Chapter Text
"No, Dick, this really, seriously, is not a good idea."
"Come on, Tim, we'll be fine. Plus, it'll be fun."
"That would be the twelve-year-old hormones talking, Dick."
Dick Grayson's newly-returned-to-adolescent body is petite. There's simply no other word to describe the 4'10" stature, tiny, toned arms, skinny little abs, and long, slim, but powerful legs. Legs that he apparently desperately wants to show off in his old Robin costume. His arms are crossed and he glares defiantly at his still-technically-younger brother. But it's pretty hard to get over the fact that he's wearing a gorgeously-tailored argyle sweater-vest, and khaki corduroy shorts.
Whatever Dick's many strengths may be, fashion sense isn't one of them.
Dick glares at Tim. "Who's Batman, huh?"
Tim sighs and makes a vague gesture. "Damian now, actually."
As his two still-technically-older brothers turn to catch his attention, Damian feels inescapably awkward. At 6'6", he towers over Tim and tiny little twelve-year-old Dick. His muscle tone didn't quite catch up with his newly-adult body; he just doesn't have the body-builder bulk his father has. He still has a slim, lightly toned body; it's just on a frame that's over a foot taller. It's funny; he's about four inches too tall for even his father's suit, but his muscular structure means that he doesn't fill any of them out quite right.
But he does get to use the large cape to his advantage, pulling it close around himself to hide his discomfort.
"Damian's totally up for being Batman and Robin together, arentcha?" Dick grins a cocky, self-assured grin that Damian has seen a couple of times before. Usually it means he's about to do something incredibly stupid.
But Damian wants to do this; wants to prove that he's good enough to be the heir to Batman.
"Correct." Hell, even his voice has changed. Deepened. He even sounds like his father, and though he won't admit it, that scares him a tiny little bit.
Dick is excited by the confirmation. "See! He's up for it! So what's the problem, Tim?"
Tim shakes his head and sighs. "Neither of you knows what you're doing," he says, "Yes, Dick, I know, you've been twelve before – but you had Bruce's level head to guide you through your hormones. Damian doesn't have the experience or knowledge to be out there on the streets with a body the size he has now."
Dick pouts. Literally pouts; sticks his bottom lip out, cants his hips, lowers his eyebrows over his eyes and gives a sulky glare at Tim. "You and Bruce did it when you two switched ages."
"That was different." Tim runs a hand through his hair. "Bruce and I were trying to find a way to rectify the situation, and we were the only ones who could do it. It was a pressing, urgent matter. Plus, we nearly died anyway."
"This is different," Dick says, totally confident. "You'd never been Batman before and he'd never been Robin before. But I've been Robin before; I know exactly what I'm doing. I may not look it right now, but I have more than fifteen years of experience as a seasoned crime-fighter. I can totally coach Damian through the ins and outs of being Batman."
Tim looks desperately down into Dick's face. "I'm asking you one more time, don't go on patrol tonight. Let Bruce and me handle it."
"Sorry. We're doing this." Dick looks around eagerly. "So where's my old Robin costume? We've still got it around here, don't we?"
Tim shakes his head and stands up. "If you're going out, you're wearing Damian's costume," he says, "We don't need the whole city asking why Robin suddenly decided to go back to the hotpants for one night."
Dick pouts, but agrees, and slips into Damian's costume. It's slightly too big for him, and he complains quite vocally about the hood and long cape getting in his way.
Damian feels his heart beat fast when Dick finally gets the costume on and comes to stand by his side.
It's time to show the world he's Batman.