Warnings: underage relationship; underage kissing; canon-typical violence

Pairings: Dick/Damian

Credits: This is a non-profit, fanmade work. All characters are owned by DC. The fanfiction was written and created by me, please do no repost without my permission.

A/N: Warnings will vary per chapter, please keep this in mind.

I feel weird for essentially... writing fanfiction to my own fanfiction, haha, but I really wanted to explore more of the universe I made in "Stay" without making a complete sequel or a whole new story. This isn't a traditional sequel in the sense that it doesn't affect "Stay" in any way-but you will still probably need to read "Stay" in order to fully understand these fics.

I have three ficlets/extras that I'm writing in this series. Beyond that, I'll keep this open for more, but I can't promise updates. I prefer to make new, complete stories, rather than lingering on things I've already written. So these extras will only come when I'm inspired and I have time between fics. As such, I'm sorry that I can't promise updates for anyone.

The tags/content matter will change per 'chapter'. Some are a little sad, some are a little smutty, some are a little humorous. Some are set in a specific timeline and some are vague. I'll try to put content warnings and explanations in the chapter summaries and update the tags as I go, but please keep in mind that the rating will change per chapter.

Damian awoke to the sound of thunder.

He sat up, his bedroom as dark as the time he laid in it. Despite being midday, the gray, booming clouds kept his room dim.

He ignored the crick in his back, not even pausing long enough to stretch. He immediately moved his way to the window, pulling open the curtain. Through the fog on his window, he could see the lights of a car parked in the driveway. A small shadow with an umbrella made its way through the rain, rushing for the door.

Damian's gaze lowered.

"Shit," he muttered.

Dick stood in the middle of the bathroom, heavy dark bangs in his face, water dripping all over the tiles. His skin was a touch paler than its usual sunkissed color and his tiny arms were wrapped around his naked chest as he shivered. Normally this was a job best left for Alfred but given he was also soaking wet, Damian insisted on taking the butler's place so he could tend to himself.

"I'm assuming your zoo trip did not go well," Damian said flatly, finally returning with a towel. Dick's shaky hands took the towel and he muttered his thanks.

"We didn't even make it to the penguins," he said, defeated, wiping his face with the towel. Which his hair then proceeded to drip over. Damian rolled his eyes and snatched the towel back, throwing it over Dick's hair and drying it. Dick just stood there, shoulders slumped and arms at his side in defeat as Damian ruffled up his hair.

"Tt. I told you it was a bad idea," Damian said.

"It was worth a try," Dick grumbled. For once, Damian relented. He supposed today wasn't the day to play the I was right, you were wrong card. Damian released the towel which Dick pulled to his shoulders and wrapped himself in. He huffed, blowing the fluffy bangs away from his eyes. "Why does my birthday have to be in spring? Why can't it be like… in winter."

At that, Damian quirked an eyebrow. "But then there'd be snow."

"Yeah but at least penguins love snow."

"You would get snowed on…"

"Better than rain."

Damian just stared at Dick flatly, recalling rainless deserts from his childhood. "Be thankful you live in a temperate zone."

"Damian."

"Hm?"

"When's your birthday?"

"April 31st."

"Really?" Dick said, eyes widening. "But that's so soon."

"Tt. Think again, dolt. There's only thirty days in April. You're getting older but you're certainly not getting wiser," Damian said, flicking Dick's forehead. Dick scowled, rubbing his forehead, glare focused on Damian the whole time.

"Whatever," Dick said, face turning red. He went back to dry himself off. As he did so, Damian noticed something.

"What's that?" Damian said, nodding toward Dick's side. Dick had to stop and look down. A thick line raced across his ribs to his waist.

"Oh," Dick said, seeming to remember. "It's a cut from that run-in with the knife guy, remember? It was like… a week ago?"

"It still hasn't healed?"

"It's healing," Dick said, running a finger down the path of the scar. "It's just going to leave a mark."

Damian didn't say anything.

"Do you think the rain will be done by patrol?" Dick asked.

"Are you sure you want to go on patrol?"

Dick grinned unexpectedly. "Weren't you the one arguing with Alfred, saying that birthdays weren't an excuse?"

He did. A strange feeling washed over him. Something reminiscent to his moods after failed missions with his father, back when he was a child. A sense of shame over a mistake that he couldn't go back in time and change.

"I suppose I did," he said shortly, with no sense of emotion. Perhaps too bluntly because Dick clearly caught onto it, eyeing Damian carefully. He's sharper now, Damian supposed. Dick had spent the shortest amount of time with Damian out of anyone in the manor and yet he always seemed to read Damian's moods when no one else could. He could do the same to Alfred and Bruce, for that matter. But the boy just shrugged, wrapping the towel a little closer to himself.

"I like going on patrol. And this way, we can hang out on my birthday."

Damian didn't want to skip patrol, despite many arguments with Alfred about the importance of the date. Now Damian felt more like he couldn't afford to skip patrol, even if he wanted to. They were on the brink of taking out a drug ring but their past few stakeouts had been unsuccessful.

"Fine," Damian said bluntly. "Your choice."

"It's cold," Dick whined.

"You could have stayed home," Damian said, annoyed. The hem of his coat was tugged and maneuvered. Damian looked down sharply. A growl to his voice, he said, "What are you doing?"

"It's dryer under here," Dick responded, voice muffled. Dick was kneeling, the flaps of Damian's coat over his head. Damian could feel Dick's head leaning against his knee, the damp fabric growing even more saturated. Damian had to bite back his curses, resorting to grimacing.

The rain was lighter now. But puddles riddled all the rooftops and alleyways and the winds felt particularly harsh. Damian, just barely, caught Dick's murmuring.

"My birthday's over."

Damian looked up. From their view on the rooftop, he could see the clocktower. Past midnight.

"At some point, I won't be able to do this anymore," Dick continued, sounding more than a touch disappointed.

"I never gave you permission to do it now," Damian said, but while he contemplated yanking his coat back, he didn't.

"But it'll be different. I won't be little anymore," Dick said.

"Isn't that a good thing? You can't fight well at this size," Damian said.

It was true. But Damian's mind wandered back to the new scar Dick had acquired. Lately, more and more marks decorated the boy's body. Being marked was nothing to be proud of—it just meant that an enemy managed to get the upper-hand—but considering how clean Dick's skin used to be, it was a sign that he was becoming more of a fighter. His progress should have merited a little bit of pride. It was exactly everything they were working towards—to make Dick stronger, better.

But lately, it just drove Damian crazy.

"Can I still be your sidekick when I'm older?" Dick asked.

"Is that what this is about?"

"I mean, when you got older… you left the manor… but I don't want the cowl, I want you to have it. So since I don't want it, that means I don't have to leave, right?"

"My reasons for leaving weren't as simple as that. I needed my own identity. You'll feel the same, when you're older. That's how it goes."

And maybe they'd have the same arguments Damian and Bruce had. And maybe Dick would want more than Damian could give. And maybe Damian would drive him away too.

"No I won't. As long as you want me as your partner—"

"Let's not think that far into the future. Let's just focus on making it through the week."

Dick's sudden silence unnerved Damian. A normal boy should want to grow older—it's all Damian ever thought about at his age. But Dick seemed to detest the thought.

Dick was small enough to hide under Damian's coat. Damian supposed that at one point in time, he must have been that tiny too.

One day, when Dick was older, he wouldn't be able to do that anymore.

Assuming he lived that long.

And maybe his body would become bruised and scarred and battered like Damian's too.

It was his birthday and he had went on patrol anyways. Because he truly didn't want to get older—he wanted to stay Damian's sidekick forever. He wanted to be his partner.

Damian would never say it. But he wanted that too.

"We should head home. Nothing's happening anyways," Damian said, and Dick finally crawled out. He looked up at Damian, raindrops on his face, with a sense of unease. His face was pink, his eyes almost coy, and he bit his bottom lip a little before speaking up.

"Um, since it's a special occasion and all…"

"Spit it out," Damian said impatiently. Though he already had a feeling what Dick wanted.

Dick, face now red, blurted it out, his words hastily strung together: "Can I get birthday kiss?"

"Fine," Damian said simply. Dick's eyes widened in surprise but he didn't hesitate. He grabbed Damian by the folds of his jacket, tugging him down and standing on his tippy toes so their lips could meet.

Before they did, Damian placed two fingers over Dick's lips, stopping him.

"Remember? It's not your birthday anymore."

Dick's shoulders slumped, eyes glaring at him, mouth still covered. It was hard for Damian to not laugh at him.

"You just promised!" Dick protested.

"I did." Damian looked him in the eye, Dick staring back ferociously. Damian, quietly, added, "For next year. When you're older."

Dick considered these words, his expression softening. He could never stay mad for long.

"You better not forget," Dick said.

They headed home together. As they crossed the rooftops, Damian could feel the slight aches in his body. The overworked muscles and stinging bruises.

Damian knew that there might not be another year. That any given moment, any dire situation, might force him to break his promise. That part of having the cowl meant that breaking promises was a new part of his responsibilities.

But it didn't hurt to have something to look forward to.