“Harper’s ringtone is “Arrow,” don’t lie to me, Grayson.” The phone fell silent. Who is it for?”ĭamian slammed his book shut. Damian’s eyes flicked up.ĭick opened his mouth and then closed it. “Speaking of which,” Damian said, nonchalantly, without looking up from his book, “are you staying for dinner?”ĭick opened his mouth, but then his phone went off, blaring the chorus to “Bad Company” by Five Finger Death Punch. I wish he wouldn’t wear scent blockers here, it’s his home too.” “Don’t be,” Dick said, still watching the freshly empty threshold. “Low blow, Grayson,” Damian murmured, picking his book back up again. On his way out, he shouted back, “I was 15, you dick!” Jason’s face flushed, so he swiveled on his heels and stormed out to hide it. Your room, the Batombile’s interior, Bruce’s cape, once. Because you scent marked everything when you were Robin. Damian set aside his book, watching them with growing interest. “You’d be real fucking pissed if I scent marked you all of the time,” Jason griped, unable to help himself. Dick always acted as if he weren’t ever coming back.)ĭick pulled away before Jason had to ask, for which Jason was silently grateful. Dick rolled off the couch and strode over, hugging Jason (and rubbing his face into Jason’s jacket, which meant that it would smell like him for days if Jason didn’t wash it, and Roy would tease him, and this was why Jason hated visiting the Manor. “C’mere,” he offered, holding out an arm. Finally, unable to bear both Dick’s upset and Damian’s derision, Jason sighed. He wasn’t going to ask, and Jason could see it eating him up. I’m leaving.” He lowered his gaze to meet Dick’s. You’d have thought Dick was the kid’s mother with how responsive Damian was to Dick’s flighty attention. Although Dick didn’t see Damian’s furrowed brows and kicked-puppy look, Jason did. Dick sat up and Damian closed his mouth with an audible click of his teeth. “Alright, I’ll stop touching your things,” Dick said, even as Damian opened his mouth to snap something nasty. “Maybe,” Jason retorted through a tight grin that didn’t reach his eyes, “if you didn’t rub your face on my shit, I would come around more.”ĭick frowned, and Damian shot Jason a glare. “Maybe,” Dick offered, “if you weren’t such a stranger to the Manor, your helmet wouldn’t smell so foreign, and I wouldn’t have to rub my face on it.”
Damian’s tolerance was beyond Jason, especially when Bruce’s scent was everywhere. Damian used to flinch away from Dick when he made casual, affectionate contact, but partnership as Dick’s Robin and years in the Manor desensitized him to Dick’s habits.
“Did you have to?”ĭick shrugged from where he was laid up on the couch, head resting on Damian’s thigh while Damian read. “Jesus, Dick!” Jason admonished when he picked up his helmet.
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