A/N: Update in the middle of the night? Why not. All the lovely reviews I've been getting made me want to update faster, so have another chapter! Thank you all so much for reading this, and especially those of you who take the time to review! You're fantastic, and I just want to gather you all into a group hug for being so supportive!

On another note, Batman and Robin #12 came out today (yesterday)! I loved it—lots of great moments with all four of the boys! I really wish they had done more with Dick and Damian though. I feel a bit shortchanged there, since it's very short compared to the fights with Tim and Jason. But I can't get too upset about that; this little arc has been a lot of fun, and I loved seeing all four of them together! If you haven't read it yet, I definitely recommend it for fans of any or all of the Robins! (Though, still no Steph, sadly…)

But, that said, it means I can't really incorporate it into this fic. Which is fine. This is fanfiction after all, and I can do it however I like. Quite a few of my reviewers have said they wish the comics were touching on these issues more, and I wholeheartedly agree. That's part of the reason why I wanted to write this! So, since the comics seem to be skimming over Dick and Damian's run as Batman and Robin (though it is canon in the New 52 from what we know) and their whole relationship beyond occasionally working together, I hope you can enjoy my version of things. It's not nearly as professional and doesn't come with art, but I still love writing it.

Grayson comes by to get him around eleven thirty, looking like he hasn't slept at all, his shirt rumpled as if it's been lying on the floor.

"You ready?" he asks, simultaneously smiling and rubbing his eyes.

Damian nods stiffly, still wishing he'd said no to this plan, and picks up his suitcase.

"Is that enough? It's not very big."

"It's fine. I know how to pack."

"Mm." Grayson stretches and yawns. "Let's go tell Bruce goodbye then."

"No need," another voice says, and they turn to see Bruce walking in. "Go ahead and go; I have things covered here."

"Are you sure, Father?" He jumps at the chance to escape, ignoring how Grayson's face falls. "If you would like assistance with—"

"That's quite alright, Damian. I'm sure I can manage for a week."

"Yes, Father," he says reluctantly.

"And Dick?"

"Yeah?" Grayson answers.

They exchange a look over Damian's head, and Grayson nods slightly. Then Bruce turns back to Damian. "Look out for each other. I don't want either of you coming back with injuries."

He nods.

"Alright. I'll contact you if there's an emergency, but otherwise I'll see you in a week."

"Bye!" Grayson says, giving him a hug.

"Goodbye, Father," Damian echoes.

"Ready to go, Damian?" Grayson asks.

No. What am I doing? I should not have agreed to this idiotic plan. It is obviously an attempt to make me accept his fake apologies and...

He still follows quickly after Grayson. It's like muscle memory; he's so used to being by his side that he does it without thinking.

Oh well.

Dick keeps glancing over at Damian as he drives, hoping he might say something, anything, but there's only silence. Does he really plan on making this as difficult as possible? What am I supposed to do? I don't even know where to start.

He wants to just fix it all with a hug and an "I love you" but that's just wishful thinking. This is Damian, not a normal ten-year-old kid. It won't be that easy to gain his trust back.

I shouldn't have left.

No, stop it; you've been through this already. Thinking about it more won't do anything.

Tired of the silence, he starts talking about all kinds of things, trying to keep the mood lighthearted, but it gets harder and harder when he only gets one-word responses and zero interest. By the time they reach his place, it's quiet again.

Come on, Damian. Give me something to work with here. I don't want to be talking to myself for a week.

"Grayson."

"Yes?" he asks eagerly, relieved that he's not the one initiating conversation for once.

"You're as insufferable as always."

Can I just go back to bed?

"Here we are!"

Damian looks around skeptically. "This is where you live?"

"I know it's messy," Grayson says with yet another yawn.

"That's an understatement."

"I was gonna clean, but I was trying to finish up a case before you got here and I ran out of time for anything else."

"Well, I wasn't expecting much anyway. Do you really leave your costume lying around?" he asks, looking at the blue and black pile on the floor and kicking a stray eskrima stick.

"Uh, no. Sorry. I don't think I got much sleep. Maybe an hour. I was pretty out of it." He gathers it up in a bundle and dumps it in his closet. "There."

"You're a pitiful excuse for a vigilante, Grayson."

"Hey, don't insult the guy giving you a place to stay."

"I'll insult whomever I please."

"You never change, do you? Nice to know I haven't missed much."

Damian stops his examination of the room. "You've missed plenty. Or were you having so much fun on your own that you lost track of time?"

"Dami—"

"I'm leaving," he interrupts, already at the door.

"No, no, no, wait!" Grayson intercepts him, slipping in front of the door before he can open it. "I'm sorry. That was stupid. I've had a bad week and I'm tired and I just...I'm trying, okay? Give me a chance."

"Why?" he asks bluntly.

Grayson sighs and reaches out to touch him, but stops when he sees the warning look he's given. "I want this to work out, Damian. I do miss you."

Then you shouldn't have left.

"At least give me a couple days. Please? I was really looking forward to this."

"...Two days. Then I'm leaving."

"Okay, but then our other deal is invalid."

"What? Why?"

"I'm only letting you tinker with my bike if you stay the whole week."

"Tt. We'll see."

Grayson seems to accept this and takes a step away.

Damian moves away from the door and looks around. "Where should I put my things?"

"Huh? Oh, you'll be staying in my room. Just stick your suitcase wherever."

"Right." He sets it down on the end of the bed. "I assume you have some kind of inane, pointless activities planned?"

Grayson grins. "Of course!"

"If you suggest children's restaurants or the circus, I'm going straight back to Father."

"Okay, okay," he laughs. "I promise, no kiddie restaurants."

Damian narrows his eyes in suspicion. "And the circus?"

"Well…"

"Grayson."

"Alright, no circus either," he says, pouting. "Happy?"

"Satisfied. What's the first thing on the agenda?"

"Well, we could start by going out for lunch. Your choice."

"Can't we have something prepared here?"

Grayson rolls his eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't have an Alfred clone hanging around. If you want me to make something, it'll have to be microwaved. And I haven't got a lot to choose from; I forgot to pick up food at the store the other day."

"I refuse to eat anything that comes from that thing."

"So we're going out?" Grayson grabs his jacket. "Where to?"

"How should I know?"

"Okay...what kind of food do you want?"

"I don't care."

Grayson sighs. "You have to have some idea of what you want. Italian? Chinese? Burgers? Or we could just order pizza?"

"Judging from your trash can, you've eaten pizza at least twice this week already."

"Only because there's this really good place just down the street. If I ask them to deliver, they can be here in five minutes. It's fantastic! I do it all the time."

"So I gathered." Damian lets out a small huff of air. "Fine. Order it."

Grayson looks a little too happy as he dials the number by memory. "What kind?"

Damian shrugs. He's only ever had cheese and pepperoni, and Grayson introduced him to both, not that he was aware of that. Pizza was not exactly considered a staple for the current Batman or the League of Assassins.

"Do you like Hawaiian?"

He shrugs again.

"It's got pineapple and Canadian bacon, want to try it?"

"If I must." He sits down on the sofa and tunes Grayson's voice out with his iPod.

True to his claim, the pizza is there almost instantaneously. Grayson doesn't seem to have a proper dining room, so they eat right there in front of the TV, Grayson making light conversation between slices. "So, what do you think?"

"It's passable," he admits, though he actually thinks it's a step up from what he's tried before. At least there's something vaguely healthy on it other than stringy melted cheese and greasy slices of strange meat.

"Right? It's one of my favorites." He starts rambling about the other types of pizza they serve, but within a few minutes his voice trails off and he's falling asleep over the last remnants of his meal. Half a slice nearly slips out of his hand.

"Tt. Don't make a mess," Damian mutters, snatching it away.

Grayson's eyes flicker halfway open. "'S my apartment."

"Do you have some kind of head injury? You're acting more impaired than usual."

"Huh? No, I'm just…really…tired…" He slumps over, head hitting Damian's shoulder. Whether that's on purpose or not is rather questionable.

"Get off. You're heavy." He shoves him in the other direction and watches the man fall sideways onto the sofa, seemingly asleep. "Idiot." He's tempted to shove the half-eaten slice into the man's face, but decides against it, dropping it back into the box.

Damian grabs the TV remote and searches for something vaguely interesting to watch. Finding nothing, he turns it back off and returns to his music. He'll wake Grayson up when it's time for patrol unless, for some reason, he wakes up on his own. Unlikely, though. He seems to have reached his limit.

That's probably for the best.

He appreciates a few moments of quiet because he's sure there won't be many for the next seven days.