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[cohero]

Back to the beginning

[There's something to be said for having Bruce be closer to his age that makes it less intimidating at times, even if there's a ringing paradox to the entire thing. Cut from the same cloth, and made to be so near the same person and yet Dick's been through a life apart from the mansion for some time. Tangentially, there's also a different kind of emotion attached to this Bruce, than one he'd ever feel for any of the others, the ones who raised him.

It bounces back and forth, confusing him and yet now while he's feeling softer and more open due to the effects of far too much alcohol, maybe it's easier to slice through the hard shell Dick knows so well, and expose the network of guilt and grief that he's equally accustomed to beating dully inside. At least, that's what he expect inside one he imagines he knows well enough.

So, he waits, with the good alcohol out. A bottle of bourbon. He's already had two glasses and left Bruce one sitting on the coffee table right next to his in front of the leather couch, not next to the large wing-backed chair that would probably be the other man's choice. Sorry Bruce. ]

[batsymbol]

( he hasn't been at it as long as some other version of himself. ignoring the whys and the hows of it all to begin with — honestly just blame it on a flash or someone similar — he's here and it's been an adjustment of sorts, but. bruce always pushes through. even when some part of him deep down feels as if he can't. he does. every time. because he has to. not necessarily because he wants to.

but despite being the thirty-something reclusive prince of gotham who's only been at it as batman for a couple years now, he's still bruce at his very core. it's just the man, bruce wayne, doesn't always exist alongside the vigilante, the batman, that he's become now. a balancing act he's still trying to master — that alfred still fiercely hopes he won't drown himself in with his obsessive fixation on saving gotham. on making a difference. because no one else will.

he's a little more bruce than batman at the moment what with his being here, but. that's not to say he's about to be an open book or play the role of the playboy billionaire a much older version of himself tends to fall into when he needs to; he's not there yet. he's more raw and angry and still wears his scars beneath his suit with a heavy burden. but he's trying? or something.

regardless, he's there, dressed in black — what a surprise — and gives a few knocks on the door. part of him feels awkward about this. but another part of him feels like it's something he should do. oh, to be at war with yourself constantly and overthink every goddamn thing. the life of bruce wayne, no matter the version. )

[cohero]

[So many parts of that Dick inherited. There's been the anger, and guilt, the scars that leave his soul and most probably his heart a blackened lump inside his chest. It does a thing to lose one parents in a horrific way. How many times did Dick run away and seek his revenge on the man who ended his happiness. He wanted death for death. It wasn't until Bruce opened up the batcave to him, and honed him into a smaller version of himself, a tiny vigilante--who, before he could claim being a teen had been left alone in the woods to fight the night and fear itself. There was no place for fear when one took on Gotham.

In this strange manner and world, Dick had been Gotham's savior for longer than Bruce had, somehow, and yet he still respected him the same. There was knowledge in his heart that in his own way, it was the same person. Dick had been through death and life again through the help of a Lazarus pit, who was to say that time twists didn't exist. This was his partner, his friend on some strange level, both in and on a different part of their life journey though. It brought respect, and a bit more.

Trying, that was something that Dick understood, and knew on a very honest level. Maybe he had played the playboy a bit more than this Bruce had, but that was in his past, he hoped. Dick had also fucked up every single relationship he'd ever had, including most every one he had with his Titans. Until their very last mission (and by then it was only a few of the "kids" left behind). Somehow, he grew and redeemed himself. It may have left him alone as they all moved up and grew up the way they were supposed to, but Dick was satisfied with that. It was this Dick, that greeted Bruce with a lopsided smile.]

Hey, glad you came. Bourbon's on the table. Make yourself cozy. I'll set up a fire so it doesn't get too cold in here.

[The apartment wasn't large by Wayne manor standards, but Dick didn't like to showcase his wealth too much, unless he needed something, or really wanted something bad enough. That said, he didn't live uncomfortably. The furniture was nice, dark on more dark (of course), and there was a fireplace, a kitchen where he could cook. There was space for both a training room, and one for his 'work'. There was also a large bedroom, with a giant king sized bed. A huge bathtub and shower enhanced the bath, but really, those were the creature comforts he paid for. What more could a bachelor want than to be king of his own bedroom? Oh, maybe an impressive weapon's cache? That was obviously in the training room, and he had that too. Thank you Wayne Enterprises.]

[batsymbol]

( hopefully, dick knows how to navigate bruce's penchant for not being the most talkative choice for company in the sense of taking part in small talk. cases and things that require a detective's mind, he'll get into those, but. even then, he has the habit of mulling over things in silence, though he's a little more likely to bounce ideas and theories off someone else while doing so. usually alfred or gordon at this point.

it's why it should come as no surprise that when dick invites him in, he doesn't exactly say anything. no greeting, no comment on the place. he just makes his way in, hands shoved in the pockets of his long coat that, of course, is in the colour black. given the chill of the night air as of late, he's in a turtle neck yet still wears a scarf hanging loose around his neck.

he takes a moment to look around the place, blue eyes scanning and memorizing everything as per usual before he thinks to step further inside, slowly catching sight of the bourbon mentioned. even with being thirty, bruce still has a sort of way about him as he walks. not entirely with purpose as he does moving as batman. but something that's undeniably bruce. )

You're really just here by yourself?

( he finally asks after a stretch of silence from him, idly lifting some sort of decor piece up and looking it over before he sets it back down gently. )

[cohero]

[Maybe Dick's not the best at navigating sounds and grunts as he was in the past, but he's got alcohol on his side this time. It makes him more fruitful at the mouth for the pair of them than if he'd been straight sober like he was the last time they'd met at the manor.

Moving back to his place on the couch, Dick happily lets Bruce wander as he wishes. The little knick-knack that Bruce lifts happens to be something he picked up in New York right before it was almost taken over by the demon-lord Trigon. He snorts. ] That. That's a token from the big city .. not Gotham, but you know, Metropolis. It's a statue to the god Trigon from his now long gone followers. Thankfully. There will be no galaxy or earth demolition scheduled by him anytime soon. He and his son are long gone, and his daughter is happily attending a human high school.

[There's a pause as he takes another sip, and thinks of Rachel/Raven. She goes by the latter name now, but she's still Rachel in his mind, the girl who had no idea how to control her powers. How far she'd come. How far they'd all come. He was very close to a proud father in the way he spoke. It was quite eerie if ever Dick allowed himself to much think on it.]

...but yeah, yes, I mean, who else did you expect to be here. Think I was hiding a gremlin under the couch?

[batsymbol]

( gods looking to take over or destroy the earth are not anything he can claim to have much experience with [as of yet] but from the looks and sounds of it, he'll probably have to deal with it at some point. weird. that's what the thought of that is. riddler, joker, penguin, falcone... they're just kingpins and psychopaths with a vendetta against whoever and whatever. human at the end of the day. at least in the physical sense. things bruce— things batman can deal with despite the collateral damage that comes with them. all of this is... new.

a slow turn of his head, blue eyes land on dick there on the couch, hands there in his coat pockets again. )

You and Barbara not on speaking terms?

( he knows... some of it. the two of them, that is. )

[cohero]

[Still sitting with a waiting drink, Dick ticks back all the things he offered up for conversation and all the rather 'wondrous' tales he spun, and not even the gremlin under the couch could sway Bruce from his Beagle like nose for news and determination to nudge his way into Dick's personal life.

Honestly, Dick would have thought it clear by the simple fact that he was nestled back in a singular apartment alone and working mostly by himself with no thoughts to join any other forces working in Gotham, not Babs or the update to the police force that she brought about to make work of the city -- well, time was weird like that. The city would always need upkeep, no matter who it was helped by, and how bad it had gotten.

Tsking over his glass, Dick rolls his eyes.] Her and I haven't been back together since we split, truth be told. We managed a few nights, but.... we were never meant to be. I fucked that one up like the others, Bruce. I'm really great at that. She's a beaut., not mine. though.

[Sure, give him something to drink to. It's okay though. After Dick killed that other thief by partial accident, partial necessity, he and babs were done. It really had been the both of them. No love could breech that wall. After his sip of bourbon, he patted the seat next to him.]

Come sit. You don't have to pace. I mean, I only bite on days that end in y, and even then it's never too hard. Bruce. Really. Take your drink to the chair if it makes you feel better.

[batsymbol]

( bruce's own love life is... nothing to boast about. what love life? is more like it. with how fixated he's been on being vengeance the past couple years and how he spends his nights roaming the dark streets of gotham in a bat suit, looking for someone to take everything out on in the hopes that maybe they'll be the one who murdered his parents... it doesn't leave much room for anything or anyone else in his life, much to alfred's dismay. there's selina but... he doesn't know what that is. an attraction, sure. but she'd left for bludhaven and he'd refused to go with her due to his being spoken for with gotham. maybe it'll always be like that since he sure as hell can't turn back on who he is now.

the dark knight of gotham.

he lingers there for a moment longer, lost in thought as bruce typically is, before he heads over to take a seat next to dick, doing so slowly and somehow still a little tense even as he does. it's not that he doesn't trust dick. it's just... he's not used to this. being so casual and not fixated on something, but. again. he's trying. he knows he needs to be more. not just for gotham but for those around him. those within his inner circle, few as they are.

reaching for his glass, he swishes the liquid around in it a little, watching the way it sloshes against the sides of the glass before he lifts it there to his lips and, pausing, he stares ahead. contemplating. )

I know the feeling. ( he says then, taking a slow sip. ) Of messing things up.

[cohero]

[This time it's Dick that watches Bruce. It's one of the more difficult times to reconcile the two men he knows. The wealth of wisdom and experience really isn't there. The feeling of having just more on so many accounts haunts the bird behind the bat whose shadow looms so big over Gotham. In Dick's life, his mentor and the only father-figure he's ever had took out his every shred of anger on The Joker and broke every rule he ever made when he finally killed that laughing figure. The one that took so much from him, and then in a fit of despair, that same mentor tried to take his own life.

What would Bruce say if he could see into Dick's head, his life, his wild experiences. They were enough. Somehow through it all, Dick grew. He grew to be the man that his mentor had always pushed him to be. There was far less vengeance floating around after the person who killed Dick's parents finally did die, but it was his mentor that taught him not to harbor that kind of vitriol in his heart, that it would eat Dick alive.

How can Dick of all people communicate that simple fact to Bruce now. He can see that same fire, that same brutal force in the subtle dip and set of his shoulders, and he knows where it comes from-- Dick's been there, been through it all. He finds himself lost in thought when Bruce returns from his own reverie.

In fact, It all but startles him to see Bruce move toward him to sit.

Pushing back against the cushion, Dick dumps back the rest of the drink with a little less care than the first one and pours himself another.]

Yes, well, messing things up is something I'm well versed in and have been wildly successful at. I'm attempting this new thing now. I'm trying to start new, I'm trying to be open ... I'm not great at it yet, but I'm working toward a goal. I want to really talk to people and not shut them out, not only talk, but listen as well. Then maybe the next person I find myself in love with won't run screaming. Then again, who knows.

[There's a soft lift to his shoulders, where fabric touches fabric and they brush up against Bruce's. Dick notices the motion merely because it's rare that they actually touch. Being this close is different for him-- not with people, but with Bruce. It's been a moment, and in recognizing that, he allows himself the opportunity to really look, to taken in the other male's countenance, finding things Dick had never noticed before and wondering silently if he should speak of them.]

[batsymbol]

( part of the reason why he’d hesitated to come — why he still wonders if he should be here is the fact that he’s not the version of the man he’s known for a number of years throughout his life. for him, he hasn’t even met a young dick grayson — hasn’t felt the sympathy for a freshly orphaned boy losing his parents right before him and knowing how that feels in the moment and wanting to help. wanting to be there for him because he gets it, unfortunately. maybe this would be a little easier if he already had, knowing how to be around him. or maybe it wouldn’t matter at all, given the fact that they’re relatively close in age like this. maybe it would be even more strange for him if he had a young dick grayson in his care back in his gotham, only to be with an adult version of him now. who’s to say? as it stands, he knows this is more strange for dick than it is him. because of course it would be.

licking over his lips, he stares down to his drink again, having nursed so much of this when being shaken from bed from yet another nightmare of his parents death. sleep is nothing he finds peace in and he only really lets his head hit the pillows when he absolutely needs to. or when alfred reminds him to actually go and get some rest.

another swig, he finishes it and holds the glass there between his fingers, staring to the way the bit of light catches on the glass and he looks over to dick then with those blue eyes that, regardless of version, are so very bruce. )

Sounds like a New Year’s resolution to make.

( not one he himself would ever make. but then again, a lot of bruce’s ways of communicating are mostly done through his actions and the expressions he makes. or doesn’t, in some cases. )

[cohero]

[Is it strange that the only reason Dick actually invites Bruce over is for the very same reason that Bruce might hesitate to come. He would never bring his mentor into his home. It would be odd and feel far too much like he was exposing some private, inner part of himself. This feels vastly different, for as much as there is similar, there is difference.

Dick would never in any million of a human's years settle on a couch with his mentor, and yet here he finds himself observant of Bruce, tracing scars with his eyes and noting the weighted lines where slumber never reaches below. The hollow pallor should be off-putting and yet it makes for such a striking contrast to the eyes that reach further into the caped crusader than he was ready for at the moment. Icy blue, and brilliant at the same time. There's so much written beyond them. Dick only knows it in part, but is deeply curious in the same way that Bruce tends to be.

A hand reaches out, and then drops when Dick realizes his motion. Instead he coughs, and turns to open the decanter and pour out another round of drinks for them both. It's easier to drink to the new year with a beverage in hand. ]

I guess that's something.

[Fumbling about his mind for a distant thought, or one closer by, Dick does everything he can to navigate away from those eyes. The alcohol dips and curls along the crystal of his glass. Maybe Dick didn't always spend his money, but he kept a few things from growing up. There was always good liquor to be found, and very nice glasses for it to be had in. ]

So tell me Bruce, what is your New Year's resolution. Is there anything new I should know about?

[batsymbol]

( quiet, he watches the amber liquid slowly fill the crystal in his hand and he gives a soft hum of thanks. again, the whole not so much communicating with words thing. typical bruce, no matter the age. no matter the version.

the question doesn't necessarily catch him off guard but it does pull a huff from him — a tiny sliver of amusement, almost, as he bring his glass back up to his lips. )

Am I not enough of an open book already?

( it's said dryly because he damn well knows he's not. the amount of things he keeps to himself — keeps locked away in his thoughts to torture himself with in private is endless at times. sometimes, the only real way for him to get them out of his head for some semblance of peace and quiet is writing them down in his journals. though it doesn't always work and sometimes he fixates over seeing them right there in front of him, but. bruce and healthy coping mechanisms are not exactly anything that go hand-in-hand.

slowly, he takes a swig of his drink and looks down to his glass. he's hunched over a little, legs apart, drinks dangling there between his legs and he looks over to dick for a moment. )

[cohero]

[A small bubble of a laugh slips from between pensive lips, which turns into more. Dick snorts, and then laughs outright at Bruce, because they both know how likely he is to share much of anything beyond the mission with the class, even if that class is made of one singular sensation like Dick Grayson. There's another chuckle that comes with being so light-headed as Dick realizes that he just thought of himself as a singular sensation. Isn't there a song... and that's where he cuts off that thought process with another laugh.

Shaking his head, Dick's brain flips back to Bruce. Dick gazes at the long, slender fingers that encircle the rim of the glass, deepening his breath so that the mirth dies down. When he finally does turn his gaze upward at Bruce, he finds those eyes again. They catch the edge of his breath, slide along his frame and twist his stomach into a knot, the kind he's unfamiliar with in this sort of territory. ]

Right, you're a regular old Wikipedia full of information. Let me just haul out my computer here and plug it in. I'm sure it'll come up with something.

[Dick tried to take his mind off Bruce by thinking about open books. Books implied encyclopedias, but they were far beyond the day and age for those. Those were ancient things that sat lonely and strategically placed on a bookshelf that might have been covered in dust if Alfred wasn't so damn good at his job at the manor library.

It didn't really work. Maybe there was a thought, and maybe it happened unconsciously, Dick reaches a hand over and pats Bruce's knee, sliding it up his leg a little before pulling away. A sigh follows along with the quick wetting of his lips and then another deep sip of his drink. There were always safer topics.]

How's alfred then. I know he's probably the same as always, but I like to hear about him if you'll share. There's times I miss his constant nagging.

[batsymbol]

( there’s a glance to the hand that touches his knee, fleeting. it’s only after that he takes to staring at his drink he holds, another slow swish of it around with a tilt of his wrist. the topic of alfred has him hum rather thoughtfully. for as difficult as it can be for bruce to open up about himself, talking about alfred is a little easier.

a little. )

Fine. ( a beat. ) He’s fine.

( not wanting to come off as dismissive about the man. he knows he can sometimes come off that way when he speaks, even when he doesn’t mean to. a lot of the time he doesn’t mean to.

slowly, he takes another sip of his drink, tasting the remnants on his lips after. )

Think he’s given up on trying to convince me to call it quits. ( batman, that is. the thought gets bruce to smile a little fondly, glass held between the tips of his fingers as he holds it there before him. ) But I’m sure he’ll still give it another try sometimes.

[cohero]

[They share that same fondness, that same smile when thinking about Alfred. Dick grew up with the man, and he was the closest Dick had to a true friend and companion half the time. He schooled him, taught him how to cut berries to put on his waffles and sewed up his wounds after battle. He'd long ago given up on getting his mentor to put an end to his night job. It was there to stay, and even with Dick's youth, there was only a few months of disdain before Alfred gave in to what he knew as the inevitable.

Turning his own soft eyes to Bruce, Dick tips his head.] He gives in, eventually, you know... but he'll never give up on trying to get us to take care of ourselves. He still calls me and reminds me to do so, especially lately since he knows I've been alone. The man is a wonder. You did good with him. You do good in general, Bruce. You really do.

[There, it's out there. The fondness of tone or facial expression doesn't change and while Dick knows that there's differences between one and two; it doesn't matter to him. The heart of a bat is always tortured and haunted, but good comes from it. Gotham is a better city with them, than without. The code is worth something, and Dick can feel the knot in his stomach spread into warmth. ]

[batsymbol]

( he doesn't know how to take that sort of praise and it shows there on his face. it's not that he's uncomfortable... well. maybe it is a little, if only because, again, he doesn't know how to take it.

staring to his drink, he opts to down the rest of it and looks to the empty glass he now holds between his hands. slight shake of his head, teeth drag over his bottom lip — he's mulling over how to answer. )

I didn't do anything with him. ( with alfred. ) He's the one who deserves the praise. Especially in putting up with me.

( bruce was a bit of a wild child as a teen and now, in his vengeance era, he's still as difficult and stubborn as ever. )

[cohero]

[It might still be vengeance, but it's there with that dogmatic purpose that Bruce can forge his absolute calling and Dick knows it far better than anyone else, living with his mentor for so many years. It all started somewhere and whether it be two or twenty years, the person developing within is still the one who fights to protect Gotham, even if it's to chase after the ones who are responsible for the worst night of his life. At least, this is what rumbles around in Dick's think tank as he mulls over the slender male next to him and his empty glass while silence wafts around them.

The smile still rests there as he nods, a slow, exaggerated down and up of his head. Dick knows that Alfred deserves a lot of credit. Stubborn is and will always be something that Alfred has to deal with, from one generation to the next and thereafter. Pulling a leg up on the couch bent at the knee, Dick directly shifts his stance so that he can look at Bruce over the bend. The alcohol is there if Bruce cares to pour himself another. If not, perhaps Dick will get to it momentarily to keep his heady buzz going.

Goodness knows it's what pushes him beyond any boundaries he might have stuck to before, in space and conversation.]

He puts up with a lot, and that doesn't really change. I'm sure you give him a rough time, but you care and he knows it. It's hard not to, and he's the one that cares for us, even through the hard times. I don't know when you'll find exactly what you need, but I'm here with you. I'm not going anywhere.

[The hand that had reached out previously, does so again and lifts the stray bits of hair that dangle in front of Bruce's visage. Dick runs a finger down the other male's cheek and pauses there for a second, biting his own bottom lip as he does.]

[batsymbol]

( in the end — especially now at this [relatively early] stage in his life as the vigilante he's become, bruce being on his own so much is not a good idea. there's more he needs to be. he knows that. but he still becomes obsessed— fixated on things and people he feels he needs to bring to justice. never mind the fact that sometimes he forgets to eat or sleep or do the daily tasks of taking care of himself in ways that aren't bandaging up or stitching together injuries beneath his suit. he has a tendency to become so lost in the thing — in the name he's become that nothing and seemingly no one else seems to matter. he needs to be reeled back in at times... reminded that he's not just batman, but bruce wayne, too.

being here — being around others like is... it's been new and an adjustment to him, but. he's managing. for now. in this moment here with dick. so when he goes and says that — when he reaches out to touch him in a way only selina really has in the past couple years, he can't help but close those bright blue eyes of his for just a moment before they're slowly opening to look to dick again. )

You should.

( go anywhere, he means, with a voice so soft. )

[cohero]

[It's that. That's the thing that Dick is slowly pulling into place. Maybe it's been time in coming, or perhaps it was the boost in foolhardiness that the alcohol provided, but it's that missing piece that Dick has finally latched onto. The difference, the man and the myth. His mentor will always be a bit more, a bit beyond Dick, but Bruce is real. He's made of the same flawed flesh and bone that Dick is.

Sitting there, with his hand on Bruce's face, Dick realizes the man next to him is merely Bruce. He's like any other of the titans, or vigilantes that he's known. They've all been different, yes, but each and every person broken in one manner or another.

Inhaling deeply, nostrils flare slightly while Dick shakes his head. He's taken his journey, and has already run from this city once. He took flight, flew hard and burned cities around his ankles. Men brought him to heel, and he dedicated himself with his own self-righteous anger at smacking back. Dick was no saint, and there's a very big reason why he burned all his relationships down into the ground until very recently.

Maybe he could remember to take care of himself, but only because it was all but beaten into him-- he had other issues, ones that burn around his tender heart. He's growing, but it's still a long journey and he wants to take Bruce along with him. ]

No. no. I am not going to leave again. I did that once, and almost lost it all. I want to stay, and I think it would be good for both of us.

[There's equal softness of tone, and demeanor. Dick knows that he should move one way or the other, but he's caught there in those eyes.]

I- You have incredible eyes, Bruce. Truly striking, beautiful really.

[swallowing the lump in his throat, Dick almost forgets that he has a glass in his other hand, letting it tip until the contents fall over his fingers.] Oh. shit. man. How stupid of me.

[batsymbol]

( good for both of us, he says. but bruce wonders more if it would be good for dick more than for himself. after all, dick's the one here drinking alone like he is. bruce hadn't. bruce had been working on repairs to his suit while simultaneously running through various sources on his laptop in search of whatever he's currently decided needs his attention. it's actually still going, back at the place, even while he's here and it is, unsurprisingly, connected to the phone he has on him, tucked in the breast pocket of his coat. because bruce doesn't really know how to take it easy or not be batman. he hasn't always been doing the vigilante life, no. but it's all he's been obsessed with the past few years and the only real thing he's completely thrown himself into.

again, much to alfred's dismay.

but bruce being alone means being left with his thoughts and some of them are ones he doesn't want to have, so. he lets himself drown in the role of the dark knight he's taken on. even here. and in doing so, it's more like a double-edged sword than anything remotely healthy.

dick goes and spills his drink as he does and bruce just stares in silence as he does. a fleeting sweep of his gaze down to the mess before he's looking back up to the other man with those eyes he'd just been complimented on. a compliment, which, doesn't entirely seem to faze him, but. then again, he's bruce.

and, in being bruce— )

Do I really make you that uncomfortable?

[cohero]

[Uncomfortable. There's a word that Dick's not wormed his way into feeling in quite some time. The answer to that thought takes a backseat to the more immediate and pressing matter at hand, and that's the alcohol abuse. The spill spins Dick into a small whirlwind of slightly uncoordinated action. The finger that had been pressed to Bruce's face is immediately removed in favor of reaching for the closest box of tissues, which is the only thing nearby that he has to wipe up the spill.

The clumsiness, Dick admits wasn't caused by the comfort level that Bruce might think of. It was something more. Dick has his own projects brewing. They percolate on their own in his own little office, networked into the greater bat-computer at large. He's got his eye on a gang that's been running underground drugs to local high schools right now. It might seem fairly regular, but Dick believes there are darker ties. All he needs is one more good lead...

However, he's taken enough time from all this to learn how to manage life. He's not like Bruce in that. Yet, he's here for Bruce, slowly realizing what that means, even if it means pushing past what actually made him uncomfortable. It is his own skin, and thoughts. Things he never expected, things he's held only for other women before. A fondness.. and something else, he realize to his surprise. ]

I- no. it's not that. I mean, I - no. you don't make me uncomfortable in the way you think. I-

[words are not always easy for Dick, he's been working on his feelings and learning to share, but after so many years of not doing it, they are stuck. He knows that he shouldn't do anything, and his head screams at him, but instead of the words he leans across the gap and delicately presses his lips to Bruce's. It's light and gentle. He knows it's going to send him to hell, but Dick doesn't care. He pulls away, and then looks at Bruce.]

It's.. that.

[batsymbol]

( oh.

there's something to be said here. namely, the fact that bruce seems to attract those who simply want to kiss him without his even realizing. for someone so smart and perceptive in the field of being a detective, it's amazing how he seems to miss the more intimate details of a situation.

selina had been the last person to do this — to catch him off guard like this and, like before, he's left without much to say when it slowly breaks. because it's always slow for bruce in the moment, as if some part of him buried deep beneath the cape of the dark knight longs for this. for an intimacy. a connection he's been without or only ever had so fleeting in his life.

to be expected, there's a silence that comes with that and after a moment, bruce looks down to his empty glass he still holds. who is he to dick? a [younger] version of a man he knows? someone he's looked up to and spent years of his life with as both ward and family? that thought has his expression scrunch up for a moment. only a moment because, to bruce, dick... isn't really anything because he doesn't exist to him. not yet anyways. just here. in this space. in this apartment he has for himself. in this apartment he hadn't been sure he should come over to and yet, some part of him still wanted to, which is why he's here now.

but that also isn't entirely true. dick not being anything to him. in the time they've known each other here, he's been there, like he's said. even when bruce hasn't seemed to want anyone there. really, like with the kiss, he wonders how he manages to find these people. how he ends up caring for them in ways he didn't think he ever would. in ways, he wonders, if others even know he's capable of for how aloof he can come off as at times. bruce cares. so much that it scares him sometimes. because to care means he'll eventually lose them and he's still skittish with the thought of that what with having nearly lost alfred and already having lost his parents.

licking over his lips, he tastes both the alcohol and the other man on them and there's a soft sigh that leaves him then as he stares across the apartment. glass tipping back and forth simply as a means to give his hand something to do. )

You really shouldn't.

( because he deserves better. everyone deserves better than bruce. )

[cohero]

Maybe but...

[Then comes the horrible gap of silence that Dick knew was inevitable. The greater part of his brain tells him to turn back and rearrange himself so that he's no longer facing this person, this man whose managed to work his way beneath Dick's skin in a way he never thought another man could. Dick understands the craving, and the longing. He's tried to fit himself against so many other people and he's always failed because they didn't get his dedication to the mission.

Now, Dick is trying desperately to open himself up, to change the very essence of who he is, the only person he's known for decades. The only reason he can even begin such an attempt is because he died, and saw how horrible his life was, how depraved he truly was inside. He saw his true self in the face of the Joker as he kicked and tortured Jason to death, or was it the Joker he killed in the pit. It's all a bit fuzzy now, and intermingles in his mind.

The one thing that's crystal clear is the fact that life is far shorter than Dick ever thought it could be. It's one thing to be out there, facing death and knowing that he could die any instant, and another to actually go through the process. Maybe he shouldn't, maybe Dick shouldn't crave the intimacy that he does with Bruce-- this Bruce that's so very different from his mentor, a person, a locked and lonely vigilante like himself on so many levels, he feels.

Locking eyes with this man, the one across from him who is so much more than Dick ever realized, even without spoken words. He leans in and takes his hand to Bruce's face again, caressing his cheek. He touches their lips together once more, still lightly, there's an eagerness for more, but he's hesitant. There's worry that Bruce doesn't want this, doesn't accept the fact that he's not the girlish figure that either of them know. -- not that Dick actually knows anything.

Catching Bruce's lip, he licks over it and then presses in another soft kiss, capturing it before he pulls back, forehead seeking forehead. ]

I shouldn't, but I will. I want to. Is it terrible?

[batsymbol]

( is it terrible? somehow, that feels like a loaded question with an equally loaded answer. selina had wanted something like this — something with him, even if neither of them really knew what it was, but. he'd been unable to give it to her. unable to follow her. unable to see what it could be. spoken for to a city he couldn't quite untangle himself from, even if some small part of him wanted to at times.

he's standing here in that scenario again — technically sitting this time, but. the scenario is more or less the same. a sort of deja-vu he didn't think he'd find himself in. wanting something from him he's not so sure he can give.

dick touches him and those blue eyes fall shut. lips touch. soft. something he's not used to. bruises, punches, knives, gunshots. sharp, painful touches are what he's used to — what he almost expects to feel. not this softness that makes everything around him slow. as if to savor it while he can. which is why it's surprising, even to himself, that when dick's forehead presses to his, there's a gentle sort of reciprocation in the way he lets his own stay there against dick's. as close to a nuzzle as bruce wayne can offer.

again, soft on his lips, a sigh. )

It could be.

( this could be terrible. i could be terrible for you. )

[cohero]

[Don't get him wrong, Dick knows equally as much about all the violence of life. He's awash in it. He's still wearing a slice along his rib, and a giant bruise that spans the width of his left kidney. The way he cursed after that one. The stupid prick knew exactly where to hit with that giant pipe. Luckily, Nightwing is quick and twisted his way out, swinging around to win the night with two glowing blue electric sticks. That's Dick's typical night. He's dedicated to the job, and to do anything else-- he can't even begin to comprehend a life that doesn't involve the job.

Maybe he didn't always want the mantle of Gotham, the darkness that sweeps the city. He strayed from the evil that crawls in the shadows and curls around souls, waiting to corrupt into a type of hell that Bruce can only imagine still. Dick has seen the madness that mere human monikers can create. It dwells in Gotham like no other city out there, and yet... Still, Dick came back because he wanted to.

This is his home, and this is the place that needs him, as much as it needs Bruce-- and to reciprocate, they both need the city. So, why then, can't they need one another. It's strange logic, and not even something Dick has wrapped his entire brain around yet. He's still a little stuck on the fact that his desire struggles for Bruce, and the sharp angles of his jaw, the sweep of his cheekbones, even the roughness of his chin as it slopes down to the lean lines of his neck.

It's into that softness that he leans, and whispers between the pair of them. Never once do his fingers falter. They push back into Bruce's hair momentarily, and then pull forward to cup his cheek again, digits fanning the space to capture the entire sweep of bone. Leaning into their closeness, Dick realizes that maybe this isn't as terrible as he thought, maybe there could be something more. There's no disgust, or revulsion. Instead, there's a simple warning.

Heaving his own sigh. He smiles gently, so close to the lips near his. ]

It could be, but maybe it won't.

[Ticking his head to the side, Dick mouths along Bruce's jaw, and up to his ear, gently caressing the curl with the warmth of his breath.]

Maybe it could be okay. [a whisper, a kiss to the side of Bruce's face before he meets the other's lips again, skimming across them with mouth open, feeling the urge to do so much more, but holding himself in check.]