don't leave me"

(its coconut milk hot cocoa (6v6))

[coleroz]

Dick&Dami Week, Day 1: #JustSiblingThings

[anipologist]

gravity’s brief hold

Dick and Dami Week 2021: Day 4

Comfort Food / Fear of Abandonment / “Please don’t leave me”

It’s supposed to be a simple recon mission; everyone is more or less back at the Manor and getting along to Dick’s surprised delight. Bruce is back, alive and Dick has laid aside the mantle of the Bat with an alacrity at Damian feels is unwarranted.

Dick was a more than adequate Batman in his opinion and more to the point, he is Damian’s Batman in a way that his father may never be. In some ways that relationship is the one that Damian is least prepared for; he has come to a distant but mutual respect with Todd, a grudging admiration for Cain, sham hostility with Brown and a hard-won armistice with Drake, less a few derisive comments as the occasion calls for it.  

Dick is his steady ground, he has seen him at his worst and at his best and loves him just the same, but his father is confusing, uncharted territory and Damian can’t seem to find his footing. Sometimes, things are well, sometimes his father is angry and Damian isn’t sure why or what he did wrong, and Batman is not prone to explanations.

It’s not that Dick had never been angry with him or worried, but he’d always explained why, given Damian options to make it up. And he’d apologize if he messed up, in a manner that Damian had mocked at the time but has since come to appreciate.

Be that as it may, Jason and Tim and Dick have worked out their own mutual accord and Damian is happy for this chance to have Dick all to himself. Stephanie and Jason are off together, having formed an unlikely but firm friendship while Cass patrols alone and Batman and Red Robin work together again.

Nightwing is different than Batman, Damian finds. He’s faster and far more graceful, like shedding Batman has relinquished gravity’s brief hold on him. He talks more, and punches less, laughs even, Damian finds it a not unpleasant change.

They stop a mugging on the way to the abandoned department store that they are scouting. Usually it is warehouses, but there is more than one deserted mall in Gotham, and somebody appears to have taken advantage of it. This particular one was conceived before the advent of strip malls and was once upon a time the home of several floors of sumptuous displays and luxury goods.

Now, it stands as a memorial to the slow death of in-person shopping and the triumph of free shipping, and also possibly the new base of some wannabe crime lord.

They grapple up to the fourth floor and slip in through a broken window. The fourth floor is clear, so they head down, eyes-peeled for any sign of illegal activity. The place itself is utterly silent and still as a tomb (or at least those tombs not occupied by Todd). Standing amid tipsy clothes racks and old “Buy One, Get Two Free” signs it certainly feels like a graveyard.

Nightwing waves him over, and the pair stare down in worry at what he has found.

Phosphorescent red glares up at them from what used to an Estee-Lauder display case.

“Take Venom, say goodbye to fine lines and wrinkles forever,” Nightwing chuckles softly, but Damian knows him well enough now and can hear the worry in his voice.

If someone asked, Damian would argue that he is perfectly capable to dealing with Bane. But deep inside, he knows that Bane is one of their most dangerous rogues, this is not some small-scale criminal. If there is Venom involved, it is bad. Unfortunately, they don’t get a say in whether to continue looking or wait for back-up as one of the dressing room walls topple outwards and Bane himself strides forward.

Worse, what can only be called a horde, of venom enhanced thugs appear in the rest of the doorways and Damian knows that it is all a trap. The tip that sent them there, the broken window, the glow of the Venom just out of view. Looking at Nightwing, he knows that they are wondering the same thing. Was this a trap far any of the bats or them specifically?

“Nightwing and Robin,” Bane rumbles, “Just who I was expecting, and so punctual…”

And that answers that question.

“It’s only polite,” says Nightwing, and Damian wants to hit him, “You should find a better delivery service though, our invitation seems to have gotten lost en route…”

And Damian takes back his earlier desire, because “en route” means that he’d gotten out a distress beacon which is good news considering that Damian had just tried and discovered that their signals are being jammed. Dick must have set his off as soon as he found the venom.

There’s not a lot a time to think after that, Damian is far too busy trying to not get crushed by Bane’s men. Nightwing has both his eskrima sticks out and electrified as he dances just out of Bane’s reach. And if Damian wasn’t occupied with ducking a punch that would have given him permanent brain damage, he would admire the way that he is using Bane’s superpowered blows to take out his own men.

He tries the tactic himself and two more of Bane’s men bite the dust and he is beginning to think that they might not even need the distress beacon. And of course, that is when it goes wrong, Nightwing had managed to cut one of Bane’s venom lines and the floor is slick with the stuff. He sidesteps an unconscious thug and promptly stumbles on the wet floor.

It’s only a second before he rights himself, but it is enough for the last of the goons to deal him a glancing blow that sends him skidding towards the enraged supervillain with broken leg. Nightwing has kept up a steady stream of insults and with half his venom supply cut Bane is beyond rational thought.

This was not how Damian wanted to die.

Read the rest on AO3

(yes I am well aware that I am evil)

[grayson1996]

Prompts:

Comfort Food - Fear of Abandonment - “Please don’t leave me”

The Manor was suffocating.

At every corner Damian would run into yet another family member, pity etched onto their face and smiles twisted into a sympathetic grin. It was unnerving to have everyone be so nice to him. Though true that before his death he had warmed up to Cain and Brown, and had started a fragile alliance with Todd, Drake had only ever looked at him with barely concealed disdain. And his Father had barely even looked at him.

Now everything was different and Damian wasn’t sure if it was because he was alive or because Grayson was dead.

@dickanddamiweek

Not necessary to read chapter 1, this fic deals with canon temporary character death.

[grousemouse]

Point proven.

This is my entry for day 2 of Dick and Dami Week for the prompt “He’s my son!”, in a little Father vs Father competition. Not that Damian cares, as long as someone takes him to the arcade.

[ID: A comic featuring Bruce Wayne, who is pointing at himself and saying ‘He’s my son!” Dick Grayson, looking very smug, says “Are you sure about that?” Dick is surprised when Damian Wayne pops up behind him, demanding, “BABA! Take me to the arcade!” END ID.]