Batman oneshot
Title: Hell’s First Contact
Author: Reyn
Rating: T
Word Count: 2095
Pairing: Dick/Damian
Disclaimer: This would be a fanfic of a fanfic.
A/N: In my own little headcanon world, this is what would happen after chapter five of Hell Connection.
Summary: A peek at the nature of Dick and Damian’s relationship from Hell Connection.
Hell’s First Contact
Dick was hovering. He knew he was hovering, but couldn’t bring himself to stop.
He had no idea how Tim had managed to tangle himself in this mess and his old protective instincts were going into overdrive. He should have been there for Tim. Dick knew what the kid was capable of and should have found some means of keeping him away and distracted for the day. He should have kept in better touch. He should have left Tim with some kind of warning of the types of dangers this world really held for someone with his powers. He should have been there!
Running an agitated hand through his hair, Dick did his best to will the guilt away, finding it hard to focus on anything that didn’t involve the ‘should have’s, especially when he didn’t even dare allow himself to start thinking about the ‘what if’s.
“You should go to him.”
Dick looked over sharply, eying Bruce as the man continued to stare down at Tim’s peacefully sleeping form.
“Go to who?” His brain failed to connect whatever dots his father figure was alluding to as it formed him that he was already here with Tim now.
Bruce’s impassive gaze rose and met Dick’s.
“Damian.”
Dick frowned and looked around, his mouth hovering open as the response that Damian was here remained stuck in his throat. Because Damian, in fact, wasn’t.
Turning in a full circle, twice, Dick found himself baffled as to why Damian wasn’t around. Damian was always around unless Dick explicitly ordered him away. Which he hadn’t. And the probability of him being off working was extremely low. They had finished documenting and getting rid of the more incriminating evidence at the hotel room hours ago, and Damian was never one to volunteer his services, especially for Jason who was now pouring over photos of the writings that had been on the walls.
Maybe he was waiting just outside?
Dick was saved the trouble of poking his head out the bedroom door to peek into the hall by Jason entering, waving a small, leather-bound book in one hand as he scowled at a blown-up photo in the other.
“Bruce, if I’m reading this correctly-”
“Where’s Damian?” Dick interrupted, now fully feeling the boy’s loss almost like a missing limb.
Glaring at Dick for good measure, Jason lowered the journal and stacked it under the picture he had been studying. “You know, I’d say it’s creepy how similar you and the brat can be at times, except he always makes it a point to keep tabs on where you are.”
“Where is he?” Dick repeated, calming slightly at the priest’s usual catty reaction.
Jason shrugged and crossed his arms. “Hell if I know. I asked the kid to help me go through all this and the little shit told me he wasn’t my Google translator and to do it myself before storming off. Introducing him to the Internet wasn’t one of your better ideas, Dick.”
“He’s in your room,” Bruce spoke, eyes shut as he massaged at his temples with one hand, well familiar and worn with the way his collection of sons tended to bicker.
“He probably broke in to go through your closet,” Jason put in distractedly, his attention having already returned to his task at hand. “I swear Damian is way creepier than the books warned us about.” He looked back up. “And I mean that in the weirdest way possible.”
Shaking his head, Dick forced a smile and gave Jason a shove for good measure before exiting the room and heading towards the stairs that would take him up to the family wing of the house.
He never liked the size of Wayne Manor, opting to live at the suite in Wayne Tower instead. But within the past few months, he had been forced to fully move back home. Partly due to Damian’s need to have him close and partly because Bruce didn’t want the two of them living off on their own without some form of supervision.
Dick couldn’t bring himself to blame him. As Damian continued to approach adulthood, their ever-evolving bond was racing towards something the neither the books or any of Jason’s contacts had warned them about. While he considered himself knowledgeable enough to keep his decisions involving Damian as objective as possible, when it really came down to it, Dick wasn’t sure if he would trust himself either if he were to remain alone with the boy for a long enough period of time.
The door to his bedroom was still closed and locked. Dick knew better than to trust physical evidence considering the circles he grew up in, but when he entered the room, everything looked just as it had been before Bruce had left and they moved into the church.
He very nearly dismissed Jason’s idea of checking the closet when he noticed the shirt he had changed out of earlier was missing from its spot on the floor in the bathroom doorway. Logic told him Alfred had snuck in to clean, but the thought wasn’t enough to stop him from detouring to his closet to do a quick inventory.
His old college sweater was missing.
Letting out a sigh that seemed oddly muted for the size of the room, Dick turned and left to find Damian.
Fortunately, he was in the first place Dick thought to look. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem nearly as fine as Dick had foolishly hoped he would be.
“Hey.”
When Damian failed to even acknowledge his presence, Dick cautiously approached the curled figure on the far end of the bedroom and slid down against the wall until he was seated beside him. It was only then that Dick noticed his shirts bunched up in Damian’s lap.
“Can I ask what you’re doing with my clothes?”
“Don’t worry.” Damian’s voice was muffled as he spoke into his knees, prompting him to turn his head to the side, as it remained resting on his arms. “I’m sure your clairvoyant friend won’t be encountering them any time soon.”
“True,” Dick agreed, mimicking Damian’s position with his legs propped up and elbows resting on his knees. “But that still doesn’t tell me what you’re doing with my clothes.”
The soft stain of a blush across his high cheekbones tainted Damian’s scowl. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said in lieu of an explanation.
Dick blinked. “No, I haven’t,” he automatically denied. At Damian’s skeptical stare, he felt compelled to elaborate. “It’s been a busy couple of days; what with the Rift being more active, then the Seal, and now Tim-”
“Fine,” Damian cut in. “Ever since Tim has come to town, you’ve gone above and beyond to be exceptionally busy in ways that will ensure I am not around.”
“It’s not like that…” It was completely like that. And even without being subjected to the withering glare, Dick knew his argument was beyond weak. So he returned to the original subject instead. “You know, that still doesn’t tell me why you broke into my room and stole my sweaty t-shirt and favorite sweater - the same one that you’ve forbidden me to wear out of the house, I might add.”
Damian peered down into his lap, drawing his legs closer to his body in an almost protective gesture. “It’s hideous. Get over your complex.”
Dick refused to be swayed. “Are you really going to make me ask a fourth time?”
For a long moment, Damian remained silent. It didn’t bother Dick. He had long ago learned that Damian would always answer his questions if he was capable of remaining patient enough to allow the boy to fully organize his thoughts.
“Your scent…” Damian frowned down at the articles of clothing. “It’s soothing.” He shifted a bit, wrapping his arms tighter around his knees. “Seeing as how you’ve been ‘busy’ and it looks like things are only going to get ‘busier’-” Dick marveled at how he could hear the air quotes without Damian lifting a finger, “-I simply took matters into my own hands. If you had waited another hour, I would have returned them exactly as I found them. I’ve told you before that I’m perfectly capable of being at least somewhat self-sufficient.”
Dick found himself at a loss of how to handle the sheer amount of guilt he was suddenly drowning in. “Damian…” He scooted closer. “You shouldn’t feel like you need to turn to my clothes when you’re in dire need of comfort.”
“That’s hardly my fault, now, is it?”
Dick winced. “Okay, so I completely deserved that.”
“We’re going to have to renew the bond again soon,” Damian needlessly reminded him. “Do you still want to?”
“What kind of question is that? Of course I still want to. Why wouldn’t I want to?” Hell, Dick had dreams about what the ceremony would wind up entailing once their bond was strengthened and left free to push and test its new limits without either of them fully capable of holding back as they had been doing so since he had returned. The last ceremony certainly had interesting results.
Damian shrugged and pushed the clothes off his lap. Dick took it as a sign that he was free to properly offer reassurance and moved until his side was flush against Damian’s, wrapping an arm around the other’s shoulders when he leaned into him just slightly.
After a moment of sitting together in a comfortable silence, Damian spoke up. “I know of one hundred and twenty three ways to break out of this hold.” He looked over at Dick. “You would only survive thirty-six of them.”
Dick couldn’t stop the fond smile from curling up at the corner of his lips. “This hold is called a hug, Damian. You’re going to need to accept that you’re human and just get used to it someday.”
Damian looked away. “A human wouldn’t know one hundred and twenty-four ways to break a hug,” he complained.
“I thought it was twenty three,” Dick questioned, opting to try and keep the conversation light.
“I thought of another one,” Damian said tonelessly, looking almost bored as he stared at the far wall of his room.
Dick chuckled and shook his head. “And would I survive it?”
A teasing smirk played at the corner of Damian’s mouth. “Maybe. Most likely.” He turned and Dick saw the warm playfulness alight in his eyes. “I have my doubts, though.”
Dick’s brain fell peacefully blank. It was rare for Damian to relax to such an extent that he would crack jokes without a malicious intent behind them. Acting purely on instinct, Dick drew Damian towards him, not realizing what he was doing until he felt Damian’s lips moving against his own, parting to allow his tongue access. Several seconds later, the feel of Damian’s fist clenching the material of his shirt directly over his heart caused Dick to draw in a sharp, dizzying breath. His body was reacting far more enthusiastically than he was comfortable with and he had no idea how to slow it down.
It was the bond acting up again. It had to be. They just needed to hold out for a few more weeks and things would be fine once more.
With that thought in mind, Dick pulled back. Damian’s eyes were still closed, his brow furrowed just slightly in a way that made it hard for the older man to not dive right back in.
Instead, he tried to move away, but was stopped as Damian tightened the hold on his shirt.
“He killed my mother.”
Dick froze. Damian’s eyes were back to their usual, cold fury.
“I know.” Relaxing to show that he wasn’t going anywhere, Dick kept his gaze locked with Damian’s and saw the uncertainty flicker through his eyes.
“Do you think he will - He might still be able to…”
“No.” Dick’s answer was firm enough to prevent Damian from arguing. “He’d have to break passed me first and I like to think you’ve got a strong enough hold on my soul that it won’t exactly be an easy task for even the Devil himself to rip you away from me.”
Damian didn’t smile at the humor, so Dick did for the both of them, pulling Damian close once more, this time for a real hug. His worry for Tim returned tenfold, and yet, overshadowing it was Damian and the knowledge that Dick would do anything to keep him safe.
He just hoped such limits wouldn’t come to be tested.
The End.