cohero | (Reply)

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[Feeling the subtle shift in the air between them; the air in Dick's lungs refuses to release. His diaphragm stays where it is, keeping everything in check as the cape crusader does his best to dissemble exactly what moved between them. Ever ticking off a never-ending list of variables, Dick prepares himself with the utter stillness that happens right before a battle.

The same neurotransmitters declare themselves and release into the hero's body as it waits for an emotional precipice to tip, in the same way they do with a bloodletting. Strange how the body's defenses intermingle certain emotions, fight and flight all together. The fingers clasped behind Bruce's neck don't care what they had to wade through to reach the spot they are at, be it turtleneck, coat or even a scarf. Realize it or not, there's still an utter determination to keep the pair knit together, even as Dick offers Bruce a quiet way out.

Not that it was given verbally, only emotionally, even then it was completely stilted by the grasp and pull every force that Dick has wrought up to this point. Still waiting for the proverbial ball to drop, Dick doesn't breathe again until Bruce seemingly changes the course of conversation.

What does he want. It's a statement in his mind, a pressing burden in his heart. How it got there, Dick knows he'll dig out and look at later, but for now the only answer he can give is born in another kiss, and this one is far deeper than any he's offered before. This kiss is given with the tilt of his head, and a heavy press of lips that open to an exchange of tongues and emotions-- ones that Dick lets loose into the fervor, things he'd never be able to put into words. This. This is what he wants, or maybe he wants more. He wants Bruce, in every and any way he can possibly have him.

It's a terrible ache that only grows deeper when he pulls back slightly.]

You. This.... tomorrow be whatever the hell it wants to be.

[Whatever that means, be it truth or small fiction, Dick wants it all the same. ]