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The grand reception hall still vibrated with the heavy bass of modern synthesizers—a sharp, electric rhythm woven through traditional string melodies. The newlyweds had agonized over every square inch of the venue, ensuring their respective cultures didn't just coexist, but collided beautifully. The air was a thick, sensory tapestry: the sharp, exotic warmth of sandalwood, the sweet cling of jasmine, and the savory, spiced aroma of a feast that had successfully bridged two different worlds.
It had been Dick Grayson’s idea to come. He knew the bride, and his invitation had carried the casual, polite permission to bring a plus-one. Of course, it had fallen to Kory. Despite the winding, complicated roads they had traveled, she was always his first choice. He’d mentally gone down the list of friends, but the inventory always stopped at her. When he asked, Kory’s emerald eyes had lit up, accepting without a second thought. She was entirely enchanted by the prospect of a human wedding, especially one that blended disparate cultures so seamlessly.
The venue was breathtaking—sprawling gardens overflowing with midnight blooms, twinkling fairy lights, and a massive, glass-like pool. The couple had handpicked this hotel, selecting a reception hall so cavernous it could easily shelter a small village.
Away from the main roar of the crowd, beneath a heavy archway of dripping wisteria, Dick and Kory moved in slow, measured steps. They were illuminated only by the warm, amber flicker of dozens of floating oil lamps. The main dance floor was congested, but here, the music softened into a low hum. A few other couples drifted nearby, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the night. Dick and Kory danced flush against one another, falling into that effortless, instinctual rhythm shared only by people who have mapped each other's bodies across a lifetime.
Their relationship was no longer what it used to be. Long ago, they had scrubbed away the blurry lines and established exactly what they were: fiercely protective friends. Companions who would implicitly show up for one another, bound by an unshakeable, shared history.
Dick’s hand rested firmly on the small of Kory’s back. Through the fabric of her dress, he could feel the radiating, almost sun-like warmth that inherently emanated from her Tamaranian biology. Her long, crimson hair was pinned half-up, adorned with delicate gold flakes—a personal gift from the bride that caught the lamplight like trapped dying stars. She looked regal, wearing a sleek, violet gown that clung to her curves. Dick matched her perfectly, wearing a tailored purple tie against his dark suit. Even from Themyscira, Donna somehow managed to involve herself in fashion decisions.
"The groom really showed off during the entrance dance," Dick murmured, a tired smile tugging at his mouth. His thumb shifted slightly against her side as they moved. "Though I'll admit there was a moment when I thought he had two left feet." He paused. "Especially during the sword part." Another beat. "I was pretty sure they were about to need Nightwing."
Kory laughed softly. The sound still did strange things to his chest. She leaned back just enough to look at him properly. For a moment, neither spoke. Dick's blue eyes reflected the golden light dancing around them. Kory's green eyes seemed to catch that same glow, bright as emeralds beneath the floating lanterns.
"It was a beautiful ceremony, Dick." Her voice softened. As they continued swaying, she glanced around the room. "The dances. What they represented to her family. The promises they made to one another." A small smile touched her lips. "You know... this is actually my first time seeing traditions like these up close."
Dick lifted an eyebrow. "Seriously?" He instinctively closed the small distance she'd created, drawing her comfortably back into step with him. "Well, it was incredible." His expression turned thoughtful for all of two seconds. "Though honestly, I think the food might still be winning."
"Really?" he asked, closing the distance between them to pull her back against his body. "But yeah, it was good… To be honest, I think the food has been great—the dancing and the culture too—but I’d definitely choose the food." He paused. "That's the best part about this… getting to know other cultures."
Kory let out a laugh. "Don't tell me… You only invited me for the food and a good time. I thought we came for the celebration of love and all that." They continued dancing slowly, in their own unique way.
"The real answer." He laughed. The familiar scent of jasmine and lavender drifted from her as they moved together. Kory looked almost unreal beneath the lantern light. Like something out of a story. Which, Dick supposed, wasn't entirely wrong. She was a princess. Always had been. "Besides," he added, voice growing quieter, "I know you love weddings on this planet." His smile softened. "It just makes me think about the past sometimes."
The words slipped out before he could stop them. Immediately, he saw the change. Not hurt. Not pain. Just surprise. And Dick felt his stomach sink. "Damn." He winced. "Kory, I—" He shook his head. "Sorry. Seriously. I didn't mean—"
The shared weight of their history settled between them. But it wasn't heavy. Not anymore. It felt more like an old blanket pulled from storage. Worn. Familiar. A little bittersweet. Two people who had once loved each other with the force of a meteor strike now stood together beneath wedding lights while strangers celebrated forever. Around them, couples continued dancing. The room glowed with romance. With possibility. With memories.
Kory's smile returned, small but genuine. "Our wedding that never happened?" she asked. Tamaranian honesty had never abandoned her, especially when conversations became uncomfortable. "Or the version of life where things turned out differently?"
Dick opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
Kory's smile widened slightly. "My expression was surprise, nothing more." Her fingers squeezed his shoulder. "You don't have to apologize." A pause. "We're adults now, Dick." The words carried no accusation. Only truth. "We can talk about those things."
Dick nodded slowly. Because she was right. At some point, both of them had realized how young they'd been. Not foolish. Just young. And despite everything, he remembered how excited he'd been. The future had seemed simple then. A life together. A family. A home. At twenty, those dreams felt inevitable. At thirty-five, they felt more complicated.
"Both, I guess." His gaze dropped briefly before returning to hers. "If we'd actually gone through with it..." He shrugged. "I think it could've been good." The admission surprised even him. "Maybe we'd be somewhere completely different now." A small smile tugged at his lips. "And honestly? We probably should've planned things better."
Kory laughed. "Probably."
"We would've needed to honor your traditions." His eyes drifted toward the newlyweds. "A white dress is nice and all, but..." His smile turned warmer. "It would've been fun seeing you celebrate it your way."
Neither of them said what they were thinking. Neither needed to. Throughout the ceremony, they'd both been captivated by the way two cultures had blended together. The clothing. The music. The rituals. The way each family had made space for the other's history. Earlier, when the bride had entered wearing traditional clothing from her homeland, Dick had found himself imagining something he hadn't thought about in years. A younger version of himself. A younger Kory. Friends crowd into rows of seats. Titans are laughing too loudly. Bruce is pretending not to be emotional. A ceremony built from both their worlds.
For a brief moment, the image had felt startlingly real. Kory tilted her head thoughtfully. Her hand smoothed over the lapel of his jacket. "You know," she said, "I don't think we ever really talked about weddings on Tamaran." The music shifted. A slow jazz melody replaced the previous song, darker and more intimate. Around them, couples drew closer. The newlyweds had disappeared somewhere into the crowd. "On Tamaran," Kory continued, "weddings were—are—alliances of fire and promises carried into eternity." Her eyes grew distant with memory. "There are ceremonies. Sacred recitations. Flames everywhere." A small laugh escaped her. "So many flames."
Dick snorted. "That tracks."
"It is less a wedding and more a declaration that two souls belong to one another forever." She paused. Then looked around the room. "But this is different." Something softened in her voice. "The way people blend traditions here. The way they make room for each other's histories. The vows." A smile returned. "The promises." She licked her lips thoughtfully. Dick's hands remained steady against her back, drifting naturally to her waist as the music slowed. "It's beautiful." Her gaze found his again. "And I like the vows." A spark of amusement lit her eyes. "Some of them are very funny."
"Well, vows always survive, don't they?" Dick said with a crooked smile. The corner of his mouth lifted as he guided her through another slow turn. "The promises, the rituals, all of it." His gaze drifted briefly across the room, watching relatives laugh together, strangers becoming family for a night. "I think it'd be fascinating to see weddings on other planets."
Kory nodded. "Yes. I think so too." Her voice carried that familiar warmth that always seemed to settle somewhere beneath his ribs. "I've attended ceremonies on other worlds. Trust me, the vows are always interesting in their own way."
Dick chuckled softly. That sounded exactly like something Kory would notice. Not the decorations. Not the politics. Not even the spectacle.
The promises. Always the promises.
For a while, neither spoke.
The music swelled around them. A trumpet murmured somewhere beneath the jazz melody while the floating lanterns cast shifting gold across the dance floor. Couples moved around them in slow circles, wrapped in their own conversations, their own histories. And somehow the world seemed to narrow. Just a little. Just enough. Dick found himself watching her again. The curve of her smile. The way the lantern light caught the gold woven into her hair. The familiar feel of her beneath his hands. There had been years between them. Relationships. Breakups. Different lives. Different futures. And yet there were moments like this when it felt effortless. Like slipping into a favorite song he hadn't heard in years but still knew by heart.
Kory understood him in ways very few people ever had. Sometimes without words. Sometimes with nothing more than a glance. She had stood beside him through victories, disasters, deaths, impossible missions, and all the strange years in between. Dick wasn't always good at talking about things. Especially the things that mattered. But somehow Kory had always managed to hear what he never said.
And lately—lately there had been moments. Small moments. The kind neither of them acknowledged. Moments that felt suspiciously like standing at the edge of something. Neither is moving forward nor stepping away. Then Kory spoke. And the words caught him completely off guard.
"You know," she said softly, "I think it would've been fun to see a wedding that combined our cultures."
Dick blinked.
Kory's smile widened slightly. "I think the food from Tamaran might have terrified some people." A laugh escaped her. "But it would've been interesting." Her eyes grew distant for a moment. "It would've been nice to share food from my world."
Dick barked out a laugh. "Oh, absolutely." He shook his head. "Nothing says romance quite like watching Gotham's elite try to survive Tamaranian cuisine."
That earned another laugh from her. The sound made his chest ache in the most pleasant way imaginable.
"Can you imagine Alfred's face?"
"Oh, I can."
"He would've resigned."
"He would've written a strongly worded letter first."
Kory laughed harder. Dick found himself smiling simply because she was. Maybe he always would.
"Still," he continued, voice softening, "we probably would've done some things differently."
Kory's eyebrow lifted immediately. Curious. Interested. The way it always did when she genuinely wanted to know what he was thinking. "What things?" A playful glint entered her eyes. "Oh, I think we're exactly at the right point in the evening for this conversation."
Dick groaned. "Are we?"
"Yes."
"That feels dangerous."
"It probably is."
He laughed quietly. "Do you actually want to hear this?" Kory nodded. Slowly. Without hesitation. And for reasons Dick didn't want to examine too closely, that small gesture made his pulse stumble. Because she still listened. She always listened. "I had ideas."
"Of course you did."
"I always have ideas."
"Questionable ones."
"Rude." Kory smiled.
Dick shook his head. "The outfits, for starters." His eyes drifted over her dress before returning to her face. "We should've mixed things together." A thoughtful expression crossed his features. "Something traditional from Earth. Something traditional from Tamaran." He grinned. "Tell me I wouldn't have looked incredible."
Kory continued swaying with him. The music wrapped around them like warm water. The rest of the room felt strangely distant now. A blur of movement and light. "I think it would've been interesting."
Dick narrowed his eyes. "Interesting?"
"I can picture it."
"That's not the same thing."
"A combination of Earth and Tamaranian ceremonial clothing." She tilted her head. "It would've been interesting."
"That's twice."
Kory's smile widened.
Dick pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. "I was devastatingly handsome a few years ago."
"A few years ago?"
"Ouch."
"Past tense?"
"Kory."
Her laughter rang between them. Dick couldn't help laughing, too. God, he'd missed this. Not her. Not exactly. Because she had never really left. But this. The ease. The simplicity. The feeling that the rest of the universe could disappear for five minutes and neither of them would notice.
"I think," Dick said after a moment, "we should've had a beach wedding."
Kory blinked. "A beach wedding?"
"Yeah." His smile softened. "Hidden away somewhere." He could almost picture it. The waves. The salt air. The Titans scattered across the sand, causing absolute chaos. No expectations. No pressure. Just people they loved. Just them. "The ocean. The sound of the water." His thumb unconsciously traced a small circle against her waist. "No giant guest list. No politicians. No reporters." A pause. "Just something simple."
Kory studied him carefully. The expression in her eyes gentled. "That sounds very practical." A small smile tugged at her lips. "And very intimate."
Dick looked away for half a second. Just long enough to hide the fact that she wasn't wrong. "Yeah." His voice came out quieter than intended. "Maybe."
The music slowed again. Around them, couples drifted closer together. The lantern light flickered against Kory's skin.
Dick breathed out a sigh. "Traditions can carry a lot of pressure." His voice held more weight now. More honesty. He slowed their dancing but never loosened his hold on her. His free hand lifted instinctively, brushing a loose strand of crimson hair away from her face. The silk-soft texture slid across his fingertips. A gesture so familiar it happened before he thought about it. "I saw that with Bruce and Selina." His expression softened. "Bruce spent months worrying about what he was supposed to say." A small shrug. "Then everything fell apart."
Kory nodded quietly. No jokes. No interruption. Just understanding.
Then something shifted. Dick felt it before he understood it. A subtle change in her expression. A vulnerability he rarely saw.
When Kory finally spoke, her voice was softer than before. Quieter. Almost thoughtful. "I think watching two people promise themselves to each other tonight made me realize something." Dick's attention sharpened immediately. Every instinct in him focuses on her. Kory looked down briefly before meeting his eyes again. And suddenly the noise of the reception seemed impossibly far away. "I think we used to do that all the time." Dick went still. The words landed harder than they should have. "We were young." A small smile touched her lips. "But you always made me feel loved." His breath caught. "You made me feel seen." The lantern light reflected in her eyes. "Like I was a star." A pause. "And you never needed an altar to do it."
The world seemed to stop. No music. No voices. No dancing. Just her. Just those words. Kory's smile turned fragile around the edges. Honest. The kind of honesty only she could deliver. "Am I wrong?" Kory's expression softened. Slowly, she lifted a hand and rested it against Dick's cheek. Her palm was warm. Not simply warm. Comforting. The kind of warmth that always made him think of sunlight after a difficult winter. Dick instinctively leaned into the touch before he could stop himself. The gesture was small. Almost imperceptible. But Kory noticed. She always noticed.
"Maybe it hurt," she said quietly. The lantern light danced across her features, turning her eyes to liquid emerald. "Painful memories never truly leave us." Her thumb brushed lightly against his skin. "But it was still beautiful." The words settled between them. Gentle. Certain. "The pain will always exist." A faint smile touched her lips. "But when I think about our youth..." She paused. The smile deepened. "I remember the good things first."
Dick swallowed. "Kory—"
"You gave me many happy memories." Her voice carried no regret. Only gratitude. "Despite everything." Another small pause. "I think, in some ways, you taught me how to believe."
For a moment, Dick simply stared at her. His chest tightened. Not painfully. Worse. Tenderly. Because Kory had always done this. Always found the truth hidden inside things he barely understood himself.
A laugh almost escaped him. Instead, a crooked smile appeared. Fragile around the edges. "That's not fair."
Kory blinked. "What isn't?"
"You're saying things like that." His voice came out rougher than intended. A little too honest. A little too vulnerable.
He looked away briefly before returning his gaze to hers. Because looking away from Kory had never been one of his strengths.
"No matter what happened..." The words came slowly. Carefully. "Our bond never really broke." His hand tightened slightly against her waist. "Look at us." A small smile appeared. "We're dancing at somebody else's wedding." He shook his head. "Talking about our past like two functional adults."
Kory laughed softly. The sound wrapped itself around him. "Two adults." She seemed oddly pleased by the phrase. "I've always liked that." Her eyes lingered on his. Longer than necessary. "I think what we have is beautiful."
Dick followed the slight movement of her gaze as she glanced around them. At the lanterns. At the crowded dance floor. At the lives they had shared. The missions. The battles. The years. The countless times they had chosen each other, even after the romance had ended. Because that was the thing nobody really understood. The relationship had changed. The connection was never made. No matter what shape it took. No matter what name they gave it. Through heartbreak. Through distance. Through entirely different lives.
They had remained. Like gravity. Like home.
"I think we're still each other's anchor." The words escaped before Dick could filter them. Soft. Almost lost beneath the music.
But Kory heard them. Of course she did.
For several seconds, she didn't answer. They simply continued swaying beneath the golden light. The jazz melody drifted through the room. A saxophone somewhere in the distance. The soft murmur of conversations. The faint clinking of glasses. Everything felt dreamlike. Far away.
Dick became painfully aware of her again. The scent of jasmine. The silk of her dress was beneath his fingertips. The familiar weight of her hand resting near his shoulder. And suddenly he found himself wondering things he had spent years teaching himself not to wonder.
Not because he regretted where they were. He didn't. He genuinely loved the life they'd built. The friendship. The trust. The certainty that she would always be part of his world.
But lately, lately, there were moments when she smiled at him a certain way. Moments when she touched his arm. Moments when they looked at each other for one second too long. And for the briefest instant, he could almost see the outline of a road neither of them had taken. The future that existed somewhere in another universe. One where things had unfolded differently. One where they had been brave enough. Or foolish enough.
To stay.
Kory exhaled softly. Then, finally, answered. "Always."
The word landed with startling force. Her gaze never left his. "Always." Something vulnerable flickered across her expression. Something that made Dick's heartbeat stumble. "I always want to be by your side."
The confession was simple. Honest. Entirely Kory. No games. No hesitation. No hiding. "Despite everything."
Dick forgot how to breathe. Just for a second.
The room seemed to disappear. The music. The lights. The wedding. Everything faded until there was only her. Only Kory. Standing impossibly close. Looking at him the same way she had looked at him a thousand times before. And somehow differently.
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It wrapped around them like a blanket. Warm. Familiar. Safe. For a moment, they simply stood beneath the golden glow of floating lanterns, suspended between memory and possibility. Dick knew better than to chase moments like this. Life had taught him that much. But God. Part of him wanted to. A reckless part. A younger part. The part that had once looked at Kory and seen his entire future.
His thumb brushed lightly against her waist. A barely noticeable movement. Then he smiled. Small. Tender. Almost shy.
"Hey."
Kory tilted her head. "Hm?"
Dick hesitated. For perhaps the first time all evening. Not because he didn't know what to say. Because he knew exactly what he wanted to say. And chose something safer. Something easier. Something that wouldn't change everything. "Would you like to go somewhere a little more private?"
Kory's smile appeared immediately. Bright. Warm. Effortless. The same smile that had always ruined his ability to think clearly. "I would." And just like that, the spell broke. Not shattered. Simply transformed.
They laughed. Neither is entirely sure why. Maybe because the conversation had become too emotional. Maybe because they were relieved. Maybe because being together had always felt easy. Hand in hand, they slipped away from the reception hall. Away from the crowded dance floor. Away from the expectations. There were no promises to try again. No declarations. No attempts to rewrite the past. Only the quiet understanding that some people leave marks on your soul so deep that time never truly erases them. No matter where life takes you afterward.
Behind them, the celebration continued. Music spilled from the ballroom. Voices echoed through the corridors. Then, somewhere outside, fireworks exploded across the night sky. Brilliant bursts of gold and silver. The newlyweds' grand finale.
Neither Dick nor Kory stopped to watch. Instead, they kept moving. Laughing. Running through the hallways. Trading half-finished jokes and ridiculous comments.
For a few precious moments, they weren't Titans. They weren't heroes. They weren't adults carrying years of complicated history. They were simply Dick and Kory again. Two former teenagers sprinting toward nowhere in particular.
The sound of their laughter echoed down the corridor. Tomorrow would come. Life would continue. Questions would remain unanswered. Neither of them knew what happened next.
For once, neither of them cared. Tonight was enough.