Disclaimer: own nothing

WARNING: Contains Mild, mild Slash, heterosexual themes, incest - well Batcest. And not the bestility kind. Terry/Damian. Terry/ Danielle

Dancing in Moonlight

When the first chilling notes of the violins slid into the air, he didn't notice. He couldn't claim that there were many to things to distract him, however and soon he found himself closing his eyes and tilting his head to the side to listen to the love song.

Ah, yes it was wordless love story, but the best ones always were. The violins dominate, sing songs of passion and love and forbiddance. There was tentative gentility and bold attitudes intermixed in the song, classic romance and fresh desires. There was sorrow where there should be joy and strength where there should be reluctance. Tragic, but content.

Those thoughts dominated him, as the room fell silent around him, as socialists fell silent in awe as the music poured into the room; first a gentle stream then more and more flowing, branching off until suddenly...suddenly there was just a lonely violin in the darkness, carrying on the tune with more solidness than the rest combined. When the rest were silent, one carried on singing.

Damian signed, lifting his drink to his lips. Music...wasn't a taste he had been born with, but one that he had acquired over the years. It was something he had realized could be just as intense as-and more expressive than-words or motions ever could. He turned around and realized; it wasn't the music that had everyone captivated.

Or, at least, not just the music.

Two figures, two...people, two impossible people were waltzing in the middle of the ball room. In their costumes they were like two fairytales, two characters of a sad ballet fading in and out around them. Every step seemed to channel the forbidden sorrow of the song, every twist and turn the conflict and certainly. Every touch-the passion, every look-the love.

His heart stopped.

Terry and Danielle. Gotham's own prince charming and Star City's own princess. They were...beautiful together. She, despite being slightly older, fit into his arms perfectly, like she had been born there. She had been born to be there. Her golden hair streamed out behind her, burning sunshine against his brother's darker backdrop, his pale but powerful blue eyes shined like stars in the night sky. They...they were...

Damian swallowed dryly...they were dating. Terry deserved her, deserved the beautiful, exciting lady in his arms. Deserved her golden-blond curls, her warm brown eyes, her tanned skin, her gentle curves...he deserved the very much wanted heroine in his arms...

But she didn't deserve him.

No one, in Damian's opinion, could deserve or properly appreciate the young man, the elegantly dark young man swinging her around the ballroom. No one knew him. To them, he was a prince, a handsome, charming prince. Nothing more, nothing less. A wealthy, well mannered ornament. To him...Damian knew what he was and a prince had never been that. Princes were elegant, dutiful and well mannered. Terry was none of those things.

Terry was a knight.

Terry was Batman.

Terry was already married to Gotham herself.

Terry was the King in disguise. He owned the lives of everyone around him and no one, no one knew it. He controlled their fates with his actions, their happiness, their sadness – everything. No one knew he had given up his life for Gotham; that he wouldn't die for her but live to serve her. Any woman would be more than happy to marry him. Yet no woman deserved him.

The song died on a high note. Ending, or so it seemed to Damian, before the song had really any chance to live. The crowd started to applaud loudly, making the couple, the perfect couple, blush. Damian didn't clap. Damian didn't smile. Damian turned and left.

He didn't want to see his brother, who he loved, in the arms of a beautiful young woman, who loved him.

He didn't want to see his brother blush and shyly peer around him, arms tight around her.

He didn't want to hear the old women gossip around him loudly, that it had been after too long since Gotham had last had a responsible son, a real Prince. Too long since it'd had a proper lady, a princess, at the helm. It made him sick.

He wasn't that masochistic. He knew he'd never have his brother, knew he'd never be the one to wrap his arms around him, to rest his head in the black curls, kiss the pale skin. He'd never look into those eyes and see love shining back. Or, at least, not the kind he wanted.

He handed his empty wine glass to a servant as he took his coat and headed towards to exit. He ignored the Stewart trying to talk to him. He ignored that calls of stupid socialists. He ignored the peering eyes of very pretty young girls on him. The most beautiful woman was already taken, in the arms of the luckiest of men. He was just an old prince, an eldest son in second place. His coat was wrinkled in his tight fists.

The valet took too long to get the car for his liking. Sharp curses were on the tip of his tongue, ready to tear the unfortunate young man to shreds…when he froze.

Un-amused blue eyes told him to get into the car. He obeyed, closing the door perhaps a little too hurriedly. He barely had his seatbelt on (always better safe than sorry, especially when a Bat was driving) when his brother slammed him foot onto the pedal and they shot off.

"Your engagement party is in the opposite direction, Terry. Didn't think you were the sort to ditch at the altar."

"Didn't think you were the sort to run away from a fight, or a party. Besides, it's not my engagement party, I'd never marry Danny." They were going too fast. The lights and others cars slipped away too quickly.

"You're perfect for her." He muttered quietly, remembering the way their bodies blurred into one, black and gold. Blue and Green.

"I already know who I'm perfect for," Terry kissed him quickly, on the lips, "However else would I know you'd run away?"

A small smirk worked its way onto his face, "Did you now? What else would you know?"

"That you love me. That you have for years. That that's the real reason you always come back to Gotham in the end."

"Really?"

His brother was silent. He didn't stay a word until finally reaching home. He stopped the car in the long shadow of the manor; safe within its isolated walls but hidden from any occupants' sight. Damian was still as he watched his brother, his eyes burning into the steering wheel. An intense look of concentration that was normally reserved for Batman was casted over his face. His stomach flipped and squirmed. He wondered if this was the point where Terry told him to stop. Told him to leave and to never come back.

Told him he didn't love him.

"Yeah, I do know you Damian," he started softly, as if he had never stopped talking, "Except I'm tired of you running away from me. I'd sort of like you to run the other way."

Damian's eyebrows shot up and his mouth went dry.

"I...I...I can't dance with you Terry, not like Danielle can."

His brother's eyes bore into him, "I don't like dancing. And I'll live without the parties easy enough."

Then he kissed him...then he kissed him...and Damian decided that maybe when Danielle got to dance with him, wrapped her arms around him, maybe she got the pleasure of looking like she had the perfect romance, with everyone watching.

What Damian had was better. He could dance with Terry every night, in the moonlight and the shadows of Gotham, knowing she loved them. Knowing Terry loved him. That was real...that was enough...for now.

Terry loved him. That was more than enough.