Description: Robin and Sparrow. The Flying Graysons and The Tiny Tumbler. Even if it seems like destiny, it's never going to work out for Dick Grayson.

Request: Could I request some angst Dick x Reader like one sided love but Dick is the one in love and not the reader?

Words: 1854

Notes: Hey here you go this isn't as angsty as I would want it to be but oopsie

Dick feels the utter weightlessness. Everything goes by too fast for him to catch everything, and for the flash of a second where he is suspended in air he feels something emerge from deep within his heart. He hears his mother call his name, say,"Oh, Richard, you look like a Robin on that trapeze." There's a weight on his shoulder, a good, comforting weight; the phantom touch of his father's hand greeting him. He feels home in the air, even as he's rapidly falling toward the Earth. He feels free. There is nothing to ground him or chain him down. Dick Grayson feels free in the air, and he hopes his parent's felt the same way when the wire broke.

But then it all stops and he is greeted by immense pain. He feels gravity's grip tighten around his ankles and try to pull him downward, but his anchor holds tight around his arm, the kevlar and mesh combination of the glove that caught him digging through his costume. With a grunt, you pull Dick up and over the ledge. You collapse in a tangled mess of silk-cape and heavy breathing. When he was pushed off the building he had instantly looked to you before he fell. You had been what felt like a forever away, so you must have sprinted to save him. Even if you would do that with anyone, even a monster like the Joker or someone you know you couldn't catch like Bruce, he feels his heart beat wildly at your daring act of instant righteousness... for him.

He could blame the muscle in his chest, excuse its fast pace for his near-death experience, but he knows that it's you. You are the cause of his sloppiness. A distraction, Bruce would deem you.

Dick manages a shaky, ashamedly exhilarated breath—he has always liked falling more than flying—and the redness of his face deepens. You settled your hand on his arm and looked into his eyes,"Are you alright, Dick?" You whispered. Your eyes were wild with fright at almost losing him. He feels the world come to a stop as your words drift in and out of his ears, your touch making his skin pleasantly hum. It's a beautiful contrast to the searing pain of his arm; it's been dislocated.

"Fine." Dick chokes out when your hand slides down to clutch his. His voice cracks in that stupid prepubescent way that he hates. It's bad enough that the sound reminds Two-Face and Penguin that he's just a kid, but you have to hear it too. You may be only a year older than him, but the strength of your maturity and experience has him caught up in his own feet too many times."I'm fine, Sparrow, don't worry about me." Dick rushed.

You took the hand holding his and used it to hoist him upward. In your haste to catch him you had failed your original objective: arrest the Riddler. But it seems Bruce did not, as by the time you release Dick you hear the solid sound of protective gear hitting bone. The Batman turns away from an unconscious purple and green, black and blue Edward Nygma, and nods at you. You and Dick nod back in affirmation.

Bruce ties up Riddler and hefts him over his shoulder, and you watch the Dark Knight disappear over the building's edge, his grappling line whizzing on his way to the Batmobile's parking place. You give Dick one more once-over, and he's reminded he's wearing green, scaled undies right now. Definitely not the most flattering costume choice, especially if he'll be working with you from now on.

_

Dick's heart stutters the moment he see's the colors. He breathes in the smell of fresh hay for the elephants, and the deeper he enters the area the stronger the smell of concessions gets. Animals roar and sniff at him as he passes the enclosures, emblazoned with bright colors and the logo he used to draw in his notebook at school; Haly's Circus envelopes Dick Grayson and works its way through the years of Batman, Robin, and Nightwing. He's left as the last Flying Grayson again, and that's all he could ever want.

The show doesn't start for another half-hour or so, but that's what he's counting on. A unicyclist wheels past him at top speed, juggling unopened beer-bottles a—for once—sober Harry the clown is hollerin' and screamin' after the juggler, and Dick laughs a little to himself. Mister Haly waves at him from a barrel beside the elephant's pen. He grins and watches as Eleanor, the old elephant that Dick used to wash when he was a boy, peeks over Haly's shoulder and peers at his cards and then proceeds to help Joey the security guard cheat. God, I love that elephant, Dick thought as he waved back.

Behind the massive Big-Top set up in the center of Gotham's Bringer Park is a smaller tent as a back-stage for private shows and the like. His pace picks up when he looks at the time; she should be there right now.

He hears her singing before he sees her. Brushing back the curtain of the tent, he watches a shadow swoop overhead and follows it to the center of the fairly large room with a huge grin. Swinging from two long strings of silks or aerial fabrics, Y/N L/N curves and arcs through the air, singing and giggling and making Dick's heart hurt.

The aerial acrobat catches his eyes, hooking her arm around one of her ropes and waving at him tightly,"Hey, bird-boy!" You grinned."Give me a sec and I'll be right down."

With a powerful and graceful flourish, you swung your legs and gently lowered yourself to the ground. The action makes Dick feel like his muscles are trying to wring the love out of his heart, knowing that it's not going to do him anything good, but it's just too strong to seep out. The moment your feet hit the floor your take off running, leaping from the ground and wrapping your arms around his neck. Dick catches you by reflex and the embrace immediately relaxes him. He binds your body against his.

You breath in his scent of kevlar and something cologne-y. It makes you think of all those years as Sparrow. But those days are over and over for good; you decided that after one-too-many losses, and then your adoptive father, Mister Haly, informing you that the circus you had been raised in was dying. The Flying Graysons had been their best act but were long gone, and when you were called the Tiny Tumbler you were... well, tiny, but that didn't mean you could grow up and become something better. Haly swears up and down that ever since you joined, tickets have been selling like mad. You believe him... but only a little bit.

"I've missed you," Your muffled voice murmured into his jacket. You gave him a tight squeeze,"Somuch."

The importance that weighed on these words seemed unknown to you, but clear to Dick; by the time you part his face is steaming. He utters a soft,"I missed you too, Y/N."

Coughing, Dick's fingers slip off your shoulders and rest uncomfortably at his sides. You take note of how one of his hands is held behind his back, but don't comment. Instead, you smiled brightly and looked the rest of him over,"We missed you here at the circus. Pops keeps tellin' me to try and get you to rejoin." You chuckled a little sadly, knowing that could never be a reality.

Dick flashed an apologetic smile and looked anywhere but your face,"Yeah... Every time we talk he's always asking me. But you know I can't."

You gave a nod, and dismissed the subject as soon as you remembered. Taking Dick's hands, you lit up,"Anyway, I called you here for a reason tonight. I wanted you to hear it from me before you heard it from anyone else, but..." You trailed your gaze away from his, missing the way he holds your hands a little tighter.

"I, um..." You cleared your throat and steadied your gaze. The way Dick is listening, staring back and nodding encouragingly, makes it so much easier to speak. That's always how it's been with him, and you mentally thank his mother and father for creating such an amazing man. Before you can hold back, you blurted,"I'm—I'm pregnant."

Dick's heart drops. But his smile raises, perfectly faux and perfectly crafted in the way he had been taught. He throws in a gasp and an even tighter hug then before,"Birdie, I'm so happy for you!" He bursts, even if the exact opposite feeling is churning regretfully in his stomach.

Dick had known about your relationship with the show's lion tamer whom everyone called "Leo"even if his name was Leonard. He didn't that—or at least he hoped—that it wasn't as serious as this. But it's not anger or even sadness filling him like rain floods a city, but regret. Why couldn't he just tell you? Why was the one thing that Dick couldn't face, of all things, you? He was brave. Brave was almost literally in his job description, so why couldn't he just show some courage and bravely tell you everything? Pff. Like that was ever an option.

You didn't love Dick Grayson. You never will in the way that he does. Dick doesn't stay awake all night guarding your apartment when your life was threatened just because you're friends; Dick didn't go out of his way to get someone to check that your net was secure every night for no reason; Dick didn't get you the rose clutched behind his back and breaking between his fingers because you were childhood companions... because he was in love with you. And it was horribly, painfully, terribly obvious in the way that everyone knew. One day, Dick's sure that you'll finally realize it too.

Before you can tell him whatever details you know, Haly pokes his head into the tent and juts his thumb behind him,"Dicky, if you wanna get a good seat you should probably get out there now." Haly suggested. Before he left, he raised his eyebrows at Dick once and then swiftly escaped,"Put on a good show tonight, birdy. It's gonna be your last before you're takin' a maternity leave."

"I'll call you." You gently and giddily squeeze Dick's biceps."Now he's right! Go on out there and clap harder than you've ever clapped before! Tonight's performance is dedicated to you." You laughed.

Dick nods, smile loosening and cracking,"I will, pretty bird. Be safe out there."

"I could tell you the same thing." You grinned, before releasing him and attending to the call of your name. Dick watches you retreat to assist the ringmaster, your costume glittering under the light. He takes a broken but clearing breath and tells himself, even if he knows it will do nothing to douse his feelings, that your heart belongs to someone else.

When Dick Grayson leaves that tent, he leaves thousands of memories and a crushed rose in his wake.