Do you ever love someone so much but like platonically as in you don’t want to be romantic with them but you just want them to always be happy and to make them soup and hug them and cuddle them and kiss them and just make sure nothing bad happens to them ever because there should be a name for that
i’ve seen like a third of it? idk i just am really mad about a lot of it. it won’t fit in a reply here. i know some episodes are fabulous, like bloodlines, but i’m too disappointed in the general shittery so i’m kind of not in the mood for it rn
I’m sorry, sweetie. Well, this is the 2nd or 3rd episode. I hope you change your mind at some point. Tell me you’ve at least seen the one with Bart, or is that Bloodlines?
“Well?” Damian hopped onto the barstool that was a little too tall for him, watching Dick make a sandwich across the counter. “”Have you decided on a suitable punishment yet?”
Dick didn’t look at him as he spread crunchy peanut butter across the surface of the bread. “Yes. You’re grounded for the next month.”
The stool rattled as Damian braced on the edge of it, hands slapping the marble counter. “What? Not for me, for Drake!”
“I think I’m being rather generous as you attacked Tim without warning, and during a pursuit at that.” Dick frowned at him and retrieved the jam from the refrigerator. “I understand you being upset about his list, Damian. I do sympathize. But we don’t work out our differences by trying to kill each other.”
“I wouldn’t have killed him,” Damian muttered as he propped his chin in his hand, his face still bandaged where Tim had slung him across the cement. “I just meant to break a few limbs.”
“And while I appreciate your restraint in that regard, I don’t think you can begrudge me for setting consequences.”
Damian snorted. “You don’t know me very well then. I’m never talking to you again, Grayson.”
Dick heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Sorry our friendship had to end this way, pal.”
Damian tutted at him and remained planted atop the barstool, folding his arms on the counter and nesting his head in them as he watched Dick with a fearsome scowl. Dick allowed it to go on for a few minutes before breaking the silence. “Would you like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”
“No,” Damian snapped at once, but then he looked at the jar of jam. “Strawberry?”
“Fine,” Damian said, sitting up straight to watch Dick assemble another sandwich. “But after this, Grayson, you and I are through.”
“Understood.” When they finished eating, Dick extended a hand and solemnly thanked Damian for sharing a last meal with him before their eternal separation. As often was the case, the little boy didn’t appreciate Dick’s sense of humor.
Dick couldn’t suppress the high-pitched squeal of delight that escaped him, and Damian pursed his lips in warning. Dick had to crane his neck to meet his eyes; Damian had grown to be a large man, much like Bruce, and he was taller than Dick by the time he was sixteen. He was broad-shouldered and powerfully built now that he was in his twenties, but Dick still saw the little boy who often looked up at him with the same solemnity Damian currently exhibited.
“The wedding is in October,” Damian continued, his tone even as if he were sharing standard information and not a major life event, “and Lian and I extend to you the honor of being our best man.”
“Damian, of course,” Dick gushed, seizing him in a tight hug and trilling happily. “I love you both so much. I’m so—”
“On the condition you do not cry during the ceremony,” Damian amended, pulling back to hold Dick at arm’s length.
Dick erupted with a peal of laughter. “Don’t worry, Dami,” he said, brushing a lock of hair from the young man’s forehead. “I won’t embarrass you.”
“Good.” Damian gave him a firm handshake, and a smile ghosted over his stern mouth. “I would hate to eject you from the premises on what is expected to be a joyous occasion.”
Dick felt tears spring to his eyes as soon as Damian turned from the mirror in the groom’s dressing room to allow his best man to inspect his tuxedo. A wail clawed its way up his throat when Lian appeared, aglow in her bridal beauty, at the end of the aisle. And when Damian responded to the pastor’s charge to love and cherish his bride with a solemn, “I do,” Dick began sobbing openly.
He cried when they cut the cake and Damian carefully avoided messing up Lian’s lipstick, and when Lian crushed the pastry upon Damian’s face in return. He cried when they swirled around the dance floor for the first time as husband and wife, and during the toast he delivered when they opened the champagne. He cried when the white limousine arrived to carry the newlyweds away to start their new life together.
Damian grabbed Dick in a crushing embrace before joining Lian in the car. “Thank you, Grayson,” he whispered, and he brushed a wet trail from Dick’s cheek to peck a small kiss there. “For everything.”
Dick was too choked up to respond, and Damian never did reproach him for his tears.