This is Christmas: 2 Years Later
This Is Home: Part Three
Everybody sing.
This is Christmas
And this is home
Peace on Earth's been a long time coming.
-Curt Smith, This is Christmas
Disclaimer: I don't own DC comics or their characters. If I did, Dick and Damian would still be the Dynamic Duo. Forever and ever.
Note: I'd like to believe that after two years, Damian would call Dick and Alfred by their first names, respectfully.
White blurred outside the window of the luxury sedan as Damian stared aimlessly out, his thoughts swirling underneath.
He was confused. Dick had come home last week from Chicago and had eaten breakfast with Damian. He'd been elated and fooled himself into thinking Dick would stay. Yet his older brother was gone when Damian had came home from school that day, and he refused to go out later that night during patrol when his father offered the role of Robin back to him. Had he only imagined the big ridiculous smile on Dick's face and the bear-crushing hug? Was the smile forced? The hug Dick only gave to be polite? Did Dick only come back because Father tattled on him, on what Damian had done?
It was easy to maintain their relationship when it was long distance, but when Dick had shown up suddenly all those feelings Damian had buried surfaced. Betrayal. Loneliness. Hurt.
The order he disobeyed that night was storming after that child rapist, and in the heat of the moment, Damian had killed him. He never forgot the look Father gave him, like Damian was a monster. Seeing that look all the time was like it was telling Damian that he should be a killer, an assassin, a monster, because he wasn't a hero. Why did everyone always expect him to fulfill that role? With Father, it was easier to slip into that old routine that Damian long thought he'd broken out of.
But Dick...
He remembered a certain conversation they had three months after they'd become partners. It was after Dick thoroughly explained their no-kill policy when Damian had asked, "What would you do if I did kill?"
"Why would you do that?" Dick had asked.
"To save a lot more people in the long run," but then Damian had caught himself. He'd fumed. "Don't ignore the question, Grayson. Answer me truthfully, what would you do?"
And Dick's surprising answer had been: "Honestly, I don't know. Maybe I'll be disappointed. Maybe I'll be angry, or hurt. I can lecture you all I want, but if killing makes you feel like you're doing good, I can't stop you. Promise me this, before you kill, ask yourself, not if it's good for mankind or me, but is it good for you?"
Dick knew him, better than Damian had known himself. It was like Dick could see the man Damian would grow up to be and was proud. He'd been the first to trust Damian. Dick always had his guard down, always smiled at him.
Mother only loved Damian because he was her tool.
Father only took him in because it was his duty and wanted to change him.
Dick was the first to love him, unconditionally. And then Alfred.
He turned his gaze from the window and stared at the back of Alfred's head as the man drove the sedan through the streets of Gotham.
Both Alfred and Dick had given Damian his first real Christmas, his first real family. He desperately wanted that this year. He didn't want Drake or Todd or the Commissioner or Gordon, or Cain, or Thompkins, or Fox, or Kent and Lane.
He just wanted the three of them, and Dick's Christmas Punch, and Home Alone marathons.
He wanted to be surrounded by the people who loved him, not by those who distrust him or didn't know him or watched him carefully like he'd slip.
Damian wanted that safe, warm feeling, but he couldn't share weakness. It was very hard for him to express.
Dick...he spoiled him by making it so easy. He gave it to Damian without Damian expressing the weakness he needed.
When he first met Dick, he'd thought the man was the weakest of out all of them, all the heroes and the villains and of all people in general. Dick expressed kindness and love, smiled and had fun, tried to reach through to people when violence would've been quicker. Damian thought Dick was too naïve and a fool.
During their time as partners, Damian realized how wrong he'd been. Dick was the strongest person Damian knew. Even though Dick had been swarmed by the darkness, unlike most, he didn't let it consume him. Dick radiated hope and Damian realized maybe smiling wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe being himself was okay.
Until Dick left.
And Damian spent months wondering what he'd done wrong. If Dick didn't love him, nobody could.
Heck, his own mother declared him an enemy and nearly had him killed by his own clone. Father couldn't even trust to turn his back on Damian.
"You're awfully quiet back there, Master Damian."
He snapped out of the consummation of his thoughts and focused once again on Alfred. He grumbled and scraped the tip of his boots on the floor of the backseat. "So, is the idiotic Drake already at the Manor?" he said, staring back out the window.
Silence rode on and then softly, Alfred replied, "Yes, Master Damian, with his friend Kon."
"Tt," Damian crossed his arms and glared out the window. Heat flared within his chest. Great. More freaks. Some Christmas.
He'd been happy to attend Alfred on his last minute errands the day before Christmas Eve. Now they had one last stop, one that panged Damian's heart, the Wayne Penthouse, where he and Dick had fought crime out of for two years. Two years that will now pass into a fading memory. Apparently, Dick had left old Christmas decorations stored at the Penthouse. Most of the stuff had been moved out and the place now served as a storage unit.
It wasn't a place where Alfred praised him on his abilities on fixing stuff. Where he'd wake up to breakfast or return home from patrol with a cup of cocoa waiting.
It wasn't the place where Dick's hands would ruffle through his hair, the lopsided grin when they worked together, the blue eyes which twinkled with pride when they looked at him, and the hugs that Damian never wanted to be released from.
Damian blinked at the damn, stupid tears. Dick, no Grayson, doesn't love you. Get over it. I only need Father's approval now. Why did it hurt so much? Had Damian really become so weak to succumb to these fucking tears? The white disappeared as darkness covered the car and Damian watch Alfred park the car in the garage.
He wiped his nose and forced the tears back as he stepped out of the car.
Alfred handed him the key. "I'll meet you up there, I need to stop by the lobby."
Damian nodded, not saying anything. As he rode the elevator up to the top floor, he started to wonder why did he bother staying? Why didn't he just leave? He knew he couldn't. He wanted to be a hero. At first, it was because it was for Dick. Now, he wanted to be a hero for himself.
The elevators dinged and Damian stepped into the murky...
Why wasn't the penthouse murky? He halted in his steps as he took in the brand new furniture in the living room. The red couches and chairs. The huge flat-screen TV hung on the south wall of the living room. And against the wide opened windows were decorated with lights and a big ass Christmas tree, empty.
He wandered in. Taking in the stockings over the fireplace, the picture frames of him and Dick, him and Alfred, and him and Bruce.
"Hey, Damian," a soft yet warm voice that filled Damian's being said.
Damian forced the tears back and forced up the mask, the anger. He turned around to face Dick who walked out of the kitchen, dressed in one of those ridiculous Christmas sweaters.
"What's, what's all this hump pile of crap?"
And Dick smiled. No, you're not supposed to smile!
Damian curled his fingers in a fist.
"I'm moving back to Gotham," Dick said.
Damian scoffed. "To keep an eye on me, right? Father told you. About NoBody and that rapist. He made you come back because you're the only one who can control me, is that it?"
Dick shook his head slowly, his eyes gazed at him sadly. "I'm sorry, Dami."
Damian's fists trembled. "Don't call me that, Grayson. You left, you think I'm a monster like the rest of them. All this was just a big hoax, you...I hate you," he spat out.
Dick took a few steps forward. "I deserve that. I do. But, little D, I don't hate you."
"Don't lie to me," Damian said, and then the tears spilled out and Damian berated himself for showing this weakness. He'd never cried in front of anyone. "You left me. You never believed in me. Was our partnership a lie? Everything just..."
Dick swooped him in a hug and Damian punched him in the stomach, hard, but Dick still held on. "I left because I thought I was giving you and Bruce a chance to have a real father-son relationship. You couldn't have that if I was around."
"Don't lie to me," Damian snapped. "You were afraid of me."
"You're right. I was afraid," Dick said.
And those words stabbed at Damian so hard, he bit back a sob. Dick really didn't love him. Nobody did, and could. What was wrong with him?
"But not of you," Dick whispered.
Damian froze. What?
Dick pulled back and stared eye-leveled at Damian. "Of me."
Damian's brows furrowed. "I don't understand."
Dick chuckled dryly. "I'm your big brother, Dami. You were my favorite and best partner I ever had. When I first chose you to be Robin, I expected you to be a sidekick and to grow as my little brother." Dick paused and Damian held back his remark that Dick was rambling.
Dick narrowed his eyes playfully at him. "This is where you tell me that I'm rambling and to get to the point."
Damian widened his eyes. Dick did know him.
"I was afraid because I was starting to grow a bit selfish. I was afraid because I wanted more than that. I was afraid of myself because I grew envious at the fact that Bruce got to call you son."
Damian remembered Dick's old words when he surprised him with his first Christmas two years ago: "Just know that to me, little D, you're many things. You're my partner in crime, my mentee, my little brother, and my son. You, me, Alfred, we're family. Nothing will ever change that."
But Father's return did. It changed everything. He stepped away from Dick, shocked by his revelations and yet hurt and angered. "Not you too," Damian said, pain lining his words.
Dick blinked, his composure weak from spilling the truth. Lines creased his forehead.
Damian averted his gaze to the ceiling. "I already have Mother and Father fighting over me, each claiming they know what's best for me, who I should be," Damian's throat hitched. "Not you."
Damian looked back in time to see Dick squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaked out.
"That's why I left. I didn't want to do that to you," Dick ran his fingers through his hair and stood. "Damn it, I knew this was a bad idea."
Why did all the adults in his life have to fight over him? Damian hitch back another sob. "Then why the hell did you come back? Are you here to claim ownership on me now?"
"No," Dick cried. Tears covered his cheeks and Damian struggled to not join him. "Damian, no. Never."
"Then what?" Damian spat. "To ensure I don't become a monster?"
"You're not a monster," Dick yelled.
Damian snapped his jaw shut.
"Or hell, maybe you are, and I just don't see it," Dick grumbled as he turned his back on him.
Damian blinked at Dick's back, it trembled and shook. Finally, Dick turned around and lowered himself back to eye-level with Damian. There was so much resolve in his blue eyes.
"I will love you, no matter what happens, Damian," Dick said.
This time, Damian couldn't stop the tears.
"I don't think you realize how amazing you really are. How much you changed my life."
What? I don't make a difference in people's lives. I ruin it. Damian shook his head, about to voice his disagreement.
Dick gripped both of Damian's shoulder. "I won't have you deny it. You changed my life for good. You give me a sense of fulfillment that I can't find elsewhere. You make me smile, little D. With you, I can just be me."
"I...I..." Damian's broke in a sob and struggled to hold it back. Don't be weak. Don't be weak.
Dick pulled him in a bone-crushing hug once again.
"And I trust you," Dick said in his ears. "With my life."
No one ever said he'd made a difference in their lives. Alfred and Dick had said he'd made a difference being Robin, but no one ever said that Damian made a difference simply by being Damian.
He returned Dick with his own hug, squeezing, holding on, making sure this wasn't all a dream that will slip away.
"I love you," Dick said, ruffling his fingers through Damian's hair.
Damian cried. And maybe Dick did too, but he never once released him. He held on, never letting go.
"I...I..." Damian tried to get out. Love you, too.
Dick only hugged him harder.
After Damian's awkwardness at realizing he'd spent the last half hour crying in Dick's shoulder, they sat at the kitchen bar, eating dinner that Dick somehow managed to cook up. It wasn't half bad, but Damian wasn't going to praise him for that.
"How long will you be here for this time?" Damian asked, jamming some broccoli into his mouth. "Just for the holiday?"
Dick glanced down at him, and gave him a lopsided grin, "Nice try, little D. You can't easily get rid of me this time, I'm here for the long haul, until you get nice and sick of me, until you grow gray in the hair."
Damian glared up at him and with his mouth full responded with, "I know of a thousand ways to kill you. I can easily get rid of you."
"Oh, a challenge, is that what I hear?" Dick teased.
Damian swallowed and mumbled to himself.
Dick shook Damian's hair with his hand and Damian hid his smile behind a scowl. His doubts returned and he set his fork down on the half-eaten steak and vegetables.
An old scene flashed through his mind:
"Your father's gone. His former boy wonder is barely fit to wear his mentor's mantle and you..."
"You're wrong. Dick Grayson is…" His mother's finger to his lips stopped him from speaking it aloud but not in his heart. Dick Grayson is more fit to wear the mantle than Father, and a better parent than you, Mother.
"Dick," Damian sighed. "Look, Mother and Father, if you stay, you'll get pulled into all that. And..."
"What do you want, Damian?" Dick asked, dropping his napkin on his plate.
Damian exhaled sharply.
"Don't think about what's expected of you, or what your Mother and Father want from you, what do you, truly want? More than anything?"
"I want to be a family again," Damian spilled out before he could catch himself. How could Dick make it so easy for him to be weak?
Dick lip's curved in a sad smile. "Your mother and father..."
"I don't mean them," Damian said. "I meant," he swallowed. "You and Alfred. I want what we used to have. Before..."
Dick frowned.
"With you guys, I can just be me," Damian said, he rubbed his eyes and glanced at the Christmas tree. "I want our tradition again."
"And tradition you'll have, Master Damian."
Damian whirled on the bar stool to see Alfred walk in with a box of Christmas lights and a bag of groceries. "I finished my errands for Master Bruce. Tonight, it's all about our tradition."
"I got some steak if you want some, Alfred." Dick beamed, jumping off of the stool to grab the two bag of groceries from Alfred's hands.
"Thank you, Master Richard. But I already ate at the Manor. Besides, I need to save room for those cookies," he added with a tight-lip smirk.
Dick chuckled. "You sure you're up to it?"
"Always."
Damian watched this encounter, growing confused by the minute. "I don't understand. What's going on?"
"I thought I told you to work on those master detective skills of yours, Dami," Dick said playfully. He sat the bags down on the kitchen counter. "Things change, we can't control it. And we can't hold onto the past because things will never be the same."
"Except with family, you can make a little exception. Master Bruce thought it was best for you to have your own little celebration before the big family one tomorrow."
"December 23rd will be our new tradition, Dami," Dick said as he tossed something to him.
Damian caught it and stared at the Home Alone DVD case. Damian's mouth struggled to form the right words. He looked up at stared at both Dick's and Alfred's smiling faces. "Father is okay with this?"
The two men shared a knowing look. Dick answered, "He's the one that told me to come back because I was being an idiot. Very Damian-speak, I see where you get it from." Dick squeezed Damian's shoulder. "Bruce wants what's best for his sons. Besides, we'll be there to celebrate real Christmas with them tomorrow."
"To echo Master Richard's similar earlier words, we only want you to what you wish."
"I want this," Damian said before his mask told him not to. "I want you guys."
"And you'll always have us, Master Damian," Alfred reassured.
"We're not going anywhere," Dick promised.
This is what it's like to have people love you, Damian realized. No pressures. No threats. No mind games. No manipulation. Just reassurance. Wanting what's best for him.
"I came back for you, Dami," Dick said. "I'm not walking away."
With that, Alfred turned on the stereo, and Christmas music filled the air. He beckoned to Damian and they unpacked the ornaments from the box. They decorated the trees with lights and ornaments. They made cookies and had Dick's Christmas Punch. They went for a walk in the snow-covered streets of Gotham and gave a wave to the Batman who watched over them.
They returned back to the Penthouse and curled up with blankets, hot cocoa, and a warm fireplace to watch Home Alone.
During the middle of the movie, Alfred zooned off in his chair and soon Dick was to follow on the couch next to Damian. Certain he was asleep, Damian curled up next to the man and pressed his head against his chest.
"Thank you," Damian said. For everything.
"What would you do without me?" Dick whispered back and he nuzzled Damian closer to him.
Damian smiled at the question they'd always asked each other in the field. He closed his eyes and listened to Dick's heartbeat, felt his chest rise and fall. He allowed himself to get lost in that warm, secured feeling he'd thought he'd lost.
"Merry Christmas, Dad," Damian whispered.
This is home.
Fin
Thank you everyone for reading. Have a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, whatever it is that you celebrate! May your seasons be merry and bright. I appreciate you all for reading :)