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opening and closing acts

Summary:

Mary gets to sit down and have some important talks about managing new and old relationships in her life.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: lil mama's boy

Chapter Text

Weekend lunch dates with her boys. It was their tradition. Had been for years. Each Saturday and Sunday she would take one of her sons out to eat one day, then the other on the next. It was their way of getting some special time where they had her all to themselves–no work, chores, siblings, or other distractions getting in the way. It had started back when she and Warren were in the middle of the divorce proceedings as a way to give the kids a space to connect and relax. Be around their parents without all the pressures present at home. Back then she would take one child out while Warren took the other and the process would be repeated the next day (with a little bit of kid swapping). It had become much harder to sustain after Warren’s passing, what with her taking more hours at work, Terry getting a job and suddenly needing to arrange for a babysitter when leaving Matt at the apartment.

 

This week was different though.

 

It was different because, for the first time in almost a year, she hadn’t needed to arrange for childcare. Dick had volunteered before she could even ask.

 

She had been touched, but she hadn’t been surprised. Dick was just that kind of guy (yes, despite the name).

 

Terry had been a little less thrilled, but his desire for lunch outweighed his knee-jerk distaste. Mary still used it as a segue though. They’d both known this topic was coming for quite a while.

 

“I noticed you weren’t happy about my choice of babysitter today. What do you think of Dick? And don’t try to please me with your answer, I won’t be mad,” she said after they’d settled down with their ice cream waffles at one of the tables opposite to the waffle stand. Ones that overlooked the lines of tracks below in this metro station that had been just a transfer in their route home until she’d spotted dessert.

 

Terry snorted into his waffle. She realized too late how she’d worded her question and rolled her eyes, which only made him snicker harder.

 

“Well,” he began in his most twipish tone, “I can’t say I’m opposed, exactly, but I do-”

 

“Aigo, you know what I meant,” she huffed, letting go of her treat to lightly cuff the back of his head. “Who let you get away with this kind of attitude, ah?”

 

“Tch- you.”

 

“Wrong answer, Tae Woong,” she declared, liberating a cherry from his fruit, cream and chocolate topped waffle.

 

“Hey!” he reached an arm over the table to try and retaliate, but she’d already turned in her seat to hold her prize out of reach. “Eomma!” he whined indignantly. She froze at just the right angle to give him perfect view of her revenge, so maybe the claim wasn’t totally baseless. 

 

“Alright, I mean it this time,” she said around the cherry. “What do you think of Richard Grayson? You know, your eomma’s new boyfriend? You’re my kid, your opinion matters to me very much.”

 

Normally Terry had very little issue with being direct. It was one of his strengths, but also one of his weaknesses. She couldn’t count the amount of times it had gotten him in trouble, nor the amount of times it had led to him helping someone. Whether she was wary or proud of it depended on which outcome it had wrought recently, though she had to admit it was another trait he’d inherited from her. 

 

Right now, however, he was stalling. He took his time inspecting his waffle for the perfect bite, then took his time chewing it. She let him formulate an answer uninterrupted, as antsy as it made her. Plus, she told the still impatient part of her brain, it was rare for him to not inhale his food like a starved man. What kind of eomma would she be if she discouraged this?

 

“I don’t really, well. It’s not that I dislike Mister Grayson…” here he glanced up to gauge her reaction.

 

She smiled and nodded, already aware of his conflicted feelings. Terry wasn’t one to cordially consort with people he disliked. Or sit down and accept work advice from people he disliked. Or, heaven forbid, leave his precious baby brother in the care of people he disliked. There were tense looks and hesitant smiles, but he was clearly trying. Compared to how he’d reacted to the last few dates she’d been on, he was trying very hard. She just wanted to know why it was difficult for him in the first place. She had a strong guess, of course. It hadn’t been easy for him when she and Warren had split, and his appa’s death had only served to further separate him from those comforting simple times. It was common for children of divorce to have trouble with their parents finding new partners, so she didn’t blame him. The opposite really. It wasn’t his fault that he’d been unplanned, or that his eomma and appa had gotten together before they were old enough to know what they wanted in a marriage. She felt guilty for forcing him to bear the emotional backlash that had stemmed from their poor decision making, and she wanted to do everything in her power to make sure it didn’t happen again.

 

“It’s just that, I, um,” she felt him begin to bounce his leg incessantly. He wasn’t aware that he’d rested his foot on top of hers when they’d sat and she hadn’t felt the need to inform him. Under his breath he muttered to himself, “Oh what the slag,” before continuing at a normal volume, “Mister Grayson’s a nice guy and all, but I already watched you go through a bad heartbreak once and…” he shrugged, “I don’t want you to have to go through something like that again.”

 

“Oh,” she said softly, and ‘oh’ was right. How could she have just been thinking about his drive to help others yet forget it applied to her too? “Terry…”

 

“I know, I know, I’m not the boss of you,” he said quickly, ducking his head in supplication. “I overstepped that time with the Noah guy, I’m sorry–even though I was right–” he cut himself off with a hasty pause. “So this isn’t me trying to say you can’t date him or anything, but…”

 

She wrapped a hand around one of his. They used to be smaller than hers, back in the day. It took her a moment to realize that had been before the divorce. Was that how long he’d been carrying around this worry? One that wasn’t his to carry in the first place?

 

“I’m glad Matt likes him. I’m glad he tries so hard to do so much for us, especially you. You deserve someone who’ll treat you nice, and I can’t remember the last time you got to go out and have fun so often, so no. I don’t dislike Mister Grayson. I’m just,” he sighed. “Scared of what could happen again because of him.”

 

Her waffle was already drooping towards the table, but now she set it down completely. Who cared if it melted? That wasn’t important right now. She was out of her chair and beside her son the next instant. They came together for a hug.

 

Unlike Matt, Terry had been old enough to both remember and comprehend the weight of his front row seat to the slow deterioration of his parent’s relationship. She knew he hadn’t taken it well, simultaneously lashing out and drawing away into the range where the likes of Charlie Bigalow could reach him. She also knew that his protectiveness had increased because of it. Looking back she felt absolutely awful for missing it at the time; the way he’d take Matt out to the park until sundown, or take care of the toddler’s bedtime when he could tell they’d been fighting, or a thousand other little things that she’d been too preoccupied with her own problems to notice. Things that blindsided her when he’d occasionally admit to them. Like this. Like now.

 

She’d never meant to make her kids miserable. To be the thing that made their lives harder. Yet she’d become that. They both had, her and Warren. She knew he felt just as bad about it as she did–or, well, he had.

 

That thought was the tipping point for the tears already threatening to spill.

 

“Tae Woong-a, baby,” she choked, quietly to keep from making a scene. “It's sweet that you look out for me, but I'm an adult. My emotions are my responsibility. You don't have to worry so much.”

 

His shoulders tensed. This was another thing she’d overlooked, wasn’t it?

 

She doesn’t let go until he's relaxed again.

 

When she does he tries to wipe away tear tracks before she notices, but she did. The breath he lets out when she moves his hand and wipes them herself shudders, and her heart shudders with it.

 

The ice cream has soaked into their previously forgotten waffles, but they eat them anyway. Savoring the flavor and toppings if nothing else, sitting side by side on a chair too small to accommodate them both.

 

The train they were supposed to take rumbles on out of the station. Terry drops his head onto her shoulders and she decides they can take the next one.

 

The next time he speaks it’s almost a surprise, but not all at once. The silence had done its job.

 

“I never answered your question,” he says.

 

“Hmm?” she brushes stray hair out of his face. It was getting long. Did he want to grow it out?

 

“I think Mister Grayson’s pretty alright.”

 

She smiles. That was a high endorsement of a partner, coming from him.

 

“He’s like, nice and stuff. And helpful. He keeps doing my chores while I’m at work no matter how much I tell him I can handle it. And he’s way better at explaining homework to Matt than I am. You two work together well too. The house feels less stressed. And don’t get me wrong I love–” she doesn’t miss the way his eyes squeeze shut when he realizes his misstep, “loved appa, and I’m not ready to think about anyone else filling his role, but I don’t want to stop you from being happy. I don’t mind him sticking around.”

 

She presses a kiss to the top of his head.

 

“Okay, baby. Thank you for telling me.”

 

His snuggling closer is answer enough. 

 

She’s sure Dick won’t mind watching Matt for a while longer. It’s just the kind of guy he is (and boy is she glad she found him).

Chapter 2: meanwhile...

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Hmm,” Dick intoned, tilting his head as he surveyed the room.

 

“Hmm,” Matt parroted, tilting his head in much the same manner with a smile, though true to form his eyes skipped right over the mess to fixate on his source of free entertainment.

 

Dick hid a smile of his own. This was serious. He couldn’t show weakness. Not with an incorrigible nine year old watching his every move.

 

“Hey, I got a new game for us,” he said. Matt perked up– as he knew he would. Kids were so easy to predict. “What if we were super spies and we’ve just finished gathering evidence from the bad guy’s base, but now we have to clean up our tracks and make it look like we were never here so they don’t suspect anything was stolen?”

 

Matt started bouncing on his toes and wiggling his hands, then he said “Like in the episode where Soldier Sam has to hide in the CAI’s base?” with such excitement that it was almost unbearably cute. Mary had done a good job with this one. And the other one. And everything, because she was just that schway. Though, she wouldn’t exactly be ‘schway’ with the state of her living room right now, hence the game.

 

“Yeah, exactly!” he laughed, grateful once again that the kids in his tumbling class had forced him to catch up on the modern classic Saturday morning cartoons a few months back. He’d had no idea at the time it would come in handy for dating, but he sure couldn’t regret it now. He hadn’t even finished saying “I bet I can cover my tracks better than you,” by the time Matt was off like a shot and shouting “I call being Soldier Sam!” and scooping up the clutter all over Mary’s poor floors.

 

As it turns out, throwing around small projectiles in the name of justice during much of your teen and young adult years made you great at throwing small toys into toy boxes. Dick wasn’t sure how a complicated form of trashketball factored into their Soldier Sam game, but Matt assured him it was completely logical. In fact, he was so affronted by having to explain this obvious fact that he forced Dick to sit down and catch up on the latest episodes with him– as soon as the tidying was done, of course.

 

They were halfway through the episode where Soldier Sam dismantles a VSA weapons factory when Mary texted to say she and Terry would be home a bit later than originally planned.

 

‘All good. Watching Soldier Sam is better than the plans I had for the rest of the day,’ he messaged back, which earned him a quick ‘ty!!’ with a heart emoji as if he’d done something special, even though he’d gladly watch a hundred episodes of anything if it meant letting those two get some much needed bonding time.

 

When the credits were rolling and the next episode cued, Dick was interrupted in his reach for the remote by the feeling of two pats on his forearm. When the gesture registered his heart almost burst on the spot. Two pats on the forearm… that was the signal the McGinnis’ used to let Matt know a transition was coming, or that they’d like to talk to him. Because of that, it had also become Matt’s go-to method for doing the same, but only around people he was comfortable with–Mary had once explained.

 

“Yeah, Matty?” he said, turning to give the kid his full attention as soon as the show was paused, trying to cover up how tight his throat had gotten all of a sudden.

 

“You’re my favorite babysitter,” he said simply before seizing the remote from Dick’s limp hand and hitting ‘play’.

 

Dick didn’t comprehend much of the episode’s first half after that– too busy starting to text Mary, then realizing she was with Terry and not wanting to interrupt that so he settled on ranting to her about it when she got back and spammed Barbara instead.

 

‘Yes, Dick, your new kid is cute and it’s nice you’re bonding with him, but shouldn’t you be watching the episode?’ she responded after maybe his sixth message.

 

‘Wh-’ (he’d learned that texting trick from the memes).

 

‘Babs’

 

‘He’s not my kid’

 

Her texting bubbles were dancing up and down for a while.

 

‘Dick. Buddy. Blunder Boy.’

 

‘Yes Barbara’

 

‘Go read this chat history then look me in the eye and say that again’

 

He was unsure how to counter that one.

 

‘Sam agrees with me, btw’

 

‘He’s your husband, of course he agrees with you’ he said in lieu of responding to the last message.

 

‘Alright, keep pulling a Bruce then,’ she shot back.

 

‘What.’

 

She didn’t reply.

 

‘Barbara what.’

 

Nothing.

 

‘ANSWER ME BARBARA’ he pleaded, but still nothing at all. Not even a ‘read’ notification.

 

She was saved from further spamming by Matt, who got upset when he looked over and found Dick on his phone and wouldn’t get un-upset until it was hinted that they could make some sort of treat together afterwards as recompense. After that the episode was enjoyed to its fullest, and when it was finished Matt decided to become a bancale on his leg during their walk to the kitchen–giggling like a mad scientist every time he made a show of groaning and moaning about how hard the added weight was on his old bones.

 

Because this was apparently the afternoon of being saved by the bell, Dick’s date with mortality was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, which sent Matt scrambling to bull rush his mother and brother with a cry of “Eomma!” that was roughly twenty decibels louder than it needed to be in this small of an apartment.

 

“Eomma, eomma–” was about as much (aside from the particles and conjugation suffixes) as Dick understood of the Korean conversation that followed. He was working on it, but the Korean population in Gotham hadn’t been very large back in his peak language learning phase (back when any skill could help in life or death situations) so it hadn’t been as high priority as, say, Mandarin, and he’d only ever learned a few phrases. He’d asked Terry for any resources he might recommend when he started. It had earned him a critical once-over, but the small stack of Korean children’s books, alphabet memorization charts and worksheets from old weekend language school sessions sat on Dick’s still as a testament to one of the first times Terry had warmed up to him. Mary had gotten a little teary when she’d spotted them during a visit to his place. He hadn’t been looking for a reward, but he didn’t complain when his explanation earned him a nice solid kiss and the rare chance to hear her reminisce about her childhood in Seoul.

 

The look she gave him when he rounded the corner to join everyone in the front entrance, however, was far from tender and teary. It felt a little more like he was sitting in a dunk tank and she knew she had the winning ball. She got like that sometimes. Usually it meant he was about to be on the receiving end of something that would make Barbara bust her guts when he told her later. Case and point:

 

“Oh Dick, Matty-a tells me you volunteered to take him out and get the Full Scoop from Little Moo Moo’s? You shouldn’t have!” she said, falsely sweet with a smirk that would’ve sent even some of the toughest criminals he’d dealt with back in the day running.

 

Dick looked at Matt. The kid smiled, but he wasn’t trying too hard to look innocent. 

 

Slag. Now who was the predictable one?

 

“He did?” Dick replied with specious surprise, knowing a cue when he got one. “Ah man, I was hoping to keep that a secret from you and just dump a kid hyped on five pints of ice cream on your doorstep one day with no warning!”

 

That got them all to laugh, and Terry even looked pleased at finding one of his jokes funny for once instead of somewhat betrayed–as if he resented having to admit that Eomma’s Boyfriend had any redeeming qualities (even if he’d thought him perfectly agreeable when he was just ‘Mr. Grayson, Wayne’s son, an occasional mentor and a former crimefighter’ to him). 

 

“You’re late to the game, then. Their Auntie Maps already pulled that one with Terry a while back,” Mary revealed as she hip-checked him and moved to put away her things, Matt following with his sights set on the bag of take-out she carried.

 

Dick blinked.

 

“Auntie Maps… Mizoguchi?” he haltingly asked Terry before the teen could brush past him too.

 

“Uh, yeah, you know her?” was the surprised reply.

 

“Kind of? I–”

 

“Dick, get in here before I let Matty eat all of your hodugwaja!” Mary called from the kitchen.

 

“No, don’t come, don’t come! It’s not that good anyways!” came Matt’s frantic accompaniment, his words offset by the way his mouth was audibly stuffed to the limit.

 

Dick met Terry’s eyes and was relieved to find that the understanding of ‘later’ was mutual. 

 

Which was great, because he wasn’t letting Matt steal his slice of walnut-filled cake-ball heaven no matter how cute the kid was.

Notes:

--ayyy this isn't the original 2nd chap I had planned but Cara (@melxncholy-arts un tumblr, go check her out!!) and I were riffing about this potential interaction last week and it was too cute to pass up, so 3 chaps it is!!

Chapter 3: and afterwards...

Summary:

a much needed conversation between Mary and Dick about their responsibilities.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“So, lunch went well, I take it?” Dick asked as he helped her wash dishes after dinner. Normally she’d shoo him away and have one of the boys help instead, but Terry had left before mealtime to hang out with his friends then head straight to work and Matt had homework so she’d caved. Begrudgingly. It was still too new of a relationship to ask him to do absolutely everything, and it had always made her antsy when people caught her spaces in a state of disarray. Not that he was making a big deal out of it or anything, she was just “As neurotic about cleaning as appa is about closing cabinet doors” according to her ever-eloquent eldest. This past year or so she’d felt even more neurotic about it than usual.

 

“Yeah, really well. I got Terry to actually open up to me in a way he hasn’t since… I think since Warren’s passing,” she said, hand itching to wipe a spot Dick had missed on the plate he was lathering. 

 

“That long? I thought he talked to you more. At least, that’s the impression I got from watching you. He seems very secure in his relationship with his mom for someone his age.”

 

“Oh, trust me, that wasn’t always the case. Our current relationship took a lot of work. Actually, a major reason he went to live with his appa was because of how much we fought. Neither of us were good with reigning things in, shouting matches would get out of hand and Warren was always the mediator so it just seemed like the smart thing to do. Especially back then.” She scrubbed a burnt piece of food at the bottom of the pot she was cleaning to wipe away the bitter recollections. “But, to answer your question, he does talk to me nowadays. Just, you know, about more trivial things like friends and school, not his thoughts on my love life.”

 

Dick snorted as he laid his plate on the drying rack. It was tilted the wrong way. This time she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to correct it.

 

“That’s fair,” he picked up the next plate without pause. A knot of worry in her chest untangled. “I never wanted to know anything about my various parent’s love lives, and my little brother definitely didn’t want to know anything about mine. I know that’s not exactly the same, but still,” he shrugged, then he broke out into a sparkling grin and turned to her saying, “Hey, do you wanna know what Matt said to me today?”

 

She smiled back. The dishes really weren’t a big deal to him.

 

“What did he say?”

 

At her prompting, his smile somehow grew even sparklier. He thought it was silly that she described them like that, but she couldn’t think of a more accurate word and he hadn’t come up with any better suggestions– though not for lack of trying.

 

“He turned to me, completely out of the blue as we were watching Soldier Sam, and said I was his favorite babysitter! Can you believe that? Ahh it was so cute I was dying!” he cooed, clutching a soapy glove to his chest dramatically as he gave an account of just how Matt wrapped him around his finger enough to score a trip to Little Moo Moo’s earlier that day.

 

She couldn’t help but laugh, wondering why his words brought so much relief. 

 

When he returned to the dishes he grabbed the wrong cleaning utensil. A rag. She faltered. Rags were for cleaning counters, not dishes. Everyone knew that. At least, everyone who had done dishes in this kitchen, even if the kids had needed reminders every now and again. The adults never had. The only other adult had been Warren. He used to come over occasionally to help with housework that they’d trade off when the other was tired, or stay with Matt when she wanted a night out. He hadn’t been here in over a year.

 

“Mary?” a voice brought her back to the present. Dick’s.

 

She smiled briefly. “Sorry, zoned out for a second there. What were you saying?”

 

“Nothing. You were just staring at the dishes instead of cleaning them. Looked like you had something on your mind.”

 

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” she said while resuming her scrubbing, but it must have been too quick because Dick’s sparkle had been traded out for a small frown.

 

“It’s not ‘fine’, you’re worried about something,” he spoke softly. “What is it–the boys again?”

 

She reached out, plucked the rag out of his hand and replaced it with the proper cleaning brush.

 

He tried to lay a hand over hers, but she pulled back to continue with the dishes.

 

Instead of pressing the issue he went back to cleaning.

 

She appreciated the break.

 

“Do you think it’s weird? The way I talk about him?” she asked slowly. Haltingly. Trying to both appease and defy the part of her mind that urged her not to speak at all.

 

He made a noise of question.

 

“Warren, I mean,” she’d forgotten to clarify again. He was probably annoyed now. “Because I know it looks messy. Especially from the outside. And depending on what time I’m talking about I’m sure it sounds completely different so I’m–I don’t know. You’ve heard my reminiscing. My friends think it’s kind of weird. Is it weird?”

 

He finished off another plate and placed it on the drying rack. The right way this time.

 

“I can see why people find it atypical,” he began, picking up a cup. “But I don’t think it’s weird –at least not in the sense where you’re using it as a substitute for bad.”

 

Right. She had been doing that, hadn’t she?

 

“I only know him from yours and the boys’ recollections, but, from what I hear it sounds like the two of you had a very healthy, mature thing going at the end. And I think that’s really admirable of you.”

 

The spot she was scrubbing was already clean, she suddenly noticed. 

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah.” he turned to her and his expression bled honesty. “You both decided that even though the divorce had been rough you still liked what you had before the marriage enough to put in the effort to gain that again. You were both dedicated to doing what was best for your kids, even when it was hard. You found a new way to be partners that wasn’t traditional–wasn’t romantic, I mean–but still meant you were navigating life together. The way you talk about him doesn’t sound weird. It sounds to me like you were best friends.”

 

The brush she was swirling about the pot over and over was doing nothing but push pristine soap bubbles around in circles. Dick’s hands reached out to bring hers to a stop. This time she let them. And then she was crying. Again. For the second time in a day. G-d her eyes were going to be sore tomorrow.

 

“It’s okay to miss him, Mary,” Dick said softly. 

 

She sucked in a breath and forced it to stay there, resenting the urge to cry harder.

 

“He was important to you. I’m not upset with you for missing him. Never will be.”

 

Not that her body ever cooperated with what she wanted.

 

He had been important to her, was the thing. She’d just never realized how much until he was gone and had left this strange hole in her life that defied any definition she tried to give it. They had been casual friends once. She knew what that felt like. That hadn’t been it. They had been lovers once. She knew what that felt like. That hadn’t been it. They had been married, and enemies, and exes, but none of those dynamics had fit them at the end either. They’d known what they had was unconventional, but it had just… worked. So they hadn’t spoken of it. She’d figured they would later. She'd figured there would be a later. She’d figured wrong, and whatever weird partnership thing they’d had going on was broken because Warren was dead and had left her alone. Then there had been more important things to think about, like finding Terry or his body , arranging the funeral, sorting the assets, moving Terry into the apartment, taking on more hours at work, helping the boys process the loss of their father, helping Terry officially start his job, helping the boys with school, trying to get a promotion so that money wouldn’t be so tight, trying to keep an eye on the boys, and keep up with their social lives, and talk to them, and be with them, and occasionally managing to go on their weekend lunch dates together because they had just lost one parent and didn’t need to lose another to work and… then Dick had said ‘best friends’. And that was the closest any term had gotten to feeling right.

 

He was- they were- they had been something like best friends. She’d never thought to label it such but it was true. When they had finally stopped being so slagging angry with each other there had been no reason not to. They still had similar senses of humor. They still liked the same things. They still made the same dishes and knew each other’s favorite authors and could quote the other’s favorite rants. She had worried that things between them would become weird forever, but after a few months of living apart it had almost felt like they had returned to the beginning. Friends, but this time with two kids thrown into the mix. 

 

That had definitely helped speed the reconciliation process up, all things considered. Even at the height of their personal relationship struggles, she had never once doubted that he would give his all for their children, and she knew he’d felt the same about her. They weren’t married anymore, but they were still a team. Co-parents with the same goal. Parenting style hadn’t even been one of the things they’d really fought about. It was easy to coordinate pick-up times and hangouts and the occasional family meal. There was an understanding that if one of them faltered the other would prop them up, fueled by their determination to provide a good life for their boys.

 

And then the only person in the world she could trust to love her children as much as she did was gone. And that hurt. But she couldn’t even focus on that because if she broke down then and there, there would be no one to pick up the slack. She’d been terrified to do it all on her own, but she didn’t have a choice. Because suddenly she was the only one who cared. If something happened to her they'd be all alone. No one to catch them. Nowhere to run to. Just endless levels of steel and concrete and people who didn’t give a slag.

 

Warren hadn’t been her love, not by then, but he had still been a good man. And her teammate. And her best friend –even though that term didn’t feel strong enough–that she’d been counting on. That she didn’t have anymore.

 

“Hey, could you take some deep breaths for me, dear? Mary? C’mon, you’re holding your breath again. You need to breathe,” Dick said, hands running up and down her arms in an attempt to ground her. 

 

She squeezed out a lungful of air then forced another one in. She got a couple more through before words started bubbling up and spilling out no matter how tightly she tried to seal her lips.

 

“I can do it,” her voice rang out of its own accord. Stiff and warped in this kitchen that felt fuller than it should with only two people. “On my own. I’ve been… fine for months now. You don’t need to– I didn’t bring you here to replace him.”

 

Dry warmth met the cold wet of her cheeks. Dick’s eyes looked nothing like his had. The shape and color and lashes were all wrong. But there was still something so glaringly similar. She couldn’t name it. Or maybe she wouldn’t.

 

She whispered, “If annoying kids and grumpy teenagers aren’t your thing we don’t have to keep meeting here of all places. You can be ‘eomma’s boyfriend’ who shows up every other weekend to pick me up for a date. Leave it at that, if you want. This job is big. It’s not for everybody. What you’re doing now is already more than enough. I know I look like a wreck right now but I won’t be upset if you want to back off. Honest. You should be happy too.”

 

“Mary,” he chuckled, a little sparkle coming back through. “Babs was teasing me just earlier about ‘pulling a Bruce’ and treating the kids like my own without even realizing it. Terry was the one who introduced us, for G-d’s sake. I could see how important your kids were to you before we started dating. I won’t ask you to change that part or yourself for me–”

 

“And I won’t ask you to change that part or yourself for me.”

 

“–yes, but what I’m trying to say is that you wouldn’t be. Because I wouldn’t be changing anything. I haven’t. I’ve always been okay with this, I’m just in a position now where that’s obvious. I probably won’t be as good as Warren, he had a lot more practice than me, but I’d be happy to give it my best shot. He sounds like the kind of guy who’d want that for you. For all of you.”

 

That… would be different. Having Dick be a more permanent part of their lives. It had slowly been happening, yes, but to openly acknowledge it? Put a name to it? Embrace it? She wasn’t used to that, but… maybe it was time for a different approach. Long, curly salt and pepper hair where Warren’s had been short, straight black. A penchant for corny jokes where Warren had favored dry sarcasm. A love for sweets where Warren could only stand a spoonful of sugar at a time.

 

It would be different, but… maybe Warren would want her to accept the difference. 

 

And maybe she’d been overthinking all of this too. Projecting her fears in places they had no right to be. Not really. Not when she’d known how much he cared about the kids in his tumbling classes, or people, or life in general before they'd gotten together. 

 

“I guess–I mean–I suppose he would,” she admitted after a long moment. His answering smile settled something deep within her chest.

 

Alright then. She would try trusting him with them. The two halves of her heart that walked outside her body. She knew he’d do his best.

 

Dick was just that kind of guy.

Notes:

--aaand there we go! 3rd chapter done! I barely had time to write last week and didn't expect to have this done on time for this one, but I surprised myself so it's out today!! Continued thanks to @melxncholly-arts for letting me take a spin at her au and listening to my rants in the DMs!!
--also!! Mary & Warren QPR bc I say so and it's based!!!!!!

Notes:

--”the Noah guy” is a reference to Batman Beyond [II] #24, in which Mary goes on a date that doesn’t go as planned and Ter reacts poorly from the get go. I won’t spoil it, but it’s a very sweet issue and y’all should go read it (for free online perhaps? ;))
--ik ik i’ve committed the cardinal sin of changing the tenses halfway through the fic but the vibes were working for me. Maybe I’ll change it if it bothers me but idk that’s a lot of work
--my feelings on Dick/Mary when I saw Cara first bring it up was "haha fun crackship... unless?" and now I'm on the train. And writing fics. Anyways Cara ur a gem hope u enjoy<3