My laptop is broken so I'm typing on my old computer. The only problem is that it's my little brother's and I can't log into my email, so if you messaged me or wrote a story, it'll be a couple more days 'til I read it. And school starts tomorrow, so my updating will be slowed down by a lot. So, for all the people who don't start school tomorrow, I hate you. Well, more like I envy you. I hate school… *sobs dramatically*

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even this goddamn computer! *Sorry, feeling bipolar*

Matt sighed to himself, anxiously drumming his fingers against the table top in front of him. He wouldn't admit it, but he was scared sick at the thought of meeting his little brother after all this time. His stomach dropped at the thought of the little boy hating him for abandoning him all those years ago.

Calm down Grayson. If he hated you, he wouldn't have agreed or even written back. You're worrying for no reason he tried to assure himself.

He flipped his shaggy brown hair from his piercing blue eyes, starting to drum a familiar beat on the table top with only his fingertips and fingernails. His eyes unconsciously scanned his outfit. It was what he always wore: a simple and baggy white t-shirt with light blue jeans that had a few tears in the knees.

Should I have dressed better? No… he's my brother. He shouldn't care what I wear he argued with himself, his eyes darting back to his hands, finally recognizing the beat of 'Apologize' by OneRepublic.

Before he could start humming the familiar song, Thom's voice snapped him from his thoughts.

"Hey Mattie! Your brother just called. He said he had to stop and ask a friend for a favor and that he'd be here in a couple more minutes. He suggested you order so the pizza's ready when he gets here," the old man called from behind the counter of the Graysons' once favorite pizza shop.

Thom had a long and flowing white beard that was basically all the hair he had on his pale head. He wore a pizza sauce stained apron on and a warm smile to match. Matt smiled, relieved that little Dick hadn't forgotten. He stood up and strode to the counter, folding his harms and leaning on them against the counter.

"Did he tell you what he wanted?" Matt asked, his eyes scanning the familiar menu for the specific title of his all-time favorite.

Thom chuckled warmly.

"Didn't he? Ah, that boy's order hasn't changed since he was 10. He comes in two or three times every month with some red haired boy and they sit at that table in the corner," he gestured to it.

Matt's eyes darted to it.

"Do they seem like they're… ya know…?" he asked casually, pretty sure he knew what he wanted.

"Gay? Nah, they act like best friends. Some days, they'll bring in a red haired lady and a blonde girl, same with some black boy and some buff ebony. They just seem like a group of friends, although you're bro is the youngest of them all," Thom smiled at the thought of the group. "They act like one big messed up family."

Matt smiled, relieved that his brother was straight. He wouldn't mind a gay brother, but the thought kind of put him off-edge. [1]

"Glad to see he's still doing okay. Alright, um… well, my dearest Smithy, why don't you just set me up with the special? Everything looks awesome, but Canadian ham sounds delicious right now," Matt decided, leaning up off his hands.

Thom smiled at the nickname from long ago. "Got it, half order special and cheese. Give me about ten minutes. By that time, little Richard will be here."

Matt nodded graciously and returned back to the table by the window, thinking to pass the time as he watched the cars pass by. He couldn't help but wonder why his little brother hung out with the older kids. Was he doing drugs? Did he break into the school for test answers?

Oh God, I sure hope not. I don't want him following in my footsteps…

XxXxX

"This is stupid," Wally complained, putting the helmet over his head. "Why do I have to drive around on your motorcycle?"

"Because," Dick said simply, his blue eyes sparkling with mischievousness and a dash of anger, "I saw Bruce's civvie car following me downtown and I don't want him stopping me from meeting my big brother."

Wally rolled his eyes, mounting the motorcycle.

"Come on dude. You're dad- er, ward… warden? You're…" he sighed at trying to think of what to call Bruce. He gave a frustrated groan, "Bruce isn't that stupid. I'm taller than you. He'd know it's not you."

Dick grinned to himself. "That's why you have to drive fast. Bruce follows speed laws, but you don't have to."

He felt better as he saw Wally grin behind the helmet.

"You want me to break the law?" he interpreted it.

Dick cocked his head, looking up and pursing his lips. He shrugged.

"That's one way to put it, I suppose," he agreed.

Wally cheered, pumping a fist into the air.

"I knew there was a reason I loved ya," he teased.

Dick rolled his eyes. "Just get going before he sees me."

He patted his favorite ginger's back and the teen took the hint, blasting off onto the road, giving off an amused cackle at the feeling. When he was out of sight, Dick jogged down the road. He set a hand to his ear where a communicator lay in hiding. He pressed the button, turning it on.

"Keep this on dude, just in case," Dick requested.

He heard Wally give a manish giggle before he replied. "Sure dude, whatever. I see your- er, Bruce's car behind me seventy feet. I'm giving him for his money, all multi-million of it."

Dick grinned to himself, shaking his head before turning the communicator half-off so that if Wally needed to contact him, he'd hear it. When he saw the pizza shop come into view, his heart stopped dead in his chest. He was terrified. What if his brother was some oversized trannie? What if his brother was some super muscled guy on steroids? What if he was a murderer? The what-ifs ran wild in his head, but he tuned them out as he nervously opened the door, stepping inside the pizza shop. Despite the warm temperature the shop was set to, violent chills ran down his back as he scanned the occupants. There were a lot of people there.

Dick swallowed hard and forced his legs of Jell-O to move forward, looking over every guy in the shop, looking for one that mildly looked like him.

Matt looked up from the table as he heard the door chime. In the doorway was a boy who looked to be about 13 or 14. He had hair that wasn't long, but it wasn't short. It seemed just long enough to be able to flip about for amusement. His eyes were a dark blue, and a familiar one at that. He wore a black jacket that was unzipped, revealing the green shirt he wore beneath it. His jeans were thin and a darker shade at that. The only thing that made him not look like his brother was the deep ebony that his hair was. His little Dickard had brown hair. He sighed, turning his eyes back to the table.

That couldn't be his brother. The boy was far too pale anyway. The little toddler he had known had spent every other second outside, causing his skin to get a nice shade of tan. And the other thing that set him off was the muscles. Sure, trapezists had nice muscles, but nothing like that. Unless his brother was working at a gym for four hours a day, every day, or something like that, that wasn't Dick. Or so he thought.

"Hey Richie," Thom welcomed the little ebony, tousling the boy's black locks of hair, causing him to scrunch up his nose in discomfort despite the grin that flew to his lips.

"Hey Smithy," Dick returned the greeting, ducking out from under the hand. "Is Matt here?"

Matt forced himself to his feet, smiling weakly. He raised a hand in a nervous wave. When Dick's eyes fell on him, the boy's weak grin doubled in size, drawing a grin from Matt's lips without him meaning to. Dick walked carefully to him and the two stared at each other for a while, not sure of what to do exactly.

"Well, do I get a hug?" Matt asked teasingly, opening his arms, surprised that He still stood a foot over his little brother at only 6'2".

Dick accepted the invitation and practically tackled his big brother, burying his blue eyes into the baggy white t-shirt. Matt tensed for a moment, but he eased up and wrapped an arm around his brother until he felt the ebony's grip release so he dropped his arms. His blue eyes sparkled happily. Dick quickly slid into the seat opposite of Matt, his own blue eyes seemingly twinkling.

"I have so much to tell you!" Dick said, hiding the twinge of pain that followed.

Matt smiled, "Me too bro. Hey, where are mom and dad? Are they coming?"

His smile faded as he saw his little brother's grin fade and his eyes darted to the bottom left corner of their sockets.

"I uh… no… they're… not coming," he admitted, setting a hand to his neck.

Matt raised an eyebrow.

"They aren't still mad at me, are they?" he asked, a slight shade of hurt passing over his lips.

He studied his brother's reaction carefully. Dick shook his head, seeming to think of how to phrase it.

"I uh… no, they're not mad," he said slowly.

That peaked Matt's curiosity.

"So, where are they?" he asked.

Richard forced his eyes up to his brother's.

"Matt, mom and dad are… dead," he decided to phrase it.

Matt's eyes widened for a second before he laughed, grinning to himself.

"You almost had me there bro. But seriously, I don't blame them for being mad. I was kind of an ass to them back then. Are they back at the house?" he was totally oblivious.

When he saw that Dick didn't laugh or grin back, his grin faded and his eyebrows furrowed.

"They're buried six feet under the ground in Gotham Cemetery, row 16, 12 over in a double tombstone," his little brother's voice sounded soft and broken at the memory.

Matt's jaw dropped slowly, his eyes widening in hurt.

"D-dead…?" he whispered in disbelief.

Dick nodded slowly, averting his eyes.

"H-How?" Matt tried to keep from smashing the table with his fists, his eyes starting to water.

Dick bit his lip, exhaling slowly.

"Tony Zucco and his gang wanted money from the Circus, but they wouldn't give any, so they put acid on the wires. Mom and dad swung by and reached for me… and the wire snapped… and they fell…" Dick coughed to keep his voice strong.

Matt blinked fast, hoping to keep a few tears from falling.

"D-Did… who…" he couldn't think of what to say.

Lucky for him, the pizza was set on the table, presented by a smiling Thom. When he saw how devastated Matt looked, he looked questionably at Dick.

"He hasn't heard from mom and dad in six years," Dick mouthed.

Thom winced. He patted Matt's back comfortingly before walking back behind the counter, a frown playing over his lips now too. Dick picked up a piece of cheese pizza and took a bite, letting out a cry and dropping it at the heat.

"Hey, that might be hot," Matt teased half-heartedly.

Dick shrugged, offering a small smile. Matt picked up a piece and blew on it, taking a bite of his Canadian ham pizza. His eyes stared at the wall behind Dick that separated the table from the one behind it.

"Who do you live with now? Did… Zucco get caught?"

Dick took a cautious bite of pizza before answering.

"Batman caught him and Zucco's rotting in Arkham for all I know," Dick answered the first question, "and as for me… Well, the orphanage couldn't find any proof that you were still alive so I was put up for adoption. I'm living with Bruce Wayne, the multi-millionaire."

Matt sighed.

"That explains the BW on the gate…" he slammed his fist towards the tabletop but froze it an inch above the top. "God, I'm so stupid."

He set the fist against the table, taking another bite of pizza before closing his eyes. Dick followed suit, waiting for his brother to say something. And when his brother did finally speak again, it was the last thing in the world he had ever expected.

"So… now that there's proof I'm alive, doesn't that mean you have to come live with me since I'm your last of kin?"

[1] It's a term I made up. It's kind of like on-edge, but on-edge is when you're kind of suspicious and scared. Off-edge would be like where you're falling off the edge and you'd be scared and panicked.

Hmm, crappy ending. I don't know how adoption goes, but Bruce never really adopted Dicky-boy. Wouldn't that mean Matt would have to adopt him since he's legally family and Bruce isn't? If not, then sorry for the sucky ending. If you have no idea like me, then I suppose it could be a cliffie. And do you like it better when I call Robin's alter ego Richard or Dick? I decided to experiment… And was Matt a weenie or what? I tried to think of how someone would react, but I've never seen anyone get told that they're folks are dead so… I figured if I made him start sobbing his eyes out, you'd call him a pussy or something.

Review?

-F.J. Smith(y)