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@littlewingdings

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littlcstwing

littlcstwing​:

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gotham wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. in fact, gotham was most people’s cup of arsenic with a paint-thinner chaser––but it was home. metropolis had clean air and delicate skyscrapers that reflected the warm colors of the sunrise each morning. stephanie watched them blend together with a fresh donut in hand after patrol with cass at her side, kara floating next to her, and babs nagging at them to get some rest through the coms. it was nice, but it wasn’t home. it wasn’t alive in the same ways; it didn’t eat you up and spit you out in the same night.
crime alley definitely provided a very niche brand of homesickness, but it left stephanie craving smoggy skylines and the rank stench of the harbor nonetheless. the buzzing of her phone interrupted her nostalgia, and steph felt the corners of her mouth tug into a small grin, despite the recently scabbed over split in her bottom lip, as damian’s name flashed across her screen. “you don’t call for weeks, and this is the greeting i get?” smirking, she leaned back against the cool awning and crossed her legs, “manners, d. you’re in serious need of a social etiquette refresher.”
stephanie was one of the few people who knew damian wayne well, and she definitely knew how to toe the line between his irritation and rage, so she quickly turned the conversation back to his initial question. “i haven’t spoken to the og boy wonder since the last alien invasion, which was sadly only a couple months ago and the second one this year, why?”

the thing about being a bat, a part of the bat collective, it made you a part of gotham. some part of your dna was altered by the sheer fact of the amount of blood lost for the city. it made every other place in the world feel just a little off balance, like they were somehow wrong for not being more like gotham despite gotham being a wretched kind of place. dick had been happy to be in gotham, or so damian thought. but he wouldn’t simply move away without a word to his little brother. or lie about having been visiting jason todd to buy time.

“i’m sure i had far more lessons on social etiquette than you have had. remind me again how gotham’s public school education prepared you for high society?” quipping with her was soothing in a way, a trained in response. after a fight that went bad or being just a little too slow to stop the villain it was stephanie’s quick tongue and easy comedy that made it easier for him to breathe in the batsuit.

he spun in the large chair and stood up, pacing across the floor to the place where the nightwing suit should be. “it’s been twelve hours since dick’s tracking device stopped transmitting. he took the nightwing suit on what i was told was an evening out with todd and he hasn’t returned. todd is currently on the other side of the country and claims to have no memory of having agreed to an outing. i am in the process of gathering information on what happened.”

everyone knew that dick hadn’t been the same since the incident. he didn’t fight the same. his body had more limitations and his mind was changed. but he was still fundamentally the same man. he wouldn’t lie to damian like this. not to him. not unless something big happened.

littlewingdings

@littlcstwing

dick should be back by now. should be answering his phone. his phone should be showing up in gotham city limits, or in the continental united states on a quick sweep from the tracking device inside it and he said he wasn’t going to take it out this time. damian tapped his fingers at the keys, not hard enough to press, just thinking. he wished desperately for the first time in nearly a decade for alfred to come down and interrupt a moment of training or discussion with a cup of tea because that might mean something was right. but he was only thinking about alfred because he was worried and somehow those two things had become permanently linked in his mind. the second person he thought of when he was worried was his robin. but he shouldn’t be worried. maybe he dropped his phone into a very deep, heavily lined sewer. it was only twelve hours. dick wasn’t a weak man. he was probably having a good time. he needed a good time. he said he was meeting up with jason just outside city limits to catch up.

but then… todd had said he was in new mexico chasing down some lead on a cartel he had a new feud with and damian had politely pretended not to hear the gunshots going off and knowing how many bodies had dropped based on some personal experience with todd’s aim.

so twelve hours into being unable to track dick greyson’s location, damian made a call to stephanie. the cowl felt heavy on his shoulders when he pulled it down to hold the cellphone to his ear. it always felt heavier when he didn’t have answers. when he didn’t have someone to lean on and answer the questions he had no solution to. father never mentioned how heavy it was. it took three painful rings before she connected and damian spoke first. he was terse, but not frantic. insistent, but not paranoid. “when did dick last contact you?”

his throat was so dry. the words came out too tight by mistake, not intention. maybe he could tell her he was on the move and that was why. like she’d believe it. stephanie was foolish but not an idiot.