Welcome back, readers! Just as a reminder, this is the fourth installment in my Nightwing And Flamebird series. Thank you all in advance for reading. I hope you enjoy!

Dick hadn't been this nervous in a long time.

This wasn't day-before-the-Big-Test jitters, as he had experienced a little under a year ago, when he shook off fried nerves and began his final exam in the police academy.

This wasn't shit-I-have-to-tell-Bats-I'm-in-over-my-head anxiety.

This was pretty much raging hysteria. This was first-performance-in-the-big-top panic. This was a mind numbing, hyperventilation inducing, deer-in-the-headlights-of-a-fucking-18-wheeler frenzy.

So Nightwing did what he always did when he was stressed. He found the highest building in the city- The Marcus Hotel- and launched himself off it. Without a second thought. Without a plan. Without a care. He soared off the rooftop with the strictest convictions that he would land safely. And that the fall would clear his head of his problems. Or really, his one problem. His one really big problem.

The wind whipped at Nightwing's face, hair lashing about in a turbulent storm of jet-black locks. The air rushed past his ears with all the force of a 747 engine turbine. The ground and the people and the cars grew closer with each passing second. This. This is what would cause normal people to panic.

Wally had been kind enough to drill into him that they, "Were not perfectly normal, thank you very much," years ago. No. This rush, this height and speed, this near perfect tugging sensation in the pit of his stomach. This was freedom. Even as the lines of the street and cracks of the pavement came into pristine detail, Dick grinned.

He spotted a flagpole, sticking horizontally out of the side of one of the older brick buildings, about 5 stories from the cement below. Dick aimed for that, grinning like a madman- he'd seen enough in his line of work to know what that looked like. When he reached his target, he latched on, thankful for the extra padding and grip that his gloves provided, and swung himself around it, feet over head, once, twice, three times to dispel much of the downward velocity. From there it was the simple matter of a front tuck and a bit of a roll into the nearby alley and Nightwing was once again standing firmly on solid ground.

And once again aware of his Big Bad problem. Right. Gravity had once again set in, which meant that so had reality. Not for the first time, Grayson reflected that gravity was such a pain in his gloriously sculpted ass.

Nightwing heard a click over his com link, and instinctively he touched the side of his mask, opening the channel. "Flamebird?"

"Nightwing. There's a disturbance along the boardwalk. A group of 6 lowlifes. Apparently they have nothing better to do than snatch tourist's belongings. Of course, I can handle it, but 2 have split off from the rest and from the lack of radio chatter, it's clear you have nothing better to do." Damian Wayne's typical obstinace elicited a smirk from Nightwing.

"Copy. Last seen?"

"Headed down the alley off Fisher's Lane. I'll take the four, if you think you can handle two all on your own," Flamebird challenged, cocky smile evident in the tone of his voice.

"You're on, kid." Nightwing was only blocks from the scene. Twisting the end of one of his escrimas, he released the grappling feature, and swung to the location Damian had directed him.

The former Robin had been right. These guys were by no means professional criminals. Their steps were too loud and their breathing too heavy. They were disorganized, loud and pitifully out of shape. These idiots were a bunch of skeeze bags looking for an easy couple of bucks. Probably hoping to scrounge enough to score some weekend dope.

Nightwing rolled his eyes, but cracked his neck anyway, leaping into the ally from the fire escape above with his usual grace and charm. "Hey, buddy. That purse?" Nightwing indicated the cream colored handbag clutched in the meaty grasp of the heavier, pockmarked man. "It's so last season." With careless ease, Nightwing snatched the bag away, knocking the man off balance with a swift kick to the back of his chubby knee.

Nightwing saw flight signs in the flicker of the skinnier thug's eyes. "Mmm. Uh-uh. I wouldn't do that that, if I were you." Nightwing advised, pointing in the direction of the painfully skinny man's gaze. With a comically big gulp, the guy bolted, kicking up gravel in his pitiful haste to escape. Dick sighed, one hand on his hip even as the other reached for an escrima stick. "Why do you guys always run?" He asked the thug who still lay at his feet. Without glancing away from the already incapacitated would-be thief on the ground, Nightwing flung his weapon at the runaway's feet, tripping him just as he reached the mouth of the alley.

Nightwing jogged to detain the foolish second man, zip tying his hands behind his back and dragging him over to his friend. "What makes you guys think you can outrun a masked vigilante who consistently deals with super villains. Where's the logic in that?"

"I don't know, Nightwing. I think they may be onto something. You look about as non-threatening as you do ridiculous," Damian said in lieu of a greeting, dragging behind him three of the fellow pickpockets.

"Flamebird, so nice of you to join. I see you were able to detain almost all of the other suspects. What happened?"

"-tt-. The slippery idiot somehow managed to elude capture. He must have a little more sense than the rest of his compatriots."

"Oh, of course." Nightwing jeered in his best quipping tone. Quips were good. Quips meant he could avoid the nerve wracking conversation he needed to have with his younger brother and fellow crime fighter for a few more minutes.

Flamebird made some foul sounding comment under his breath as he went to summon the police. Within a few minutes, a couple of patrolmen Dick had gone to academy with had custody of both the stolen property and the nitwits who had attempted to lift it.

Not too much later, Dick switched off his quieter-than-normal coms unit, determined to place his undivided attention on the unpleasant task in front of him. Damian was munching contentedly on a slice of Mediterranean pizza, legs dangling over the edge of the rooftop they had chosen as their makeshift dinner destination. Dick jiggled his leg unconsciously, trying to get up the nerve to dive in.

Suddenly, the Boy Wonder turned his scrutinizing eyes to the Batfamily's resident Boy in Blue, Nightwing. "What is your problem? What are you not saying?"

Nightwing turned unsurprised, reluctant eyes on his younger brother. Trained by The Bat, indeed. His powers of observation were, evidently, still in tip top shape. When Nightwing didn't answer, Damian pushed further, whispering, "Grayson?"

That decided Dick. As protocol dictated, Damian rarely-if ever- used anything other than code names while in the field. The fact that he had done so told Grayson that Damian was more concerned about him than he wanted to let on.

"Well, D… I'm not sure how to say this, but…" Dick huffed, running a hand through his unruly hair. "I've been wanting to tell you for a while but I didn't want to-"

"Stop beating around the bush, Ri-Nightwing. Spit it out."

Dick released another deep breath. "Damian, I… I want to marry Starfire and I was wondering if, well… If you'd be my best man."

Apparently that was not what Damian was expecting to hear, because the two sat in a stunned silence, as the gears began to visibly turn in Damain's head.

Then, without any prompting, without a single word Flamebird stood up. The only thing he left Nightwing with was a withering look and a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Rationally, Dick knew this wasn't the best time. Damian and he had just started to settle into their routine as Nightwing and Flamebird a few months ago. Dick had, just one month ago, been given a clean bill of health after his run in (pun intended) with Talia Al Ghul's sword. Bruce had, not two weeks ago, dropped the news that he and Selina Kyle were going to be married.

Dick knew what kind of effect this had had on his youngest brother. He had been there for the emotional turmoil it had caused, and had- he thought- helped Damian work through most of that. But apparently, the wounds were still too fresh.

And of course, Dick knew this would be disruptive to Damian's life, to his carefully constructed world view. It was bad timing, he knew.

But it was always bad timing. There was always a bomb to disable or a villain to catch or an apocalypse to stop or a brother to save. There was always a team member's life in the balance, a victim that needed rescuing or a police report that needed filing. There was always something. And if mentoring Damian had taught him anything, it was that it was important to tell the people you loved that you loved them, while you had the chance to say it. It was important to take a stand on the things you believed in- the things that brought one hope and joy and life- because they weren't always going to be there.

Nightwing sighed, and began his long trudge back to his apartment. He sent a quick text to Star, letting her know it would probably be best if she stayed in San Francisco tonight- the news had not gone over well. See, it wasn't Starfire who he had to convince about the wedding. It was Damian.

With a grunt, Dick clicked a few keys on his phone, dialing in another bat-favor. One he'd likely regret. "Hey, Dicky-bird. To what do I owe this displeasure?" Jason's voice answered on the last possible ring.

And that concludes chapter 1! This should be about 11- 12 chapters long, so strap in for a long ride. Everything is pre-written and will be posted every few days. As always, I would really appreciate comments and reviews. If you guys have any questions, let me know!