"…Dami?" Dick called as he stepped into the cave. There was no human response, but the sound of something metal hitting the concrete floor over by the vehicles was as good as a locator beacon. Right where I thought he'd be, he shook his head with a faint smirk. If you can't find Damian, look under a car or over your head. "Daaaamian," he drew out, leaning over to peer under the Batmobile. "C'mon. We're going to get a nasty look from Alfred if we're not upstairs in about three minutes."
The boy glanced up at him momentarily, something that only Dick could read dancing in his eyes, and then focused back on his work. "I'm not going," he said resolutely.
"…Didn't you just change the oil last week?" the elder asked with a slight frown as he realized what exactly his younger brother was doing. "It didn't need done again already."
"I felt like it."
"Uh-huh." Knowing something was up, he sat cross-legged on the floor. "What is it, Dami? Why don't you want to go?" There's no point in beating around the bush about it, since something's obviously bothering you about tonight. You'll just get pissy if I don't go right to the point.
"It's nothing. I just have more important things to do than watch people waste perfectly good gunpowder to make pretty lights that burn right out. And they aren't even that pretty to begin with," he added.
"…Well that was the most callous description of fireworks that I've ever heard," Dick said slowly. But that's not what's really bothering you. So what is it? "Maybe even…too callous." Damian shot him a fast look, there and gone, and he knew he'd scored a hit. "What's really the problem? What is it about the idea of fireworks that you don't like?"
"They're stupid, Grayson! They're a waste of time and material! Alright?!"
"Nope. Not buying it. Sorry. Try again."
"I told you, I don't want to throw away an entire evening looking at dumb, ugly, loud fireworks. Now leave me alone, I'm busy."
Loud. Bingo. You've been getting kind of jumpy with sudden noises the last six months or so, he mused. And I know it's aggravating you to no end that you can't get it fully under control. No wonder you don't want to go see fireworks. "…Loud?" he repeated knowingly.
With anyone else, Damian would have scoffed, slid out from beneath the car, and stalked away. But then with anyone else he never would have had his guard down enough to let the word that had given him away slip out. Knowing that, he simply pursed his lips and gave an angry but defeated little grunt. "…Loud," he confirmed.
"You know we're going to be sitting like a half a mile away from where they're launching, right? We're not going to be right underneath of them," Dick tried to soothe him. "And no one will look at you funny if you wear earplugs. I'll wear them, too, if it makes you feel better."
"I don't like earplugs." He paused. "Why do you even want to go to this idiotic event? They're just going to put us up on the Wayne Enterprises viewing platform and pander meaninglessly at you the whole time."
"…I know." But Bruce and I used to go every year, he couldn't say. And now…everyone's expecting me to go, but I can't do this alone. I just…can't. It's too much. Half a year isn't enough time to heal. Hell…eternity isn't enough time to heal. But I can't just not fulfill my obligations, either. That's not what he would want me to do, just…drop out of the world. "…I don't have a choice about whether or not to go. You do, if you can convince Alfred to leave you home alone, but…" But Alfred will stay with the car, because that's what's 'proper,' and Tim…he'll probably be out in the crowd somewhere, but it's a safe bet that he's still not talking to me. I just don't want to be alone with a bunch of people who have no idea about who he really was… "Dami? Please come with me? It's just fireworks. I'll be right there if you get…you know," he finished, well aware that a suggestion that Damian might actually get scared would probably foul the entire plan.
There was a rough rattle as the twelve-year-old shoved himself out from underneath the car. A moment later he stalked around to where the elder male still sat, stopped cold, and crossed his arms. "…I'm not scared."
Dick gave a tiny, relieved chuckle. "Yeah, I know."
"…You'd better not leave me alone with all of those corporate idiots. I won't be held accountable for my actions if you do."
"I promise not to leave you alone," was dutifully sworn. "Not even with the 'corporate idiots,' as you so politely called them."
"…Fine. I guess I'll go, then." He looked away, trying to feel as put-upon as his expression suggested that he was. He just doesn't want to be alone tonight. I don't get it, that…weird closeness they had, but…I don't like it when he's sad. It makes me angry, for some reason. "Well?" he demanded when Dick didn't shift from his position. "Are we going, or what?"
"…Thank you, Damian," came back sincerely.
"…Yeah, well…you owe me for this." You don't owe me for this.
"I figured," he grinned. I know better. "Go wash your hands before you give Alfred a coronary. I'll meet you upstairs, okay?"
"Fine." …Why do I do things like this for you, Grayson? I…I don't get that, either. It's annoying, the way you can make me do things I don't want to. And yet…I don't really mind so much. His step faltered slightly. Damn it, he's turning me soft. So why don't I seem to mind that, either?