Don't get me wrong here, I love the batfam and their interactions, but this had to be written. And I think it kinda makes sense, even if their family does love each other.
Also, this takes place after Nightwing has been Batman. He now lives as a cop in Bludhaven again (I know that's not really sticking to the storyline, but copdick was great).
Disclaimer: I own what rocks dream about. Also, there are NO DETAILS AT ALL ABOUT ANYTHING INTIMATE MENTIONED IN THIS STORY. That there have been relationships is said, but NOTHING is given in any way, shape or form. AT ALL.
Dick Grayson had been in a lot of intimate relationships. This was strange because there was only one woman he'd ever really loved. Barbara Gordon. But at the same time… he never seemed to be without someone. Of course, with his looks, he could have just about any girl in existence. But for someone who was trained by Batman to constantly guard himself, and who had such a high, unyielding moral code… it seemed confusing, maybe even oxymoronic, to keep up that never ending stream of females. Until you thought about it.
Dick reached over to ruffle Damian's hair, but the smaller boy ducked out of the way. "Cease your pathetic attempts at physical contact, Grayson!"
"Boy, you have the longest way of saying 'back off', Dami!" Dick managed to pull Damian into a quick hug, that the boy promptly tried to squirm out of.
"Grayson I shall flay the skin from your bones if this continues!"
"Aww, I know you wouldn't!"
Damian kicked at him, but lacked leverage: the kick was without force. Finally, though, the smaller boy squirmed his way out of Dick's hold. He bounded off, calling mockingly over his shoulder. Dick very maturely stuck his tongue out at his little brother. Once Damian was around the corner, he sighed, and rubbed a hand over his arm.
Mentally he kicked himself for his dejection. He'd gotten a few seconds of physical contact from Damian, that was more than he'd had from his family in a month. He should be grateful, not whining pathetically. Well. It was time to leave anyway.
Dick trudged toward the manor doors, knowing that he would soon have to return to his apartment. Alone. Unlo - NO! His family loved him. He knew that much and was a monster for thinking otherwise, even for a second. They just didn't need pathetic contact every minute of every day.
Dick stepped outside the manor doors and made his way to his cycle. There were advantages to having a motorcycle. Aside from maneuverability, it felt kind of like flying on the ground. And if someone rode with you they had to hold on behind you, and you could pretend it was a hug. No one was riding with him back to Bludhaven. No one from his family had optionally hugged him in months. That was okay. Most people weren't pathetic and needy like Dick. He couldn't expect them to be different from what they were.
Finally, Dick pulled up in front of his apartment. Trudging up the dark stairs, he unhooked the keys from his belt. Fingers glided over smooth metal to find the niche that indicated the correct key. The tip bounced off the side of the keyhole once, then slid in. A click tells him the door unlocks, a creak accompanies the door's motion.
They should be sounds he isn't able to hear. He should hear laughter, bickering; anything that means someone else is there. Squeaking floorboards should be inaudible over the sound of light hearted teasing. But if he turns on the light his will be the only shadow. The room mocks him with it's noise; noise he shouldn't be able to hear. Or maybe he doesn't deserve the laughter, the bickering, the teasing.
He knows that's it. It's not his family's fault he's such a failure. Especially when he's supposed to be the strong one. The rock, the one that keeps everyone safe no matter what. More than safe. Dick is supposed to be the perfect one. The one with the perfect handle on his emotions, never out of control, never allowed to brood in the darkness, and always, always, there for everyone else.
When someone was feeling particularly down, it was Dick's job to say the perfect thing to build them up. When everyone else broke, and Bruce hid in the Batcave's stalagmites plotting schemes in overdrive… Dick needed to be untouched. Never dwelling, always moving forward and carrying everyone with him.
It was the least he could do. Afterall, he didn't have any other particular value. He had been first. The original experiment. Now he was outdated. Years ago things had been nicer. Years ago, Batman had smiled: everyone had smiled. There had been constant jokes, ridiculous costumes, and corny puns. It seemed no one remembered that anymore. Dick was the last remnant of a forgotten world.
Trudging toward his bed, not bothering with the light (his shouldn't be the only shadow), he sank onto the covers.
His last relationship had ended a few weeks ago. He couldn't commit to her when he was in love with Barbara. But if he didn't have a girlfriend, no one would touch him. He knew he was attractive. It seemed to be the only reason people optionally spent time with him. He needed to find someone else. The emptiness was unbearable. But it was all he had, for now.