Archive of Our Own

Breakfast at Wayne Manor has never been a quiet affair. 

Bruce has grown to enjoy the chaotic mix of voices that greets him whenever he steps into the dining hall. He knows every variation, has mentally mapped out the equivalent of a music sheet for each combination of children that join him. There is a difference between the ruckus with just Damian and Tim, and with Damian, Tim and Steph. He found the routine soothing, the predictability of mornings with his children refreshing after dragging himself out from his bed not yet recovered fully from the previous night's patrol. Knows that no matter what awaits him once he departs the manor, the dining hall will always be the same. The day's newspaper set on the left (never the right), his cutlery exactly an inch away from his plate, his coffee cup lined up perfectly to the center of the whole ensemble. 

It’s why he’s so quick to notice when the music sheet doesn’t match with the musicians he’s working with. 

It’s a rare occasion where they have a full house, all hands on deck having been called for the case they’re currently working on. Yet by the conversations being had, it would seem as if Dick was absent. 

He glances up from his newspaper towards his eldest, who is quietly shovelling Alfred’s syruppy pancakes in his mouth at a speed that even for Dick is unusual. There’s chocolate dripping down the corner of his lips that he doesn’t bother to dab away before it falls and hits the tablecloth, something Alfred will definitely be having words with him about. His eyes are trained down on his food, not even sparing a glance towards his siblings as they - albeit with a certain level of unease that tells him they’ve also noticed that the rhythm is off - continue to converse and (more accurately really) squabble around him. 

The last piece of chocolate covered pancake has barely disappeared into Dick’s mouth and he’s already grabbing his napkin with one hand while pushing his chair back. It scrapes against the marble tiles with a screech that silences the entire room, everyone’s eyes snapping to him as he drops his napkin back onto the table while distractedly looking down at his phone. 

“Dick?” Bruce calls, finally setting down his newspaper. His son hums without glancing in his direction, typing something out while turning towards the door. “Has something happened?”

“No! No everything’s fine!” Dick shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans, which is when Bruce takes in his son’s outfit. He’s never seen Dick wear a compression tank top out casually before, and he also doesn’t recognise the black jacket on which he can barely make out the words Pretty Boy embroidered in thread in almost identical black. He’s also wearing distressed black jeans that Bruce also has no memory of having seen before. Dick continues before he has time to comment, stepping back with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets casually. “I just have plans with Wally.” 

“I thought he was in Star City helping Flash track down a new meta.” Tim mumbles from where he’s barely keeping himself from face planting into his food, eyes closed. 

“He’s dropping by today and we’re trying to make the most of it.” Dick explains, his phone buzzing as it lights up. He snatches it back out, a warm bright grin spreading across his face as he starts typing. “See you guys later! Don’t wait for me for dinner, I’ll probably be out late.” 

With that he nearly skips out of the room without any of them being able to interrogate him longer. 

***

He has to call the number three times for the call to go through, his eyes rolling when it rings for what he knows is a length of time done purely out of spite 

“This better be an emergency.” Wally’s groggy voice came through the car speakers, the sound crackling for a moment before becoming steady. “Not all of us wake up at six you dick.”

“I need you to do me a favour.” He glances out the window as he engages the turn signal of the car, his eyes focused on the road and ignoring his phone sitting in his cupholder. “If anybody asks you’re in Gotham for the day to hang out with me.”

“Seriously? You're calling me for that?” Wally groans dramatically. From the whoosh of air Dick imagines he’d probably flopped back onto his bed as well. “You know no one in that family is straight right? If this is about being worried about coming out-”

“It’s not that.” Dick groans. “Look, I love them. A lot. But they’re…”

“Nosy?

“I don’t know.” Dick grimaces, tightening his grip on the wheel. “It’s just… man everytime I think a relationship is going well, and it mixes with the whole vigilante thing, it ends.” 

“You know that's totally illogical considering they’ve all ended way past the meeting the family stage right?”

“I knowwwwww.” He slams his head against the back of his seat in frustration, glaring at the car driving way under the speed limit in front of him. “But- It’s good.” He sighs, his grip relaxing slightly as he manages to pass the car, ignoring their aggressive honking as he does so. “And I keep thinking that somehow introducing him to the family is what’s going to make it all break.”

Wally is quiet for a moment. “I’ll let Flash know that I’m in Gotham if anyone asks and I’ll make sure to stay off of any cameras.”

“Thank you.” Dick lets out a breath, slowing the car as he turns onto his boyfriend’s street. 

“Tell him I say hi.” 

“I will. Thanks man. Let me know when you’re free to actually catch up.” 

Wally lets out an annoyed groan. “I swear it feels like this case will never end.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“Not now, I’ll let you know if that changes. I’m gonna go alert Flash before your family gets to him first. Bye and have a nice day with your boyfriend.”

Dick rolls his eyes fondly this time, not even able to return the goodbye before the call gets hung up. 

He parks his car in the closest available guest parking spot in the building’s garage before heading to the elevator, a grin spreading across his face the higher it goes. The building’s nice. Not expensive enough to have a front desk or security guards, but it’s got electronic badges even in the elevator and it’s cleaner than most residential places in Gotham. The elevator doesn’t have any missing buttons or rusted metal, and it moves up the floors in almost meditative silence until it dings softly once he reaches the thirtieth floor. There’s only six doors, and he skips over to the left with his keys already in hand and dangling from his fingers. The walls have clearly been repainted with how neat the pastel yellow paint is, and the oak wooden doors are all tastefully old with tinted windows that each have their own unique design. He stops at the one where the metal separating the pieces of glass looks like a sun. It unlocks with a barely noticeable click and only creaks for a brief moment when he opens it, stepping into the hallway and closing it behind it. It takes some effort to push the lock back into place, and he slides the chain in place for good measure before turning away. 

The apartment is warm. Sunlight streams in through see through peppermint curtains, illuminating cream walls and vibrant plants that cover every windowsill and empty space left over on various pieces of furniture. He drops his keys into a bowl placed next to a thriving basil plant, toeing off his sneakers and exchanging them in favour of the Superman themed house slippers sitting on the highest shelf of the little metal structure. The fridge hums loudly from the kitchen, the wind makes the open shutters clatter, and the tv drones on quietly in the living room. Dick takes a moment to soak it all in, standing by the nearest window and basking in the sunlight like a content feline, before finally leaving the hallway. 

“You better not be making breakfast!” He chirps as he slips into the main room of the apartment. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His boyfriend retorts, looking up from his phone with a tired smile that widens when Dick comes over to wrap his arms around him. 

“Wally says hi.” He presses his nose into Corven’s hair with a sigh, inhaling the scent of raspberry before reluctantly pulling back to rest his chin on the other man’s head. 

There’s half of a passion fruit left on a cutting board covered in the guts of the missing part, what little remains of a white chocolate bar and a half empty jar of pickles with half sitting in a bowl right next to it. He raises an eyebrow, making an inquisitive hum that has his boyfriend groaning as he nudges Dick’s chin away to tilt his head up. Honey brown eyes sparkle as they meet his, his boyfriend’s lips twitching as he fights to repress a smile. 

“Dad’s convinced that white chocolate, passion fruit, and pickle juice go together.”

Dick winces at the thought. “At least the first two ingredients sound good?” He questions. 

“Those aren’t the ones I was questioning.” He rolls his eyes before nodding towards the blender. “I made a mocktail if you want.” 

“I’ll pass.” 

Corven’s eyes gleam with mirth. “I only added the pickle juice into one glass.” He hops off his kitchen despite Dick’s protesting whine and picks up a half full glass hiding behind the blender. “But you’re only allowed to drink it if you tell me what you think of this first.”

Dick immediately reaches for the glass, almost snatching it out of his boyfriend’s hands while the other man laughs. The corner of his left eye crinkles as he smiles, leaning back against the counter as he watches Dick take a long sip before pulling a face. His entire face twists into a grimace, brows furrowing. Corven trades the glass for one filled to the brim with lemon water and Dick accepts it almost desperately, gulping down the entire thing almost immediately. 

Corven snaps a picture of his face, not even bothering to hide his snickers as he pulls his phone down and starts typing. “I’m sending this to dad as your review of his creation.”

“What even made him come up with this?” Dick chokes out once the glass is empty, grabbing the blender and filling the glass with the non pickle infected drink. 

“I’m pretty sure he just wants pickled passion fruit but thinks he has to make everything a drink for me to make it.” Corven replies, rolling his left eye as his phone buzzes in his hand. 

It’s a testament to how many months they’ve been together now that Dick doesn’t even react as Harvey Dent’s voice comes through Corven’s crackley phone speakers. He just turns his focus to finding what he needs within the kitchen as his boyfriend moves around him to start cleaning up the aftermath of his experimentation, body shaking with laughter.

“Dad I can just make you a passion fruit pickle, you don’t have to try and convince me that pickle juice from a jar will go well with something that sweet.” Corven grumbles fondly once the voice note ends, watching Dick start measuring out ingredients. “And no I don’t think adding red pepper is going to make this appealing.”

 “Maybe if you get rid of the white chocolate-”

“Please don’t encourage this or you're becoming a taste tester.” Corven threatens, left eye narrowing at him until Dick raises both his hands up in surrender, batter dripping from the whisk and onto the floorboards. “I gotta go before my kitchen becomes even more of a mess.”

“Hey!”

“But I’ll drop by this week with a passion fruit pickle, and I’ll even bring a bottle of your invention. You can even offer it to Oswald next time you’re negotiating or something.”

“Please don’t.” Dick pleads, already imagining the fight they’d have to somehow stop. 

“Love you.” 

“Goodbye Mr. Dent Sir!” Dick quips, grinning when Corven, despite groaning, doesn’t stop the voice note until he finishes, sending it off with a shake of his head. 

“One day you’ll both stop with your formal titles and I shall once again know peace.” Corven mutters as he goes back to rinsing his utensils while Dick starts flipping pancakes with a flourish anytime he catches Corven glancing over. His phone buzzes and he glances at it, turning off the faucet after rising off his knife and setting it to dry. “Dad texted: Goodbye Mr. Wayne Grayson.”

They lapse into comfortable silence after that, Corven resting his phone upside down on the kitchen table as he watches Dick pile pancake after pancake onto a plate. They both sip contently from their drinks, Corven absentmindedly playing with the silly straw he dropped in his. 

“And here we go! Alfred’s secret pancake recipe.” Dick slides the plate of fluffy pancakes absolutely dripping in chocolate syrup over to Corven before sitting across from him, legs crossed on the stool and watching intensely while Corven laughs, picking up his fork and knife. 

“And how exactly did you manage to get this top secret recipe?” Corven asks before taking his first bite, his eye widening slightly. He hums lightly as he chews, the sound light and almost fairy-like. 

“A magician never reveals his secrets.” Dick dismisses with a grin, placing both elbows on the table. “Soooo are they good?”

“Delicious.”

“I told you Alfred’s cooking can’t be compared.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry for ever daring to say I didn’t think they’d compete with Margaret’s.” Corven shakes his head fondly.  

Yeah. Dick thinks as he watches Corven continue to carefully cut the pancake into perfectly sized bites before eating each slowly to enjoy them fully, chocolate circling his lips. He would really like to keep this.  

***

When you pride yourselves on being a family of legendary detectives, you’re bound to notice when the people around you start acting differently for any reason. It didn’t have to be a bad change for it to set off a buzzing feeling of discomfort. Anything that defied careful routine and established patterns, that varied from predictability, was something to be considered. Analysed and dissected until it became familiar enough for the status quo to change around it. 

This was all to say that Steph noticed when Dick started setting boundaries. 

Sure, one could argue that his move to Bludhaven was in itself a boundary that Dick had set. At least it would be, if getting the man to return to Gotham wasn’t as simple as a single text with no clear reason or explanation, and his apartment hadn’t been crashed at by at least one sibling almost weekly since he’d moved away. 

Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson did not refuse his siblings anything. 

It was as if to compensate for not being there for Jason, for having let Jason down when he was Robin, he’d personally condemned himself to always be at everyone’s beck and call. Always willing to do any activity, to spend any time together, to aid in whatever way was asked. Dick was the person you asked for rides from, the one who covered patrols when someone had an event, who seemingly never had plans that were too important for him to drop at the slightest request. If any of them asked him something, especially if Damian was the one doing so, then Dick would accept. 

He was the type of person who’d hold up the world without a single complaint if it gave any of them just a moment of reprieve. Steph wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t find a way to control the weather if Damian asked for him to stop the rain so Titus could go play outdoors.

 The first time had actually been a year ago. They’d all been sprawled across the batcave with files upon files from the case they were currently trying to crack. Phones were scattered everywhere, passed around and grabbed by whoever was closest to one so they could look things up without having to go to the bat computer. Tim had grabbed Dick’s phone, although Steph hadn’t even clocked it as his at first because the phone case was new. It looked handpainted, with five robins forming a circle over a sparkly constellation background. 

Tim had typed in the password, then frowned before looking up at Dick. “You changed passwords?” Dick looked up from the file he was looking over with Babs, nodding. Tim stared at him, then coughed when Dick returned his attention to the files. That had Dick raising an eyebrow in question, and Tim groaned. “What’s your password then? Or am I supposed to spend time guessing it?”

“I’m not telling you.” Dick replied, causing all of them to look over at him curiously. “I changed it so you’d all stay out of my phone.”

“Since when do you care about that?” Duke asked from where he was sprawled out on the floor.

“Since I changed it.” Dick waved dismissively, before once again turning his attention back to what he was reading. 

Cass had tossed Tim’s own phone at him before the conversation could continue, and they’d all moved on, trying to ignore the buzzing of discomfort starting under their skin. 

It’d continued with small changes over the years. 

“I no longer want you tracking me outside of patrol. If you do it I swear to embarrass you online with every failed moment I’ve got of yours on camera.” 

“I won’t listen to any of your suggestions of people I should date, so you might as well quit before I start searching for prospective candidates for you. No Tim, I don't care that you’re dating Bernard, I will set you up on a date with both him and Connor if you keep trying me.”

“Stay out of my room and wait for me to say you can enter or so help me. I will go against Alfred’s no weapons in the manor rule.”

But still throughout all that time, Dick had never refused them anything. 

Maybe that is why they all nearly break their necks from the speed at which they turn their heads when Dick tells Damian: “Sorry baby bird I want to patrol solo tonight. I’m sure you can learn something from sticking with one of the others alright?”

None of them could even truly appreciate the beauty of Damian Al’Ghul Wayne being reduced to stunned silence as they all also stare quietly at the oldest of them, who remains either blissfully unaware of - or is just actively ignoring - their reactions. He ruffles Damian’s hair before putting on his earpiece and heading for the door to the batcave while chatting with Barbara, who somehow manages to recover before any of them. 

It even takes Batman a moment to reboot before he shoos them all off to start their own patrols, Steph and Cass both making their exits at the same time while Tim and Damian start complaining about Bruce telling Damian to stick with Tim. 

The two of them break off eventually, and Dick heading off alone is momentarily forgotten in the adrenaline rush that is patrolling Gotham during the night. The buzz of wrongness continues to simmer under Steph’s skin, but she easily brushes it off in favour of stopping a couple drunk arguments from getting too far, walking women home, and interrupting three drug deals in a span of a couple hours. 

It’s at the last drug deal actually, when Steph loses track of a guy she immediately recognises as a parent from a child neglect case Dick has been building for months that the feeling returns. It grows, the buzz becoming an almost itch as Dick takes much much then usual to reply as she switches over to his comm line. 

The first thing she hears when it finally goes through and Dick opens it is heavy breathing, pounding music that even muffled as it is threatens to give her a headache, and a suppressed moan. 

She’s so very tempted to switch to anyone else’s line right then, but her curiosity eventually unfortunately wins over. 

“Nightwing?” She asks, and there’s some shuffling before Dick replies, his voice raspier than it’d been when he’d left.

“Go ahead.” Then, more quietly and so much more softly than she’s ever heard his voice. She’s pretty sure Dick doesn’t know that she can still hear him. “You alright?”

Steph almost misses the muffled “I’m fine.” that comes as a reply.

“Just thought I’d let you know one of the parents from that case you’re working on just ran away from a drug deal I busted.” Steph informs him, staring down at the unconscious bodies in front of her while waiting for the sirens to get close enough for her to dash. “Didn’t manage to catch them, they had some sort of really irritating smoke bomb.”

“Buyer or seller?”

“Seller definitely. They weren’t alone, so you can ask Gordon what he gets from them.”

“If you delay my rounds more my clients are gonna start raising hell.” The other person near Dick says, and Steph is almost sure she caught all of the muffled words right despite Dick’s attempt at covering his comm. “And I’d like to not get stabbed tonight.”

“Copy.” Dick’s voice comes in clear before the comm shuts off again, and Steph is left wondering which person he was addressing. 

She darts off right as the sirens turn onto the street, watching hidden from the rooftop to make sure Montoya doesn’t have any issues before walking off, switching her comm line over to Babs. 

“Do you have access to Wing’s location?” She asks as soon as the click signals she’s through. 

“Haven’t checked it in a while but yes. Why did something happen?” 

“Uh yeah you could say that.” Steph grimaced. “Where’s he at right now?”

“Give me a second.” The comm line goes silent for a while before it clicks on again. “That’s strange, it’s telling me he’s back at the manor already. He didn’t tell me he’d finished his patrol.”

Steph stops in her tracks. “Can you call a family meeting with everyone except Dick?”

“Why-”

“I think Dick is having sex with a drug dealer.” 

***

They’re all settled in the living room: Jason, Tim and Bruce settled on separate couches, Damian on the floor, Cass perched on Bruce’s armrest, Babs by the television typing away on her laptop, and Duke sitting on the coffee table by Tim’s couch. Steph stands in front of them all, arms finally settling on her hips. 

Dick’s off somewhere, having excused himself before they’d even eaten dinner. 

“I think Dick is having sex with a drug dealer.” 

Tim spits out his coffee, unfortunately spraying poor Duke who doesn’t manage to duck in time. 

“What-”

“I heard him on comm yesterday with someone moaning who also said and I quote: If you delay my rounds more my clients are gonna start raising hell. And I’d like to not get stabbed tonight.” She gestures dramatically towards Babs who waves. “And our lovely Oracle has confirmed that he hasn’t been returning when his suit says he has! Which means he’s going dark for hours during his patrol!”

Steph has to wait for Duke to go change his shirt after her big announcement, because she’d started it too quickly for him to stop her. Once he returns she waits expectantly while the entire family continues to just blink tiredly at her. 

“Why are we even entertaining Brown’s insanity?” Damian questions, Titus working to keep him in place by lying his head on his lap and enjoying the boy’s pets. “I don’t think Grayson is idiotic enough to have sexual relations with a criminal.”

“I agree with Damian-”

“Finally someone with sense. Thank you Father.”

“I really don’t think that there’s anything for us to be concerned about.” Bruce finishes, taking a sip from the tea Alfred had brought all of them. “Dick is smart enough to make good decisions.”

“His tracker has consistently been showing him returning to the manor earlier than anyone has reported seeing him. I checked with Alfred.” Barbara interjects, pulling out the data on her laptop and connecting it to the tv. “He’s been seemingly returning from patrols hours earlier than ever recorded before this year. That’s not smart decision making.”

“I’m sure there’s an explanation-” Duke gets cut off by Barbara glancing over her glasses with a dead stare. 

“I’ve double checked the cameras. He hasn’t been returning when his tracker says he has. Unless he’s suddenly become invisible to cameras, us, and Alfred.”

“Okay but doesn’t Dick usually patrol with Damian?” Tim asks, pointing a finger at the former assassin. 

“... Grayson has told me he’s returning early and passed me over to Father quite often this year.” Damian admits quietly. 

“See!” Brown cheers. “That proves it!”

“It proves that he’s been disappearing for a couple hours when he’s in Gotham, it doesn’t prove he’s sleeping with a drug dealer.” Tim - the buzzkill - points out through a mouthful of cookies. 

“Master Tim, please do not speak while you chew.” Alfred calls from the kitchen. 

Tim swallows with a wince. “Sorry Alfred!”

“How else are you explaining the…” Steph gags. “Moans and the other person he was with saying they had to continue their rounds.”

“There’s plenty of jobs where they could be doing rounds-”

“Rounds where their customers might get angry enough to stab them?” Steph crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. Tim frowns and looks away. “See! Definitely a drug dealer.”

“... That would explain the sudden request for privacy.” Barbara muses. “Dick has never been like that in any of his past relationships.”

“Hey wait. Didn’t you say the other person sounded like a man?” Duke asks. Steph nods. “Then maybe he just… isn’t ready to come out yet and that’s why he’s been secretive.”

“With this family? Really?” Jason snorts, speaking up for the first time since the start of the conversation. “Come on, it’d be weirder if he was straight. His name’s literally Dick-”

“Master Jason.”

“Sorry Alfred! But come on, I mean have you seen the man?” He shakes his head. “Look me in the eyes and tell me a straight man would wear his disco wing suit.” 

“Regardless of that.” Steph interrupts waving her hand dismissively. “Even if Jason makes an excellent point.” The man in question mock bows from his seat. “You are all ignoring that again. This man he’s clearly sleeping with is at threat of getting stabbed by clients for not completing rounds.”

“Does sound fishy.” Cass agrees from where she’s perched without anyone noticing behind Jason, causing the man to let out a yelp that makes Tim erupt into laughter. 

“Sooooo,” Duke leans back. “What do we do?” 

“We should interrogate Grayson if this bothers all of you so much.” Damian says.

“Don’t act like you’re not also curious.” Tim rolls his eyes. “Can’t believe I’m saying this but I agree with the gremlin.”

“I’d say go all out and fully stage an intervention” Jason adds with a grin. “I’ll bring the popcorn.”

“We do have to ask him about this. Him tempering with his tracker is a problem regardless of why he’s doing it.” Barbara turns back to her laptop with a frown. 

“Yes, let’s ask.” Cass says softly, leaning against Jason’s back. 

Bruce sighs. “I suppose that we should address this.” 

***

Dick hasn’t even made it through the door before he shouts “I’m sleeping with a drug dealer!” down the hallway towards the main room, shoes half on his feet and windblown hair falling into his eyes. 

“Are they hot?” Comes the amused reply. 

Dick doesn’t even bother lining his shoes up on the shelf, instead grabbing his house slippers and leaving the shoes on the canary yellow welcome mat. He slides down the hall with one sock covered foot, keeping his balance as he puts his right slipper on. Corven looks up for a moment, an eye patch shaped like a flower with an eye in its center covering his right eye today.  

Corven’s baby blue dyed hair falls out of the very loose bun it was in. He reaches up to grab the bellflower Chinese hairpin he’d inherited from his mother before it can fall onto the couch, placing it delicately on his lap as he turns back to the mirror he’s propped up on the coffee table as he follows a tutorial with a concentrated frown. Dick watches him from the doorway for a while, before joining him on the couch. He moves the hairpin onto his chest as he sprawls out on his boyfriend’s lap, holding it gingerly. 

Corven hadn’t gotten many things from his mom and father to remember them by, and Dick knows how deeply the things he does have mean to him. Knows better than anyone really what it’s like to hold on to the only things you have left of someone you cared about.  

“Apparently they’re so hot I can’t resist them.” He finally answers, burying his face in his boyfriend’s stomach with a groan. Corven’s chest vibrates as he laughs, gently prying the hairpin away from Dick’s hand and cheering when it stays in place. Dick looks up, then pulls himself into a sitting position so he can brace his arms on either side of his boyfriend and back him into the couch, chasing his lips. “They might be on to something. He’s beautiful.”

Corven laughs, pressing his lips against Dick’s in a chaste kiss before pulling back. “Was that what the intervention you were texting me about was?” 

“Apparently Steph heard everything.” Dick groans. “She’s convinced the whole family that I’m sleeping with a drug dealer. Babs is on my ass now too because she noticed I’ve been tempering with my tracker’s location.” 

“Told you it wasn’t your best idea to start seeing me during your patrols.” Corven says fondly, kissing his cheek. 

“But I’m not in Gotham often!” Dick whines. “And they’re so difficult to ditch. I was so proud of myself for that too, only for a year of effective sneaking to get destroyed because I answered Steph on comm. For something she could have told me later too!”

Corven watches him for a moment. “Are you really upset?” He asks softly, bringing his hand up to cradle his cheek. “I’m sorry about speaking.” 

“Not your fault.” Dick mumbles into the palm of Corven’s hand, pressing a kiss to his pulse point. “Just means I’m going to have a harder time sneaking around them for at least the next few weeks, but I’ll figure it out.”

Corven hums. “Want a distraction?” Dick’s eyes light up and his hand drifts to Corven’s waist. His boyfriend laughs, pressing a quick kiss to his nose this time. “I wasn’t thinking about that exactly right now.”

“Is it a better distraction?”

“It’s certainly going to be more distracting in the long term.” Corven says with a grin. He laces their hands together before locking eyes with him. “My family wants to meet you.”

Dick bluescreens. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand tightly. “They’ve already met me?” It comes out as a question, and Corven rolls his eyes. 

“Let me rephrase. They want to meet you as my boyfriend. Not as Richard Grayson or Nightwing.” 

“You want me to meet your family as your boyfriend. Which by your family you mean… Two Face, Penguin, and Harley?”

“And Ivy now.” Corven adds with an amused grin. “They’ve been official for two months.”

Dick gulps. “Can’t I just meet your other parents?” 

“The dead ones?” Corven asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“YeAh.” Dick grins nervously. “You know… go to their graves…”

“I don’t think Dad is going to accept that as a substitute.” Corven chuckles. He kisses Dick before he can think of anything else, effectively erasing any other thoughts. “It wouldn’t be now, anyway. Harls is in Arkham right now and I said it wasn’t negotiable to have everyone there. Thought you’d prefer doing it once then multiple times.”

“Thanks.” Dick whispers. “That makes my impending death so much better.”

“They’re not going to kill you.”

“Torture then.”

“Dick. They don’t care that I’m dating Nightwing.” 

“How’d they figure it out again?” Dick asks nervously. “Anyway we could make them forget or-” Corven places his hand over his mouth, left eye soft. 

“Again, babe, it’s not very subtle when both you and Nightwing go back and forth from Gotham and Bludhaven at the same time.” Corven cradles his head gently. “You’ll be fine.”

Dick sighs, before tangling his hands in the shorter hairs that hadn’t been caught in his boyfriend’s bun and tugging on them. “Now I think I need a distraction for this distraction.” He breathes, eyeing his boyfriend hungrily before leaning down to start devouring his lips.

***

Corven frowns as Dick bounces on the balls of his feet while waiting for him to finish putting on his shoes, eyes drifting towards the pitch black outside where the only light that can be seen is the few window light stragglers left and flickering building signs. 

“Didn’t you say you were going to have a harder time getting around your family?” Corven questions as Dick helps him stand, readjusting his eye patch. Today he’s picked his Indian blue robin patch that Dick had gotten him among a (relatively small, for him) sea of gifts for their anniversary. “Shouldn’t you be patrolling?”

Dick grins, holding up his bandaged wrist. “It would have been difficult but turns out getting injured last night was great timing!” 

“Please don’t start getting injured in order to sneak out.” Corven begs, letting Dick pull him out the door and lock up the apartment before grabbing his hand again. 

“I promise.” Dick says honestly. “It would raise too much suspicion anyway.”

“Not my main concern, love.”

Dick shrugs. “At least this means my surprise date won’t be ruined.”

Corven locks up, bringing Dick to a halt halfway down the hall to the parking lot. Dick’s excitement becomes softer, his eyes fond as he turns to cup the back of his boyfriend’s neck and press their foreheads together. 

“Should you even be driving with your hand like that?” Corven asks, voice shaking slightly. 

“I got here fine didn’t I?” Dick asks, grabbing Corven’s chin with his free hand to force his gaze up when it turns down to the floor. “It’ll be okay.”

“If it’s a surprise that means you want to blindfold me-”

Dick shakes his head, letting go of his boyfriend’s neck just long enough to pull out his flower eye patch. “I was thinking an eyepatch over your left eye actually.”

Corven trembles and Dick presses a soft kiss to his nose, keeping their eyes locked with each other. “You can’t be serious…”

“If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to. I can drive us, and you close your eyes on the last street or we don’t even do a full surprise.” Dick says gently. “This only happens if you’re okay with it, and I’ll tell you whenever I’m going to touch you and where. We’ve done this before, right?” Corven nods, letting out a stuttering breath. “And nothing's happened right?”

“... No.” Corven says after a moment, before eyeing the eyepatch. “Do I have to put it on for the full car ride?”

“Absolutly not. I’ll tell you when to put it on. Promise it’ll only be for ten minutes.”

“... Okay.”

Dick’s concerned eyes trace his boyfriend’s body, watching as Corven slowly stops trembling and seems to stand a bit steadier. “Are you sure?”

“... Yeah. Only ten minutes.”

“Only ten minutes.” Dick repeats, before gently taking his hand again and leading him to the car. 

Corven’s much steadier by the time they’re close enough for Dick to gently ask him to put his eye patch on, and he doesn’t hesitate as he does. Dick smiles, turning onto the right street and making sure no one is around to disturb them before guiding his boyfriend out of the car. Like promised he warns him before touching him, and slowly they make their way down the street and up the stairs. The doors creak when opened and Corven flinches, Dick already reaching for his eyepatch with a murmur letting him know he’s about to take it off. 

Corven blinks, eyes adjusting to the soft light coming from the candles lit around the place before he gasps, turning to Dick with his left eye wide open. 

Honey brown glitters in the warm light of multiple flames and Dick can’t help the grin that spreads across his face as he brings Corven into a tender kiss. 

“Did- did you just make us break into the Gotham Museum?” Corven asks suspiciously when they part. 

“No! No, don't worry I rented it for the night.” Dick reassures, squeezing his hand. “You said you’d always wanted to spend a night at a museum. Well,” he gestures towards the center of the room where blankets and pillows lay in wait, forming a comfy nest. “I thought we could spend a night at a museum.”

“... It’s not my birthday.” Corven says slowly. “Or our anniversary. And you said you’d rather avoid dates your family could stumble on-”

“It’s not our anniversary.” Dick says, leading Corven deeper into the central room. His boyfriend’s eyes flit around, taking in the dinosaurs lit only by candlelight, before they settle on a spot behind him. He knows Corven’s finally seen the last thing he’s prepared when he inhales sharply, hand tightening on Dick’s hand. His eye fills with tears, and he doesn’t tear his eyes away from the sign that Dick’s spent the morning making perfect as Dick moves from being in front of him to his side. “Your dad told me it was coming up soon.” He says quietly. Corven’s eyes finally leave the sign to turn to him. 

Love, I’m So Glad I Got to Meet You. Happy Six Years Free!

“Do you-” He lets out a short yelp that’s swallowed by Corven crashing into him, eye sparkling with his tears and wide smile on his lips as he kisses him, Dick melting into it immediately and wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist. They’re both panting when they pull apart, Corven giggling as he wipes his tears away from his cheek. “I take it you like it?”

“I love it.” Corven says warmly, leaning against Dick’s chest. Then his eyes dart around the room again, and he lights up, eyes glowing. “This means we can look around right?”

“Of course.” Dick grins, letting Corven be the one tugging him along this time. “We have all the time in the world.” He adds more quietly as Corven splits off with a delighted gasp to grab a candle holder. 

*** 

Jason almost doesn’t recognise him when they bump into each other. 

It was a week after the anniversary of his death, and he’d been wandering around the streets of Gotham with music blasting as loud as his headphones would allow to drown out any of his thoughts. His eyes glance around quickly for any sign of green, the week making him particularly jumpy in a way that he absolutely despises. 

He’s not paying enough attention to what’s in front of him (not when he thought he’d seen a flash of green in a nearby window that nearly makes his heart stop before he realises it’s just an ugly ass parka-) so it’s no surprise when he collides with someone. Doesn’t stop him from swearing as he stumbled back, the person taking a few steps back. 

He finally drags his eyes to what’s in front of him. Between the galaxy prosthetic replacing his right eye, the knife surrounding scars that litter his skin, and the baby blue hair that’s braided down to the lower half of his neck, it’s almost a miracle that Jason recognises Corven. 

“Jason?!” Corven gasps, and it hits Jason that probably no one told Corven that he was alive. 

Shit did they tell him he was dead?! Or did he have to find out like the general public had, through newspapers instead of his family? He’s almost tempted to call Bruce now to ask, and yell at him if it turns out no one thought to check in on his childhood best friend after he’d died. He’s brought out of his thoughts by the man crashing into him and wrapping his arms around him, burying his head in Jason’s neck. 

Which leads them to now, sitting across from each other in a tiny coffee shop, legs pressed against each other in the corner booth furthest from the door they could find. Corven’s hands are wrapped tight around the mug of hot chocolate he’d ordered, and he stares at the melting whipped cream as if it would somehow make everything seem more real. 

“I knew you were alive.” Corven runs a hand through his hair, which had entirely come loose from how many times he’s repeated the action. The hair tie is around his wrist now, sliding up and down with the man’s movements. It’s strangely soothing to focus on. Corven lets out a short, nearly hysterical laugh. “But I- Fuck you’re actually alive. He- They weren’t lying.”

“Yeah, real miracle.” Jason says easily. He catches a glimpse of familiar looking scars under the hem of Corven’s long sleeved shirt when his eyes go back to the sliding hair tie, and his hair drops. Corven seems to notice, and immediately drops his arm so the sleeve slides back over to hide his skin. “You- Why do you have crowbar scars?”

“What are you, a scar detective now?” Corven asks mockingly, but his hand shakes. “It’s nothing.”

“Did something happen after-”

“It’s nothing Jason.” Corven repeats more firmly, bringing his hands back up to hold his mug. “I got it from an accident. Can we get back to you being alive? Or more specifically, why am I just seeing you now?” His left eye narrows. Jason can see the hurt lying underneath, the way Corven’s lip trembles slightly and his hands shake so bad he can’t seem to pick up his mug. “I didn’t know you died, I didn’t get to go to your funeral, I spent years wondering what had happened to you, Jay.”

“I’m sorry.” He says, reaching out to pry his friend’s hand away from his mug so he can hold it. “Corven, I’m so, so sorry.” He whispers hoarsely. 

They move on to lighter conversation after that. What Jason’s been up to (and it feels nice to talk about something outside of being Red Hood for once), what Corven’s been doing. Corven brushes past his parents' death quickly, his face souring as he mentions it when Jason asks how they’re doing. Jason’s happy to move on from the topic before he can beat himself up over not being there for Corven when it happened. They talk about the books they’re reading (he’s rereading Pride and Prejudice, Corven’s says he’s been enjoying reading They Bloom at Night), light hearted stories about their families (Corven’s reconnected with his birth parents, and something about that makes a part of Jason’s brain ping but he ignores it for now). They talk about everything and anything really, their drinks getting sipped on so slowly they’re basically cold by the time they get halfway through. 

It’s getting darker outside and Corven glances out, his lip tugging down with dismay as he tells Jason he has to go or he’ll be late to the event he’s supposed to be bartending for. 

“Wait!” He grabs Corven’s hand before he can fully slip out of the booth. “Give me your number.”

“Oh right!” Corven pats his pockets for his phone, pulling up his contact page so Jason can copy down the number. “Text me whenever, whatever. There’s no way you’ll ever be worse than my dad. He texts me insane recipes in the dead of night or worse early in the morning when I’m trying to catch up on sleep.”

“Speaking of bartending.” Jason places his half of the money for the bill and a large tip for taking up the table all afternoon before following Corven out the coffee shop, bell ringing behind them as they step out onto the busy streets of Gotham. “B’s is hosting a gala on Friday, and I happen to know he’s looking for a bartender…”

Corven laughs. “You still suck at asking to hang out huh?” He grins. “You’re in luck, I’m free. Give him my number and we can sort out the details.” 

Jason grins. “Cool. Get to work safely alright? Text me when you’re there.” 

Corven rolls his eyes but salutes him before turning and disappearing into the river of people. 

***

My Bluebell

5:38 P.M.

Please don’t panic 

I’m bartending at the gala tonight 

5:39 P.M.

I’m sorry

What

It’s fine. It’s going to be fine! Just act like you don’t know him all night. Easy peasy. Dick chants to himself internally while fiddling with the cuffs of his dress shirt, heading down the steps into the rapidly filling ball room. It’s going to be totally, absolutely, perfectly fi- oh shit. 

There’s a reason why Dick keeps visiting his boyfriend at work during patrol and Dick is unhelpfully and viciously reminded of it when the crowd parts slightly and he catches sight of his boyfriend chatting casually with Jason at the bar while smoothly cutting up strawberries without looking. 

Corven’s bartending outfit unfortunately consists of a really well fitted white dress shirt with black pants and a black tail coat vest that highlights his waist perfectly, with blood red buttons as accents. Buttons that match the blood red tie he always leaves just a bit loose around his neck in a way he knows gives Dick the urge to pull it so it’s tighter- 

He can feel his throat already becoming dry and yet he still decides to increase his torture by heading up to the bar. Getting up close doesn’t help, especially when he notices that Corven’s not wearing an eyepatch as he usually does when bartending and is instead wearing the prosthetic eye Dick got him a month ago. The one with a black sclera and a shimmering swirling galaxy made up of various shades of blue. The one Dick can get lost in for hours because if you look at it for even just a couple seconds without blinking it starts to move. 

His boyfriend knows exactly what he’s doing when he smirks at Dick when he takes a seat by his brother’s side, knife still chopping fruit with terrifying precision. He eyes Dick up and down, taking in the tailored suit he's forced to wear for these events and now more than ever would like off. 

“Lovely to meet you Mr. Grayson.” Oh and of course he’s using this sultry purr to talk to him. A part of Dick is starting to think he shouldn’t have left his room, because he knows that Jason noticed the way he gulps as Corven leans forward, honey eye sparkling. “Can I get you anything?”

You. His brain screams. He coughs, trying to subtly shake away the thought especially when he sees the rest of his siblings start wandering over. “A- A blue lover please.”

Corven’s hands still for a split second, which is the same amount of time it takes for Dick mentally slap himself for his answer. 

Please let his siblings not know about cocktails please let his siblings not know about cocktails please let -

“What’s a blue lover?” Babs - of course it needs to be Babs, Dick is almost tempted to start laughing hysterically - asks as she rolls herself to the space by his side where Bruce had made sure there was enough wheelchair space. Consideration Dick is internally detesting at a time like this. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“That would be because it’s my own creation, Ms. Gordon.” His boyfriend says, the sultry tone thankfully gone from his voice and replaced by standard politeness that doesn’t make Dick’s bones melt. “It’s a cocktail that happens to have multiple shades of blue in it, like a galaxy.”

“What’s in it?” Babs asks. 

“If I told you it wouldn’t be unique to me anymore.” Also because Babs would surely notice and question how most of Dick’s favourites are in this cocktail… Corven gives her a wink before turning to him, voice dropping back to a purr because clearly he isn’t suffering enough it seems. “I’ll get that to you right away.” Then he turns towards Jason, his voice once again changing, this time casual. “You want anything Jason?”

“Surprise me.” His brother says, and it’s only then that the realisation hits Dick. 

Corven was Jason’s childhood best friend. He was dating Jason’s childhood best friend. 

He can never tell his family about this now on penalty of death. 

In his defense, he hadn’t known. He’d barely been around for Jason before his death, Bruce never mentioned a childhood best friend, they weren’t invited to the funeral because Dick is pretty sure Bruce forgot or didn’t know they existed, and he’d only learned about it after they’d already been talking. 

Sure maybe he could have pulled the whole thing to a stop before they were official, but was it really that weird to date your brother’s best friend? 

Really it wasn’t his fault Corven was unfairly attractive, and awfully terribly amazing.

“Something on your mind, Mr Grayson?” Corven asks when he places his drink - with the reusable silly straw that he’s been serving Dick’s drink in since they’d first reconnected because he hates Dick apparently - in front of him. 

“He’s reevaluating his choices in men.” Steph quips, sending him a look. 

Dick doesn’t dignify it with a response, taking a sip of his drink with his eyes locked everywhere except the black gloves he wants to tear off with his teeth- 

“You didn’t tell me you were seeing someone.” Jason says suddenly, and Dick tenses, before he looks up at his boyfriend and finally notices the hickey he hadn’t covered up that’s sitting all pretty on his neck. 

That’s it. Dick is going to devour him exactly in this outfit the moment he gets the chance and is going to enjoy making every single bite hurt as revenge. 

“Single actually.” Corven purrs with a sharp smile angled just slightly towards Dick, eyes not even glancing towards him as he responds to Jason. He can practically feel Steph’s excitement from behind him and he chugs the rest of his drink in a second, sliding the empty glass back over to Corven and mouthing another one because he doesn’t think he’s surviving this sober. “Just some casual fun.”

Liar liar liar. Dick’s traitorous thoughts chant. 

Because Corven’s demisexual. It’s something they’d talked about in depth when they’d first started dipping their toes into dating. They’d only started “having fun” the last time Dick had been in Gotham, which hadn’t been that long ago. 

He takes another long sip of his drink. 

***

“I think you’ve had enough sweetheart.” Corven tells his boyfriend as he pulls the half empty glass away from him the second they get a moment unobserved. Dick’s been staring at him from the table for the past hour, and while Corven’s always flattered by how beautiful Dick finds him despite his scars, he was failing miserably at his goal of keeping them down low. 

Maybe Corven had overdone it with the flirting. It was unfortunate that teasing Dick had become an easy distraction and coping mechanism. He was used to bartending at the Iceberg Lounge, for customers that knew that flirting with Penguin’s godson was as good as painting a target on their back with the words: shoot me please. Not for rich people who once they had one too many drinks in them started to get just a tad too touchy, their words getting more and more sexual and making his skin crawl. 

By this point he was ready for a warm shower to wash all of the hungry stares away from him. 

He sighs, turning to start cleaning the glasses that had stacked behind the temporary bar and tucking a stray strand of hair back behind his ear. Corven doesn’t even hear Dick move, the vigilante still light on his feet even blackout drunk as he currently is, and he almost jumps out of his skin when the weight of his boyfriend collapses against his back. Dick’s arms wrap around his neck and he nuzzles into it, babbling nonsense against Corven’s skin. 

Corven glances around the room in a panic, his heart only slowing down slightly when he realises that at the moment no one has their eyes on the bar. They’re all towards the other side of the room watching Cassandra Cain dance while Damian Wayne demonstrates his skills on the piano. He lets out a quiet sigh before sliding his arms under his boyfriend’s legs, pulling them up so he’s carrying Dick in a piggyback. He makes his way out with only a little trouble, somehow avoiding any corners and not missing any doorways. 

Alfred Pennyworth is still up despite the ungodly hour, and he looks up from the book he was reading with one hand while drinking a cup of tea in the other, raising one sharp elegant eyebrow at the pair of them when Corven carries Dick into the living room. 

“I see that Master Grayson has had a bit too much to drink.” He places his cup and book down and stands, brushing out his own tailcoat. 

Corven grimaces when his boyfriend’s hands tighten around his neck as Alfred approaches. “I don’t think he’s letting go.” He admits softly when Alfred stops a couple feet away from them. 

He glances towards the doors that lead to the ballroom hallway, before returning his eyes to the butler. 

“Umm… I’ve been dating Dick for a while.” He admits with a sigh. Dick chooses that moment to start mouthing at his throat and Corven sends him a glare that’s unfortunately softened by how precious Dick looks right now. “He’s… he’s not ready to tell his family?” He hates how nervous he sounds right now, but it’s hard to concentrate when he’s suddenly responsible for keeping his boyfriend from exposing the one thing he’s been so nervous about. Corven coughs, turning his gaze to the ground because he can’t bring himself to maintain eye contact right now. “Could- I don’t think I can drive us to my place like this-”

“I’ll show you to Master Grayson’s room.” Alfred takes pity on him, turning to lead the way up the atrociously large stairwell. “I shall inform the others that he’s retired for the night and to not disturb him so he can recover from his… hangover.” He gives Dick a reproachful look that his boyfriend doesn’t register at all if the way he starts biting Corven’s neck is any indicator. “And I’ll also tell Master Bruce that you’ve left early due to an injury. I’m sure you’ll make sure there’s no discrepancy he can find?” Corven nods. “Is your phone charged?” Alfred asks as they enter Dick’s room. 

Corven barely gives it a glance, having already been there a couple times, but only through the window and never through the door. He knows all the posters on the wall by heart now, can list every circus show and when Dick had collected them. “My phone? Umm yeah it’s charged.”

“Would you give it to me?” Corven nods, awkwardly backing up onto the bed so he can take his arm off of Dick and reach for his pocket. Alfred types on it for a moment after Corven unlocks it, before showing him the screen. “My number. Let me know when you’re leaving so I can escort you off the grounds. Master Damian lets Titus run outside alone in the morning, and I think I and Master Grayson would both hate for you to be injured by him.”

Corven nods. This isn’t new, there’s a reason he usually sneaks out before the family returns from patrol. From the way Dick is now snoozing against him though, he doubts he’s getting out anytime soon. 

Alfred is kind enough to help him slide them both under the covers and turn off the lights, even locking the door from his side behind himself. 

“You’re so lucky you’re cute.” Corven grumbles as Dick tries burrowing further into his neck. 

***

Wayne Manor is unbearably quiet. Anyone who thinks otherwise is really overestimating the noise capacity of a family mostly made up of introverts, especially in a house so huge. In the wing of the manor where Dick’s bedroom is located the only sound that ever reaches the halls is the wind whistling as it waltzes in whenever someone opens a window. 

Dick finds himself reluctantly enjoying the quiet as he lays alone in his bed, the space feeling terribly cold and empty now that his boyfriend has disappeared into the sunset. Sweat makes his skin sticky and his suit clings uncomfortably to his skin, yet he doesn’t really have the energy to pull himself up to remove it just yet. 

Not until Alfred comes to knock on his door to summon him for breakfast, in that tone Dick knows means he has no room to slip out of it. Even if a part of him wants to go through the window the same way his boyfriend had and head over to the apartment. A part of him longs for the familiar buzz of the refrigerator even if he knows it will only worsen his pounding headache. 

It can’t be worse than the clattering of dishes and the deafening cacophony that awaits him in the dining room. 

He takes his time peeling the damp suit off of his body, taking a cold shower to snap some sort of awareness back into his body before he grabs the first shirt he finds and a pair of basketball shorts that had once belonged to either Tim or Jason. He barely registered the fact that the shirt he’s picked has long sleeves, the soft fabric too comfortable against his skin for him to care. With eyes only half cracked open he finally trudges out of his bedroom, rubbing his eyes as he makes his way to the dining room which is already far too lively in his opinion. 

Bruce is sitting at his place, flipping through the newspaper he gets delivered every morning as if he’s a seventy year old man while sipping his coffee. He makes a note to get the man non prescription reading glasses just so he can complete the full look. Damian glances up at him the second he places one foot through the door, eyes raking over his outfit before his lips turn into a harsher scowl than usual. 

“I see alcohol inhibits your ability to dress properly even more than usual, Grayson.” He remarks before turning back to attacking his poor unfortunate sunny side up egg with seemingly every spice in the spice rack Alfred has started placing on the table for them both. 

Jason turns away from the sausage he’s been eating - without so much as cutting it in half, so the thing is just hanging horrifically from his fork - and raises an eyebrow at Dick when he collapses into his seat next to Bruce, hair falling into his face. 

“Since when do you own button ups?” He asks with a snort, leaning forward so he can see Dick better over Tim’s half snoozing form. “Didn’t think you were capable of not wearing blue t-shirts.”

Dick finally looks down at his shirt and holds back a curse through the skin of his teeth. Distantly he remembers Corven leaving his room a couple months ago with one of Dick’s hoodies and realises the man hadn’t even bothered to put his shirt back on before brazenly stealing Dick’s clothes and jumping out the window before down poked over the horizon. 

Because there is no one else who this black button up with luna moths all over could belong to but his boyfriend who he knows has an eye to match and who’s been complaining about misplacing the shirt for about two months now. 

“Clearly the shirt doesn’t belong to Grayson or he would know how to style it appropriately.” Damian stabs his fork into his egg yolk with viciousness that should not be aimed at poor eggs but is also best left to inanimate objects in Dick’s opinion. 

“Is it your drug dealer boyfriend’s?” Steph asks. 

Dick grips his fork with white knuckles. “I don’t have a drug dealer boyfriend.” He hisses. 

“Friends with benefits then?” 

Maybe Dick has no room to judge Damian for the way he pokes his egg if the fact that he stabs his own hard enough that yolk splatters his face is any indication. 

“It totally is!”

“Steph I swear on my parent’s graves if you don’t quit it-”

“The bartender seemed into you yesterday.” Duke speaks up, not even flinching as Dick turns his glare towards him instead of Steph. He just continues gently cutting his egg and eating it with a grin, maintaining eye contact. 

Steph squeals. “He totally did!”

“He did not.”

“His heart picked up when he looked at you.” Cass jumps in, smiling at Dick in a way that is too innocent for him to keep his glare up. He directs it back to Steph instead, because she’s the one who really deserves it at the end of the day. 

“How do you even know that?” He asks. Cass just continues smiling and Dick groans, burying his head in his hands. 

“I think Mr. Dent would make a much more suitable partner than someone who engages in criminal activity.”

“How low do you all think of me?!” Dick screeches, before turning his ire towards his father with narrowed eyes. “And that is a bold statement coming from you. Want to talk about Selina being your plus one at the gala yesterday, Brucie?”

“Corven’s out of his league anyway, so please stop trying to set up my brother with my best friend.” Jason mimes gagging, before scooping up nearly the entirety of his egg onto his fork and shoving it in his mouth. “Also Dent?”

“Master Jason please swallow before speaking.” Alfred reprimands as he walks in, placing a fresh cup of coffee in front of Dick who accepts it gratefully. 

“Sorry Alfred.” Jason grins bashfully before turning back to Bruce. “He changed his last name to Dent?”

“That’s a strange choice.” Tim mutters, still leaning over his plate looking like gravity has stopped functioning with the awkward angle he’s in.

“Ooh what was his last name before?” Steph asks, putting both hands on the table and bursting out of her seat. 

“Please don’t stalk the bartender on social media.” Bruce sighs with fond exasperation. 

“It’s investigating!”

“It’s really not.” Dick grumbles under his breath, grabbing the spice rack away from Damian. There’s not nearly enough chili on these eggs, he thinks to himself, wondering if he’ll be excused if he dumps the entire thing onto the thing and eats it. 

“Li. It got changed when he was adopted.” Jason stares down at his plate with a frown. “Guess he must have changed it back to his birth parents’ names.”

***

“I should break up with the drug dealer to date the bartender!” Dick yells before the door has even started to shut behind him. 

“You’re lucky Margaret’s deaf!” Corven calls back with a laugh. 

***

“Alfred?” Dick pocks his head into the laundry room, rubbing the back of his head anxiously. “Could I borrow you for a minute?”

Alfred finishes loading the dryer and launches the first of several black loads before pulling himself up and dusting his suit off. “Of course Master Grayson. What can I help you with?”

Dick leads him back to his bedroom, the halls thankfully completely empty. Everyone’s out of the house for one reason or other, which he’s both grateful and ungrateful for. Grateful because he doesn’t have to sneak around… ungrateful because he has no excuse to get out of this. 

There’s clothes thrown all around his room as if a whirlwind has gone through, and he chuckles nervously as Alfred shoots him a lethal look of disappointment when he takes in the state of it. “I can’t figure out what to wear.” He admits softly, pointing to his failed attempts at putting together an outfit. 

There’s a canary yellow shirt with red sweatpants he stole from Jason about a year ago and Alfred shakes his head. 

“I believe Master Damian has a point about your styling needing some work.” He points out, ignoring Dick’s dramatic gasp. “Did you ask Mr. Dent if he would rather you be formal or informal.” At Dick’s sheepish stare he sighs and pulls out his phone. 

“What are you doing?”

“Asking Mr. Dent for the information you should have.”

“You have my boyfriend’s phone number.”

“I had to somehow know how to help him out of the mansion, Master Grayson.” Alfred shoots him another reproachful look over his glasses before continuing to type. 

“You kept his number.”

“I’m having dinner with Margaret this Friday. Which reminds me that I need to go get the necessary groceries. We’ll be exchanging recipes, I must say her roast turkey was devine.” Dick just stares at him blankly, mouth opening and closing without a sound. Alfred’s phone buzzes. “Mr. Dent says that semi formal will be perfect. He’s quite insistent that I don't let you show up in a t-shirt or a full suit.”

They eventually settle on a loose black button shirt tucked into one of the few pairs of non ripped jeans he owns and a midnight blue jacket covered with embroidered robins and bats that Corven had made of him after their fifth month of dating. 

The drive to the Iceberg Lounge passes too quickly, and Dick finds himself being ushered in by two bodyguards before he can even fully steel himself. He almost face plants as he stumbles into the room, catching himself on the wall and taking a deep shaky breath before looking around. 

And immediately wonders if he’s stumbled into an alternate dimension. 

He’d expected the villains to be in the outfits he always saw them in. Had mentally prepared himself for seeing them cleaning weapons, or sitting in ominous silence around a table, or anything but this.

This being Two Face sitting normally at the bar by Corven’s side, wearing a plain black long sleeved shirt and currant red pants. He’s wearing low rise black Converses. His boyfriend’s wearing a black shirt with a ruffled collar with corseted pants that have slits on each side of the pant legs covered with see through fabric that fans out like a skirt. His right eye is covered with a checkered eye patch in the shape of a heart today, a new one Dick hasn’t seen before. 

The strangest element of this scene isn’t even them. It’s the fact that Margaret is on the other side of Corven, watching intently as Harvey signs while he speaks. Margaret, Corven’s elderly neighbour that’s taken him under her wing ever since he left the rehab facility she’s only recently retired from but still volunteers at. Her gray hair is pulled back into a braid that falls down to her lower back, and she’s dressed in a lovely ankle length floral dress. 

Harley and Ivy are both on the other side of the bar; Ivy in a khaki sweater and pale brown pants, Harley in a checkered skirt, blood red tank top, and scarlet leather jacket covered in various pins. She gasps and waves excitedly when she spots him, drawing everyone’s eyes over to him. 

Harvey stands from his seat a second after his son, who hops off and grins wildly as he comes over. Dick’s eyes widen in surprise when his boyfriend presses a kiss to his lips, but he returns it while lacing their hands together. Corven’s the one who pulls away first, giving his hand a squeeze before turning back to his dad who stands behind him, watching them with an expression Dick can’t even begin to understand. 

“It’s lovely to meet you in person, Mr. Harvey Dent Sir.” Dick says nervously, extending his free hand and biting back a whine when his boyfriend drops his other hand.

Harvey stares at his hand for a moment before letting out a short chuckle. He grabs the hand firmly and pulls Dick forward, causing him to yelp. He stiffens as the man’s arms wrap around him in a quick hug, before Harvey pulls away with a pat to his back.

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Mr Grayson Wayne.” He says warmly. 

Oswald limps up to them, dressed in his usual suit but discarded the top hat and monocle for the night. He extends his hand, shaking Dick’s firmly but not unkindly while Corven watches, leaning quietly against the wall with a content smile on his face. 

“Great to finally meet my godson’s personal hero.” Oswald says. “Want a drink?”

“I’ll help you make them.” Corven volunteers, pushing off the wall. “I’m having a salty grapefruit refresher Dick, you want one as well?” 

“Yes please.” Dick replies, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he passes by. 

“I’ll take one as well, love.” Harvey squeezes his son’s shoulder, before turning back to Dick once they’re both left together. He can see Harley literally buzzing out of her skin behind the bar but she stays put, glancing at them occasionally as Corven pulls her away to help him with drinks. “My son’s talked quite often about you.” Harvey starts, his eyes burrowing into Dick’s soul. “I wanted to thank you.”

“You really don’t need to.” Dick says quickly. “I should be thanking you, really. Your son is amazing-”

“And he’s alive because of you.” Harvey interrupts not unkindly. He glances over towards Corven, who’s laughing as Oswald stumbles back rubbing his eyes as he curses, Harley sheepishly pushing back the grapefruit she was cutting. “I didn’t think I’d ever get him back to this after Joker.” He whispers quietly. “I’ve got you to thank for that.”

“Margaret also helped.” Dick says softly. 

Harvey laughs. “That she did.” He grins, squeezing Dick’s shoulder. “Still. I know his mama and baba are both grateful for you too.”

Dick’s smile gets wobbly, his eyes starting to fill with tears that he quickly blinks away. “I wish he’d gotten to meet my parents as well.” He says quietly, meeting Corven’s eye. His boyfriend frowns in concern and he shoots him a smile in reassurance, watching as Corven softens and turns away. “They would have loved him too.”

“I’m sure they’re both proud.” Harvey squeezes his shoulder a final time before pulling away, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We should join them before Harley leaves her skin.” 

Dick laughs, all tension gone as he follows the man back to the bar. Corven slides up to him, passing him his drink and pressing warmly against his side as Harley bounds over to them, eyes shining brightly as she starts interrogating Dick on every aspect of his life she can think of. Oswald occasionally jumps in too, but he spends most of the night looking between Dick and Corven as if searching for something. He seems to find it when Corven settles on Dick’s lap halfway through a conversation he’s having with Ivy about the plants he’s gotten Corven. Dick readjusts without interruption, drink not even sloshing in his glass. His boyfriend places his head on his shoulder, continuing his conversation with Harley and Margaret about the best sushi places in Gotham. 

Dick interrupts himself to correct Corven on the name of the last one they’d gone too before smoothly going back to asking about whether or not blue bells would make a good houseplant. From the corner of his eye he sees Oswald relax before he finally turns away from the two of them and instead starts talking to Harvey about a new shipment of alcohol. 

“Told you they weren’t going to torture you.” Corven whispers when Harley rushes off to grab a trivia board game she’d apparently brought, after finally having convinced Oswald to play. 

Dick laughs. “Yeah, yeah, you were right.” He says warmly as he watches Harley storm back in, Ivy and Margaret both helping her set up the board while Harvey and Oswald refill everyone’s drinks. Harvey brings them a fresh glass, and Dick can’t hold back his laughter at the face his boyfriend pulls when he sees the pickles acting as decoration of both glasses. 

***

My Bluebell

3:09 A.M. 

Your father just asked me to bartend at the gala tomorrow night

Did he not have a bartender before?

4:10 A.M.

Jerry retired

Though I’m considering getting him to come back

8:90 A.M. 

It’s not that bad 

8:91 A.M.

You’re not the one who has to resist you being dressed like that

The gala had been going well. 

Too well for Gotham it seems. 

One second Dick is chatting with Mrs. Henrick to escape Steph’s constant nagging to go talk to the “hot bartender you definitely have a crush on Dickie, don’t lie” and the next they’re all being held at gunpoint by Joker’s henchman, and he’s unable to do anything as the lunatic zeroes in on Jason, who looks like he’s on the verge of a flashback or a panic attack or somehow both. 

Joker takes one step towards his brother, and Dick is beginning to consider his chances if he moves, when a shot rings out from across the ballroom. 

They all turn, Joker’s grin becoming wider and filled with teeth. 

Corven’s grip on the gun he’s seemingly snatched away from a henchman now whimpering on the ground is trained directly at Joker. His grip is steady, finger firm on the trigger and untouched eye narrowed at the man. 

“What a reunion!” Joker cheers, fully ignoring Jason now and skipping towards Corven. 

The man doesn’t say anything, keeping the gun trained on the clown as he gets closer. Dick holds his breath as Joker invades his boyfriend’s space, hand ghosting across his scarred face. The gun presses against the villain’s chest, but he ignores it in favour of harshly prying out the glass eye Corven’d been wearing out of his eye socket. 

Corven doesn’t even flinch, just watches as he drops it (it was one of the floral ones Margaret had gifted him, and he can see Corven’s finger twitch on the trigger).

“Baby robin’s best friend!” He coos, all condescending and poisonous sweetness. Dick barely restrains himself from taking a step forward. Jason seems to freeze, wide eyes staring at Corven who refuses to even glance away from the clown standing in front of him. “What was your name again? Corbin right?” 

Corven doesn’t answer. 

“I remember when you were itty bitty! You didn’t laugh at my joke like your parents did.” Dick is surprised Corven still restrains himself from pulling the trigger, his hands only shaking slightly. “I wonder if you’d laugh now.”

“Go ahead.” Corven hisses. “Give me a reason to pull this trigger.”

Jason lets out a scream of rage. He sees Bruce take a step forward before getting shoved back by someone’s gun. Dick closes his eyes. 

“Well look at that! It’s almost like you’re my son- Ah!” 

When Dick reopens his eyes he’s relieved to see the room full of Penguin’s man and Joker crumpled on the ground, holding his bleeding leg close to his torso. Penguin’s umbrella remains trained on him, eyes freezing cold as he looks down at the clown. 

“Drop the gun. You don’t want to end up in Arkham for him.” 

Corven doesn’t move. He stares down at Joker. Penguin turns to look at him, eyes softening with worry. 

“Harley was right.” Corven says finally, dropping the gun on the table carefully and stepping away from the bar. “You really are just a pathetic man desperate for the love that even a man with a heart too big for his own can’t give.”

“Uh Mr. Dent?” One of the men Dick recognises as one of the bartenders Corven works with says, staring out the window to the courtyard. “Your dad is outside.”

“Oh shit.” Corven curses, jumping over the bar and rushing out without glancing back at Joker once. Dick follows without thinking, elbowing past the guests starting to flock towards the exits now that they realise they can. 

He finds Corven wrapped up in Harvey’s arms, the man clutching him so tightly it wrinkles his clothes. He looks up when Dick approaches, reluctantly pulling away from his son. Dick is surprised when Harvey grabs his arm to pull him closer, scanning him over. In the background he can hear Gordon and Montoya directing their officers, and Joker’s laughter, but he doesn’t pay it any mind as he gets brought into a quick hug by his boyfriend’s dad. 

“I should probably get him checked out.” Dick says when he pulls away, taking Corven’s hand and ignoring his family’s blatant staring, that he can feel from behind him. “He got gassed by Joker.”

Harvey curses. “I told you not to trust in that immunity.”

Corven shrugs, leaning into Dick and closing his eyes as Dick presses a kiss to his hair. “Worked, didn’t it?” 

***

Corven Dent is five years old when his papa is no longer home everyday. 

He’s also five years old when mommy asks him to stay quiet as she leads him down into the basement and into a closet, tears streaming down her face as she tells him she loves him before closing the doors. 

He’s five years old when he gets to sit in a police car for the first time, holding the teddy bear plushie he’s always had while staring blankly ahead, not even able to think of how cool the officers look because all he can see is red red red and mommy, mommy who wasn’t moving- why wasn’t mommy moving?

He’s five and half when he gets introduced to mama and baba, and when his name changes from Dent to Li. Witness protection he vaguely remembers the people in blue explaining to them. 

So Corven Li is five and half and he no longer has a mommy, but he now has a mama and a baba and a papa! Sure, he doesn’t get to hug papa as often anymore (he has to wait for when papa nervously knocks on the back door, which he usually only does on big holidays. Corven thinks it’s because he keeps wishing to see him, and it works! So he keeps making the same wish every time, and keeps writing it in the biggest letters when he writes to Santa). He doesn’t know how lucky he is that his mama and baba understand, that they let papa visit and say nothing as he shows up to give Corven all the cuddles he can’t during the year. Only realises later just how deeply they loved him to have taken him to see his papa at Arkham whenever he asked, helping him up on too big stool and ignoring the guards that always said the same things:

“He’d be better off without him.” 

“If I were you I’d stop visiting.” 

“He’s five. He’ll forget eventually if you let him. That’s probably best with that scum as a dad.”

He’s seven when he meets Jason Todd. Jason who doesn’t have a baba or a mama but does have a mommy! A mommy who isn’t as nice as Corven’s mommy was, but sometimes gives him cookies when Jason brings him over because she’s in a good mood. The cookies aren’t as good as baba’s but he still eats them all with a smile. He also has a papa, who also isn’t there often like Corven’s papa. He asks one day if Jason’s papa is also in the big scary building, but Jason says no with a weird face. Corven never asks again. 

He’s twelve when Jason gets adopted by Bruce Wayne. So now he has a new papa, but he doesn’t talk about his former papa or his momma like Corven does. Corven doesn’t really understand it until his baba and mama explain that not everyone has good parents all the time when they’re at dinner, gently telling him about Jason’s momma’s drug abuse and his papa’s stealing. 

He doesn’t really understand it fully, because he still loves his papa even if his papa is in that big scary building and everyone talks about him angrily, but he accepts it. Jason’s different baba says, and that makes sense. That’s why he likes his best friend so much after all! He likes all of these things Corven doesn’t, like reading and studying. He helps Corven out in school, even refuses to change school when Bruce suggests it so he can stay with him. 

He’s thirteen when twelve year old Jason tells him about being Robin. He’s on his balcony staring at the moving dots in the sky that baba says are airplanes but knows are actually shooting stars, and Jason jumps down onto it. 

All it takes is Jason catching his fist as he startles and tries to punch him for him to fully believe him. 

And every night after that Corven wishes for his best friend to be okay on the shooting stars that cross the sky, because Gotham is scary and dangerous and his friend is out there fighting the same people who already took away his momma and hurt his papa. 

Corven Li doesn’t find out about his best friend’s death from the news. 

He doesn’t find it out from Batman or Bruce Wayne. 

No he finds out about it from a laughing monster who fills their house with green liquid that makes him cough. Then his mama and baba start to laugh. And laugh. And laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh-

The monster has green hair and white skin and watches him with those big scary eyes as he screams at his mama and baba to stop, asking what’s funny, before his screams turn wordless as blood starts pouring from their eyes and foam rises up from their throats before they collapse to the floor, seizing. Grabbing him by the elbows as he starts wishing for them to get up, to move, to say something instead of just laughing. 

They’re still laughing. 

He’s sixteen when he finds out what it feels like to get hit with a crowbar. 

Sixteen when he wishes for it to end. But it doesn’t. His wishes aren’t magical anymore.

It hurts when he realises it. 

He’s seventeen when he learns what it feels like to have his face cut and cut and cut. 

He’s seventeen when he loses his eye. 

Still seventeen when he sees real shooting stars for the first time, through a part of the warehouse roof that collapsed a month ago. He doesn’t make a wish. 

To this day he doesn’t know why Joker kept him so long when it was clear he wasn’t important to Batman.  

Why he didn’t make a big scene with him. Why he didn’t drag him to an abandoned theatre, or the warehouse he said he killed Jason in, or anywhere other than this random Gotham warehouse. 

He’s eighteen when his dad finds him. Wish granted two years too late, when he’d stopped even hoping. Eighteen when he learns what a prosthetic is, eighteen when he starts physical therapy, eighteen when he realises just how powerful pain killers can be. 

He’s twenty one when Nightwing finds him. A mix of painkillers and alcohol that didn’t end well. An alleyway he’d closed his eyes resigning himself to staying in, wishing for it all to end. Twenty one when Nightwing “introduces” him to Richard Grayson, who offers to help sponsor his rehabilitation. Who gets him into the best facility Gotham has to offer, with a psychologist who sees him four times a week at the beginning. 

He’s twenty two when he starts living again. Margaret manages his meds like a hawk, and slowly the dose diminishes. They reintroduce alcohol around him, and he leaves it alone. One day he picks up a bottle and Margaret doesn’t stop him, just watches intently as he mixes it with what they have in the communal kitchen. He gives her the drink and leaves, not having taken a single sip. His birthday is celebrated in his room with a cupcake and the nurses, who all sing and tell him to make a wish when he blows out his candles. He doesn’t. 

He’s twenty three when he’s considered clean. He doesn’t see Dick again, just writes him a note thanking him for sponsoring this rehab when his papa couldn’t. Moves into an apartment next to Margaret, who retires now because: “someone has to keep an eye on ya, and my bones are too old for all the standing anyway”. 

 His name gets changed back to Corven Dent, even if he adds the Li as a middle name when he completes the official paperwork. Margaret gets him his first cool glass eye, one with a nebula. His papa spends less and less time at Arkham, more careful now. He crashes on his couch a couple times before the apartment next to his empties and he moves in, Margaret baking him an apple pie as a housewarming gift and ignoring the fact that he’s a villain. 

Just like mama and baba did. 

They smile at him from the memorial he’s set up in his living room, along with his momma’s picture. 

He’s twenty four when he finds out that Jason, while buried at Wayne manor, has a memorial plaque at the same cemetery as them and visits with his favourite flowers. When he bumps into Dick Grayson on his way out, the man catches him before he can fall and looks much too happy to see him. 

Twenty four when he gives Dick his phone number, the two of them standing in front of the looming gates of Gotham cemetery as a warm wind blows cherry blossom petals towards them. 

He’s twenty four when his sessions go down to once a month and his psychologist comments that he looks well. When she signs off on his idea of being a bartender, giving him a paper to convince Oswald the chances of him relapsing are low. 

Corven Dent is twenty five when Dick covers his eyes to surprise him for his birthday for the first time and he doesn’t jump. Doesn’t think about dark warehouses, crowbars, and knives. Only about warmth, and bluebells, and the smell of chocolate. 

This time when he blows out the candles on the box of chocolate cupcakes Dick tricked Alfred into helping him bake, both of them sitting in a clearing behind the cemetery and looking up at the shower of shooting stars that illuminate the sky, he leans back into his boyfriend and finds he doesn’t have anything he needs to wish for anymore. 

***

“Mr Dent! Lovely to see you. Yes you can leave your shoes here. Master Grayson is just around here…” Alfred trails off with a fond smile as Dick slides around the corner on his socks, before lunging at his boyfriend. 

Corven grins, wrapping his arms around Dick’s neck and letting him spin him around with a laugh. He’s dressed in a soft turtle neck brown weather with an indian blue robin necklace around his neck, a brown lumberjack shirt tucked into his lighter brown pants. His hair is dyed a mix of pale orange and lavender now, pulled into a perfect bun held up with his mama’s pin, two strands carefully framing his face. He’s wearing the blue galaxy glass eye, and Dick has to be drawn out of his staring by Alfred’s cough. He pulls away with a sheepish grin, wrapping his arm around Corven’s waist. 

“The family is waiting for you in the living room.” Alfred says, patting Dick’s back before heading off towards the kitchen once again. 

“Why’s he reassuring me?” Dick asks nervously as he tugs his boyfriend in the direction of the living room. 

“Pretty sure I’m not the one Jason’s going to kill for dating his best friend.” Corven laughs cheerfully as Dick’s face pales. 

“Is it too late to elope together?” Dick chuckles anxiously, glancing back towards the front door. 

“Don’t even think about it Dick!” Steph yells out from the living room. “Now bring him in! I have questions!” 

Corven presses a kiss to the corner of his lips. “Come one. An interrogation awaits.”

Dick sighs, but he finally leads Corven into the room. 

Everyone’s sitting the same as they were when they had their intervention about his supposed drug dealer boyfriend (and, not that he knows, the same way as they had when they’d had their meeting about it). Dick and Corven stand by the edges of the carpet, Dick fidgeting with his boyfriend’s hand while Corven waves cheerfully. 

Damian stands before any of them, walking up to glare up at Corven who just observes him back curiously. His eyes lock on the pin in his hair, before drifting to his necklace. 

“I suppose you’re acceptable for Grayson.” He says finally. 

Dick sputters, but Corven just bows his head. “Thank you.” He says earnestly.

Bruce gets up next, extending his hand. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

Corven glances towards Dick, lips twitching mischievously before he turns back to his father. “But we’ve already met?”

Dick groans, hiding his head behind his hands as much as he can while still holding Corven’s captive, earning him a delighted laugh from his boyfriend. 

Bruce looks between the two of them for a moment before smiling. “I’m glad he’s found someone who makes him happy.”

Corven glances towards where Barbara sits for a moment before bowing his head in thanks. She rolls herself over next, taking Corven’s free hand to give a gentle squeeze. “I’m impressed by the lengths he went to to keep you from us.” She says with a grin, eyes moving towards Dick. “Must mean he’s finally found a keeper.”

“I hope so.” Corven says lightly, leaning back into Dick who adjusts easily to hold up his weight without comment. 

“Sooo you’re not a drug dealer right?” Duke asks. 

“Duke!” Dick snaps while Corven just shakes his head with amusement. 

“It’s a valid question!”

“What kind of person do you think I am?!”

“A best friend dater, apparently.” Jason glares from his seat. Dick gulps and takes a step back behind his boyfriend, who pulls himself back up before he can lose balance as his support leaves. 

“You can handle that later. We need answers!” Steph waves dismissively at Jason. “Ignore him.”

“No, I'm not a drug dealer.” Corven says with a chuckle. “I do bartend at the Icerberg Lounge though. Hence the stab happy customers when I’m absent too long between rounds of drinks.”

“Ahah! I knew it!”

“You didn’t figure out shit.” Tim calls, not even looking up from his phone. 

“Like you did any better!” Steph huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I wasn’t the one convinced Dick was dating a drug dealer-”

“Thank you baby bird-”

“-that requires more game then Dick has.” He leans back to meet Corven’s eyes, ignoring Dick’s offended yell. “Sorry, but also you’re friends with Jason.”

“Hey!” Jason snaps, getting held back by Cass who giggles softly.

She looks up to Corven, who signs “hi” with a smile. 

She signs back, glancing between them before signing “you make him happy, good”. 

Corven lets go of Dick’s hand long enough to reply: “I’m glad, because he makes me happy too.” 

“I know. Your heart beats faster when he’s around.” She says outloud, enjoying the way Dick - who’d been arguing with Jason and Tim about taste - turns red, glancing back at Corven who shrugs and presses a kiss to his temple. 

“You better not break his heart.” Jason finally grumbles, leaning back in the armchair and glaring at Dick. “You’ll never know peace if you do.”

“Wowww thank you for the support, little brother.” Dick replies sarcastically, reaching back to grab hold of Corven’s hand again. 

“So I’m allowed to break his heart then?” Corven asks, eye glinting with amusement.

Jason smirks. “Definitely. You can do better.” 

“Reallyyyyy feeling the love here.” Dick groans, but he can’t keep the smile off his face as he does so. 

“So you’re Harvey Dent’s son?” Tim asks, turning to Corven, who nods. “How’s that like?”

“Probably as normal as being in a vigilante family is for you,” Corven says, looking down to inspect his nails. 

“You told him?!”

“Technically Jason told me first.” Corven corrects helpfully, laughing as multiple heads snap towards the accused. 

“I was eleven!” 

“Even I knew better at eleven!”

“Woo fucking hoo Stephanie! Some of us had friends while being Robin!”

“Hey!”

“And come on if Timbo could figure it out-”

“I resent that!”

“-Corven would have without me telling him.”

“Yeahhhh turns out. Half of the underground figured it out years ago.” Dick says, rubbing the back of his head nervously. 

“Pretty sure Joker is the only big one who doesn’t know, actually.” Corven adds unhelpfully. “My dad clocked Nightwing as Dick within like… two days of him sponsoring my rehab.”

“What?!”

“You sponsored my best friend’s rehab and told me nothing?!”

“So you were a drug dealer!”

“If he was in rehab that would make him a buyer Steph.”

“Same thing!”

Bruce watches his children descend into chaos in silence, quietly making his way around them to where Corven has backed up to enjoy the mess from a distance, eyes fixed on Dick as he starts wrestling with Jason. The young man looks up when he wraps his arm around his shoulders, giving him a quick side hug. Alfred steps into the room, watching the fight with amusement before joining them. 

“Looks like you’ll fit right in, Mr. Dent.” He comments with a smile before deciding that dealing with this is above his paygrade and vanishing outside with a call not to break anything that a chorus of voices responds to with “Yes Alfred!”. 

“About last week-”

“You were grieving.” Corven says quietly, looking up at him seriously. “And Joker kept it on the down low. I’m… actually grateful you didn’t notice, to be honest.” He catches the hurt in Bruce’s face and leans his head against him briefly, wrapping his arm around the man for an awkward side hug. “He’d have been more focused on me if I was the friend of Robin Batman rescued then a friend of Robin’s you didn’t know about. Don’t know if he’d have kept me alive if you’d come looking. Besides…” He glances back towards the siblings, laughing at the pile they’ve all ended up in. “You did end up saving me in a way.”

Bruce looks back at them. “Don’t give me that credit. That was all Dick.” 

“Well then. I’ll tell you what Dick definitely told my dad.” He grins. “Thank you for raising such an amazing son.”

“You should thank Alfred.”

“Oh don’t worry. I already have.” Corven grins mischievously. “It was actually step one in my plan of getting my grandmother more friends.”

Bruce laughs. Dick glances over for a moment, a sunshine grin on his face as he watches his dad almost double over in laughter while Corven leans back against the wall, giving him a wave. Before he returns to tugging on Tim’s hair for who knows what reason. 

“Welcome to the family.” Bruce says warmly, squeezing his shoulder. “We’re all happy to have you here.”

Corven smiles, accepting the popcorn that Barbara hands him as she comes over, phone pointed at the chaos still going strong on the carpet. 

***

In the garden Alfred and Margaret listen to the sounds coming from the living room as they sip their tea with matching grins on their faces. 

“Cheers to a job well done.” Alfred raises his cup to his old friend. 

“Listen Alfie I think my new grandson and your grandson… no no the oldest! Yes Richard that one. I think they’d get along great. Oh come on Alfie it’s been months. I’m just saying that if you were to arrange for him to be at the gate of Gotham cemetery at let’s say… one in the afternoon? Then maybe you can end lovely Richard’s streak of bad luck and my grandson can finally have someone his age who loves him- close to his age you know what I mean! I won’t be around forever, and god knows his pops tries but poor thing still has a long way to go. I think they could both use some normalcy in their lives.” 

Inside he hears Bruce laugh just as Margaret raises her cup up to him. 

Both of them glance towards the garden. “Cheers to finding the ones you love.” Margaret adds, cup still in the air. 

Alfred tips his head towards her before they both take synchronised sips, pinky fingers up in the air. 

Neither of them flinch as the wind blows open the doors of the manor. Instead they both smile as they watch cherry petals float through the air and decorate the halls, Corven and Dick rushing out to watch them dancing in the air. 

Alfred and Margaret watch as Dick pulls Corven close, before diverting their eyes as their lips meet. Stars shoot across the night sky above them, and Alfred can’t help the delighted chuckle that slips out. 

“Yes.” Margaret whispers, eyes drifting to the five translucent figures standing under the large cherry blossom tree not far from them. “I think they’ll both be just fine.”