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Aug. 23rd, 2006 12:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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merfilly, One of Those Nights.
Explicit slash still.
Dick tapped at the control panel buried in the front of the bike, telling it to call Arsenal's cell and route it to the earpiece and mike in his helmet as he roared out of Bludhaven at far more than legal speeds. He was in the suit, but Nightwing's detachment and coolheadedness were miles away. He was all Dick Grayson right now, highly pissed off--and in pain, he admitted to himself. Thank god, he knew just who to call to get him out of this mood. //C'mon, Arrowboy, answer your fucking phone... please don't be busy...I need to get out, forget... I need you, bro.//
He never has told me what happened to upset him this much. I wish he would. I really, really wish he would. But nooo.
In New York, Roy picked up his phone. Ollie had been in town and stolen Lian for the week, making him rather at a loss for what to do with himself, and so was doing something his friends would never believe and thoroughly cleaning their place. Up to his biceps in scrub-water when his phone rang he jumped, sloshed it halfway across the floor, grabbed for a towel to dry off his hands and flicked the phone on. "Harper..."
"Roy... are you busy?"
Roy blinked--that voice, he hadn't expected. "Hey, man! Whassup?"
"You busy?" The question came again, and this time, Roy noticed the strain in his voice. "Nah... Lian's with Grampa Ollie and I've done my patrols for the evening, so I'm at loose ends. What's up, man?"
"It's been one of those days... do you mind if I show up?"
That line is the single most pressing reason this fic exists. Well, that line and when Roy says "I need one of those nights (tonight)." I was driving along at home, and I'd had kind of a bad day, and Laurie Morgan came on the radio singing that song and Dick was suddenly in my head, hurting and angry and needing... I went home, went to the computer, sat down and wrote until it was finished. When I went to stand up, my legs were asleep and I hadn't even noticed.
"'Course not... "One of those days"--I need alcohol, a bad movie, and a chance to scream, or "one of those days"--so I need one of those nights where I'm not me and we go party harder than is probably sane?"
"Option 2, definitely... and no, I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay, okay... don't bite my head off, short pants. Where are you?"
"Halfway to New York."
"All right. I'm going to go shower--I was cleaning, and Shut Up, I do know how. I'll be ready before you get here, and we'll go get crazy."
"I wasn't going to say anything, Hotshot. Go clean up, then."
Roy glared at the phone as it went dead in his hand. "Is it too much for him to say goodbye like a normal pers--what am I saying, this is Dick." He picked himself up, wiped up the water spilled across the floor, and headed for the shower. //Man... he sounded like he just wanted to kill something... but if he wants to party... 'S been years since I got him to lighten up and go play.// His eyes lit up as he slid under the spray, thinking about the last time he'd been able to get Dick to come out and just be young--they'd still been young, Donna'd still been alive, Batman had still been vaguely sane... He didn't want to think about how long ago that had been, or how far apart they'd gotten since they days they were Titans Together, unstoppable and convinced they could win….
Roy's such a sweetheart sometimes. He was missing Dick something fierce, and insisted I talk about it. And he and Dick have so much history... yeah. He certainly has opinions.
//Stop that, man. You're gonna get yourself all freaking depressed. Think clothes--okay, don't think clothes, that's entirely too gay, and he'll laugh at you if you dress up. Think about what you're going to do tonight. Think about Dick half-drunk--which is always a riot--flirting with pretty girls, maybe pretty boys...// he tried to ignore the twist in his chest that thought gave him, and went back to washing quickly, plotting out a plan of attack to take Dick out and get him relaxed.
Roy? In denial? Perish the thought!
//Maybe I can get him to tell me what's wrong eventually…// he thought as he got out of the shower, dried, and--disgusted with himself--started trying to figure out what to wear for this. He intended to hit all kinds of places, some he hadn't been to for a couple years, and therefore needed something decent... He had a rep to keep, after all... He shook his head and flicked through his clothes, finally picking out his most recently-acquired outfit--he'd bought it with no idea when he'd be able to wear it, not with his baby girl around... but it was going to be perfect for this. Nearly painted-on black pants and a golden-silk shirt the sales-girl had said brought out the gold in his eyes and his hair. Not that he was paying attention, but... he needed every step-up he could get on Dick. //Quit that!// he snapped at himself. //He's your best friend, your brother, so quit thinking about the massive inferiority complex you have when it comes to that frustratingly perfectman. He needs you right now… and you thought you'd never hear him ever admit to needing anyone ever again… Be grateful.//
Oh, Roy... I still say that, every time I think about his voice telling me all of this. It's not like the boy isn't blatantly bi, and there's nothing inherently wrong with being a clothes-horse--I now can't believe I wrote him with this much dress-sense, but the image is too pretty for words.
He didn’t often think about that night, years ago, now, when two hurting orphans swore a vow to always be there for each other, but it was one of the constants in his life. That Dick would be there for him, and when the man would admit to needing it, he’d be there for Dick.
This actually went in after beta, for the sole purpose of giving the two of them an extremely powerful bond.
He shook his head, focusing, and started moving around his apartment, just waiting. He spotted his wallet and shoved it into a pocket, then kept prowling.
Roy, nervous? *snort* Of course he's not.
Dick flew through the traffic, weaving through it with the careless precision that was such a trademark of his personality. Even just the promise that Roy would be there helped a little with the storm of rage and pain burning in him, the storm that every meditation technique, every exercise of strength and will Br--he had ever taught him could do nothing to ease. He tried to remember the last time he'd let himself relax... and was shocked to realize just how long ago it had been. //God... before... before what happened to Donna, anyway... Man, I am a piece of work...//
And here's where I got my first clue who upset Dick. Yes, yes, it should have been obvious from the beginning. The bit about Roy he insisted on, and... What an understatement, Dickie-boy.
He hid the bike in a garage they kept in the city, and took off for Roy's apartment, clothes-bag over his shoulder. He landed silently on the fire escape and stopped to stare a moment. Roy... looked good. Looked damned good... //Quit that. He's your best friend. Your brother. You swore an oath to each other. You are not allowed to bring sex into the mix.// He started letting himself through Roy's security system--just to keep in practice--as Roy went into the kitchen, and by the time he came back, Dick was half out of the costume...
*snicker* Dick, quit ignoring what you want, damn it. And the image of Dick calmly breaking into Roy's apartment never ceases to please me.
"Holy Shit, Greyson! You trying to give me a fucking heart attack?"
"No... sorry, Roy. But that's seriously sloppy..." Dick was working to keep his emotions out of his eyes--Roy knew him well enough to guess the problem, and he didn't want to talk about it. His brother-by-oath knew him too damned well.
"Please, Wonderbrat. You're one of 3 people that could get through that security and would have any interest. What is that, a new record?"
"No. Took me 3 seconds longer than the last time."
He finished stripping, and picked up the bag he'd had slung over a shoulder, pulling out his clothes for the evening. "Not bad, Harper..." he said, eyeing the gold and black, then went back to sliding into his clothes. Equally black pants--and probably by the same designer, considering the similarity in fit--fairly similar matte-black low boots, and a silver-blue silk shirt Alfred had gotten him for his last birthday.
yes, putting them in almost matching clothes was soo cheating, but I still don't feel bad for it. I didn't put them in leather. Or clubwear. I was very restrained.
//...oh, my god. He's going to kill me,// was Roy's first thought, though he laughed it off. "Thanks, man. I have to look good if I'm going to make sure you don't get every chick's number... but damn, I think I'm still outclassed."
"Yeah, right. I guess you're driving, as my only vehicle's a little--"
"Obvious? Yeah, come on. I've got a bike downstairs."
Dick paused a minute to drag out one last item from the bag--a black leather bomber jacket--and shrugged into it.
"Damnit, Wingster... would you quit showing me up?" //Quit stopping my heart, more like... you're too damned sexy...//
Figuring out the lines between what he would say, and what he was really thinking, was fascinating all through this part. Stupid in-denial boys.
"What's the matter, Arrow-breath, can't take a little competition?"
"I can take anything you can dish out, circus-boy," Roy shot back, //and wouldn't I love to...// then deliberately took a breath. "Come on, bro, let's get out of here before we decide to pound on each other instead of getting you out of here."
"No. I don't exactly... have the control to pull my hits tonight."
Roy wasn't actually stupid enough to argue with a pissed-off Bat when he said he didn't have the control to spar. He just reset the security system, grabbed up his coat--a black hip-length trenchcoat--and headed for the door, Dick following.
The trip down to the bike was quiet, though Roy could feel Dick's anger simmering at his back. He wanted to ask... but Dick might well take off and do something truly stupid if he didn't just shut up and play along, so he just headed down to his bike and tossed Dick a helmet before shoving his own on. A few seconds of messing with one of the straps as they settled onto the bike, then, "Hear me?"
Roy knows his best friend soooo well. Yes, yes he does.
"...Yeah. I hear ya." Dick came through the comm equipment perfectly.
"Cool. Hang on," Roy warned, and kicked the bike into gear and into motion in the same move, Dick's hands wrapping tight around his hips as the vigilante cursed at him through the mikes, shifting to press closer and shift his weight to help maneuver the bike through the traffic. "What, I actually took you by surprise?" he asked, mock-shock over real--Dick had to be really shook up if he couldn't tell that was coming.
*G* Roy couldn't help playing. He really couldn't.
"Yeah, you did, you prick… where're we headed?"
"Club I know… good place to dance, flirt, drink--and no, I'm not going to--and be anonymous. I'll watch your back."
"Bo--Roy. Thanks. I…"
"Shaddup, man. It's nothing. I need the break, too."
He kept driving, flicking through the traffic until he hit the closest parking garage, slung the helmet on the handlebars--only to find that Dick'd already done the same, and... was trying to get his hair to behave? He snickered, and Dick shot an indignant glare at him, dropping his hand away from his hair.
"Come on, pretty boy, let's go see if your looks can get us past the line," Roy teased.
"Me? Right. Let's go. I want to see how fast I can get myself to something that feels like morning, because I have no appetite left for this side of midnight..."
The next line of the song that came into play. Still not certain it really sounds like Dick, but *shrug* This is an unapologetic songfic.
Roy shook his head at his best friend's back--Dick was inspiring a lot of that lately--and led the way to the line for the club. //Why does that sound familiar…?//
True to Roy's prediction, they'd made it in almost instantly after one of the bouncers spotted them--this club prided itself on the eye-candy it provided, and with Dick along, they were shoe-ins for that accolade. Their coats were whisked away to be checked, and Roy slipped the bartender a hundred dollar bill and pointed at Dick--a pretty brunette had attached herself to his arm after one of his killer smiles--who was making a scene out on the dance floor. "Water down whatever you give him... he's had a bad week."
Cute when he's protective, isn't he?
The bartender laughed and nodded, and Roy went to get out on the floor near his best friend, moving with the pounding trance beat--this was the reason he loved this place, more than the gorgeous women and men… The very sound of the place once you hit the dance floor made it impossible to think, nearly impossible to talk… you could do nothing but move with the bass beat, ride it like the tides...
He kept his eyes on his best friend and slowly, so slowly, he saw the anger riding him slip away. They were moving through the rest of the crowd, dancing with different women at almost every change in song, playing off each other to keep a little space between them and the rest of the crowd. Roy threw his head back and laughed as a gothic-schoolgirl with neon violet hair wearing more chains than fabric inserted herself between Dick and his current dance partner and laid claim to her mouth in a thorough kiss--while her startled dance partner stared in shock. After a second, he shrugged and turned to dance with the purple-girl's former dance partner, and laughed when it turned out to be a blond guy that looked far more uncomfortable than Dick was. The black-haired man flashed the blond an amused smile and went to dancing solo. //Showing off,// Roy thought--and it was true, damn it.
I had fun writing that bit through Roy's eyes, watching the music and the chance to just move doing more to fix Dick than just about anything else ever could.
The redhead let himself just watch as Dick cleared enough space to really perform, getting hooted at by more than a few people as he rode the beat with a flair all his own, shifting in and out of the neon lights--one of which picked a perfect second to burn out, leaving him draped in shadow. Roy knew enough about dancing to recognize moves from hip-hop, swing, a turn or three out of tango and flamenco, a few moves straight out of classical ballroom dancing… //All blended Dick-Grayson-style… he's the only person that could pull that off...//
"Wanna burn out those neon lights / wanna go left while the world goes right / I've lost my appetite for this side of midnight" The only line I used not in dialogue from the song.
Dick just let himself move, keeping his eyes half on Roy as he faded into the crowd, moving with a series of pretty women that slid to and away from him. He'd been to the bar once or twice since they’d arrived, more to quench the thirst he was working up than anything--despite the fact that he knew alcohol dehydrated you--it was wet and it was cold and the burn helped. He basked in the anonymity, the relief of being nothing but a moving, handsome body for them to play a little with, and
for him to play with no strings attached. He finally danced himself into exhaustion, shirt plastered to his body by his sweat, and headed for the bar again. He nearly ordered Scotch this time, but one thought of who usually drank that sent him after a screwdriver. //No, damn it. Nothing to remind me of him, not when I'm finally feeling better...// He downed his drink, sat at the bar for a minute or two to get his wind back, and moved back onto the dance floor. He froze for a heartbeat as he spotted Roy, body twisting to the beat, chest-to-chest with someone obviously male… //Ho.Ly. Fuck. He never...//
It's canon that Bruce drinks good whiskey when he drinks at all, which I figured people would know. Or at least be able to guess. And a vodka mixer's about as far from that as you can get in my humble opinion. And Dick's pretty when he's shocked and jealous.
He tried to ignore the surge of want and glanced the other way, finding a pretty redhead just pulling away from her partner. He slid up to join her, laughing as they moved, turning it purely dirty in a way he rarely let himself use--but she was pretty, and fun, and... They broke apart after the end of the song, and Dick turned to find Roy, saw him working at doing something seriously obscene with the guy he was dancing with--and white-hot fury slammed through his veins. He actually took two full steps before his brain caught up with him and yelled //Whoah! Not yours! He's not yours!!//
Dick sex-on-the-dance floor dancing is just too hot for words. And possessive, unhappy Nightwing is pretty in his own way.
==Yes, he---what am I saying?== Dick shook his head, roughly, trying to clear it, then he saw Roy's head tip back and was moving again, sliding up against them and tugg--okay, yank--ing at the back of the other guy's shirt. The shorter brunette looked back with a question and gulped at the look of pure fury in near-black blue eyes--he slid away from the archer with both hands pulled up to his shoulders, backed away then disappeared.
I'd sure as hell run away if he looked at me like that, wouldn't you?
Roy blinked in confusion and a little frustration, then looked down at Dick, head tilted in a 'what the hell?' look that just made Dick want to shove him down and bite. He hissed softly ==Of all the times to decide you want to fuck your best friend, your sworn brother...= he snorted and pressed himself up to Roy's chest, hands slipping to his hips...
Roy's eyes went gold, the usual green bleeding away to the color they were during fights, and his own hands slid down to Dick's hips in one long move. He'd been a little miffed to be interrupted during one of the most fun necking-sessions he'd had in months, but this... This was definitely better. He'd only lusted after the man currently plastered to his body for years... He just moved, letting his body say what he couldn't, wouldn't... and couldn't keep the smile off his face as Dick moved with him, body saying the same things about want and lust and need...
I had nothing to do with that. They did. Though I will never stop adoring Baumann for that coloring job.
His hands slid from Dick's hips to his ass, pulling him closer, and Dick's arms curved up around his ribs as he pressed closer yet, pretty much cheek-to-cheek... and the look on his face came close to stopping Roy's heart. Dick looked... hell, he didn't have the words for that look, but it was fucking with his head, making what little sanity he had left fly as fast as one of his arrows. He forced one hand off Dick's ass to slide up his back, still moving with him--and he flicked a glance around, seeing people staring slack-jawed at the two of them. He laughed... and it got Dick's attention.
Oh, come on. Tell me you wouldn't be staring. I dare you.
"What?" the black-haired man snapped, head coming back to look up the couple inches into Roy's eyes.
"We're making a scene, handsome... want to make it worse?"
Dick flicked an equally covert glance around, then smiled. "Yeah… let's play. Make it good. One more song... then shall we get out of here?" That smile was somehow Robin's laughter, Nightwing's fighting, and Dick's joy as he nailed a prefect routine--and Roy smiled back.
That was the kind of smile that had been known to send Star City's thugs running in fear, but just sent lust slamming through Dick's veins--it was in his eyes. The archer nodded. "Oh, yeah, flyboy. One good dance… then we are so out of here."
nnngh. My own characters, and I wanna say "I'll be in my bunk" and mean it.
One thing neither of them could resist was a challenge, so it surprised neither of them that the "make it good" turned this into 15 kinds of 'sex-on-the-dancefloor' and about double that of 'how much can I show off here?'
Roy wasn't the natural gymnast that Dick was, which meant he simply couldn't match some of the moves Dick pulled, but he'd trained for flexibility and movement and had spent a lot more time doing this.
In short, half the club was trying to pass out by the time they'd finished seeing just how much they could tease each other while putting on that show. They looked around a minute, smiled at each other with wolfish, amused smiles, then headed for the door. A girl met them with their coats and they slid out the door, and managed to reach the alley that led to the garage before they were on each other.
Yes, that was the 'professional badass(es)' walk as they headed out of the club. Do they know how to move any other way?
Roy somehow got Dick pinned against a wall to shove his tongue into his best friend's mouth, hungry and turned on as hell--and Dick went with it, leaning into the pin as he moaned in nothing like pain.
Roy hissed and kept kissing him, body shoved hard against Dick's, zippers of his coat cold against the sides of his chest, feeling him moan into the kiss. He realized, distantly, that he had Dick's wrists in his hands--pinned against the wall--and Dick wasn't fighting that, either, but the part of him that was noticing things was overwhelmed by the part of him that couldn't think about anything but the taste of Dick's mouth--//orange juice and vodka and Dick, like the smell of his skin when we spar...// He rolled his hips against Dick's, nice and slow--despite the fact that his body thought he was insane and wanted to thrust, hard and fast until the boiling in his blood stopped--but Dick deserved better than that.
*stares at that mental image a while* These boys get to me so hard. (Which yes, is exactly what they do to each other). Dick didn't surprise me at all with this, but he shocked the crap out of Roy. And himself.
Once he needed air so badly black spots were dancing in his vision, he managed to force himself to pull away--but he couldn't get his hands to let go of Dick's wrists. He studied the gasping man in front of him, the way his chest heaved as he gasped for breath, jacket still gaping open where he'd shoved his body inside it, lips swollen and deep, deep red even in the low light of the alley, eyes--//god, closed!//--nothing but curves of long, black lashes against those too-gorgeous cheekbones… "Dick. Come on… I don't want to do this in a damned alley, but if you don't quit looking like that..."
One of Roy's rare moments of nobility, given how hard up he is at this point.
"Let... go of my wrists, and I'll see what I can do. Jesus, Bowhead, do you have that mouth registered as a lethal weapon?" Dick managed to get his eyes open, shuddering slightly against the feel of Roy's hands wrapped hard around his wrists. The kiss hadn't surprised him--Roy wasn't known for control, and he'd been teasing him--but the sheer strength of his own reaction had. He couldn't remember the last time he'd let someone else take control so completely. //Come on, Roy... let go of my wrists while I can still walk....// He rolled his wrists, trying to coax Roy to let go--and realized half a second later it was a mistake as Roy's grip tightened on them and his eyes flashed to gold truer than his shirt as his lips tightened in hunger... His knees tried to buckle and he leaned back
against the wall, fighting down the spike in his breathing, //the outright panting,// a traitorous part of his mind pointed out.
"Roy... let. Go." He tried for command-voice… and failed miserably.
The archer's lips skinned back from his teeth in a wicked smile. "All right, Wing... all right... but only because I want to get you back to my apartment..." //Oh, Wing. You shouldn't show me things like that....//
The lazy, indulgent tone and the loss of his grip struck like paired strikes to the gut, and Dick forced himself off the wall, moving towards the bike in the garage with as much nonchalance as he could possibly manage to put into his stride. He wasn’t going to let Roy know how much that had rattled him.
Roy hung back a step to watch, smiling at the obviously-faked assurance--it took reminding himself strongly that he was not a teenager anymore and that they were not going
to grope each other any more until they were on a bed--to keep himself from jumping him from behind. He made it to his bike and slid on, helmet going on easily as Dick curled around him from behind--and one strong hand slid down his chest, obviously aimed lower. "Dick... Dick, I need to drive, man..."
"Think of it as an... exercise in concentration," that smoky voice laughed into his ear as that hand cupped around his cock.
"You're the control freak, Batboy!" Roy gasped as he tried not to squirm. "I'm... impulse-driven... and if you don't stop that I will crash us both. Play later, drive now, okay?"
"Spoilsport..." How he could make a pout so damned sexy was something Roy was never going to understand. "Fine..." And the hand on his dick slipped away, back up his chest and to somewhere resembling safe.
I adore the two of them bantering with each other. I really do. They're just... fun when they're like that.
Roy decided that was probably as good as it was going to get, and took off. If Dick had thought they moved quick to get to the bike--the Flash wouldn't be able to catch up with how fast he intended to get them back to his place. Feeling Dick pressed up against him like that, hot even through coat and shirts and very, very interested was doing awful things to what little control he had--therefore, getting somewhere not moving was sure as hell a priority.
Somehow, he managed that without getting stopped, pulled over, a ticket, or any other attention from New York's Finest, and parked the bike with a tire-screech he'd pay for later. That wasn't half as important as getting the helmet off and away, twisting around, joining his hands with Dick's to shove his off
and kissing Dick again. That same taste--less of the orange juice, more of himself--he felt the bike shift under them and pulled back to pant, "Off the bike. Off the bike, upstairs..."
At this point, even Roy was surprised he was thinking that clearly.
The smug little prick had the gall to laugh at him before he slid off the bike and headed for the stairs at a dead run, hollering "Catch me if you can!" behind him.
"You need my keys, you twit!" Roy yelled right back, following him at just as dead a run. Trust Dick to find a way to lighten things up while turning them both on--though he admitted to surprise that it was Dick being chased… You couldn't do what they did for this long without working up some serious kinks about chasing, hunting, being chased--and Dick was making headway on getting away from him.
"No I don't... well, yeah, but I picked your pockets, hotshot!"
Roy slapped a thigh, cursed, and followed, taking the stairs two and three at a time and watching Dick move up the stairs, graceful even in this insanity, //God, damn, he's Fine...//
Dick had just enough of a lead--//damn the years I smoked, I'm not as fast as I used to be//--to get the security system and the door unlocked and inside, keys thrown ahead of him, before Roy could catch up. He kicked the door shut with his left foot, slammed the lock home with his right hand, and pounced, not even bothering to flick on the lights. He knocked his best friend/antagonist/teammate/partner/brother/lover to the floor--not that Dick hadn't felt it coming, couldn't have dodged it in several pain-creating ways, or countered it in even more, but he didn't. He went with it, and that just made some half-flipped switch in Roy's head flip allthe way on. He didn't go for a kiss this time--just pinned Dick down and went after his throat. His hands flattened above Dick's elbows and their bodies locked together, sucking at his throat under the open collar, hips locked to Dick's and moving like they'd never gotten away from that wall. The angle was a little awkward to let him get his mouth on Dick's throat and his cock pressed to the right places, but hey, he was flexible enough for this. He took half a second to just breathe Dick's scent, spiced with sweat and so damned good… then went back to sucking at Dick's throat, seeing what noises he could drag out of the man under him.
The byplay between them, the blur between sexual and simply knowing each other... is a good half of what fascinates me most about these two--and the amount of... roughness that can come into their sex life without interfering in the trust between them, just because of the lifestyle they live and the way they canonically interact, is a trip and a half. They can just pounce each other and it's fine, pin each other and it's pure hot... Yeeeah.
Part 2 once i'm not passing out.
merfilly, One of Those Nights. Explicit slash still.
Dick tapped at the control panel buried in the front of the bike, telling it to call Arsenal's cell and route it to the earpiece and mike in his helmet as he roared out of Bludhaven at far more than legal speeds. He was in the suit, but Nightwing's detachment and coolheadedness were miles away. He was all Dick Grayson right now, highly pissed off--and in pain, he admitted to himself. Thank god, he knew just who to call to get him out of this mood. //C'mon, Arrowboy, answer your fucking phone... please don't be busy...I need to get out, forget... I need you, bro.//
He never has told me what happened to upset him this much. I wish he would. I really, really wish he would. But nooo.
In New York, Roy picked up his phone. Ollie had been in town and stolen Lian for the week, making him rather at a loss for what to do with himself, and so was doing something his friends would never believe and thoroughly cleaning their place. Up to his biceps in scrub-water when his phone rang he jumped, sloshed it halfway across the floor, grabbed for a towel to dry off his hands and flicked the phone on. "Harper..."
"Roy... are you busy?"
Roy blinked--that voice, he hadn't expected. "Hey, man! Whassup?"
"You busy?" The question came again, and this time, Roy noticed the strain in his voice. "Nah... Lian's with Grampa Ollie and I've done my patrols for the evening, so I'm at loose ends. What's up, man?"
"It's been one of those days... do you mind if I show up?"
That line is the single most pressing reason this fic exists. Well, that line and when Roy says "I need one of those nights (tonight)." I was driving along at home, and I'd had kind of a bad day, and Laurie Morgan came on the radio singing that song and Dick was suddenly in my head, hurting and angry and needing... I went home, went to the computer, sat down and wrote until it was finished. When I went to stand up, my legs were asleep and I hadn't even noticed.
"'Course not... "One of those days"--I need alcohol, a bad movie, and a chance to scream, or "one of those days"--so I need one of those nights where I'm not me and we go party harder than is probably sane?"
"Option 2, definitely... and no, I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay, okay... don't bite my head off, short pants. Where are you?"
"Halfway to New York."
"All right. I'm going to go shower--I was cleaning, and Shut Up, I do know how. I'll be ready before you get here, and we'll go get crazy."
"I wasn't going to say anything, Hotshot. Go clean up, then."
Roy glared at the phone as it went dead in his hand. "Is it too much for him to say goodbye like a normal pers--what am I saying, this is Dick." He picked himself up, wiped up the water spilled across the floor, and headed for the shower. //Man... he sounded like he just wanted to kill something... but if he wants to party... 'S been years since I got him to lighten up and go play.// His eyes lit up as he slid under the spray, thinking about the last time he'd been able to get Dick to come out and just be young--they'd still been young, Donna'd still been alive, Batman had still been vaguely sane... He didn't want to think about how long ago that had been, or how far apart they'd gotten since they days they were Titans Together, unstoppable and convinced they could win….
Roy's such a sweetheart sometimes. He was missing Dick something fierce, and insisted I talk about it. And he and Dick have so much history... yeah. He certainly has opinions.
//Stop that, man. You're gonna get yourself all freaking depressed. Think clothes--okay, don't think clothes, that's entirely too gay, and he'll laugh at you if you dress up. Think about what you're going to do tonight. Think about Dick half-drunk--which is always a riot--flirting with pretty girls, maybe pretty boys...// he tried to ignore the twist in his chest that thought gave him, and went back to washing quickly, plotting out a plan of attack to take Dick out and get him relaxed.
Roy? In denial? Perish the thought!
//Maybe I can get him to tell me what's wrong eventually…// he thought as he got out of the shower, dried, and--disgusted with himself--started trying to figure out what to wear for this. He intended to hit all kinds of places, some he hadn't been to for a couple years, and therefore needed something decent... He had a rep to keep, after all... He shook his head and flicked through his clothes, finally picking out his most recently-acquired outfit--he'd bought it with no idea when he'd be able to wear it, not with his baby girl around... but it was going to be perfect for this. Nearly painted-on black pants and a golden-silk shirt the sales-girl had said brought out the gold in his eyes and his hair. Not that he was paying attention, but... he needed every step-up he could get on Dick. //Quit that!// he snapped at himself. //He's your best friend, your brother, so quit thinking about the massive inferiority complex you have when it comes to that frustratingly perfectman. He needs you right now… and you thought you'd never hear him ever admit to needing anyone ever again… Be grateful.//
Oh, Roy... I still say that, every time I think about his voice telling me all of this. It's not like the boy isn't blatantly bi, and there's nothing inherently wrong with being a clothes-horse--I now can't believe I wrote him with this much dress-sense, but the image is too pretty for words.
He didn’t often think about that night, years ago, now, when two hurting orphans swore a vow to always be there for each other, but it was one of the constants in his life. That Dick would be there for him, and when the man would admit to needing it, he’d be there for Dick.
This actually went in after beta, for the sole purpose of giving the two of them an extremely powerful bond.
He shook his head, focusing, and started moving around his apartment, just waiting. He spotted his wallet and shoved it into a pocket, then kept prowling.
Roy, nervous? *snort* Of course he's not.
Dick flew through the traffic, weaving through it with the careless precision that was such a trademark of his personality. Even just the promise that Roy would be there helped a little with the storm of rage and pain burning in him, the storm that every meditation technique, every exercise of strength and will Br--he had ever taught him could do nothing to ease. He tried to remember the last time he'd let himself relax... and was shocked to realize just how long ago it had been. //God... before... before what happened to Donna, anyway... Man, I am a piece of work...//
And here's where I got my first clue who upset Dick. Yes, yes, it should have been obvious from the beginning. The bit about Roy he insisted on, and... What an understatement, Dickie-boy.
He hid the bike in a garage they kept in the city, and took off for Roy's apartment, clothes-bag over his shoulder. He landed silently on the fire escape and stopped to stare a moment. Roy... looked good. Looked damned good... //Quit that. He's your best friend. Your brother. You swore an oath to each other. You are not allowed to bring sex into the mix.// He started letting himself through Roy's security system--just to keep in practice--as Roy went into the kitchen, and by the time he came back, Dick was half out of the costume...
*snicker* Dick, quit ignoring what you want, damn it. And the image of Dick calmly breaking into Roy's apartment never ceases to please me.
"Holy Shit, Greyson! You trying to give me a fucking heart attack?"
"No... sorry, Roy. But that's seriously sloppy..." Dick was working to keep his emotions out of his eyes--Roy knew him well enough to guess the problem, and he didn't want to talk about it. His brother-by-oath knew him too damned well.
"Please, Wonderbrat. You're one of 3 people that could get through that security and would have any interest. What is that, a new record?"
"No. Took me 3 seconds longer than the last time."
He finished stripping, and picked up the bag he'd had slung over a shoulder, pulling out his clothes for the evening. "Not bad, Harper..." he said, eyeing the gold and black, then went back to sliding into his clothes. Equally black pants--and probably by the same designer, considering the similarity in fit--fairly similar matte-black low boots, and a silver-blue silk shirt Alfred had gotten him for his last birthday.
yes, putting them in almost matching clothes was soo cheating, but I still don't feel bad for it. I didn't put them in leather. Or clubwear. I was very restrained.
//...oh, my god. He's going to kill me,// was Roy's first thought, though he laughed it off. "Thanks, man. I have to look good if I'm going to make sure you don't get every chick's number... but damn, I think I'm still outclassed."
"Yeah, right. I guess you're driving, as my only vehicle's a little--"
"Obvious? Yeah, come on. I've got a bike downstairs."
Dick paused a minute to drag out one last item from the bag--a black leather bomber jacket--and shrugged into it.
"Damnit, Wingster... would you quit showing me up?" //Quit stopping my heart, more like... you're too damned sexy...//
Figuring out the lines between what he would say, and what he was really thinking, was fascinating all through this part. Stupid in-denial boys.
"What's the matter, Arrow-breath, can't take a little competition?"
"I can take anything you can dish out, circus-boy," Roy shot back, //and wouldn't I love to...// then deliberately took a breath. "Come on, bro, let's get out of here before we decide to pound on each other instead of getting you out of here."
"No. I don't exactly... have the control to pull my hits tonight."
Roy wasn't actually stupid enough to argue with a pissed-off Bat when he said he didn't have the control to spar. He just reset the security system, grabbed up his coat--a black hip-length trenchcoat--and headed for the door, Dick following.
The trip down to the bike was quiet, though Roy could feel Dick's anger simmering at his back. He wanted to ask... but Dick might well take off and do something truly stupid if he didn't just shut up and play along, so he just headed down to his bike and tossed Dick a helmet before shoving his own on. A few seconds of messing with one of the straps as they settled onto the bike, then, "Hear me?"
Roy knows his best friend soooo well. Yes, yes he does.
"...Yeah. I hear ya." Dick came through the comm equipment perfectly.
"Cool. Hang on," Roy warned, and kicked the bike into gear and into motion in the same move, Dick's hands wrapping tight around his hips as the vigilante cursed at him through the mikes, shifting to press closer and shift his weight to help maneuver the bike through the traffic. "What, I actually took you by surprise?" he asked, mock-shock over real--Dick had to be really shook up if he couldn't tell that was coming.
*G* Roy couldn't help playing. He really couldn't.
"Yeah, you did, you prick… where're we headed?"
"Club I know… good place to dance, flirt, drink--and no, I'm not going to--and be anonymous. I'll watch your back."
"Bo--Roy. Thanks. I…"
"Shaddup, man. It's nothing. I need the break, too."
He kept driving, flicking through the traffic until he hit the closest parking garage, slung the helmet on the handlebars--only to find that Dick'd already done the same, and... was trying to get his hair to behave? He snickered, and Dick shot an indignant glare at him, dropping his hand away from his hair.
"Come on, pretty boy, let's go see if your looks can get us past the line," Roy teased.
"Me? Right. Let's go. I want to see how fast I can get myself to something that feels like morning, because I have no appetite left for this side of midnight..."
The next line of the song that came into play. Still not certain it really sounds like Dick, but *shrug* This is an unapologetic songfic.
Roy shook his head at his best friend's back--Dick was inspiring a lot of that lately--and led the way to the line for the club. //Why does that sound familiar…?//
True to Roy's prediction, they'd made it in almost instantly after one of the bouncers spotted them--this club prided itself on the eye-candy it provided, and with Dick along, they were shoe-ins for that accolade. Their coats were whisked away to be checked, and Roy slipped the bartender a hundred dollar bill and pointed at Dick--a pretty brunette had attached herself to his arm after one of his killer smiles--who was making a scene out on the dance floor. "Water down whatever you give him... he's had a bad week."
Cute when he's protective, isn't he?
The bartender laughed and nodded, and Roy went to get out on the floor near his best friend, moving with the pounding trance beat--this was the reason he loved this place, more than the gorgeous women and men… The very sound of the place once you hit the dance floor made it impossible to think, nearly impossible to talk… you could do nothing but move with the bass beat, ride it like the tides...
He kept his eyes on his best friend and slowly, so slowly, he saw the anger riding him slip away. They were moving through the rest of the crowd, dancing with different women at almost every change in song, playing off each other to keep a little space between them and the rest of the crowd. Roy threw his head back and laughed as a gothic-schoolgirl with neon violet hair wearing more chains than fabric inserted herself between Dick and his current dance partner and laid claim to her mouth in a thorough kiss--while her startled dance partner stared in shock. After a second, he shrugged and turned to dance with the purple-girl's former dance partner, and laughed when it turned out to be a blond guy that looked far more uncomfortable than Dick was. The black-haired man flashed the blond an amused smile and went to dancing solo. //Showing off,// Roy thought--and it was true, damn it.
I had fun writing that bit through Roy's eyes, watching the music and the chance to just move doing more to fix Dick than just about anything else ever could.
The redhead let himself just watch as Dick cleared enough space to really perform, getting hooted at by more than a few people as he rode the beat with a flair all his own, shifting in and out of the neon lights--one of which picked a perfect second to burn out, leaving him draped in shadow. Roy knew enough about dancing to recognize moves from hip-hop, swing, a turn or three out of tango and flamenco, a few moves straight out of classical ballroom dancing… //All blended Dick-Grayson-style… he's the only person that could pull that off...//
"Wanna burn out those neon lights / wanna go left while the world goes right / I've lost my appetite for this side of midnight" The only line I used not in dialogue from the song.
Dick just let himself move, keeping his eyes half on Roy as he faded into the crowd, moving with a series of pretty women that slid to and away from him. He'd been to the bar once or twice since they’d arrived, more to quench the thirst he was working up than anything--despite the fact that he knew alcohol dehydrated you--it was wet and it was cold and the burn helped. He basked in the anonymity, the relief of being nothing but a moving, handsome body for them to play a little with, and
for him to play with no strings attached. He finally danced himself into exhaustion, shirt plastered to his body by his sweat, and headed for the bar again. He nearly ordered Scotch this time, but one thought of who usually drank that sent him after a screwdriver. //No, damn it. Nothing to remind me of him, not when I'm finally feeling better...// He downed his drink, sat at the bar for a minute or two to get his wind back, and moved back onto the dance floor. He froze for a heartbeat as he spotted Roy, body twisting to the beat, chest-to-chest with someone obviously male… //Ho.Ly. Fuck. He never...//
It's canon that Bruce drinks good whiskey when he drinks at all, which I figured people would know. Or at least be able to guess. And a vodka mixer's about as far from that as you can get in my humble opinion. And Dick's pretty when he's shocked and jealous.
He tried to ignore the surge of want and glanced the other way, finding a pretty redhead just pulling away from her partner. He slid up to join her, laughing as they moved, turning it purely dirty in a way he rarely let himself use--but she was pretty, and fun, and... They broke apart after the end of the song, and Dick turned to find Roy, saw him working at doing something seriously obscene with the guy he was dancing with--and white-hot fury slammed through his veins. He actually took two full steps before his brain caught up with him and yelled //Whoah! Not yours! He's not yours!!//
Dick sex-on-the-dance floor dancing is just too hot for words. And possessive, unhappy Nightwing is pretty in his own way.
==Yes, he---what am I saying?== Dick shook his head, roughly, trying to clear it, then he saw Roy's head tip back and was moving again, sliding up against them and tugg--okay, yank--ing at the back of the other guy's shirt. The shorter brunette looked back with a question and gulped at the look of pure fury in near-black blue eyes--he slid away from the archer with both hands pulled up to his shoulders, backed away then disappeared.
I'd sure as hell run away if he looked at me like that, wouldn't you?
Roy blinked in confusion and a little frustration, then looked down at Dick, head tilted in a 'what the hell?' look that just made Dick want to shove him down and bite. He hissed softly ==Of all the times to decide you want to fuck your best friend, your sworn brother...= he snorted and pressed himself up to Roy's chest, hands slipping to his hips...
Roy's eyes went gold, the usual green bleeding away to the color they were during fights, and his own hands slid down to Dick's hips in one long move. He'd been a little miffed to be interrupted during one of the most fun necking-sessions he'd had in months, but this... This was definitely better. He'd only lusted after the man currently plastered to his body for years... He just moved, letting his body say what he couldn't, wouldn't... and couldn't keep the smile off his face as Dick moved with him, body saying the same things about want and lust and need...
I had nothing to do with that. They did. Though I will never stop adoring Baumann for that coloring job.
His hands slid from Dick's hips to his ass, pulling him closer, and Dick's arms curved up around his ribs as he pressed closer yet, pretty much cheek-to-cheek... and the look on his face came close to stopping Roy's heart. Dick looked... hell, he didn't have the words for that look, but it was fucking with his head, making what little sanity he had left fly as fast as one of his arrows. He forced one hand off Dick's ass to slide up his back, still moving with him--and he flicked a glance around, seeing people staring slack-jawed at the two of them. He laughed... and it got Dick's attention.
Oh, come on. Tell me you wouldn't be staring. I dare you.
"What?" the black-haired man snapped, head coming back to look up the couple inches into Roy's eyes.
"We're making a scene, handsome... want to make it worse?"
Dick flicked an equally covert glance around, then smiled. "Yeah… let's play. Make it good. One more song... then shall we get out of here?" That smile was somehow Robin's laughter, Nightwing's fighting, and Dick's joy as he nailed a prefect routine--and Roy smiled back.
That was the kind of smile that had been known to send Star City's thugs running in fear, but just sent lust slamming through Dick's veins--it was in his eyes. The archer nodded. "Oh, yeah, flyboy. One good dance… then we are so out of here."
nnngh. My own characters, and I wanna say "I'll be in my bunk" and mean it.
One thing neither of them could resist was a challenge, so it surprised neither of them that the "make it good" turned this into 15 kinds of 'sex-on-the-dancefloor' and about double that of 'how much can I show off here?'
Roy wasn't the natural gymnast that Dick was, which meant he simply couldn't match some of the moves Dick pulled, but he'd trained for flexibility and movement and had spent a lot more time doing this.
In short, half the club was trying to pass out by the time they'd finished seeing just how much they could tease each other while putting on that show. They looked around a minute, smiled at each other with wolfish, amused smiles, then headed for the door. A girl met them with their coats and they slid out the door, and managed to reach the alley that led to the garage before they were on each other.
Yes, that was the 'professional badass(es)' walk as they headed out of the club. Do they know how to move any other way?
Roy somehow got Dick pinned against a wall to shove his tongue into his best friend's mouth, hungry and turned on as hell--and Dick went with it, leaning into the pin as he moaned in nothing like pain.
Roy hissed and kept kissing him, body shoved hard against Dick's, zippers of his coat cold against the sides of his chest, feeling him moan into the kiss. He realized, distantly, that he had Dick's wrists in his hands--pinned against the wall--and Dick wasn't fighting that, either, but the part of him that was noticing things was overwhelmed by the part of him that couldn't think about anything but the taste of Dick's mouth--//orange juice and vodka and Dick, like the smell of his skin when we spar...// He rolled his hips against Dick's, nice and slow--despite the fact that his body thought he was insane and wanted to thrust, hard and fast until the boiling in his blood stopped--but Dick deserved better than that.
*stares at that mental image a while* These boys get to me so hard. (Which yes, is exactly what they do to each other). Dick didn't surprise me at all with this, but he shocked the crap out of Roy. And himself.
Once he needed air so badly black spots were dancing in his vision, he managed to force himself to pull away--but he couldn't get his hands to let go of Dick's wrists. He studied the gasping man in front of him, the way his chest heaved as he gasped for breath, jacket still gaping open where he'd shoved his body inside it, lips swollen and deep, deep red even in the low light of the alley, eyes--//god, closed!//--nothing but curves of long, black lashes against those too-gorgeous cheekbones… "Dick. Come on… I don't want to do this in a damned alley, but if you don't quit looking like that..."
One of Roy's rare moments of nobility, given how hard up he is at this point.
"Let... go of my wrists, and I'll see what I can do. Jesus, Bowhead, do you have that mouth registered as a lethal weapon?" Dick managed to get his eyes open, shuddering slightly against the feel of Roy's hands wrapped hard around his wrists. The kiss hadn't surprised him--Roy wasn't known for control, and he'd been teasing him--but the sheer strength of his own reaction had. He couldn't remember the last time he'd let someone else take control so completely. //Come on, Roy... let go of my wrists while I can still walk....// He rolled his wrists, trying to coax Roy to let go--and realized half a second later it was a mistake as Roy's grip tightened on them and his eyes flashed to gold truer than his shirt as his lips tightened in hunger... His knees tried to buckle and he leaned back
against the wall, fighting down the spike in his breathing, //the outright panting,// a traitorous part of his mind pointed out.
"Roy... let. Go." He tried for command-voice… and failed miserably.
The archer's lips skinned back from his teeth in a wicked smile. "All right, Wing... all right... but only because I want to get you back to my apartment..." //Oh, Wing. You shouldn't show me things like that....//
The lazy, indulgent tone and the loss of his grip struck like paired strikes to the gut, and Dick forced himself off the wall, moving towards the bike in the garage with as much nonchalance as he could possibly manage to put into his stride. He wasn’t going to let Roy know how much that had rattled him.
Roy hung back a step to watch, smiling at the obviously-faked assurance--it took reminding himself strongly that he was not a teenager anymore and that they were not going
to grope each other any more until they were on a bed--to keep himself from jumping him from behind. He made it to his bike and slid on, helmet going on easily as Dick curled around him from behind--and one strong hand slid down his chest, obviously aimed lower. "Dick... Dick, I need to drive, man..."
"Think of it as an... exercise in concentration," that smoky voice laughed into his ear as that hand cupped around his cock.
"You're the control freak, Batboy!" Roy gasped as he tried not to squirm. "I'm... impulse-driven... and if you don't stop that I will crash us both. Play later, drive now, okay?"
"Spoilsport..." How he could make a pout so damned sexy was something Roy was never going to understand. "Fine..." And the hand on his dick slipped away, back up his chest and to somewhere resembling safe.
I adore the two of them bantering with each other. I really do. They're just... fun when they're like that.
Roy decided that was probably as good as it was going to get, and took off. If Dick had thought they moved quick to get to the bike--the Flash wouldn't be able to catch up with how fast he intended to get them back to his place. Feeling Dick pressed up against him like that, hot even through coat and shirts and very, very interested was doing awful things to what little control he had--therefore, getting somewhere not moving was sure as hell a priority.
Somehow, he managed that without getting stopped, pulled over, a ticket, or any other attention from New York's Finest, and parked the bike with a tire-screech he'd pay for later. That wasn't half as important as getting the helmet off and away, twisting around, joining his hands with Dick's to shove his off
and kissing Dick again. That same taste--less of the orange juice, more of himself--he felt the bike shift under them and pulled back to pant, "Off the bike. Off the bike, upstairs..."
At this point, even Roy was surprised he was thinking that clearly.
The smug little prick had the gall to laugh at him before he slid off the bike and headed for the stairs at a dead run, hollering "Catch me if you can!" behind him.
"You need my keys, you twit!" Roy yelled right back, following him at just as dead a run. Trust Dick to find a way to lighten things up while turning them both on--though he admitted to surprise that it was Dick being chased… You couldn't do what they did for this long without working up some serious kinks about chasing, hunting, being chased--and Dick was making headway on getting away from him.
"No I don't... well, yeah, but I picked your pockets, hotshot!"
Roy slapped a thigh, cursed, and followed, taking the stairs two and three at a time and watching Dick move up the stairs, graceful even in this insanity, //God, damn, he's Fine...//
Dick had just enough of a lead--//damn the years I smoked, I'm not as fast as I used to be//--to get the security system and the door unlocked and inside, keys thrown ahead of him, before Roy could catch up. He kicked the door shut with his left foot, slammed the lock home with his right hand, and pounced, not even bothering to flick on the lights. He knocked his best friend/antagonist/teammate/partner/brother/lover to the floor--not that Dick hadn't felt it coming, couldn't have dodged it in several pain-creating ways, or countered it in even more, but he didn't. He went with it, and that just made some half-flipped switch in Roy's head flip allthe way on. He didn't go for a kiss this time--just pinned Dick down and went after his throat. His hands flattened above Dick's elbows and their bodies locked together, sucking at his throat under the open collar, hips locked to Dick's and moving like they'd never gotten away from that wall. The angle was a little awkward to let him get his mouth on Dick's throat and his cock pressed to the right places, but hey, he was flexible enough for this. He took half a second to just breathe Dick's scent, spiced with sweat and so damned good… then went back to sucking at Dick's throat, seeing what noises he could drag out of the man under him.
The byplay between them, the blur between sexual and simply knowing each other... is a good half of what fascinates me most about these two--and the amount of... roughness that can come into their sex life without interfering in the trust between them, just because of the lifestyle they live and the way they canonically interact, is a trip and a half. They can just pounce each other and it's fine, pin each other and it's pure hot... Yeeeah.
Part 2 once i'm not passing out.
