author: nw's chick
disclaimer: i don't own `em and no one gives me money. it's all about the pleasure... ; )
note: a sequel/mirror/whatever for incidentals, cuz someone commented that they wanted to see bruce's pov. i don't think i have a bruce muse, but i have been neglecting the poor dear. he doesn't get what he wants in this one, but at least he gets center stage.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
The custom Nightwing figure stood rigid and tall amidst the fallen custom figures of his enemies. The Batman figure was still trussed up. "And now Gotham is safe once more!" The Nightwing figure declared. Then, he set about freeing Batman from his bonds.
"It's a good thing you showed up when you did, Nightwing. If you hadn't, the Joker and Two-Face and the Riddler and Killer Croc would have done unspeakable things to me."
"Right. And it's my job to do unspeakable things to you!"
The two figures laughed heartily.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Turning, I see the *actual* figure of Nightwing, sans mask, standing over me and my tiny collection of custom and store bought figures. It's a sign of my age and his ever-increasing skill that I hadn't heard him until he spoke. Someday soon, he's going to surpass me. The thought makes me feel old. But not as old as I feel embarrassed.
"Dick! I was, er, practicing, um, techniques, for, uh, ..."
"Bondage? Where did you get these, anyway? I've never seen any Nightwing figures in a store before."
"I made it. For Angel. Um, well, I made a second one for Angel..."
He just laughs, and pulls up a chair. "So, I didn't interrupt before you got the `the good part', did I?" And he waggles his eyebrows suggestively. I have to laugh, because he's the only person I can be so *natural* with, even if our relationship *is*completely fucked up.
"You mean the part where the Batman figure takes the Nightwing figure out for ice cream? Yeah, you did." Now he's laughing.
He has a wonderful laugh. I've always loved his laugh. He was living here for almost ten months before I first heard it, but I was addicted from that first time.
"So, what brings you to my neck of the cave?"
He's still smiling when he hands me the CD. "Everything I could download off of Arnot's hard drive when I broke in there last week. Figured you would want to peruse, you know, light summer reading."
I take it, and I'm actually smiling. "Thanks."
"And..." He runs his hands over his legs as he takes a deep breath. I try not to watch. He has all these maddening nervous ticks that draw attention to his body. Infuriating. And he's had them since he was very young. "I have something to tell you."
I just adjust myself to look at him, patient and waiting.
"Tim and I are getting married."
His eyes watch me pensively. It's impossible not to love Dick, he cares too much about everyone not to love him back. He's telling me about a joyous event in his life, and he's too concerned about me to show even the slightest bit of happiness.
And I know he's happy. That's the part that really chafes.
"Wonderful. When?"
"Next month."
"Congratulations. Is there anything I can do..."
In the next second, he's shifted himself down to the floor and into my arms. He kisses me gently and puts his head on my shoulder. He whispers, "You *know* I never wanted to do anything to hurt you, don't you?"
I think I mumbled something.
"And I love you Bruce." God, it kills me each and every time he says it. I just wish...
"I know. Thanks. And, Dick, c'mon. I'm happy for you. And Tim. I know you two will be happy together. You guys are so good for each other."
He pulls away, *before* I get up my courage to fling him over my shoulder, carry him upstairs, drop him on the bed, and beg him to give me another chance. "Yeah. Oh, but I don't know, sometimes I wonder..." He's blushing, and I can tell it isn't from embarrassment.
"What?"
"I wonder... what do I give him? It's not like, you know, he's Robin and I have things to teach him. He's at the clinic, and the things he goes through in a night... there isn't anything I can *do* to help him, and at the end of the day, I just don't know..."
It crushes me, to see his insecurity. He's always been my strength, my hope. He came to me in my darkness and brought a smile to my face. "You'd be surprised at the things you can do for someone, without even trying. At the end of the day, sometimes, all a body needs is a good foot rub." I can't believe I'm giving him relationship advice. The world must be coming to an end.
He leans back, completely unaware of the picture he presents, just a reach away. "I can do foot rubs." I bet.
We go through Arnot's files. We have hot chocolate and cookies, and he tells Alfred the good news. He looks over the specs for the new bike for Terry. And finally, at 4:30am, he leaves.
Usually, at the end of a night, I go to my study for some light reading, like Tolstoy or Proust, or, if I'm in a light hearted mood, Joyce. Tonight, I go to my father's study.
Facing Gotham, with floor to ceiling windows that give a breathtaking view of the skyline, this is the room that my dad used to write his reports in, I used to sit on the floor and play with my action figures, and my mom used to sit on the sofa and read.
I hardly ever come in here.
I sit in the great overstuffed soft brown leather wing chair. Gotham looks gorgeous from this distance, still and retro looking, compared to, say, Metropolis. I love Gotham. And I hate watching her from here. This isn't real. She isn't this still portrait, this peaceful throwback. She's a fanged beast.
I remember.
The first time I realized I was attracted to Dick. He was far, far too young. I spent many an hour with my head in Leslie's lap, *crying*, just trying to figure out what the *fuck* was wrong with me. Why was I feeling these things, when I didn't want to and was convinced I shouldn't? It took a long, long time for me to realize that there was nothing wrong except the timing. And that was so far off...
The morning Dick came home after losing his virginity. He had spent the night with the Titans, which wasn't so unusual. But he came home the next morning looking... God, he could have had it tattooed to his forehead and it wouldn't have been more obvious. He always was kind of transparent.
The only night he and I... If someone had told me at Jason's funeral, `Bruce, my good man, tonight is your one and only night to have sex with Dick. Make it a good one, buddy!' I might have been prepared. Might have been. But I wasn't. I wasn't prepared for Jason to die, and I couldn't deal with that, and it was the first time I had seen Dick inside Wayne Manor since he had left, and I still couldn't deal with his leaving, and nothing was right, and then all of a sudden... Grief can become lust, pain can become need, and love can become violence. It shouldn't, but it did. And that was my only chance...
And then Tim. When he told me he wasn't going to be Robin anymore, he was going to medical school, and he was leaving, I was prepared. I knew him, knew his motivation. Knew he wasn't committed to spend his life like this.
Tim Drake is a hero. He works twelve hours a day, at least, seven days a week, seeing hundreds of people who otherwise wouldn't be able to afford medical care. He helps people who have nowhere else to turn, runaways and drug addicts who have lost all hope and welfare mothers who have no idea how else to live. A real, red blooded, all-American hero.
If I had Dick's arms and legs to wrap around me at the end of the day, I could be a hero too.
Well.
Anyway.
The idea of Dick and Tim together still... It does *something* to me. I've never thought of either of them as my sons, I barely remember my father so I don't really know what the father son thing is, anyway. They just...
God, they are so fucking perfect for each other it makes me ill.
When I first realized Tim loved Dick. Of course, Tim always loved Dick. That's how he became Robin. And I should be grateful, in more ways than one, because it was after Jason had died and after Dick and I had... that one night, and I was slipping down and down... until Tim dragged Dick back into my life and Tim became Robin. I accepted him because I always knew Tim wanted to be Robin, and not Batman, and I thought maybe that would be what would make the difference. And if it hadn't been for Tim, his devoted admiration for Dick, and his fannish obsession with Batman and Robin, Dick and I would probably never have become the friends we are today.
We were at the beach, `training' Tim, a thin excuse to get Dick out of Bludhaven and maybe *talk* to him. The whole time, Tim was bouncing around, excited about every little thing, and it was "Dick! did you see -' this and `Dick! watch me while -' that. The poor boy, if it was anyone but Dick Grayson, those puppy-dog eyes and adoring worship would have been totally transparent. But, I guess if you look like Dick and have Dick's personality, it's not totally surprising that you come to expect that people will fall at your feet worshiping you. It must be as natural to him as walking and talking at the same time is to normal guys.
I actually felt sorry for Tim, then, thinking he was setting himself up for a world of hurt.
When Dick and Garth first started going out. Dick was working with Batman and Robin that night. Between bouts of breaking up the gang fighting, Dick was telling us all about how he and Garth were getting together, how great things were. He was making salacious references with funky expressions. He was smiling the whole night. When we got back to the cave, Tim just sat on the chair in the locker room, staring straight ahead. I put my hand on his shoulder, and tried to make some comforting noise. He looked up, and tried to smile, and said something like, great for Dick.
Sad thing is, he really meant it, it was just the first time Dick had been serious about someone while he was around. First time he realized it wasn't going to be him.
When Dick and Garth broke up. Me, I was a little happy. Just a little, mind you, but I was, I admit it. Tim, he was furious. How could anyone hurt Dick like that? Garth should crawl into the deepest crevice in the ocean and never show his fishy face again, the cad. Poor Dick, he loved so deeply and got nothing in return.
True love. Sickening.
When Babs was expecting. Tim spent so much time at Barbara's, she made him give up the secret id. He was the one who helped the most after the birth, helping Dick with the `haven and Babs with the babysitting. He spent... spends... so much time with Angel, `Timmy' was her first word.
Damn him.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
The ceremony was lovely, I guess that's the word for it. Quiet and tasteful, in a garden park in central Gotham, with close friends and family. Tim's father even showed up, although the ass hasn't been much a part of Tim's life since he started medical school. Which is, coincidentally, when Tim and Dick started going together. But now he gets to show up and act the part of the father. Whatever.
There was a really nice luncheon afterwards. Tim and Dick were both in amazingly well-tailored suits, and Angel was adorable in her dress. She was the flower girl.
There was polite banter. Congratulations. The works. There were Tim's doctor associates and Dick's various associates from police and the `haven.
It's always weird, sharing special moments like this in civvies.
Later that evening, the real party began, on the top floor of a Wayne Enterprises Building. It was a condo building, for new executives and visitors, the like. And naturally, it had great roof access.
Here, most of the JLA, Titans, and the former Young Justice, as well as all the people who really knew and loved Tim and Dick.
I spent most of the evening in the shadows.
For the evening party, Tim and Dick had wanted to be more... relaxed, themselves. So, Dick was wearing black leather pants and a black silk shirt, with a silver chain around his neck. Tim was wearing a nice pair of pants, possibly Armani, and a tight ribbed v-necked sweater, possibly silk. They couldn't keep their hands off of each other.
The dj was pumping the loud electronica sound that Tim loved so desperately. They moved together like one, and there were times that it was almost as if they were fucking, right there in front of everyone.
Well. According to the rumor around the Watchtower, it wouldn't be the first time.
Not that they didn't dance with others, too. Dick danced with everyone, everyone who asked. During the early part of the evening, he had swung Angel up onto his hip, and swayed and shimmied with her. Tim and Dick and Angel had danced. Then, he even got Babs to let him pick her up and carry her out, doing so seemingly without effort, though the strain on the muscles was evident as the silk clung to his shoulders.
He danced with Donna, and Diana, and with Helena, though she seemed kind of uncomfortable the whole evening. He danced with Wally, who was *really* uncomfortable, and with Garth. He danced with Garth like they were newly dating, holding him close enough to feel each other breathing.
And with Tim. They kissed, and groped, and rubbed, and did the bump and grind.
They were so fucking beautiful together it made me want to walk away and never look back.
It was getting late, and I had for some time been trying to figure a discrete but polite way to leave, when Dick started walking towards me. Just before, his head had been bent towards Tim's as they whispered to one another. I know them both so well, I can figure out their conversation without having heard a word.
`Bruce has been standing by himself all night.'
`What did you expect? For him to be busting a move, the life of the party?'
`
`I think so too.'
`You don't mind?'
`Do you think *he* will?'
`Mind what?'
`My poor naive beauty.' (Well, technically, I don't know what kind of pet names they have for each other, but that might be what he would call him.) `I know you will always love him. You should dance with him.'
They kiss, and then Dick heads towards me.
I want to panic.
He doesn't ask, just takes my hand and leads me out to the dance floor. He's been dancing all night, his shirt clinging with sweat, his pants glistening.
He held Garth like a beloved friend. When he dances with me, he holds me like a lover, his body pressed to mine, his head in the crook of my neck. My arms tighten and hold him close on instinct.
For just a second, I forget that he isn't mine, that he never was.
He sighs, and I want to weep. I can't help how tight my arms are, I'm not in control of them. He speaks, but I only half hear him.
"It means so much to me that you are here with us."
"Where else would I be?"
"Nowhere, I guess." He leans back just far enough so that I can see his smile, and then lowers it again. "That's what means so much."
"You know... I..."
"I do. And I do too. Which, I guess, doesn't mean too much right now." He half laughs.
"It means the world to me." I didn't think he had heard me, but he jerked up, looked up at me, a startled expression on his face.
"Bruce..." His hand comes up to my face, and then he kisses me, gently. Our lips don't open, really, but touch and we share our breath.
It literally takes all of my strength, including some strength I'm sure I don't have, not to drag him out to the balcony, prop him up against the wall, get down on my knees and beg and plead for him to give me a chance, just one, well, one more chance to make him happy. To please, please, let me try, I can try, I will, please, please, please...
The only reason, and I mean it, the ONLY reason I don't is because I know he would refuse me. I can bear, just barely, not having him. I can't bear being rejected.
Our dance ends, and he heads back to his love, and they embrace and laugh and joke and tease and mingle and dance and basically live their lives *together*. Others give me strange looks; it's possible that some of the Titans may know about us, I don't know. Some may hate me and wonder why Dick is still so affectionate and why Tim lets him be so. Some of *my* contemporaries may feel the same way.
I recede back to the shadows, needing to watch for a bit longer, despite the pain.
Garth walks up to me, not trying to be discrete. For a bit, he says nothing, just watches the happy couple like I do.
When he does speak, his voice is pitched low and even. "I was impressed by your testimony before the Senate committee on trade with Atlantis, Mr. Wayne. I feel that with this new economic alliance, relations between Atlantis and the surface will finally have a chance to be peaceful and beneficial for all sides."
He takes me by surprise, though he shouldn't, since he's a diplomat, and we amenably discuss politics and the environment for nearly half an hour. At which point, the newlyweds are preparing to go on their honeymoon, and the party is breaking up anyway.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
My bottom is almost touching the soft leather of my father's chair when I hear the soft footsteps of a tiny invader.
Turning, trying not to appear foreboding, I say, "Isn't is well past your bedtime young lady?"
Giggling, a dark haired nymph reveals herself. "Is the party over, Bruce?"
I grin, a little. Despite Babs' efforts to teach Angel to call me Gramps, she always calls me Bruce, and without any fear. "Yes, little Angel, and all the partygoers are in bed, which is where you should be." I try to be stern, but it's so hard when she's so cute.
She just sticks her chin out proudly, and declares, "I *told* mommy I didn't hafta go home, that I could stay up for the whole party, and I *did*!"
Smiling, I swing the yawning and swaying stubborn thing into my arms. "So you did. I will be sure to tell mommy tomorrow when she picks you up."
"Aw, Bruce, you don't hafta. *We* know, that's good enough, right?"
She *so* has me wrapped around her little finger.
"
"You didn't miss much, little Angel. Just your dad and Tim kissing a lot."
"I *like* seeing my dad and Timmy kiss. They love each other
"Did my dad dance with mommy again."
I love the way she calls Dick `my dad' all the time, like the `my' is part of his name. "umm, I don't think so sweetie. But your mommy doesn't like to dance much."
"That's cuz her legs don't work." I nearly drop her laughing. The truthful innocence of youth! "Did my dad dance with you?"
"Yeah. He did."
She snuggles in tighter as we approach her room, Dick's old room. "Did you kiss my dad?"
I'm blushing, and glad she's nearly asleep. "Wellll, your dad kissed me."
"That's cuz he loves you so much. And you love my dad too, right, Bruce?"
"That's right, my little Angel." I lay her down on the bed, but she doesn't let go right away, so I lean over her.
"People kiss the people they love."
"That's right." And I kiss her softly on the forehead.
"Mommy said my dad shouldn't kiss you like that and Timmy said it was only cuz you loved each other so much and mommy said my dad should only kiss Timmy like that but that's silly cuz my dad kisses lots and lots of people, and why should Timmy be the only one he kisses?"
I loosen her arms from around my neck, and smooth the thick, silky black hair falling on the side of her face. "Seems a little unfair, doesn't it?" Doesn't pay to lie to children.
She opens her stormy blue eyes, and looks straight through me. "What are you, Bruce?"
"I... don't understand the question, sweetie."
"Well, Grampa is mommy's dad, and Timmy is my dad's husband, now, and Alfred is kinda like my other Grandad, and Terry and Cass are like, I don't know, cousins or something, and JP is my fav babysitter, but what are you? How are we related?"
She asks such hard questions. I rub her hair between my fingers. "Well, we aren't really."
"No, of course we are, be serious. You aren't my dad's dad, really."
"No, not really."
"Well, are you like, his brother?"
I manage not to laugh out loud. "No, not like a brother."
"But you love each other?"
"Yup."
"And you've known each other forever?"
"I've known your dad since he was only a little older than you are now."
"So, what are you, then? What's my dad to you?"
I pause, suck in some air, and think. Or try to. "Well, I guess, let's see." And then, I actually start thinking. "He's my very best friend in the world. He knows me better than anyone else, and there are things that we share, a past, and history, that no one else does."
She looks at me with guileless sleepy eyes, and thinks. "Yeah, that makes sense. I don't know what mommy was talking about. You and my dad are perfectly normal. `Night, Bruce."
I kiss her again on the forehead, and step out, nearly knocking Alfred down.
"Shall I bring you your nightly tea, sir?"
Nothing can flap Alfred, not even me banging into him. "No. Actually, I'm going to head down to the cave, get a little work done. I'm feeling too... up to go to bed yet."
And I'm not grimacing, which is the same as smiling for me. Alfred, of course, notices.
"She does have that effect, doesn't she, sir?"
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{end}