Work Text:
Nothing could ever compare to the exhilarating freedom of travelling with the circus. The excited screams of the crowd as they cheer watching their impossible feats. It's thrilling and wonderful, and nothing could ever stop Dick from thinking that this is where he belongs. Not when he has lived his whole life on the trapeze.
Still, that thrill of their home constantly moving doesn't stop him from enjoying the visit to his grandmother's home. Tucked in the corner of Belgium, her large house is full of never-changing warmth.
His nonna glares at him with badly hidden fondness. "Thank you for coming over, dear, but you didn't need to."
Grinning, Dick ignores the hint and tells her, "It's no problem! The circus isn't going to sink while I'm away for a few months, and even if it did, Daj and Dad can handle it. A little vacation will be fun."
The downturn of her lips tells him she disagrees but knows she can't win this fight. And really, what is he supposed to do? Leave her alone in her home 10 minutes away from the next house while she's recovering from a broken leg? Heck no.
This is how he finds himself spraying the garden with the garden hose at sundown. He'd be offended not to be trusted to do more, but he frankly doesn't know anything about gardening.
Abruptly, the water spray bursts much stronger than before, leaving him struggling to keep it from destroying the plants before it runs out and only droplets come through.
Heart pounding, Dick can't help but look at the handle with apprehension. Nothing happens.
Cautiously, he shakes the hose, and still no reaction. Dick sighs. He sadly can't ask his nonna for help since she's already sleeping.
Left on his own, he follows the hose back, trying to figure out where the problem lies. It turns out that the vice on the side of the handle is cracked. With the sun calling it quits for the day, he is left listening to the water trickling out into the dark. Since this isn't something he can leave the water running, Dick grabs a flashlight and prepares himself to go through an aggravating night. At least he knows where the toolshed is, though he doesn't understand why it's so far away from the house.
The shed isn't as much help as he'd hoped. That's not going to work. Closing the door behind himself, Dick scratches his head and sighs. It's time to admit that there is no way he will be able to fix this, but he really doesn't want to admit how much it hits against his pride. A glint catches his eye. Following the sight, behind a rock, there is a small opening of light shining through.
Now, is walking through a hidden crack in the middle of the night a good idea? No, absolutely not. But Dick is curious, and he wants to know what's behind it.
At first glance, it's a normal cave. Filled with stones and dirt, reeking of the toned smells of nature. But there is also a path leading ahead to where the source is coming from. Deciding that recklessness is tonight's motto, Dick holds the flashlight ahead and slowly walks forward.
The low ceiling doesn't make for comfortable travelling, but it doesn't take long for him to see more and more light flooding in until he comes to an opening on the opposite end.
Pushing aside the hanging moss, Dick freezes when he sees the other side and uselessly lowers his flashlight. Looking around, he feels the morning sun softly shining down on him as he is surrounded by lush trees full of green leaves framing the rich clearing he finds himself in. This doesn't make any sense. They have barely reached the beginning of spring.
Dick blinks his eyes together hard, then opens them again, but nope. It's still there.
With a sigh, he mumbles, "Why do I always find myself involved in magic shit?"
Really, his luck is the type of thing that made sure his childhood was spent stumbling into criminal activities and somehow befriending what has to be America's entire hero sidekick community. He even got honorary member status! Which should make him more wary about this situation, but since the exit hasn't magically disappeared while he looked away, Dick thinks he can let this go. The most eventful thing here is the large circle of pretty stones framing the entrance.
Actually, he realizes, this is none of his business. Why break his head over this when he has his answers and can just go back to his grandmother's to sleep? That thought is all it takes for Dick to turn around.
While focusing on walking back the uneven path, he doesn't notice the softly glowing trail that manifests behind him.
Honestly, feeling the faint heartbeat of a forest in the back of his mind should have been a red flag, but in his defense, he was trying to save his grandmother's garden from accidentally drowning in the excess of water coming from the faucet.
When telling her about his watering mishap with a sheepish grin, her face was so unimpressed that Dick finally knows where his mother learned that expression from. "Sorry, Nonna. I'll fix it?"
But she shuts him down with a firm, "We're calling the plumber."
It gets quietly repaired while Dick gets talked through the steps of what to do if it happens again. A mundane embarrassment to an ordinary problem. Which is why Dick is so surprised when he wakes up in the middle of the night to the echo of gleeful cruelty and distress.
He doesn't know why, but the moment he tries to follow the feeling back, the knowledge of seven soldiers chasing a child through a forest floods through him. His heartbeat is going wild and his mind is still muddled with sleep, but Dick knows that he has to help.
He stumbles out of the house, not sure what he's going to do but determined to make things right.
If he told anyone, they would call him stupid for going back through a cave that is certified magic. To which he would reply, They're chasing a fucking child! Get your priorities in order.
Dick doesn't pay attention to the cave walls scratching his hands and just bursts through into the blinding sunlight of the other side. His heartbeat is thrumming wildly as the guards are closing in on the child - and there's no explaining what happens next - except that his insides are screaming at him to bring the kid to him. A strange churning ripples through him before the bushes of the clearing bristle and a child runs through.
Looking just as startled, the two freeze as they take each other in.
Like this, Dick can see that the kid - the boy - is about 10 years old, with black hair and eyes of an almost unnaturally green color. The clothes he wears are something entirely else, however. It looks straight out of a Victorian period drama with the dark green tailcoat and ruffled cravat, all accentuated with the small dagger in his hand.
The boy snaps out of it first, immediately shifting his stance to stab him if he needs to. "Identify yourself, fleabag!"
Dick tries to calm down his breath and greets him with a choked "Hey there. I'm just here to try and help you."
The boy sneers, "Know that I have been raised by an elite group of assassins, as well as that my father will enact punishment for daring to harm his heir."
There is so much to unpack, but Dick realizes that he should probably start with the most pressing. Slowly lifting his hands to show that he's unarmed, he says, "I'm not going to hurt you, kiddo."
The boy scoffs and braces his dagger. "Do not take me for a fool. I am aware that you are only delaying for your associates to arrive, and I shall not stand here and pretend otherwise."
Okay, it's becoming clear that he didn't think this through. But in his defense, this has all been happening pretty much out of nowhere.
"I'm not delaying anything," Dick says and feels around what he's slowly suspecting to be the forest itself to find what he's searching for. "In fact, those guys that were chasing you are walking around in circles on the other end of where we are."
The boy's face scrunches together in suspicion. "How would you know that?" The child demands.
Dick doesn't have a single clue, but he doubts that the kid would accept that as an answer. Instead he says, "I can kind of feel what happens in the forest? And somewhat control where someone can go to in it."
That last part is pure guesswork, but this is basically what he thinks happened. He wanted the kid close, and the kid appeared. He wanted the guards a controlled distance away until he could figure out what to do about them, and now they're stuck in a metaphorical maze.
Which reminds him, "I forgot to ask, but if you're hurt, then maybe I can take a look and treat it?"
Because being chased in a forest isn't going to be a clean thing.
Abruptly, the boy - he really needs a name - takes a step back with a hiss. "Do not take me for a fool, fae" - he spits the word like a curse - "my pedigree is far too noble to fall for such falsehood. Your schemes may work on fatuous simpletons, but I shall not be trapped by stepping a foot into your domain."
Dick has never been less impressed by an insult directed his way. Especially when every single myth expressively states that you should never ever insult a fairy, or you will be brutally cursed. Not to mention the posh language. But this is a kid, even if a bratty one, and this is probably a stressful situation for him.
"Ignoring your whole... whatever," Dick starts, "tell me where you want to get out, and I'll tell you the way."
He pauses, keenly aware of the people who chased the boy and how obviously distrusting he is for a 10-year-old. Hesitantly, Dick offers, "If you ever need to get away from people chasing you or just want to be somewhere quiet, you're welcome to come back whenever."
But the kid bristles like he was personally offended. "I have no need for sanctuary. You will let me go, and I shall never lay my eyes upon you again."
Dick knows when to spot a lost cause, and this is very clearly one of them. With a sigh, he asks, "And where do I let you out?"
The boy straightens his back and declares, "At the borders of the kingdom of Gotham."
Trying to find something like that from his link to the forest, all Dick can make out are about three dozen paths sprinkled all across the borders of hectares of trees, and he comes up blank.
"Yeah, no, I have no idea where that's supposed to be," he admits.
The boy looks genuinely confused, looking his age for the first time in their meeting. "You do not know where Gotham lies?"
The question is so genuine, Dick can't stop the gentle smile as he answers, "I'm afraid not. I only know what's inside the forest, not what's outside."
This time those green eyes look so lost, as if they can't make sense of someone not knowing where his home country is.
Keeping his voice kind without letting his voice fall into something that could sound like pity, Dick suggests, "Do you want me to let you out from where you came in?"
For a moment, the boy's face lights up with childish hope before he squashes the expression back into an air of superiority. "Tt. That would be acceptable."
In some way, this kid is cute when he isn't being a menace. With a smile, Dick tells him, "Just walk back into the forest and you'll get out."
He really hopes that he's as in control of the situation as he thinks he is, or this is about to get really awkward.
The boy looks at him suspiciously, then slowly makes his way back through the bushes without turning his back to him.
When the boy is finally out of sight, Dick closes his eyes and tries to concentrate. Just tracing back the path, he can glean where the child came in, which turns out to be a random border without paths. There is an active traffic road a few hundred meters away, but he can't tell if that's the one leading the kid home or if it would just confuse him.
In the end, he decides that it's best to just let the child out where he came in and focuses on bringing him there. Dick feels his insides curl again, this time with purpose, and then he feels the forest shift.
From one moment to the next, the boy steps to his destination. There is a pause, where he's sure the kid is processing where he is before moving forward and out of the forest.
In a way, he's almost sad to feel the connection fade now that they're out of range.
Still. Finally alone, Dick lets himself relax and sink to the floor with a groan. He can't believe that this just happened. It's the middle of the night, for fuck's sake, and he spent it saving a fantasy land kid in a magic forest that he somehow controls. And the sun is shining. This is not how he wants to spend his nights.
With a sigh, he can admit that saving a child is worth the lack of sleep, but still. He's in his pajamas.
Deciding that he's done enough, Dick hauls himself back on his feet and trudges back to his grandmother's home. In the back of his mind, he feels like he's forgetting something, but the moment his head hits his pillow, he is out like a light.
It's only a few days later, when Dick gets told off for even suggesting he try cutting his nonna's bushes, that he remembers that he trapped the soldiers chasing the kid in the forest. But he honestly doesn't want to go back to the cave in the middle of the night so he hopes that setting them free remotely is going to work.
The answer turns out to be 'somewhat? '
As in, he did manage to push them out but it was only one at the time and there had to be at least a little bit of distance between them. It also gave him a headache every time, so his nonna made him lay down for the rest of the day. So in the end it took hours to get them out.
Really, the boy was so much easier to move and the kid was openly suspicious the whole time. Which is why it surprises him that a few nights later, a familiar presence makes itself known at the borders of the forest.
For a moment, Dick considers finishing his letters, but then the presence splits off from the trails and starts moving inwards. He sets down his pen. The boy is by far not the only person to have gone in and out of the forest's borders, especially since there is a trade route going through the East to the South, but Dick can be honest and admit that this is the only one he has formed somewhat of an attachment to.
Rolling back his shoulders, he makes his way to the cave as he gently guides the kid's path towards him. Which, funnily enough, turns out to be shifting around different forest patches like it's a game of herding sheep.
Dick climbs out into the sunny world and brings the kid to him with a nudge. The uncomfortable churning in his gut is almost gone by the time the boy steps through the bushes. This time wearing a linen shirt under a vest with a cravat instead of the previous pompous clothing. Not that this doesn't still look expensive. There's a stiffness to the boy, combined with his face scrunched into an annoyed grimace as if he's already regretting coming here.
Considering that the kid came to a stranger he doesn't trust rather than anyone else, it wouldn't be good if he ran away now. Which would be easier if Dick had thought of what to do if he actually showed up.
Not thinking further, he sits down in the grass with a slouch.
"Hey, kiddo, nice to see you again," he greets.
This is a kid in an unfamiliar environment, with an unfamiliar man, so there's no point in making this situation more tense than it needs to be.
The boy's hand twitches and then immediately gets hidden like the pose was a show of confidence. "Greetings, fae," he responds, "I have come to take you up your offer for sanctuary under the condition that I am free to leave at any time and let back for lunch with my father."
Dick honestly has no idea why, but it probably took the kid a lot of strength to even ask for this. From the way they first met, he'd have thought they'd never see each other again. He easily agrees, "No problem! I don't know what time you're eating though."
The boy grimaces and seems to realize that he doesn't have a way to track time either.
It takes a few moments, but then Dick remembers that he does have a way. He starts rummaging through his pockets until he finds what he's looking for. Victorious, he takes out his phone. As soon as he turns it on, the numbers tell him it's 21:28.
Dick turns to the boy with a wide grin and asks, "Do you know how long it is until you need to be home?" What looks back at him is a face full of confusion.
Still, the boy reluctantly answers, "About two hours."
By the way that the boy tenses up, he's pretty sure that he's lying, but there is no need to draw attention to it.
Instead, Dick hums and asks, "And until you need to leave?"
"The two hours will suffice."
Humming again, he types in an alarm for the time before he puts away his phone. When Dick turns his attention back to the boy, he leadingly asks, "So. What's your name?"
The kid narrows his eyes and counters, "You first."
He can't fault the kid for playing turnabout on a stranger.
"You can call me Dick," he says, then tackles on, "It's a nickname for Richard."
Suddenly smug, the kid tilts his chin up and announces, "I shall call you Richard."
Now, usually Dick would protest at being called by his name, but this is the first time he has seen the kid somewhat loosen up. With an exasperated sigh, he concedes, "Alright. Can I know your name too?"
"Tt. You may call me Ibn al Xu'ffasch."
Now, Dick won't pretend to know all the languages in the world and even less all the names. But he's pretty sure that this is straight up Arabic he's hearing.
"Really?" He asks while carefully keeping out any type of scepticism from his voice. "And where do your parents come from?"
The boy - Ibn - wrinkles his nose. "My father is Gotham born, while my mother-" The boy's voice stutters, his body pulling together in an effort to make himself look smaller. Ibn notices his actions and immediately uncurls himself to a proper posture to finish his sentence with, "My mother is of the capital 'Eth Alth'eban."
Internally, Dick feels his heart break at the switch up. A lot of thoughts race through his head, but he refuses to look at any of them and instead just smiles. "You said you live in Gotham? What is that like?"
The question opens the gate to a lot of material to talk about. With careful descriptions, Dick is told about a kingdom that extends from islands onto the mainland, of ornate manors and slums, yet almost all of them housing gargoyles on their roofs. Stories of knights going about their duty, and how their actions bring honor or disgrace to their houses.
Butlers, servants, seamstresses and vegetable markets, all being talked about like they are only background noise to the kingdom being described. It's fascinating. It also confirms that Ibn is some kind of high ranking noble of this world and not what the average person is like.
His assessment about the boy's character changes when he asks about pets. Ibn wasn't a chatterbox before, but he is now. Proud owner of a dog, a cat, and a turkey, the kid almost visibly lights up as he goes through every animal fact that he knows.
And when Dick starts to talk about his elephant friends, the boy looks at him with wonder. It's almost painful how hard he wants to keep the expression on his face. So he embellishes his stories of growing up with circus animals, of the tigers who could jump through three hoops at once, and of his elephant friend Zitka and how she went to grow up to be double his height. Dick keeps his smile on when he talks about how the laws changed and they had to give them up to zoos. He feels almost whistful as he explains the way that research evolved and deemed their use in performances as cruelty, saying that they deserved to live their lives in a home not in constant movement.
It's an ache to remember that part of his life and yet he almost forgot just how fond he was of those memories. Even if he can only visit those old friends in zoos or sanctuaries, he can still remember the happy times.
The sudden ringing of the alarm startles the both of them. Dick grabs his phone to turn off, to see the time. 23:31 looks back at him. Thirty minutes before midnight.
He feels almost sheepish when he turns back to the boy. "Looks like it's time for you to leave for lunch already."
If this small amount of interaction told him right, Dick would say that the kid looks disappointed even as he schools his face back into something neutral.
"I shall make myself on the way then," Ibn says.
"Yeah," is the only thing that comes out of his mouth. The boy stands up and brushes off the dirt on his pants, before stiffly nodding goodbye.
Dick really doesn't want to end this meeting with this weird vibe, so he calls out, "Come back whenever you want! Even if it's just to sit together while we do nothing."
The boy pauses, then looks back almost unsure. It takes a moment of just staring at each other before Ibn gives a sharp nod. "I shall consider the offer." And then he's gone.
Dick feels almost regretful when the boy finally walks out of the forest grounds. It was fun. With a sigh, he stands up and makes himself on the way back.
Just as he is ready to lay back in bed, his eyes land on the table with his letter. It's really just a late night impulse that has him grab a pen and finish it the way he does.
I met a kid. He's really prickly and talks with hilarious posh words all the time. His favorite thing in the world are animals. I know you'd like him.
Love, your little Robin
This time it only takes two days for the familiar presence to tickle his mind again. Dick looks at the hot water he was boiling and decides that he will just take it with him.
Mentally nudging the forest to pull the boy in deeper, he notes that Ibn came in from another border this time around. Almost on the opposite end of the main trade route to be exact. The boy walks through a small path usually only used by mushroom foragers. Though the kid did stray away from it only five minutes in.
Pouring the hot water into a thermos, Dick realizes that he doesn't feel comfortable with Ibn walking alone where he could run into potentially dangerous strangers.
The forest shifts and brings the boy closer while Dick sits down in the clearing. He has to blink a few times, while his eyes get used to the blinding sun. The bushes rustle, announcing the grumpy kid who glares at the branches. Dick absentmindedly wonders if experimenting on an automatic opening and closing system would be worth the headache.
Ibn brushes away the leaves on his clothing, then tilts his head up. "Greetings, Richard."
His lips twitch with amusement as he returns, "Hey, Baby Bat, welcome back."
Ibn pauses where he was cautiously seating himself on the floor and turns to him with a frown. "What did you call me?"
It's such a challenge to not burst out laughing, but Dick holds strong and says, "It's your name."
The boy's eyes narrow. "No, it isn't."
"Ibn al Xu'ffasch," Dick recites solemnly, "That directly translates to a bat's baby. A baby bat!"
"No it doesn't," Ibn looks like he just offended his entire bloodline. And maybe he actually did. "The title translates to the 'Son of the Bat', not something as weak and useless as an infant."
Dick raises an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure those are the same thing."
Ibn looks like he's ready to argue, but then visibly rethinks it and sits down while crossing his arm with a petulant, "Tt."
For a long moment, no-one says anything. Which feels like something he should be fixing right now.
"So," Dick asks, "What do you want to do today?"
Turns out that the boy just wants to sit here and draw until he has to go home. Surprising, but probably a sign of trust. Maybe. He's too tired to think about this too deeply.
"Sure," is all Dick has to say. "Do you want some tea?"
At that, Ibn looks at him like he's crazy. "I will have to decline," the kid slowly tells him.
It's only when Dick lays down that he remembers that all the myths say to never accept food from fairies or you'll get kidnapped with no way to ever escape. A whisper in the back of his head tells him that it could be true if he wants it to be. So that wasn't the smartest move on his part. In his defense, he's been driving his nonna through town for the whole day because of the local farmers fair. A whole day of carrying around heavy groceries is exhausting.
Laying in the grass, the sun shining over his face, Dick calmly dozzes to the sound of rustling leaves and charcoal rubbing over paper. It's peaceful in a way that his life usually isn't.
To be fair, everything about his year out of the circus is different from his usual. His whole life has been defined by training, eating, chatting with the crew or making new friends, then training some more and putting on a show. Dick's life is defined by big and loud spectacle. His body is made to scream at anyone in his vicinity to look at him. Watch him as he performs moves that seem nigh impossible. Watch him as he flips, and twists, and flies over the heads of hundreds of spectators. He was made for showmanship and that means dedicating his every breath to this art form he loves so much more than words could ever tell.
There is nothing Dick would rather do with his life than perform. But with that passion also comes the fact that his life is always busy. Always something new to try, a new routine to learn, basics to repeat even after they have long since been engraved into his bones. In contrast, this mundane life of helping his nonna and hanging out with a grumpy kid isn't so bad. Dick doesn't think he could stand it for too long - way too restrictive to his need for action - but there is something nice about it.
He hears a shuffling a few paces away, before a quiet voice asks, "Richard?"
"Hm?" Dick hums without opening his eyes.
"Why," Ibn falters, then tries to reformulate his question. "What made you... stay... in your circus?"
Dick starts at the unexpected question. His knee-jerk reaction is to say that he was born for that life, raised for it and thrives in it like a bird in the sky. What stops him is the knowledge that this kid, a small little nobleman, would definitely take his words the wrong way.
Dick loves the home he was born into - hard times and ugly screaming matches be damned - the circus is the place he feels more alive than anywhere else. But Ibn? The kid hasn't even once talked about the people in his life more than strictly needed.
Mulling over his words, Dick searches for a way to explain himself in a way that won't chokehold the boy.
"I love moving," is what he settles on. "Despite how still I've been in our time together, I can't stand not moving my body. I need to push myself, to bring out the flashy moves for no other reason than because I can. And I don't like being in one place for too long. For a while, sure, but at some point I can't stand being stuck in the same spot. There's so many places and people to meet out there, that it just feels wrong to limit myself to what is close by."
That's what's at the core of it. The reason why the circus is the only lifestyle that makes sense to him. Dick loves people. And he loves the variety of them across cultures and lifestyles and ages, all so different from each other, yet fundamentally the same. There is beauty in that. In seeing them. One that he could never explore if he was tied down to a single place.
The other reason is, "My family lives there. My daj and dad are there with me when we compete on who can do the flashiest moves. Pop Haly who held the circus together long before I was born. Mike and Tom, with their hilarious clown brothers act but still won't hear anyone who says that they're just doing stunts in costumes. Tata Akilah, who swears that African healers can fix what western apothecaries can't and smacks it into her medical protocols when someone is sick. Or Granny, who no-one knows the real name of. And Jarred!"
Dick snorts when he thinks of the shortest and bulkiest man he has ever met. "Jarred has this thing where he has family members who pop up all over the world without explanation. There's a bet going on that he is either adopted and meeting people from his birth family, or that he's just setting up fake IDs for people. When I was around 12 I bet on the first, but the eight cousins and two dozen nephews and nieces are getting suspicious."
Talking about them makes his heart ache with longing. Dick doesn't regret helping his nonna out, no way, but right now he really wants to go back even just for a few minutes. Teasing his crew members about their quirks, chatting with the stage managers, debating how much light is too much light with the electricians. Maybe try to convince the DJ that 'The Greatest Showman' track would totally fit his routine. It's those small things, really, that make the circus his family.
Dick finally blinks his eyes open and turns to the kid. His heart clenches when he sees the lost expression on Ibn's face. That's not- He didn't want to put that kind of look on him.
"I think," Dick draws the attention back to himself, "that the reason why I stay with Haly's is because I have people who support me when I work towards the things that are important to me."
Ibn is silent for a while.
"I see."
The alarm on his phone announces the end of their meeting.
Summer comes, and most of their nights after that are in the same vein. Ibn draws or learns for his classes - private tutoring, he's told - and Dick just exists in the same space. Be it to laze around before going to bed, catch up on paperwork, or even stretch himself sometimes. They get by with spending time together.
When they do talk, it's often about their own lives and worlds, so fundamentally different from each other. Like how Gotham is a monarchy that holds strong yet is riddled with crime, meanwhile Hollywood presents itself as a golden place yet is a burning dumpster fire. Or that superheroes and aliens are an actual thing in his world, while Ibn's version of them are soldiers and sorcerers fighting in wars. But with every story of bloodshed, there comes one about a cat being brought to a shelter, a crime being solved, or a child being helped home. Every time they talk and Dick hears of the boy's life, he can't help but marvel at just how kind he turned out. Prickly, defensive, and prideful, but so, so kind.
"Would you like to learn some moves?" Dick doesn't know why he asks, but he can't bring himself to regret it.
The startled look on Ibn's face is immediately replaced by a spark of interest. "I would be amenable."
Grinning, Dick starts them by going through stretches. The kid may have already walked some distance, but it's always better to go through with them anyway. They go on with the fun things, like making the bridge. (And it takes everything in him to not burst out laughing at the kid's upside-down grimace.) Ibn is also less than impressed when they go through a series of rolly polly. That changes when they then go from doing them while standing to adding the jumping element.
Their clothes get dirty from the ground, and excessive clothing items are lost until all that is left is the fun of just moving. Dick hasn't felt this thrilled in months.
Even as they say goodbye, it holds the silent promise to do it again the next time. Which they do. Stretches, handstands, the splits, doing the wheel, or even just fancy pushups, all of it is fair game to explore in their time together. The proud and wild grins on the boy's face make it a million times better.
It's only when it comes to trying out somersaults that something changes. Learning the backflip first is far easier than doing them forward, but it also feels more daunting. Ibn always hesitates a split second before going through, and it costs him the momentum needed to land on his feet. Dick's encouragements are sadly doing more harm than good.
"How about I guide you through it?" he finally offers.
The boy glares at him but nods in frustration. With that permission, Dick walks forward and steps towards the borders of the stone circle.
Just as he's about to cross, ice-cold dread races through his body in warning. Freezing in place, he doesn't register the startled look on the kid's face, far too busy processing the blaring alarms in his head. If Dick crosses this line, there will be nothing left to protect him. No emergency escape, no blasting an enemy away, nothing to possibly defend himself from this unknown world.
"Richard?"
He slowly turns his head towards the boy. Standing still, there is a weary tension to Ibn that wasn't there before. But it's easily overshadowed by the badly hidden concern that radiates from the kid.
Dick takes a deep breath. Taking a step out of the ring, he is almost hyperaware of his surroundings and even more so of the armed person within reach. He ignores it.
Plastering on a smile, Dick says, "No worries, Baby Bat. Are you alright with me touching you for this?"
Ibn stares at him with wide eyes. "I... do not mind."
It's a very weird feeling to touch the boy for the first time. There's a lot of hesitation in the beginning, especially when Dick guides him through the forms until they are done correctly. They do manage the backflip with him guiding the momentum until Ibn lands on his feet, which is so exciting that he forgets himself and pulls the kid into a hug. Dick immediately lets go when he notices but can't stop himself from smiling.
Ibn turns red as he falls back into a defensive stance, yet doesn't do more than complain about his pride. Still, Dick won't deny the relief that he feels when he can step back into the circle. But it also aches to know that there is an invisible divide between them.
"Hey," Dick suddenly asks. "Do you mind if we take a picture together?"
The reluctant agreement is more about the kid being confused than disagreeing, so he doesn't waste any time pulling out his phone and does a selfie with them together. When he looks at the result, Dick sees himself smiling wide while Ibn stands behind him and wearily glares at the camera. It's perfect.
He shows it to the kid, and he can't help the chipper joy that bleeds into his voice. "Do you mind if I hang this one up in my room? I really want to keep that picture of today, Baby Bat."
Ibn looks conflicted for a moment before he concedes, "That would be acceptable." Dick feels his smile widen even more.
In some ways, it's almost a crime when the leaves turn from green to yellow. Dick is discovering the nightmare of owning a garden in autumn and seriously questions why his nonna won't move into a house that needs less maintenance. The comment gets him a lecture on how little the youth appreciates owning and taking care of their homes, and he internally decides that he never wants to own a garden.
On the flip side, his forest is following along beautifully. Vibrant reds and yellows cover both trees and ground, making it feel like a true fairytale wonderland. It's when he feels a few trees and bushes part for Ibn as his pants are covered in damp leaves that he realizes how strange it is that there isn't a single leaf or drop of water inside his circle. That does feel like more supernatural shenanigans.
"Hi, Baby Bat," Dick greets brightly.
Ibn nods. "Greetings, Richard."
Fondness floods him as he watches the boy make his way closer. Dick watches him sit down in his thick coat before he takes out a book from his bag and starts to read it. It looks like it's a quiet day today.
Still, with not much more to do and no energy to be on his phone, he is left with distracting himself. Watching the kid sit on the muddy ground is one of those things. Though they see each other a lot, there is a faint feeling of wrongness following him in the back of his mind. It wasn't so pronounced when they were spending time together during the hot seasons.
Even as he watches Ibn in his thick coat and solid boots, something in him itches at having him sit on the cool ground.
It's what leads to Dick walking over to the other side early for once.
With the knowledge that there is no-one close by, he takes a fortifying breath before he crosses his forest's safe circle. A shudder rakes through his body, and then he moves forward. He opens his bag and spreads out the picnic mat in Ibn's usual spot.
Satisfied, Dick hurries back into his little domain. With that taken care of, he turns to his nonna's latest scare-off tactic, which he has taken as a personal challenge: knitting a scarf.
Now, in theory, scarves are one of the easiest things to knit, but since his own attempt currently looks like a sad worm, there is clearly more going on than "go in, hoop around, get out." Biting his lips, Dick barely pays attention to the kid's presence stepping closer, far too busy trying to save his work from the weird knot pattern that definitely wasn't there before.
"Richard?"
Dick hums distractedly, ready to call this witchcraft because of how little sense it makes. He tries again, and it's exactly the same thing as what he's been doing this whole time.
"What is this towel doing in my spot?"
And he made a knot again. How? Trying to do it again in slow motion, Dick comments, "It's a picnic mat so you're not sitting on the wet ground. There wasn't much going on when it was warm, but the rain has been increasing recently."
Okay, now he knows that somewhere out there the universe is making fun of him, because this is not the same knot he just tried to undo. Where did it come from? Because Dick knows that he just repeated the exact same move he's been shown, and he has somehow gotten three different meshes from it.
Struggling with his needles, he doesn't notice the long pause in their conversation.
"Damian," Ibn says.
Dick hums, not really paying attention.
The boy's voice falters a little when he repeats, "My name... it is Damian."
Brain picking up, he slowly lowers his pins. Standing ramrod straight in front of the picnic mat, Ibn- no, Damian looks at him with a trepidation and a vulnerability that the boy usually hides.
"Damian," Dick tastes the words on his tongue, then smiles. "That name suits you much better than the whole Ibn al Xu'ffasch."
Something in the boy releases tension, something unreadable playing on his face before he looks away. "I believe so too."
The newfound name plays in his head on repeat.
Damian, the rich kid who walks away from everything he knows to meet up with a weirdo in the woods.
Damian, who loves animals so much that he refuses to have a favorite.
Damian, who hides so much kindness that it's a treasure to be allowed to see past the grumpiness.
Watching him sit down on the mat, eyes marvelling at the unfamiliar texture of thick fabric over plastic, Dick thinks that his heart is about to burst with how much affection wells up in him. Noticing the stare, Damian straightens up, unable to hide the rising redness of his ears.
Bursting with happiness, Dick allows the pretense that he hasn't noticed anything and asks, "Did anything interesting happen today?"
"Tt," Damian crosses his arms. "Timothy has attempted to ambush me this morning in such a foolish manner that I cannot comprehend how he hasn't been banned from the training grounds yet."
With a smile etched into his face, Dick listens to the boy explaining the ridiculous antics happening in his home. Really, the only way that this could be better would be if he could introduce him to his parents.
The seasons turn colder, and they are approaching winter. Well, no, it's already winter, and Dick has had the time of his life watching the first snow of the year. He is also desperately trying to make himself smaller to avoid the looks his parents give him through facetime.
John sighs. "I really don't know why you're so embarrassed about this."
"Exactly," Mary exclaims, throwing her hands up. "At least half of your letters and phone calls are about this cute little bird you found, so is it really a surprise that we'd want to meet him?"
His head furiously throbs in search of an answer, but he just doesn't have any ready right now. How was Dick supposed to know that talking about Damian would lead to his parents getting interested in him? "Uh, he can't really come on facetime."
Mary crosses her arms in disappointment. "What? Why not?"
Ears growing hot, Dick ducks his head and tries to find some way to explain himself without sounding crazy. Actually, there is absolutely no way to do that, so he just hits out with the truth. And confessing all the bad decisions that he has pointedly not mentioned to them up until now.
Unable to handle the stress, Dick relaxes his body into a smile, then casually tells them, "Because Damian lives in another world, and the only way to reach it is through a magic tunnel near the backyard's tool shed?"
The silence stretches for an uncomfortably long time, where his parents just stare at him. Finally, John sighs and looks up to the ceiling. "Of course."
Mary rakes a hand through her hair, cursing, "Fir-ar să fie."
Dick's eyes go wide at hearing his mother swear. "Daj, wha-"
"Mary." His father turns to her just as aghast.
But she just snaps a finger at her husband with a brisk "Not now," then points at their son and demands, "You want to tell me that we're not adopting the fledgling into the family?"
Dick freezes and feels his heart skip a beat. Unbidden, the scene paints itself in his mind, of Damian - cute, grumpy, smart, and prickly Damian - standing among the circus crew while his parents dote on him as they teach him how to go through a trapeze routine. It's a bright and exciting fantasy, filled to the brim with happiness.
He is absolutely not ready in any way to be having this conversation.
His parents seem to read that, because his mother deflates from her decisive stance. "Sorry, little Robin," Mary apologizes. "It looks like I was getting way ahead of myself."
Pulling her closer, John agrees, "It's too early for us to assume these things. We just heard so much from you and wanted to know more about your boy."
For the rest of the call, Dick works on autopilot, his mind much too busy screaming at him. What do they mean they were getting ahead of themselves? Too early for what? The last part replays the way that his father called Damian Dick's boy. And while the words are unfamiliar, they don't feel wrong.
In the end, he decides not to think it over too hard and concentrate on other pressing matters. With the snow in the forest slowly getting thicker while the inside of his circle still grows suspiciously green grass, it also raises his awareness of what the kid has to deal with on an almost daily basis.
Watching Damian come to him swaddled in a thick, fluffy coat is both adorable and yet itches almost unbearably when he sees the boy sitting on his cold picnic mat. Thankfully, the trees have formed a small shelter over it.
Still, that itch is how Dick finds himself with his arms full with two thick bags and his nonna's judgmental stare. That last one may also be because he hasn't given in to her bribes to go back to the circus, but who's to say? As soon as he crosses over, Dick puts himself to work. Soldering outside of his safe haven, he opens a bag and covers the picnic mat with thick sheets. After that he throws on the horde of pillows that sadly don't all fit the base and finally throws the duvet halfway over it all. It honestly looks like a mess. But being out here really isn't good for his rising stress levels, so he'll have to leave it to the kid.
Despite all of this, Dick can't shake the conversation with his parents. The idea of taking Damian with him to his world.
Almost like he was summoned, he feels the boy step into his boundaries.
As he pulls him closer, Dick realizes that something is off. Storming through the parting trees, Damian's eyes are tinted red like he's trying to stop himself from crying.
Concerned, Dick springs to his feet and steps closer, asking, "Damian? What happened?"
The boy looks away. "Tt. It is of no importance."
But it clearly is, and Dick has no idea how to fix whatever is happening. "Would you tell me anyway?"
Damian whips around and snaps, "To do what? You have no reach beyond your domain and are entirely useless to the happenings outside of it."
Dick grimaces at the tone and tries to diffuse the situation. "Okay, I know you're unhappy-"
"You know nothing!" Damian yells. "You lie here and waste your time lazing around without a care rather than fulfilling your duties and honoring your legacy as you should!"
His chest tightens painfully, realizing that none of this is about him. Keeping his voice even, Dick tells him, "You're allowed to take a break."
Damian looks at him, frustrated. "That has nothing to do with the issue."
"We're both allowed to take breaks," Dick continues, "because we worked really hard and need some time to ourselves so that we don't burn out. And Dami, you also spend your time studying when we're together. Or drawing. Or learning a new move. None of that is a waste of time."
"That's not- I don't- I-" The boy falters. The expression on Damian's face falls into one of devastation.
And at this point Dick can't take it anymore. For the second time today, he steps out of his circle and ignores the alarm bells ringing in his head to pull the boy into a hug.
Damian jerks in surprise, standing frozen, but then positively melts. The boy doesn't return the hug, but it's enough. Dick can hold them together for as long as he needs to, and even longer if that's what it calls for. They stay like this for a few minutes. Just standing there while the snow-white world around them flutters around.
He feels the boy in his arms take a deep breath and isn't surprised when he steps back out of the embrace. Despite the choking anxiety, Dick forces himself to smile at him. "Feeling better?"
Damian sniffs, then silently nods. Though he wants to stay closer, standing there feels increasingly unbearable, and so he steps back into the circle. Dick lets the relief wash over him without letting the boy out of his sight. It doesn't look like a topic that should be brought up right now, so he redirects it to something else.
"I actually have a surprise for you," Dick tells him.
Damian looks at him befuddled. "A surprise?"
"Yeah," he shrugs with careful casualness. "Since it's been getting colder, I thought that you'd appreciate it."
Gesturing to the mat, Dick watches as the boy turns to the plush pile he put there. Damian's eyes go wide. When he glances over, Dick just smiles and waves him to go on.
There is a carefulness and hesitation as he slowly sits down. The boy takes in the new surface, then the pillows thrown around as well as the duvet, and then he's rearranging everything. As Damian moves things around, the brightness missing in him slowly returns, traded for a fascination and joy of the new environment.
When Damian finally looks satisfied, he turns back to him. "Though it is unnecessary, I suppose that the gift is... appreciated."
The new arrangement looks like one big human-sized nest. And Damian looks like he's almost drowning in it.
"You want to tell me that we're not adopting the fledgling into the family?"
His mother's words keep echoing in the back of his head. It's not like there's an easy way for that to happen, but in some way, Dick wouldn't mind having the boy around more often. Swallowing those thoughts, Dick smiles and says, "Glad you liked it, Baby Bat."
They don't address the issue, and neither do they the following times Damian comes over upset. It's hard to say if it's the right thing or not, but they seem to be doing well.
Even as the cold winter starts to let up and the first peeks of green show themselves. Spring is still cool, but with it comes the beauty of new life peeking into the world. Full of birds who call for attention. That's when Dick unexpectedly gets to meet a few new faces.
"This is Alfred the Cat," Damian introduces. "Though he is often lazy, he is showing progress in becoming an excellent hunter." He then waves to the dog who is rolling around on the floor. "That is Titus. Contrary to Alfred, he has already completed his training."
Puzzled, Dick waves to the pets he has heard so much about. What they are doing here is a mystery to him. He's about to ask, but Damian has a look of pride in his eyes and is already pulling out his drawing tools.
Okay then.
Crouching down in front of his circle's stones, he extends a hand to let them sniff.
"Hi there, you look like a good boy," Dick tells the dog. That quickly turns into the two of them playing as he throws sticks for him and Titus thriving in playing the game. The invisible barrier between the two of them turns irrelevant. It's full of energy and exciting in a way that only dogs can bring out.
After that, the two pets join the ranks of frequent visitors. This is new. Different. But it's a good type of different. Damian looks more at ease too.
That all comes to a head, when Dick tosses a stick and Titus then runs back to him with too much energy. And in his excitement, the dog crosses the line that divides them.
The world blanks out to a single point.
He knows every single grass strand in the circle, every flower, feels the pearly drops running down their petals. Dick knows without a doubt that he could bind Titus to himself. Keep him with no-one able to object.
A shout brings him back, "Titus!" Then the dog bumps into his legs and excitedly hands over the stick with his tail wagging wildly. On one hand, that is very sweet, but on the other he has never been more nerve-wracked than in this moment.
"Thanks Titus," Dick says as evenly as he can. He puts a hand on the dog's collar and guides him back to the circle's borders. There Damian is watching them with dreadful uncertainty, looking like he wants to step closer but knowing that it's a bad idea.
Gently pushing Titus out of his domain, the words smoothly flow out of his mouth like they were always there, like how a river will undoubtedly run into a lake. "This one does not belong to me, but is merely a welcome guest." Even without fully understanding what is going on, he can feel that there is a weight behind those words.
Damian immediately kneels down to clutch his dog closer. While Dick is reeling from what just happened, the boy has to be freaking out at the thought of losing his friend. Making sure not to sound one way or the other, he asks, "Do you want to go home early today?"
The boy tenses up, but then lets go. Damian silently nods.
So. That wasn't a fun experience, and it left Dick with a lot of sleepless nights following it. The next time, Damian doesn't bring his pets. Dick doesn't mention it. He doesn't have the words for how much he craves to keep seeing the boy nor for how painful the terror in his lungs is at the thought of losing what they have.
That event thankfully doesn't shatter their relationship. It just takes a bit of time until they get back into their old rhythm again.
As they slowly move back into summer, there is another incident on Damian's side.
Fuming, the boy storms through the bushes, his hair more messy than he has ever allowed it to be, and looking ready to fistfight someone at the first opportunity. Dick's attention is drawn to the sword belted to his hips. "Hey, Baby Bat, what-" His question gets interrupted by Damian angrily exclaiming, "That craven quisquilian disqualified me!"
He blinks in confusion, but the boy doesn't even seem to notice, too busy pacing around and ranting like never before. "I always knew that he viewed my rights as the blood heir as a thorn in his side, but I at least thought that he would show his opposition in a duel of honors or a meticulously orchestrated assassination" - "A what?!" - "and yet that shameful interloper, dares to convince father that I am not ready for the tournament. I, Ibn al Xu'ffasch, heir to the Demon's Head, am not ready to compete among the swordsmen? If it weren't for Father's baseless morals I'd have cut off his tongue and fed them to-"
"Wait, wait, wait," Dick interrupts, "I need some context. What exactly happened?" And someone to please tell him that this is all exaggerated, because what the heck.
Damian finally pauses and looks at him with clear frustration in his eyes. "Timothy," he spits the name with vitriol, "Convinced father that I would be unable to control myself in the swordsmanship tournament, and forbade me from participating regardless of my reasoning."
Despite how hard the kid is clinging to anger, Dick sees the hurt behind it. He knows how much Damian was looking forward to it, training with him in hopes of showing off his acrobatic moves in the middle of a fight. This was supposed to be an exciting week for him.
Holding a hand out of the circle, Dick says, "I'm so sorry that happened to you. You would've done great. You can always try again next year?"
Damian glares at him, body tense and shaking with frustration. After a few moments, he takes the hand. "... It will be the same affair next year," Damian mumbles.
"Hey, a lot of things can change in a year," Dick tries to encourage. But form what he's heard he's not exactly optimistic about it. Damian's family seem to be the type to never talk things out, and rather avoid each other and letting things fester in the air.
"Tt, do not lie to me Richard. Father does not wish for my inclusion and neither does anyone else." Damian's grip tightens as he curls into himself. "His heir had already been chosen before he heard of my existence. Our blood ties make it his duty to ensure my survival and my mother's identity keeps him from pushing me onto someone else. Nothing more, nothing less."
Dick doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't know the people in Damian's life enough to judge how accurate this is, but from everything he's heard? From how often a week this kid travels away from home to bond with some potentially dangerous fairy? ...it could very well be true.
He tightens his grip. Instead he tells him, "Well, I love having you around. And my parents would love to meet you too."
Damian looks up in surprise. Dick has to grin. "Yeah, they've been nagging at me about sending over more photos of you. If it was up to them, you'd be scooped up and taken away into our colorful little troupe. Be warned, it's a real circus over there."
He laughs at the grimace he gets for the joke, but can't bring himself to regret it. The boy already looks much lighter.
For a moment Damian hesitates, then asks, "And you?"
Dick freezes. He wants to deny it, to say that he's happy with the way things are even if he has to move away soon, but... But when he looks at this boy, so hopeful yet uncertain in his place, he can't bring himself to lie. "If it was up to me, I would take you with me and keep you for the rest of my life."
Damian's eyes blow wide. Voice shaking, the boy lies, "I'm afraid that I need to return home earlier today."
A pit of dread forms in his gut, but Dick tries to ignore it. "Sure."
Pacing through the living room, Dick can't stop berating himself for how he reacted. It's been four days since that conversation and also since he heard anything from Damian. Why did he say that? The kid goes through a hard time, and he admits to wanting to keep him? As if he has the means to do so. Heck, he'd probably need a foster licence - which he definitely doesn't have - and some kind of ID for Damian. He very much doubts that anyone would trust him with a kid unrelated to him that no-one knows where they came from. Dick groans into his hands. He ruined their relationship, didn't he?
His nonna glares, unimpressed. "You can just apologize and move on. You'll be gone in three days, and you won't want to leave with avoidable regrets clouding over you."
Dick makes a grimace. "I know."
Nonna rolls her eyes and tells him, "What did your parents say? I doubt Mary would've told you to wallow around."
He looks away with a very manly pout. "They said that they already asked Jarred to have a legal identity ready just in case." Dick can't believe that this is how he uncovers the answer to Haly's biggest bet and yet couldn't say a thing if he wanted to.
Nonna gives him a smug smile. "At least someone has inherited my clever brain."
Dick looks over, exasperated. "That's actually illegal."
But she just shrugs, saying, "It's only illegal if you get caught."
Sometimes he really isn't sure how his mother is related to her, but then things like these happen, and he remembers that they have the same inborn who-may-care philosophy. The worst part is that he can't complain, because he inherited it too.
A tickle in his awareness alerts him about the missing kid in question. His nonna clearly notices it, because she rolls her eyes and shoos him out. "Use your words, little bird, the best tool nature gave you to communicate."
Dick winces but rushes out the door, "Yeah, thanks, Nonna, see you later!"
The way through the garden and into the cave is nerve-wracking. He wants to fix whatever he did wrong, but he is also apprehensive at the additional presence that he feels. It's not people, but... pets? It could be Alfred the Cat and Titus, but there's also a third one. A turkey?
That question gets answered as soon as they see each other. True to his senses, there are three pets with Damian. But there is something new with the boy: a large backpack rather than his usual minimalist bag and a nervous determination in his steps.
Dick forces himself to seamlessly smile, "Hey, Baby Bat. Alfred, Titus, great to see you again."
The kid nods as he walks closer and stops before the fairy circle. "Greetings, Richard." Then he immediately moves on, "This is Jerry the Turkey. Do not mistake him for harmless, he has triumphed over soldiers wishing to bring him to the butcher."
His smile becomes more genuine, still finding the stories told about his pet's adventures hilarious. "Hey, Jerry."
Damian straightens and eyes him seriously before asking, "Did you mean what you said? The last time?"
Dick subtly hisses in a breath. "Look, I should've been more sensitive, and I'm so sorry about overstepping-"
"Did you mean it, Richard?" Damian snaps.
Stopping himself, he actually takes the time to process what is asked. The way that the kid stands braced against something, ready to deal with whatever blow life will hand to him next. He deserves the truth, even if it could break their relationship. "I do," Dick admits.
The tension drains from the boy's shoulders. For a few moments, they stand there in silence before Damian takes a deep breath. The next moment he steps into the ring.
Everything around them blacks out, the world is reduced to the heartbeat of that boy standing in his domain. Power rushes through his blood, promising Dick the thing he so desperately craves by singing and crooning at him to bind the one he adores to himself. Damian stepped in on his own, so it's Dick's right to keep him. And he wants to. He wants it so much that he has no idea how he hasn't passed out yet. But it wouldn't be right.
Forcing himself to calmly breathe, Dick chokes out, "What are you doing?" It comes out more accusatory than intended, but that's not the priority. He needs to know.
Damian tilts his chin up in defiance. "You said that if it were up to you, you'd take me with you to your realm. I am here voluntarily to accept that offer."
His heart clenches at this brave, smart, and so overly stubborn kid. "That's- Okay, I said that, but Dami," Dick stresses, "I live very far away. If you come with me, then there's really no easy way for you to come back here, if at all. That's not something you can just choose out of the blue."
"Tt. Don't be ridiculous, Richard, this isn't some shortsighted outburst. I have been contemplating the option for a while and come to the conclusion that it is the optimal path to forge my own future."
"But-"
"Do not belittle me, I am far superior to the common folks my age and fully able to make rational decisions," Damian snaps.
And as much as it's painful to admit, it's true. The boy had to learn things like that for survival despite his young age. "Okay."
The boy blinks in surprise.
"Okay," Dick repeats. "I really don't think either of us is thinking this through, but... okay." Swallowing, he tries to know if he's making the right decision or not, but he finds no answer. The words fall from his lips without a thought, powerful in their meaning even as he doesn't understand them. "Would you agree to be mine?"
Damian straightens, a fire in his eyes even as there is a flicker of weariness that he tries to hide. "I agree."
Like a light, a bond flickers into existence, strings of gold and chains of steel locking their souls together. Something snaps into place. Overwhelmed, Dick can't stop himself from pulling the boy into a tight hug. It's a relief.
Heart beating loudly in his throat, he presses a kiss to Damian's forehead and whispers, "I'm really happy to have you as part of my family."
Hesitant hands move up to return the hug. "It wasn't a favor but a choice for my own benefit," Damian mutters.
Really, what did he do to deserve this? Dick tightens his hold.
It's only when Titus barks, nudging their legs, that they finally let go of each other. Rubbing the dog's head, he laughs, "You're also part of this family now, I haven't forgotten you."
Turning to Damian, who has picked up Alfred and is scowling at the turkey perched on his shoulder, he can't help but be optimistic about their future. Dick holds out his hand with a smile. For a moment Damian glares at it but then glances up and reluctantly holds it. A rush of pride overcomes him.
Turning around, Dick guides the kid and pets into the cave. Damian glances around wearily but follows, keeping their hands held together as they step deeper into the tunnel of stone.
Neither notices the faint trail of lights glowing behind them as they step out of the forest for what may be the last time.