Chapter Two
Even though his costume had a good amount of bright, primary coloring, Robin still wasn't the easiest Gotham crime fighter to pick out from a rooftop. Selina was surprised when she found him first.
She gracefully flipped across fire escapes and overhangs until she landed lightly next to him. "Hello Robin."
The glare from that domino mask had no business coming from a child in those colors. She still remembered when Grayson had shown up as the first Robin (though it was difficult to reconcile the memory of the child with the man he'd grown up into, not least of which because it made her feel old). Damian Wayne was far too surly for that costume.
"Is Batman around?"
"Of course," the kid snapped icily. Selina crossed her arms over her chest, prepared to fight petulance with petulance.
"I'd like to talk to him. Batman the younger, if you please."
"I'm not a secretary."
"Well, if you'd kindly tell me where he is, I'll go find him myself and be out of your hair. If not, I can amuse myself chatting with you as though you were a secretary, okay sweetheart?"
He scowled. "I don't accept those terms." And then the little beast grappled away.
Selina was saved the necessity of following after him by Grayson dropping down next to her.
"Trying to trap the new kid almost never works. Hey Selina. What's up?"
"Just delivering a message." She handed him the folded slip of paper Piper had given her earlier in the week. "A friend of mine asked me to give you this."
He glanced down at the paper casually, then stared at it in amazement. "Oh…he told you about that?"
"Yes he did. He was rather confused and distressed about the whole thing until I helped him puzzle out who he'd actually had sex with. Don't give me any looks, I didn't reveal anybody's identity!" Though how those boys had kept their identities as secret as they had was beyond her.
"Good." He slid the slip of paper into a compartment of his utility belt.
"Are you going to call him?" Selina pressed.
"Possibly."
"That's cute, but cut the evasive bullshit. Hartley's a friend of mine-" Well…a friend of James', and that was close enough. "If you call him, you're going to be on your best, most gentlemanly behavior."
The asshole had the audacity to smirk. "Or what?"
"If you want to play relationship head games with the people in my life, don't think I won't play back in kind with someone in yours."
Dick scowled. "For the record, I did tell him to go for it with you. If he'd listen to me, you'd actually be in a real relationship."
"And instead I'm in a position to toy with him." And now that she had a backup boyfriend of sorts, she was mostly emotionally equipped to do so without getting jerked around herself.
"Look, I'm not planning on playing games with Piper."
"Good. Keep it that way." Deciding that was as good a parting shot as any, she leapt off the rooftop and disappeared into the night.
"So what did Father's tart want with you?"
"You should be nicer about Selina. She's the most decent of your dad's girlfriends."
"Yes, well, I'm the product of the machinations of the next nearest competition, so I know how little that's saying. Now answer my question."
Dick glanced down at the crabby ten year old. "Make me."
"Sometimes I can't believe I see you as an authority figure."
"I know, right?"
Then Damian unexpectedly swiped Dick's legs out from under him and pinned him to the floor of the Bunker. "By the way Grayson, I can make you."
Dick broke the hold and, with some graceful flips, was looking at him from the other end of the Bunker. "You're certainly welcome to try."
From there they devolved into something that was almost tag, mostly sparring, and definitely more play than training. Damian caught Dick several times, but never managed to hold him for more than a few seconds; certainly never long enough to properly threaten him.
Dick was glad he'd managed to change out of the suit and into sweats before this started. He still wasn't very good at flipping around in the heavy costume. He wondered sometimes if there was a way to make a Batsuit that was light and easy to move in like the Nightwing costume, but still badass. Probably not.
Since neither of them were willing to quit and 'lose', they only stopped when Alfred came down to complain. Since Damian blatantly didn't want to get his answer in front of the butler, Dick 'won'.
The two trudged upstairs, went their separate ways, and Dick dropped onto his bed to contemplate his meeting with Catwoman in peace. He took the scrap of paper from his pocket and fiddled with it, thinking.
Then Damian jumped him (the little brat must have snuck in and hidden himself behind the dresser), tackled him to the ground, and landed victorious with the bed between them, paper in hand. "A-ha! What is this?" He looked it over, some confusion on his face. "Is father's tryst propositioning you too?"
"Give that back!" Dick yelled, sincerely annoyed and regressing to the maturity level of a ten year old involved in a game of keep-away in the process. He dove for Damian and missed by at least a yard. Chalk that up to anger and impatience.
Damian smirked at him. "This isn't Kyle's handwriting. So whose is it?"
"None of your damn business!" he lunged again and missed again, but by less this time.
"Want me to do a little detective work then? I'll make it a training exercise-"
"The hell you will!" Closer again. Damian was getting sloppier now that he was examining the note for clues.
"It's written on the back of a receipt from a music store in Keystone City, so no one local." Damian lightly leapt away again, getting closer to the door. Dick did not want him going down to the computer to look this up. "Handwriting's rather masculine considering the phone number implies he's propositioning you."
"Yeah, that is odd, isn't it?" Dick snapped, going for the door. Damian got there first, and their chase went into the hallway.
Damian started to shout another taunt over his shoulder, but stopped when he ran into his father. He bounced off of Bruce and landed on the floor with a groan, the little slip of paper falling into the air. Bruce snatched it, read it, then fixed Dick with a disappointed gaze.
"You're not going to actually call this man, are you?"
"Who? Who is it?" Damian asked. The adults ignored him.
"I…I don't know," Dick said hesitantly. The disappointed frown deepened. Well really, like he had any right to judge.
Bruce pocketed the paper, signifying an end to the conversation, then turned to regard Damian. "I know it's late, but I was hoping to talk to you."
"Alright Father. You're not going to tell me anything about the paper, are you?"
Bruce sighed. "It's Dick's business." He fixed Dick with another heavy gaze, and he stiffened indignantly as though he were about Damian's age and had been caught doing something wrong. "Don't call him."
"Okay Bruce. You just made up my mind."
Dick went back into his room while the father and son left for their heart to heart, or lecture, or guilt trip, or whatever the hell else Bruce had planned. He grabbed a duffel bag from his closet, then hopped out the window, deciding he needed to have another chat with Catwoman.
Bruce had made up his mind, after all.
