A/N: Hi! Here's the new chapter as promised! Special thanks to my friend (you know who you are~) who I just told about this fic and who's been really awesome and supportive! And of course, thank you to everyone reading this story-you're fantastic!

Dick wastes no time in getting up in the morning, even though he's still drowsy and sore from accidentally falling off his sofa during the night. It takes him about two minutes to make toast and pour orange juice into a glass before rushing towards Damian's room—wait, isn't it his room?—and knocking rapidly.

"What do you want?" Damian's voice is softer than usual, with a hint more of his accent coming through, as it always does when he's not entirely awake. Dick rarely hears it and never comments on it, because Damian nearly strangled him for calling it cute once.

"I made breakfast!"

"I told you, I'm leaving."

"No, you agreed to talk to me first! That's why I'm bringing you breakfast in bed!"

"I did not agree to that and I am not in bed, so it would probably be more beneficial to throw whatever monstrosity you created out the window."

Dick groans and opens the door anyway, finding Damian hanging from the ceiling. "It's just toast. Even I can't mess up toast."

He receives a look for that one.

"Alright, so I messed up once. Cut me some slack; it was a new toaster and I hadn't used it before."

"Of course it was." Damian lands neatly next to the bed.

"Shut up." Dick settles down on the bed next to where Damian is standing. He feels somewhat reassured by their usual banter, even if it does seem a bit strained, like they're both trying a little too hard for it to be natural. "So," he begins, "did you sleep alright?" He sees the dark glare directed at him and quickly backtracks. "Breakfast. Here."

Damian accepts the toast, looking at it suspiciously.

"What? I didn't poison it."

"Is that the standard for judging quality now?" He examines the slice from all angles before taking a small bite. "What, are you going to watch me eat?"

"Why not? You might run off if I leave you alone for too long!" he says happily.

Damian slowly lowers the toast back to the plate, eyes darkening. "Now you're worried about leaving me alone?"

Dick's hands flew up defensively. "Wait, wait, I wasn't—"

"Now?" Damian demands. "You were fine leaving me with Father for months, but now you want to make sure I don't 'run off'? In case you hadn't noticed, you're the one who ran away."

"I wasn't running—"

"You left with no warning; what else would you call it?"

"I was trying to help—"

"Help what, Grayson? My father? Gotham? Don't make excuses."

"No!" Dick retorts, his own voice rising because he's irritated that he keeps getting interrupted. "Believe it or not, I had a good reason for leaving, Damian!"

"Oh, I know you had a reason. Tell me, what stunted logic did you use to qualify your actions?"

"I was trying to do the right thing! Bruce came back, and I wanted you to have a chance to spend time with your father!"

"I didn't want my father!"

"You better be damn happy Bruce isn't here to hear you say that."

"I don't care!"

"You don't care?" Dick leans in close, all of his usual cheer gone. "Do you have any idea how precious a gift that is? To have parents? Do you know how many times I wished mine were still alive? I would have given anything to have them back, and you're passing up a chance to be with your father just because maybe he's not what you expected?"

"Grayson—" he begins.

"Do you know how lucky you are to even have that option? Shit, Damian, open your eyes already!"

"Grayson—"

"Don't you dare tell me I'm wrong about this, Damian. I may have been wrong to leave the way I did, but I will never regret letting you and Bruce work together."

"Like you regret leaving at all," Damian snarls.

"I do! Of course I do! I hate having one of my little brothers mad at me!"

"Well, it's good that you care about Todd and Drake more, then!"

"More? I don't love anyone more, Damian!" I love all of you.

"Liar. You think I can't tell?"

"I think you're trying to convince yourself that there's something wrong with you that made me leave!"

Damian freezes.

Shit, that was too far.

"You—You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Damian—"

He lowers his eyes to the floor. "I know perfectly well why you left; there's no need to keep it a secret."

"Damian, I told you…"

"You lied. You always lie! Just get out!"

"No, listen to me. Just this once, listen," Dick pleads. "I didn't leave because of anything you did. I was trying to help you."

"I don't need your help or your pity or your condescending—"

"I'm not—"

"You are. I'm not a child, and I don't need you to comfort me!"

"Damian," Dick says softly, "I know you're strong. I've always known that. Wanting someone to comfort you and love you isn't a weakness."

"I don't want anyone to love me!" Damian shouts, stumbling back a few steps.

"Oh," Dick breathes, standing and stretching out a hand to touch the boy's shoulder, "I don't believe that."

He flinches and takes a few more steps away. "You should. I'm an assassin."

"I don't believe that either," he murmurs, letting his hand fall back to his side. "You used to be an assassin. You're Robin now."

"I'm his Robin," he says, defiance creeping back into his voice in an attempt to cover his vulnerability, but he sounds like he's about to break apart.

"I know."

"I'm his Robin because you left. Because you no longer had a use for me."

"What does that mean?" He's never seen this much insecurity in Damian's expression before.

"People use me, Grayson!" Damian's voice nearly breaks, but he corrects it immediately. "My grandfather, my mother, everyone—they use me until it becomes inconvenient, and then they just leave me behind! I'm not an idiot! That's what people do! I simply let my guard down by accident when it came to you and—and—" He draws a shaky breath. "I showed you every weakness, Grayson! I trusted you with everything! In the League of Assassins, that would have meant death! I should have known it was just the same pattern repeating, but—"

"No," Dick interrupts urgently, enclosing Damian in a warm hug before he has a chance to slip out of reach again. "No, no, no, Damian. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That wasn't it at all. I just…I thought I was doing the right thing. I know it was a mistake, and I'm sorry, but don't ever think I was just using you. I left you behind because I cared, not because I thought you were useless. You are anything but useless, Dami. I love you. I'm sorry."

"You aren't. You don't. You're lying. Let go." He attempts to pull himself away, rigid in Dick's tight hold.

"No. I'm not letting you go."

"But I'm not—"

"Why are you so convinced I don't care about you?" Dick asks gently.

"You left."

"And you keep saying that, but you're leaving out the important part." He squeezed Damian tightly. "I came back."

"Not really."

"Really. I'm not going to just disappear forever." He loosens his hold a little and tries to get Damian to look at him. "Now tell me what's bothering you. All of it."

"Nothing's bothering me."

"Tt."

Damian's head shoots up so fast he nearly hits Dick's chin. "Are you mocking me, Grayson?"

"Never," Dick replies with a playful glint in his eye. "Just expressing my disbelief and annoyance."

"I'm going to kill you. Slowly and painfully."

"Sure you will," he laughs before sobering again. "But, seriously, Damian, tell me."

He nearly misses the way Damian's eyes flicker over to his wall.

"Hm? The pictures? Cool, right? I've got one of everybody!"

"I know," Damian whispers.

"Hey." He tilts Damian's chin up. "What is it?"

"Tt. I'm…not."

"Not?" He looks between Damian and the pictures a couple more times. "Oh!"

"Don't laugh."

"I'm not. I just didn't expect you to notice that kind of thing."

Damian glares at him.

"It's really not what you're thinking. I promise. It's actually kind of funny!" He quickly stops when he sees the infuriated look on Damian's face. "No, really. Come with me for a sec."

Damian allows himself to be pulled out of the room and dragged over to the tiny kitchen area.

"There. See?"

Damian stares blankly at the refrigerator standing in front of him. Photos are scattered across the front, magnets sticking them to the appliance haphazardly. There are maybe a dozen casual pictures in total, all with the two of them together at the manor and a few other locations. Damian hadn't even known some of them existed. "What…"

"Ah, well, I guess it's just one of those things, like parents putting their kids' accomplishments on the fridge? Or something. I mean, I'm not your parent. I just missed seeing you all the time, so…they just ended up here. I guess you didn't notice since you've been hiding out in my room most of the time you've been here and—Damian?"

He had remained absolutely still as Dick spoke, but now there was a quiet trembling in his shoulders. "It…wasn't because of me?" he asks faintly. "I wasn't a bad Robin?"

Dick smiles and wraps his arms around the smaller boy, chin resting on the top of his head. "Never."

That's all it takes. One word, and Damian whips around to bury his face in Dick's shirt, holding on so tightly it seems like he's glued there. "I'm not crying," he mutters shakily.

"That's okay. I am." Dick holds him just as tightly, warmth spreading through him as he realizes that it's okay, they're okay, Damian's hugging him. He slips down to his knees, pulling Damian onto his lap and taking slow, deep breaths as he rubs circles into Damian's back. "You'll be okay, little one."

They sit huddled together on the kitchen floor, Dick's quiet words floating in and out while Damian holds on and says nothing, the slight trembling and the damp spots on Dick's shirt the only things betraying his lack of control.

Dick simply lets his tears slip down his face, relieved and happy to be this close to his youngest brother once again. He strokes Damian's hair gently, rubs his back, trying to ease the tension that's built up to a breaking point. After many long minutes, he feels him gradually start to relax and shifts his position just slightly. "Alright?"

Damian pulls away sharply and wipes at his eyes, chin held high. "I am fine, Grayson. You're the one sobbing your eyes out."

"Oh, really?" Dick pokes him in the forehead. "I think the evidence would say differently."

Before Damian can reply with a scathing comment on Dick's ridiculousness and sentimentality, he finds himself pulled back into hug. "What are you doing?"

"Shh. It's my privilege as your big brother," he murmurs softly, rocking them back and forth just slightly. "I love you, Dami."

"Grayson—"

"All death threats will be ignored. It's cuter when knives aren't in the equation." Dick presses a kiss to the top of Damian's head. "Are we okay now?"

"Tt."

Dick feels small arms wrap around his torso and smiles. We're okay.