Rites of Passage | Damian x OC

11. Like Old Times

If there was anything Dick Grayson had over Damian Wayne, it was agility and reflexes... and a hairline that didn't practically mirror Bruce's—not that it wasn't a good one, but it was a definite, hereditary mark of the Wayne genes, one Dick was kind of glad he didn't have.

Dick and Damian had sparred for too many times to count over the last several years (and were actually pretty close in scores with, unfortunately, Damian in the lead). But while the young assassin-turned-hero literally had the skills and prowess of someone who'd been bred to be that way, Dick had his experience as an aerialist and acrobat on his side. Being able to pretty much dance around the teen was natural and advantageous at times, leveling them to the point they were nearly equals on the mat.

A glint of light against blade immediately had the former Robin bending as far backwards as he could and sliding across the floor on his knees, the katana just mere centimeters from skimming the tip of his nose as Damian swung it. Having slid to a full stop several feet behind him, Dick glanced back at the teen and then stood up, twirling the escrima sticks he'd been wielding.

"That could've been deadly," he commented with a slight grin.

Damian, who was straightening from his offensive position and swinging the katana up to rest the blade on his shoulder, returned the smirk. "That was the point. You know I don't hold back."

"And if I hadn't dodged it in time?"

"Then you'd have to explain to Kori and Mar'i how you got your new scar."

The two of them were dressed in light workout gear in the Batcave, Dick just in sweats, shirtless—getting older meant sweating more apparently—with Damian sporting a simple shirt and joggers. It'd been Damian's idea to have a quick match before dinner after picking him up from the airport, and the older man had happily agreed; this would be the first time in months they'd been able to do something like this and even longer that they'd been in the field together.

Even then, just mere hours after his arrival, Dick could tell his youngest brother wasn't as distracted as he'd seemed lately, that the fight had taken some stress and weight off his shoulders.

Where all that was coming from, he didn't know. But he'd made a mental note that while he was visiting the manor for a little while, he'd do what he could to figure it out.

"Then I guess you're lucky I've got such great reflexes," Dick bantered as he crossed the floor to his water bottle on the bench. "Wouldn't want an angry Starfire making a visit."

"How are they?" Damian joined him after putting up the katana, taking up a seat on the same bench.

"They're good. This summer camp they're at should let them have some time together without Dad around, so I'm glad they've got that going for them before school starts back up."

"Hm," was all the teen said with a nod as his gaze absentmindedly roamed to the other side of the room.

Damian was rarely absentminded, and Dick couldn't ignore that he was seeming that way right now.

Keeping his voice as even as possible, he set his water bottle down, crossed his arms and said, "What about you?"

Green eyes met blue ones, the former clouded with distraction and the latter merely inquisitive and open. Damian maintained the eye contact, expression unreadable, almost blank. "I'm fine. I've been keeping busy."

"Right, the library and all that. How are those coming?" A memory passed through his mind, and he added, "Is that Jessica girl still...?"

"Yes. She's still there, serving her community service hours."