Red Robin stood sixty-seven stories above Gotham and stared moodily out at the city. As much as he loved the insane, mesmerizing metropolis he'd been born in, on nights like this one all he wanted to do was run far, far away from it. There was no rhyme or reason to his occasional fits of discontent, at least not that he'd ever been able to discern. They simply came, lingered, and then went, leaving him with a vague feeling that something was missing.

Before he could chase that unknown something down its familiar rabbit-hole, a faint rustle gave away a presence behind him. "Hey," he murmured, knowing who it was without needing to look. Batman would have been silent until he was right next to him, and Robin wouldn't have bothered coming close to begin with; only Nightwing was kind enough to give his allies a warning of his approach when they appeared to be in thought.

The voice that answered verified his deduction. "Hey." A moment later they were elbow-to-elbow. "...Nice night, huh?"

"Eh. Sure." It was, but he wasn't feeling it.

"Runaway vibes," the older man said contemplatively.

"Huh?!" Red Robin tore his eyes away from the lights to look at the new arrival. "What...what did you say?"

"I said, 'runaway vibes.' You're giving them off again. That's all."

"Oh. I...I didn't realize it was that obvious," he sighed. "Shit."

"You've been doing it every three months or so for, oh, the last...two years? Two and a half? Somewhere in there."

"Is it that regular?" He shook his head, perturbed at himself. "I can't believe I didn't notice."

"It's hard to see the outside of the box you're standing in, little brother. That's what you keep me around for." Grinning, Nightwing nudged him. Red Robin's lip twitched upward, but his amusement was feigned. "...Maybe you need a vacation. Go lay on a beach for a couple of weeks, see if that helps."

"That sounds atrocious." He tried to picture himself on a sunny strip of sand, surrounded by beautiful people with whom he had nothing in common other than net worth, and shuddered. A completely secluded get-away wouldn't be much better, he realized with mild surprise; he wasn't aiming to be alone. But if he didn't want that, and he didn't want to be with others, then what the hell did he want?

Unable to answer that question and well aware that the figure beside him would become more concerned if they stayed on the topic without reaching a conclusion, he waved his hand. "It doesn't matter. It will pass, just like it always does."

"...I hope so. But if it doesn't-"

"Then we'll talk again," he agreed. Or not, he added privately. Once upon a time he would have dragged his load of complaints to his elder brother's doorstep without much more than a third or fourth thought, but now there were other factors. Nightwing had enough to deal with just corralling Robin and trying to keep the boy and the recently-returned Batman from locking horns every time they passed in the hall. Put that on top of his own personal life, and Red Robin didn't see how the man could bear anyone else's issues.

Besides, a bitter tendril slipped around his next internal comment as a third figure swung into sight and rose to join them, I'm not the youngest anymore. I should be able to fly on my own, right?

"Did you tie them all?" Nightwing asked once Robin had landed and tucked away his grappling gun.

The child paused. "...No. I thought I'd let them go so we could have the pleasure of chasing them another night."

"Nah," a chuckle answered, "the justice system already has a criminal catch and release program set up. They don't need our help on that end."

"No shit," Red Robin snorted.

"How would you know?" Robin turned on him. "You haven't even caught anyone tonight."

"So naturally that makes me unfamiliar with the general practices of our corrections facilities," he retorted automatically.

"Would you two chill? There's no shame in taking a little time to enjoy the view," Nightwing ruffled the boy's hair, "and Red's more of a justice head than either of us, besides. Adding book smarts to street smarts; you're further than I ever got on that count, bro, and it's awesome."

He would have taken pride in the comment if the very next word out of the other man's mouth hadn't been 'ow.' "What's wrong?" he frowned.

"Ah, it's nothing." Belying his nonchalance, Nightwing pulled back the arm he'd been about to sling over Red Robin's shoulders and began to test it. "Just sore."

"Was it the prick with the baseball bat?" Robin queried. His tone was unconcerned, but his fists had clenched at his sides. "I thought it looked close a couple of times when he went for you."

"He barely brushed me. Don't worry about it. It's not broken. I'll live."

"Can you swing like that, though? That's your dominant arm."

"Gee, let's shout it from the rooftops, genius," Robin snarked.

"Oh, please," Nightwing joked before a response could be made. "What am I, a porcelain doll? I could swing by just about any other joint I have, and you both know it."

It was a true statement, but there wasn't much comfort in it for Red Robin. "...Maybe we should head in just in case. Even if it's not broken, you probably ought to have it looked at as soon as possible."

"Yeah," the child conceded with an unhappy sneer.

"...Well, if you two are agreeing on something for once, I'm sure not going to be the guy who argues. We'd have to go soon for Rob's bedtime anyway. What do you say, Red," he bumped him, "come with us and save yourself a drive in the morning? You missed last Sunday's breakfast, and you'll never get away with two in a row."

"Okay," he nodded. It would save him a trip in the morning, and he had nothing pressing to do back at his apartment. Besides, he smirked, this way he could exercise one of the few rights he still possessed over the youngest bird. "...I call shotgun."

"Bullshit!" a juvenile squeak rang out.

"Hey, now, you know the rule," Nightwing lectured. "Front seat privileges come with age."

"Yeah, well, try living with that when you're the youngest."

"Maybe you won't be the youngest forever. Batman's not old, he could have another kid."

"...Hmph," Robin huffed his displeasure at that suggestion.

"Please, please don't plant that idea in Batman's head," Red Robin pleaded. "One like him," he jerked his thumb towards the scowling child, "is enough. More than enough. Too many." God, I really would be in the middle then, he winced. Great.

"Aw, come on, you two. I've liked every brother he's brought me home so far. It's fun when you're not all plotting to kill each other."

"Speak for yourself," both of the others muttered.

"Ha! You just agreed again! Twice in one night...that might be a record." Grinning, Nightwing reached for the spare grapple hanging against his left hip and started towards the edge of the roof. "Let's go for a third in the car, huh? I'll see you two be friends yet!" With that he stepped into nothingness and glided away down the broad avenue below with a happy laugh.

"...He's insane," Red Robin remarked.

"He's...!" Robin stopped, his expression suggesting that he wanted to disagree on principle but couldn't quite bring himself to do so. "...Shit. He is, but-"

"But if you say so, then we've agreed for a third time."

"Damn it." A pensive moment passed. "...We could agree to disagree."

"That would still be agreeing. And don't even try disagreeing to disagree; for one thing, it's another dead end in the catch-22 he's got us in, and for another, it would imply that one of us agrees with him that we might someday be friends."

"Which will never happen."

"Right. Shit," he kicked himself. "We did it again."

"...No. No, we didn't." Robin yanked his gun from his belt and pointed it in the direction Nightwing had gone. "This discussion never happened. He left, then we left. No words were passed."

"Except for curse words."

"No words. I'll get it trouble if you mention cursing in front of the wrong person."

"I know. But at least we won't agree on whether or not you did it." A smirk slipped across his lips. I win.

"...Damn you," an angry hiss reached his ears. Then the boy was gone, too, and Red Robin was alone on the rooftop once more.

He stared after him for a long second. Those parting words shouldn't have hurt, he knew, but they had. Hadn't they had a moment, just now? He'd thought so, but...apparently not.

Shaking his head at himself, he freed his own grapple and walked forwards. A 'moment' with Damian. The world will end before that happens, Drake. Pull yourself together. As he dropped off of the roof, the gnawing sense of something missing – no, he decided, it was more like he was missing out on something – returned. He hadn't even noticed that it had gone, but its reappearance was unwelcome, and there was only one person he could think of to blame for it.

...Damn you too, demon-child, his eyes narrowed behind his mask. Damn you, too.