A/N: Drabble I wrote for the dictionary(dot)com's word of the day a while back, epigamic, an adjective meaning "attracting the opposite sex, as the colors of certain birds." Except this became totally irrelevant to the word of the day and blah blah blah who cares it has Dick, Damian, and Nightwing costumes; that's all you need, right?

Cross-posting from my tumblr because it was one of my longer drabbles and I quite like this one. :D

Also featured in this fic is this modified Nightwing outfit for Damian by always8remember on tumblr: always8remember(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/5022385645/this-is-what-i-did-during-class-all-day

Enjoy!

"No matter what, it's gotta have fingerstripes," Dick said firmly. "Fingerstripes are sexy."

"Costumes are supposed to instill fear into the heart of the enemy," Damian argued.

Dick shook his head. "You don't get it, do you? The idea is to win over the crowd. Get them to love you. And the ladies will swoon over this, trust me." He grinned. "Now, onto the colors. The colors are important."

"Father never tried to get any fans. He never needed any, either."

"Green, maybe?" suggested Dick, ignoring him. He clicked a few buttons on the computer.

"And might I add that this is utterly pointless because I'm not going to become my own hero anyways? I'm going to inherit the title of Batman."

"Green no good? How about red?"

"And all you're doing is coloring over your Nightwing costume on the computer!" Damian exclaimed exasperatedly.

"I like blue. I think we should keep the blue," decided Dick. "You'll also need a name. Did I ever tell you how I got the name Nightwing? Because I love that name. I think it's very fitting. I bet Nightwing would work for you, too."

Damian was getting fed up with their one-sided conversation. "This is a waste of time," he declared. "Call me if something important happens."

"I'll call you once I've finished designing this, then!" Dick replied cheerfully. "You like hoods, right? Impractical, but I suppose I can add one."

"Just. Stop bothering me," Damian snapped as he stomped away.

It was about a week after Dick's I-must-design-you-a-costume-for-when-you-strike-out-on-your-own episode. The man hadn't brought up the topic since the day, so Damian hoped that he'd forgotten about the whole thing.

Presently, Dick was out attending to business. He'd forbidden Damian to come along, going so far as ordering him to wait in the house until he returned. This had annoyed Damian, and he'd had half a mind to go out anyway, just to spite him, maybe follow him to see what he was up to, but ultimately he decided against it.

Bored, lonely, and confined to the manor, Damian was left to wander restlessly around until he found himself in the home's gargantuan master bedroom—Dick's room, now.

On a whim, he pulled out the small trunk from beneath the bed and picked the lock open. In seconds, Dick's former costume was in his hands.

He hesitated, listening carefully even though he knew no one would be nearby, before pulling his shirt up over his head and yanking his pants off. Another pause to listen for potential intruders, then he slid into the costume. Already he knew that it was way too big for him, but he padded over to the full-body mirror anyways and inspected his reflection.

The spandex, though hardly tight, rubbed uncomfortably against his skin. The blue symbol spanning across his chest was distorted by folds and creases in the fabric, but that was to be expected; obviously, Dick's chest was far broader than Damian's. In short, the costume just didn't look right.

Damian snorted to himself in the mirror. Of course it didn't look right. He was never intended to wear such an outfit. He began to take the costume off.

"Oh, I knew you liked it!"

Only years of training kept Damian from jumping in surprise. Crap.

Dick strolled up to him and ruffled his hair. "A bit big on you, but it's nice. I knew you'd see things my way."

"Nngh—quit it." Damian ducked away from Dick and kicked the suit off. "It's a horrible costume."

"Wait, before you put your clothes back on, I got something for you," said Dick.

"And those two thoughts are related how?" Damian questioned, reaching for his pants.

"They're related when I got you this." Dick whipped something out from behind his back, proudly presenting it to him.

Damian stared at it.

It was like a smaller version of the Nightwing costume, but different. The symbol and colors were the same, although the material didn't seem to be spandex (thank goodness). Additives were a hood, like Dick had promised, and a cape.

"Try it on!" Dick insisted, shoving the costume at him.

Damian held it up, looking over it. Dick urged him again to put it on and Damian did, feigning reluctance even though he, too, was curious to see how it would look on him.

And...it didn't look bad. It was a little large, but he'd grow into it. The cape fell over his shoulders, sweeping to the front to form a blue V identical to the one on the suit itself.

Dick lifted the hood up and dropped it over his head. Damian, lifting the edge up to see himself properly again, decided that he liked it. He also decided not to give his thoughts voice.

"What do you think?" Dick asked.

"It's...adequate," Damian allowed.

"It's the fingerstripes. They work, don't they?"

"Again with the stupid fingerstripes," muttered Damian. "No, that's not it."

"But you like it?"

"It's okay. I guess. But it doesn't matter because I'm never going to wear it anyways," he added quickly. Still, he supposed he could hold onto it... It did look nice.

"I've always wanted a Nightwing Jr." Dick chuckled.

Dick knew how to ruin everything.

"Just shut up, Grayson."