(no subject)
Title: Going Too Far
Characters: Damian, Tim, implied Dick/Damian
Word Count: 432
A/N: I'll be the first to admit it. I have a serious kink for Damian having a thing for Dick's clothes.
Summary: Damian sincerely wished he knew how things had come to this. Because if he did, he would have avoided every possible venue that would have led to this outcome.
Going Too Far
Damian sincerely wished he knew how things had come to this. Because if he did, he would have avoided every possible venue that would have led to this outcome.
Normally, Damian held nothing but disdain for old things. The past was forever full of nothing but mistakes that should be tossed out in favor of carving a new and powerful future. But he was willing to make one sole exception for this.
“Tim.” Damian held out his arms in an attempt to look as placating as possible, his fingers immediately going lax to drop both batarangs. “Be reasonable.” The maniacal gleam failed to disappear from Tim’s eyes and Damian was forced to bite back the rising panic that made his next words slightly shrill. “You know how I feel about that sweater.”
Damian loved that sweater. It was the only item he possessed that held any sentimental value. And it wasn’t even his. It was Dick’s.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.” The batarang in Tim’s grip remained firmly hooked into the collar of the hoodie.
Damian felt his lower lip quiver and immediately sucked it in between his teeth. His mind was racing with millions of reasons, but none of them seemed even remotely adequate. It was soft. It was comfortable. It was no longer manufactured, so he could never just up and buy a new one. It still smelled like Dick, no matter how often it was washed. It calmed his nerves after a long night out on patrol. It made Dick smile whenever he saw him wearing it on the rare occasions he stopped by for a visit.
“It’s…” Damian took a slow breath, taking a moment to squash the rising self-hate that he was about to admit a weakness to someone he would never be able to completely trust. “It’s all I have left of him. Please,” he added when Tim’s shoulders didn’t droop fast enough.
It took a long five seconds for the fight to completely leave Tim, and when it did, it was marked with a sniffle and a wrist wiped across his bloody nose.
“Here.” The sweater was held out and Damian felt his hands shaking as he took it from Tim.
The two boys remained still, Tim staring at Damian and Damian staring blankly down at Tim’s feet as he clutched the sweater to his chest, relishing in the feel of it being safe in his arms.
“Thank you,” Damian muttered, turning away and quietly leaving the room and inadvertently making Tim feel like a bit of a tool for his actions.
The End.
A/N: I’ve been wanting to write a Damian owning Dick’s sweater story for a while. Finally got one! Woo!