In Dreams, Ch. 5
Pairing: Bruce/Dick (x2!)
Summary: I finally went through with my threats plans to write that thing where Regular!Bruce & Dick (I'm using a mix of Grant Morrison/New 52, only Damian isn't dead because that'd suck donkey balls) meet Bruce & Dick from Frank Miller notorious (and glorious XD) All-Star Batman and Robin. Sparks fly. Fists, too.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Abuse, angst, creepiness, idiot plot, purple prose, underage sex, violence.
Notes: Written for the Bruce/Dick Ficathon 2013. Wonderful cover art drawn by Lokiet! Thanks so much!
You can read it on AO3 HERE.
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V.
What Dick does next is probably the worst move of his entire career.
He strings Batman up nice and tight (and with some glee, admittedly), which, so far so good. He uses a special Tibetan knot that Bruce has taught him, one that he himself hadn't picked up until he was older. This Batman doesn't seem like he'd been to Tibet. Dick wonders if he'd ever go to Tibet. He seems like the type to get kicked out of every monastery.
He patches himself up next. He's played up his injuries to fool Batman - a trick that Bruce would have never fallen for - but he's clearly still in a pretty bad way. If Batman had been an inch more experienced, and a little less of an arrogant windbag, he would've ended Dick, and Dick knows it.
Anyway, he still does the chivalrous thing and slathers Batman's face in burn ointment because, unlike him, Dick is not a total jerk.
And that's when the really bad decisions start.
Batman's out cold for the moment, but he's clearly still dangerous. Dick knows he should signal the Manor, tell Bruce to come immediately, and rest until he gets there. Or he should at least call for some backup -Tim, Steph or Helena would undoubtedly get a real kick out of Mean Batman. These are all smart things he could do. But in his current state, he doesn't do either of them.
Perhaps it's the levels of adrenaline he's operating on. Perhaps it's the wicked triumph he feels over having bested the man who'd tormented Robin. Perhaps it's a desire to show Bruce the dangerous catch he's made, and show him right away. Whatever it is, it makes him step back into his Nightwing suit (wincing in pain), drag the passed-out Bat to his car (making sure to bump him into every obstacle along the way), toss him into the trunk, and race down to the Manor.
Coming through the front door with a tied-up, pissed off Dark Knight seems like a bad idea, so he takes the secret passageway to the Batcave. Despite him and Bruce being on the rocks, he still has his clearance, so it works out.
He pulls in the car. When he gets out, he finds the cave dark and deserted, which isn't what he'd expected. Looks like he'll have to wake Bruce up, after all. But he wagers it'll be worth it.
Batman tries to head-butt him right out of the trunk, but he'd definitely expected that.
"You took my stuff," He mopes at him when it doesn't work. "You're all a pack of thieves."
True, Dick has removed his utility belt and at least a dozen more gadgets, weapons, and blades from him while he'd been passed out. That Chinese finger trap he carried around for whatever reason had nearly snapped his pinky off. Dick doesn't even want to know what he's been doing with that.
"You'll be lucky to leave with a few of your teeth when Batman gets a hold of you," he tells him cooly, dragging him to his bound feet.
His captive spits, some blood still mixed in with the saliva. "I'm the goddamn Batman," he declares.
Dick kinda wants to zap him with his escrima stick just for that. But his mentor has taught him not to abuse culprits when they're already detained, so he merely rolls his eyes.
Meanwhile, Young Bruce examines the dormant Batcave. "He's in bed?" He complains. "Man, what is he, 80?!"
"Why do I feel like you'll eat those words," Dick quips, prodding him forward. "Enough talk. Let's boogie."
Batman eyes the stairs leading up to the living quarters, and grunts. "You don't expect me to hobble all the way up there, do you, Ancient Wonder?" He growls. "When d'you plan on arriving, next week?"
"Aw, don't sell yourself short, I'm sure you'll do great," Dick says merrily, dragging him along by his bulky shoulder. Batman makes a sound at that like a discontented third-grader, which would be amusing if the whole situation wasn't so grim.
"So eager to deliver me to your Lord and Master, huh," Batman says after a while, licking his busted lips. His cowl is torn and he has some nasty electrical burns on one side of his face, but he's grinning, anyway. "You should tuck your tail away, I think it's wagging in my face."
Dick feels an unwelcome rush of blood in his cheeks. He tries to tell himself that Batman is messing with him. What he's doing is, he's turning in a dangerous fugitive, and that's a good thing. And perhaps Robin would be relieved to see him detained, too. It could make up for the awkward way they'd parted earlier. It's not all about Bruce. Really, it's not.
He pulls out an escrima stick. "Oh, one more thing. You try anything funny, and I'll zap you again. Actually, please try something funny, 'cause I really wanna zap you again."
"I'll feed you your own balls for this," Batman announces, but then he starts hopping along. Even under the circumstances, it's one of the greatest things Dick has ever seen; he'll carry that sight in his heart forever. Batman is a surprisingly compliant captive, but Dick knows why. It's because despite his attitude, he's not entirely stupid. He knows he has lost, for now. But he's undoubtedly preserving his energy, waiting for the right moment to strike. Batman never quits, and this one is definitely no exception. But, well, Dick would make sure that moment never arrives.
"At least Alfred doesn't slack off," Batman mutters under his breath, as he sees the Manor's impeccable condition when they reach the upstairs.
Wayne Manor is riddled with motion alerts, but Dick knows how to avoid them; the last thing they need is Damian leaping out at them with a huge katana. Though it'd almost be worth it for the look on Batman's face, Dick's priority is to get Bruce informed. He'd actually love to prop Mean Batman up against the wall like a surfboard while he goes to knock on his former mentor's bedroom door, but he doesn't dare leave him out of his sights even for a second. Not him. So, more steps it is -
Batman clicks his tongue at him. "Hey, skippy. Over there."
He tilts his head in the direction of the study, and then Dick sees it. There's light flooding out from underneath the door. Batman seems less worried about meeting his older counterpart than offended that Dick has missed that obvious clue.
"Pay attention," he scolds him quietly.
Oh; that makes it easier, then. "Come," Dick mutters, as if Batman is his pet, then drags him with him, anyway.
They close in on the study, and the closer they get, the more it becomes obvious that something's going on in there, and it's not quiet reading. The sounds coming from behind the heavy door are muffled, incomprehensible. Dick hears something that sounds like … rattling, and then a high, faint humming noise that gives him a strange sensation in his belly, but that he can't place. It sounds almost like a haunting. Next to him, Batman is tensing, too.
Dick frowns. He knows that Bruce plans to try world-breaching again, but … but he's not already experimenting, is he? On the other hand, it'd be quite like him to -
The door isn't even locked.
In hindsight, it is insane that the door isn't even locked.
Dick opens it, and steps right into the deep end, into pandemonium. What he sees very nearly makes his mind explode.
He sees Robin, bent over Bruce's desk, legs spread so wide that he's standing on his toes, vest torn halfway down his shoulders. He's the one producing that high-pitched, keeling wail. Bruce has his eyes closed like he's in a trance, clutching the boy's face with a vice-like, bruising hand, sucking on the flushed skin between his neck and shoulder while he thrusts into him, deep, hungry thrusts that shake the entire table to the point that its contents are mostly on the floor. And then, Dick stumbles inside, not feeling the ground beneath his feet, and it stops, it all stops dead.
He doesn't even know what the look on Bruce's face is like when he notices him, because something inside him snaps, and all he sees when he looks at him is red.
It's probably seconds. It feels like hours. He's not sure anymore.
The next thing he sees his how Robin's eyes widen when he sets them on Batman, who's standing tied-up next to Dick. The knuckle he's been biting plops out of his mouth. "Oh," he breathes, "Oh shit," and he sounds thrilled, and he's leering, and Dick dizzily realizes that he loves that this is happening. And when he looks over at Batman, he sees him smiling, too. His smile is one of triumph and smug satisfaction, and Dick doesn't even understand it, until Batman opens his mouth to speak.
"Trash," is all he says, and it's clear that he means Bruce.
Bruce looks like he's being gutted. No, he looks like he's already dead. His eyes are blank, his face is ashen. He looks incredibly old all of a sudden. Dick stares at him, and it's as if he watches a part of his soul actually curl up and die.
Dick feels physically ill. The room is spinning, his world is spinning, but he doesn't move, nobody moves for what seems like forever, until a big, gloved hand closes around his throat, and another wave of horror washes over him.
He's freed his hands
"Sorry, Nightwing," Dick hears Batman growl, "You seem all right," and then two big arms twist his neck to hard that tears shoot into his eyes. In his current state, it doesn't actually hurt that much, comparably.
"You move," Batman now tells Bruce, who's still standing there like a frozen corpse with his shirt hanging out of his pants, "You raise your voice, even a little, and the pretty one gets it."
Dick almost wants to laugh. He's figured out the knot. Of course he's figured out the knot. He's been working his way through it while distracting Dick with his snide remarks and crappy attitude, because of course he has. He's the goddamn Batman.
Batman now deigns to address his partner, but his voice is anything but friendly, and his eyes remain fixed on his target. "Thanks for the diversion."
"Yeah, I wasn't doing that for you," Robin points out, tugging on his vest and leotard to make himself more presentable, "Honestly, I hoped I'd never have to see you again." He cocks an eyebrow, but it's almost as if his features are softening when he asks, "What's up with your face?"
Batman's lips distort with anger, and then Dick lets out a soft cry when he receives another angry yank to the neck.
Hearing him seems to shock Bruce out of his stasis, at least. Dick can see the genuine terror in his eyes, but truth be told, he perceives anything the man does through a thick, sickly fog of disgust right now.
"You won't kill him," Bruce says to Batman. He's so convinced of this that he sounds almost calm.
"Don't test me, old man." Batman's face is so close he's almost nibbling on Dick's ear as he talks. "There's more I can do than kill him. You know damn well that if I snap it here, he'll be paralyzed for life. This one's an acrobat too, isn't he? Sure he is, I've fought him. Think he'll adjust well to being a quadriplegic? You decide."
Dick groans. Bruce looks as if he's throwing up in his mouth. Even Robin seems a little disturbed.
"Don't make that face, Wayne," Batman barks when Bruce gives him a deep look of hatred and disgust, "You started it!"
That makes Robin perk up, despite the fact that his older self is very nearly getting his head twisted off. In fact, it seems as if Bruce and Dick have dropped off the face of the earth as far as he's concerned, and now there's only Batman. "Aw," he chirps, and Dick realizes a little too late how nuts he is, "You came for me?!"
"Shut up," Batman snaps at him, irritated, and Robin stops talking, but he doesn't stop grinning.
Dick can see Bruce's eyes desperately flit in his direction again. He's clearly trying to hide how upset he is, but of course that's fairly pointless if he has to hide it from himself. "Let him go," he says with curt nod at Dick, "And we'll talk."
His voice is grave, but he doesn't look too impressive in his post-sex rumpled state, distraught, discolored and shaken, and Batman's dismissive snort attests to that. Dick is too fed up with Bruce to appreciate that he's obviously scared for his life.
Batman grunts. "You got no room to talk and you know it," he drawls, "And by the way, don't even think about pushing one of those buttons I know you've got under that desk. I know all about 'em. I installed them. If I see your fingers twitch even once -"
"You won't," Bruce says quickly, raising his hands in a show of compliance. He turns to Robin. "He leaves me no choice - for now - "
Robin shoots him a look like he's just now remembering he's there.
Batman sounds almost like he's pitying his counterpart. "You don't know what you're messing with, Wayne. You don't even know what you're dealing with, here. You're in over your head. And you," he snaps, turning to his young apprentice again, "My feet. Cut 'em loose. Hurry up. We'll discuss this episode later."
Robin's mouth hangs agape as he looks from one Bruce Wayne to the other. It's obvious that he's getting off on the attention, but it's not immediately clear what he's going to do. Dick suddenly realizes that, for all his craziness, for all his obsession, Robin is still a wild card.
It's difficult to squeeze the words out of his mangled throat, but Dick does it, anyway. "Look at him. He doesn't care about you," he mumbles, speaking to the kid, though he's not even sure who he's saying this to. "He never will. Go with him, and he'll hurt you again. He'll abuse you again. Over and over." The words taste like poison in his mouth. He closes his eyes. "Trust me."
After he's finished, a cold chill seems to waft through the room, somehow. It's deadly quiet, until Batman suddenly utters a flat "…what."
When Dick opens his eyes again, he sees Robin staring at him with an almost comically startled look on his face. He looks like a little boy who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Um. Shut up?" He mumbles at his doppelganger, but it's too late.
Dick can feel how confused Batman is. Sadly, he's not confused enough to loosen his vice-like grip on him when he hollers, "What did you tell them I did?!"
"Nothing!" Robin grows even paler than Bruce is. "I told them nothin', Sir, really, I - I swear. He - " He points an accusing finger at Bruce, "He - I think he thinks you've been touching me or somethin', and I just, I just, I went with it, I'm sorry!" His voice turns whiny. "He was so nice to me!"
"You…" Bruce's voice sounds so small. The crestfallen look on his face as he turns to the boy would almost hurt if Dick was in any state to give a crap about what he felt. "You said he'd … done something to you…"
Robin is fidgeting with his hands, still looking like a kid who's getting detention.
"You psychotic little shit," Batman murmurs. "Why don't you tell them the truth. Go on. Tell 'em. Tell 'em what I did, what I actually did to you."
Robin's sharp little face goes from white to red. His face twists into a furious grimace. He looks at Batman as if he hates and loves him more than anything. Dick sees tears shoot into his eyes. And then it bursts out of him.
"He fired me!"
His lip starts wibbling. He stomps his foot like the petulant child he is. "He fired me, after all the work I did, after all I did for him, he goes and throws me out like garbage!"
"That's right." Dick feels Batman's sardonic smile against his cheek. "And, honey, that I would do over and over again."
Robin pokes a finger at Dick next, still whining at his former boss. "He got shot, you know?! He got himself shot, I would never do that, and you fired me, anyway!"
"For incompetence. For cowardice." Batman hesitates. "And for acting like a fucking brat when I wouldn't return your advances."
The boy's face grows an even deeper shade of red. "Oh, you wanted to," he spits, lower lip trembling with hate, "Don't gimme that, you wanted me, you always wanted me, from the minute you took me, but you didn't have the guts."
He abruptly turns to Bruce again, and his mask of anger turns into tenderness and pride for a few insane seconds. "He's not the man you are," he gushes at him.
Bruce doesn't look as if he could possibly feel any worse about himself than he already does.
"Yeah, sorry, gramps," Batman taunts him, anyway. "But the only one in this room who's fucked a teenage boy is you."
"Leave us," Bruce says in that broken, hollow voice, eyes closed. "Release Nightwing. He's done nothing to you. He's had no part in this. Please."
Batman is visibly disgusted at hearing his older self plead with someone, even if it's him. It barely makes a difference, however, since he seems disgusted with Bruce, anyway. "Not yet," he says mercilessly. He's holding Dick so tightly even the smallest movement would result in him snapping his neck, not giving him or Bruce any chance to act. "There's more."
He nods at Robin, who's still pouting at him. "Own up," he prompts him. "Tell 'em the rest. You owe him that. He was so nice to you."
The teenager turns very meek all of a sudden. "P-please don't?" He whimpers. "You'll ruin it, please don't make me tell him, I'll cut you free, I'll go with you, but don't make me say it -"
"Do it."
"Aw man..." Robin shoots Bruce a timid look, lip quivering, eyes fluttering. He talks very softly, in a way that suggests an intimacy between them that would turn Dick's stomach, if he wasn't already busy with having his neck twisted.
"Y'know, that room? Where we met?" Robin pipes, almost shyly. "I … I made that."
"You made it," Bruce repeats. He sounds too drained to inflect his voice with any type of emotion. But the look he gives him is gentle and sad. Whatever happened with them in that room, it has affected him.
Batman picks up the story when Robin simply hangs his head, tears streaking down his face, and doesn't go on.
"After I kicked his sorry ass out, I realized he'd do anything to get back at me," he sneers. "Or get back to me, I don't know. He seemed obsessed. He tried to get in with some scientist who could modify his body, make it faster and stronger, and when those guys wouldn't play along, he shacked up with some pretty unsavory, uh, wizard types." Batman scrunches up his nose at that last part.
"Occultists, they were occultists, okay," Robin corrects him. It seems like he still doesn't want to talk about it, but he doesn't want Batman to get it all wrong, either. "And they were really good, like. They taught me that I could create places with my mind, if I focused hard enough, and said the right incantations. Like real ones, not that sideshow crap at all. I was lonely, and I had no place to be, so I. I created home. Our home."
He looks at Batman with those large, pleading eyes. If that inspires any emotions in the man, he doesn't let it show. Robin swallows some tears, and continues.
"And then, I … I thought, well, if I could use my willpower to create places, maybe I could also use it to … to make people do what I want. So every night, I concentrated really, really hard on …" He blushes, very sweetly this time. "On calling him to me. And then one night, it seemed to work." He shoots Bruce another covert look. "But it was you, you came instead. That was an accident, I'm sorry!"
Bruce nods. His voice is a whisper, his tone wistful. "We both wanted -" He starts, then casts a fleeting look at Dick, and says no more.
"I-I tried to act all normal when you came in, because I wasn't sure what was happening and I didn't wanna rock the boat, but then you started, you started to, um …"
He looks at his boots again. "You were so nice to me," he repeats.
For a moment that seems somehow equal parts sickening and sweet, it looks as if Bruce and Robin are going to touch hands, but then Batman's voice cuts the air like a cracking whip.
"Enough. I'm ending this. Get over here, mumbles."
The teenager casts one last look at Bruce, mouths, "I'm sorry," then scurries over to Batman, his Batman. Of course he does, Dick thinks, because when it comes down to it, it'll always be Batman and Robin, every time. He sees him grab the letter opener that's dropped to the floor, and then he's kneeling in front of Batman, cutting the lines around his boots in a show of obedience. Batman grunts in approval.
"Good for something, for once," he grumbles. Then he takes one last look at Bruce, as well. "You make me sick, old man," he informs him. "You're not fit to wear our cowl. I'd say I'll ruin your life for this, but it seems you already did that. Bye."
And with that, he tosses Dick aside like a used napkin, grabbing Robin instead.
"I'm so sorry, for real," Robin chirps at him, before a strong arm drags him away.
As they scram, Bruce's first thought, weirdly enough, isn't pursuit. His first thought is his former partner. Still stumbling from the force of Batman's push, Dick sees him hurry towards him, arms stretched out for support.
"Dick." He sounds anxious, voice trembling. "Dick, are y-"
A surge of angry energy explodes in Dick's body. He shoots up, and sucker punches Bruce so hard that he drops to his knees.
Normally, it wouldn't be possible to fell Bruce with a blow like that; or at all. But he doesn't try to dodge, doesn't try to stop him, doesn't fight back, probably because he knows somewhere in his heart that he deserves it.
Dick wipes his mouth, bile rising in his throat. "Don't touch me."
Bruce stays on his knees, a slumped figure at Dick's feet. He's still as white as a sheet, but now bright red blood is pooling out of his nose, slowly trailing over his mouth, which is also bleeding. But he doesn't seem to feel the pain. He looks as broken and shell-shocked as Dick has ever seen him, but perhaps for the first time in his life, he feels not a kernel of sympathy for him.
"Dick. I'm s-"
"No."
Dick barely recognizes his own voice. His legs are shaking, and all he wants to do is curl up somewhere and cry like a child, he feels so betrayed. But there's no way in hell he's going to cry in front of him, so he starts screaming, instead. He doesn't care anymore who'll hear it.
"How could you?! That kid is what, sixteen?!" He shouts at him, and he can actually see Bruce flinch at that, "Of course he's devoted to you, of course he'd do whatever you want him to. He looks up to you, idolizes you, he loves you. He'd do anything for you. And that is what you choose to do. That."
Bruce lets the tirade wash over him, staring up at Dick with dead, sunken eyes. But right at the end, something flashes in them, something sly and hideous. He licks his blood-stained lips. "Are we still talking about him," he mutters, and suddenly, Dick knows, he knows that Bruce has followed them like the creep he is, and he'd heard him say how he once loved him, and now he's throwing it back in his face. Even at his lowest, his instinct to cruelly deflect is still intact, like a shield.
Dick lets out a roar, grabs the letter opener that Robin has dropped after freeing Batman, and fires it right between Bruce's legs. It gets stuck in the floorboard between his knees, vibrating. If he'd wanted to impale his balls, he could've.
He feels poison collect on his lips. He's never said something like this to him before. He never thought he would.
"You piece of shit."
When Bruce's eyes fall shut, it's like the lid of a coffin closing. He says nothing in his defense. Dick's vision is blurring. He can't breathe. It slowly occurs to him that he's still wounded, too, cut to bits by the other Batman. It seems hard to even stay on his feet -
That's when the alarm starts sounding, saving them from having to look at each other. And somehow, they both immediately know what the other two did.
"Ah." Bruce still sounds affectless, dead. "They - "
"- set the Batcave on fire. I know," Dick finishes, rubbing his face. Hell is not over. He wants to be miles away from Bruce, but he's not gonna let down Damian and Alfred. "Let's go."
----
Next Chapter
Summary: I finally went through with my threats plans to write that thing where Regular!Bruce & Dick (I'm using a mix of Grant Morrison/New 52, only Damian isn't dead because that'd suck donkey balls) meet Bruce & Dick from Frank Miller notorious (and glorious XD) All-Star Batman and Robin. Sparks fly. Fists, too.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Abuse, angst, creepiness, idiot plot, purple prose, underage sex, violence.
Notes: Written for the Bruce/Dick Ficathon 2013. Wonderful cover art drawn by Lokiet! Thanks so much!
You can read it on AO3 HERE.
----
V.
What Dick does next is probably the worst move of his entire career.
He strings Batman up nice and tight (and with some glee, admittedly), which, so far so good. He uses a special Tibetan knot that Bruce has taught him, one that he himself hadn't picked up until he was older. This Batman doesn't seem like he'd been to Tibet. Dick wonders if he'd ever go to Tibet. He seems like the type to get kicked out of every monastery.
He patches himself up next. He's played up his injuries to fool Batman - a trick that Bruce would have never fallen for - but he's clearly still in a pretty bad way. If Batman had been an inch more experienced, and a little less of an arrogant windbag, he would've ended Dick, and Dick knows it.
Anyway, he still does the chivalrous thing and slathers Batman's face in burn ointment because, unlike him, Dick is not a total jerk.
And that's when the really bad decisions start.
Batman's out cold for the moment, but he's clearly still dangerous. Dick knows he should signal the Manor, tell Bruce to come immediately, and rest until he gets there. Or he should at least call for some backup -Tim, Steph or Helena would undoubtedly get a real kick out of Mean Batman. These are all smart things he could do. But in his current state, he doesn't do either of them.
Perhaps it's the levels of adrenaline he's operating on. Perhaps it's the wicked triumph he feels over having bested the man who'd tormented Robin. Perhaps it's a desire to show Bruce the dangerous catch he's made, and show him right away. Whatever it is, it makes him step back into his Nightwing suit (wincing in pain), drag the passed-out Bat to his car (making sure to bump him into every obstacle along the way), toss him into the trunk, and race down to the Manor.
Coming through the front door with a tied-up, pissed off Dark Knight seems like a bad idea, so he takes the secret passageway to the Batcave. Despite him and Bruce being on the rocks, he still has his clearance, so it works out.
He pulls in the car. When he gets out, he finds the cave dark and deserted, which isn't what he'd expected. Looks like he'll have to wake Bruce up, after all. But he wagers it'll be worth it.
Batman tries to head-butt him right out of the trunk, but he'd definitely expected that.
"You took my stuff," He mopes at him when it doesn't work. "You're all a pack of thieves."
True, Dick has removed his utility belt and at least a dozen more gadgets, weapons, and blades from him while he'd been passed out. That Chinese finger trap he carried around for whatever reason had nearly snapped his pinky off. Dick doesn't even want to know what he's been doing with that.
"You'll be lucky to leave with a few of your teeth when Batman gets a hold of you," he tells him cooly, dragging him to his bound feet.
His captive spits, some blood still mixed in with the saliva. "I'm the goddamn Batman," he declares.
Dick kinda wants to zap him with his escrima stick just for that. But his mentor has taught him not to abuse culprits when they're already detained, so he merely rolls his eyes.
Meanwhile, Young Bruce examines the dormant Batcave. "He's in bed?" He complains. "Man, what is he, 80?!"
"Why do I feel like you'll eat those words," Dick quips, prodding him forward. "Enough talk. Let's boogie."
Batman eyes the stairs leading up to the living quarters, and grunts. "You don't expect me to hobble all the way up there, do you, Ancient Wonder?" He growls. "When d'you plan on arriving, next week?"
"Aw, don't sell yourself short, I'm sure you'll do great," Dick says merrily, dragging him along by his bulky shoulder. Batman makes a sound at that like a discontented third-grader, which would be amusing if the whole situation wasn't so grim.
"So eager to deliver me to your Lord and Master, huh," Batman says after a while, licking his busted lips. His cowl is torn and he has some nasty electrical burns on one side of his face, but he's grinning, anyway. "You should tuck your tail away, I think it's wagging in my face."
Dick feels an unwelcome rush of blood in his cheeks. He tries to tell himself that Batman is messing with him. What he's doing is, he's turning in a dangerous fugitive, and that's a good thing. And perhaps Robin would be relieved to see him detained, too. It could make up for the awkward way they'd parted earlier. It's not all about Bruce. Really, it's not.
He pulls out an escrima stick. "Oh, one more thing. You try anything funny, and I'll zap you again. Actually, please try something funny, 'cause I really wanna zap you again."
"I'll feed you your own balls for this," Batman announces, but then he starts hopping along. Even under the circumstances, it's one of the greatest things Dick has ever seen; he'll carry that sight in his heart forever. Batman is a surprisingly compliant captive, but Dick knows why. It's because despite his attitude, he's not entirely stupid. He knows he has lost, for now. But he's undoubtedly preserving his energy, waiting for the right moment to strike. Batman never quits, and this one is definitely no exception. But, well, Dick would make sure that moment never arrives.
"At least Alfred doesn't slack off," Batman mutters under his breath, as he sees the Manor's impeccable condition when they reach the upstairs.
Wayne Manor is riddled with motion alerts, but Dick knows how to avoid them; the last thing they need is Damian leaping out at them with a huge katana. Though it'd almost be worth it for the look on Batman's face, Dick's priority is to get Bruce informed. He'd actually love to prop Mean Batman up against the wall like a surfboard while he goes to knock on his former mentor's bedroom door, but he doesn't dare leave him out of his sights even for a second. Not him. So, more steps it is -
Batman clicks his tongue at him. "Hey, skippy. Over there."
He tilts his head in the direction of the study, and then Dick sees it. There's light flooding out from underneath the door. Batman seems less worried about meeting his older counterpart than offended that Dick has missed that obvious clue.
"Pay attention," he scolds him quietly.
Oh; that makes it easier, then. "Come," Dick mutters, as if Batman is his pet, then drags him with him, anyway.
They close in on the study, and the closer they get, the more it becomes obvious that something's going on in there, and it's not quiet reading. The sounds coming from behind the heavy door are muffled, incomprehensible. Dick hears something that sounds like … rattling, and then a high, faint humming noise that gives him a strange sensation in his belly, but that he can't place. It sounds almost like a haunting. Next to him, Batman is tensing, too.
Dick frowns. He knows that Bruce plans to try world-breaching again, but … but he's not already experimenting, is he? On the other hand, it'd be quite like him to -
The door isn't even locked.
In hindsight, it is insane that the door isn't even locked.
Dick opens it, and steps right into the deep end, into pandemonium. What he sees very nearly makes his mind explode.
He sees Robin, bent over Bruce's desk, legs spread so wide that he's standing on his toes, vest torn halfway down his shoulders. He's the one producing that high-pitched, keeling wail. Bruce has his eyes closed like he's in a trance, clutching the boy's face with a vice-like, bruising hand, sucking on the flushed skin between his neck and shoulder while he thrusts into him, deep, hungry thrusts that shake the entire table to the point that its contents are mostly on the floor. And then, Dick stumbles inside, not feeling the ground beneath his feet, and it stops, it all stops dead.
He doesn't even know what the look on Bruce's face is like when he notices him, because something inside him snaps, and all he sees when he looks at him is red.
It's probably seconds. It feels like hours. He's not sure anymore.
The next thing he sees his how Robin's eyes widen when he sets them on Batman, who's standing tied-up next to Dick. The knuckle he's been biting plops out of his mouth. "Oh," he breathes, "Oh shit," and he sounds thrilled, and he's leering, and Dick dizzily realizes that he loves that this is happening. And when he looks over at Batman, he sees him smiling, too. His smile is one of triumph and smug satisfaction, and Dick doesn't even understand it, until Batman opens his mouth to speak.
"Trash," is all he says, and it's clear that he means Bruce.
Bruce looks like he's being gutted. No, he looks like he's already dead. His eyes are blank, his face is ashen. He looks incredibly old all of a sudden. Dick stares at him, and it's as if he watches a part of his soul actually curl up and die.
Dick feels physically ill. The room is spinning, his world is spinning, but he doesn't move, nobody moves for what seems like forever, until a big, gloved hand closes around his throat, and another wave of horror washes over him.
He's freed his hands
"Sorry, Nightwing," Dick hears Batman growl, "You seem all right," and then two big arms twist his neck to hard that tears shoot into his eyes. In his current state, it doesn't actually hurt that much, comparably.
"You move," Batman now tells Bruce, who's still standing there like a frozen corpse with his shirt hanging out of his pants, "You raise your voice, even a little, and the pretty one gets it."
Dick almost wants to laugh. He's figured out the knot. Of course he's figured out the knot. He's been working his way through it while distracting Dick with his snide remarks and crappy attitude, because of course he has. He's the goddamn Batman.
Batman now deigns to address his partner, but his voice is anything but friendly, and his eyes remain fixed on his target. "Thanks for the diversion."
"Yeah, I wasn't doing that for you," Robin points out, tugging on his vest and leotard to make himself more presentable, "Honestly, I hoped I'd never have to see you again." He cocks an eyebrow, but it's almost as if his features are softening when he asks, "What's up with your face?"
Batman's lips distort with anger, and then Dick lets out a soft cry when he receives another angry yank to the neck.
Hearing him seems to shock Bruce out of his stasis, at least. Dick can see the genuine terror in his eyes, but truth be told, he perceives anything the man does through a thick, sickly fog of disgust right now.
"You won't kill him," Bruce says to Batman. He's so convinced of this that he sounds almost calm.
"Don't test me, old man." Batman's face is so close he's almost nibbling on Dick's ear as he talks. "There's more I can do than kill him. You know damn well that if I snap it here, he'll be paralyzed for life. This one's an acrobat too, isn't he? Sure he is, I've fought him. Think he'll adjust well to being a quadriplegic? You decide."
Dick groans. Bruce looks as if he's throwing up in his mouth. Even Robin seems a little disturbed.
"Don't make that face, Wayne," Batman barks when Bruce gives him a deep look of hatred and disgust, "You started it!"
That makes Robin perk up, despite the fact that his older self is very nearly getting his head twisted off. In fact, it seems as if Bruce and Dick have dropped off the face of the earth as far as he's concerned, and now there's only Batman. "Aw," he chirps, and Dick realizes a little too late how nuts he is, "You came for me?!"
"Shut up," Batman snaps at him, irritated, and Robin stops talking, but he doesn't stop grinning.
Dick can see Bruce's eyes desperately flit in his direction again. He's clearly trying to hide how upset he is, but of course that's fairly pointless if he has to hide it from himself. "Let him go," he says with curt nod at Dick, "And we'll talk."
His voice is grave, but he doesn't look too impressive in his post-sex rumpled state, distraught, discolored and shaken, and Batman's dismissive snort attests to that. Dick is too fed up with Bruce to appreciate that he's obviously scared for his life.
Batman grunts. "You got no room to talk and you know it," he drawls, "And by the way, don't even think about pushing one of those buttons I know you've got under that desk. I know all about 'em. I installed them. If I see your fingers twitch even once -"
"You won't," Bruce says quickly, raising his hands in a show of compliance. He turns to Robin. "He leaves me no choice - for now - "
Robin shoots him a look like he's just now remembering he's there.
Batman sounds almost like he's pitying his counterpart. "You don't know what you're messing with, Wayne. You don't even know what you're dealing with, here. You're in over your head. And you," he snaps, turning to his young apprentice again, "My feet. Cut 'em loose. Hurry up. We'll discuss this episode later."
Robin's mouth hangs agape as he looks from one Bruce Wayne to the other. It's obvious that he's getting off on the attention, but it's not immediately clear what he's going to do. Dick suddenly realizes that, for all his craziness, for all his obsession, Robin is still a wild card.
It's difficult to squeeze the words out of his mangled throat, but Dick does it, anyway. "Look at him. He doesn't care about you," he mumbles, speaking to the kid, though he's not even sure who he's saying this to. "He never will. Go with him, and he'll hurt you again. He'll abuse you again. Over and over." The words taste like poison in his mouth. He closes his eyes. "Trust me."
After he's finished, a cold chill seems to waft through the room, somehow. It's deadly quiet, until Batman suddenly utters a flat "…what."
When Dick opens his eyes again, he sees Robin staring at him with an almost comically startled look on his face. He looks like a little boy who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Um. Shut up?" He mumbles at his doppelganger, but it's too late.
Dick can feel how confused Batman is. Sadly, he's not confused enough to loosen his vice-like grip on him when he hollers, "What did you tell them I did?!"
"Nothing!" Robin grows even paler than Bruce is. "I told them nothin', Sir, really, I - I swear. He - " He points an accusing finger at Bruce, "He - I think he thinks you've been touching me or somethin', and I just, I just, I went with it, I'm sorry!" His voice turns whiny. "He was so nice to me!"
"You…" Bruce's voice sounds so small. The crestfallen look on his face as he turns to the boy would almost hurt if Dick was in any state to give a crap about what he felt. "You said he'd … done something to you…"
Robin is fidgeting with his hands, still looking like a kid who's getting detention.
"You psychotic little shit," Batman murmurs. "Why don't you tell them the truth. Go on. Tell 'em. Tell 'em what I did, what I actually did to you."
Robin's sharp little face goes from white to red. His face twists into a furious grimace. He looks at Batman as if he hates and loves him more than anything. Dick sees tears shoot into his eyes. And then it bursts out of him.
"He fired me!"
His lip starts wibbling. He stomps his foot like the petulant child he is. "He fired me, after all the work I did, after all I did for him, he goes and throws me out like garbage!"
"That's right." Dick feels Batman's sardonic smile against his cheek. "And, honey, that I would do over and over again."
Robin pokes a finger at Dick next, still whining at his former boss. "He got shot, you know?! He got himself shot, I would never do that, and you fired me, anyway!"
"For incompetence. For cowardice." Batman hesitates. "And for acting like a fucking brat when I wouldn't return your advances."
The boy's face grows an even deeper shade of red. "Oh, you wanted to," he spits, lower lip trembling with hate, "Don't gimme that, you wanted me, you always wanted me, from the minute you took me, but you didn't have the guts."
He abruptly turns to Bruce again, and his mask of anger turns into tenderness and pride for a few insane seconds. "He's not the man you are," he gushes at him.
Bruce doesn't look as if he could possibly feel any worse about himself than he already does.
"Yeah, sorry, gramps," Batman taunts him, anyway. "But the only one in this room who's fucked a teenage boy is you."
"Leave us," Bruce says in that broken, hollow voice, eyes closed. "Release Nightwing. He's done nothing to you. He's had no part in this. Please."
Batman is visibly disgusted at hearing his older self plead with someone, even if it's him. It barely makes a difference, however, since he seems disgusted with Bruce, anyway. "Not yet," he says mercilessly. He's holding Dick so tightly even the smallest movement would result in him snapping his neck, not giving him or Bruce any chance to act. "There's more."
He nods at Robin, who's still pouting at him. "Own up," he prompts him. "Tell 'em the rest. You owe him that. He was so nice to you."
The teenager turns very meek all of a sudden. "P-please don't?" He whimpers. "You'll ruin it, please don't make me tell him, I'll cut you free, I'll go with you, but don't make me say it -"
"Do it."
"Aw man..." Robin shoots Bruce a timid look, lip quivering, eyes fluttering. He talks very softly, in a way that suggests an intimacy between them that would turn Dick's stomach, if he wasn't already busy with having his neck twisted.
"Y'know, that room? Where we met?" Robin pipes, almost shyly. "I … I made that."
"You made it," Bruce repeats. He sounds too drained to inflect his voice with any type of emotion. But the look he gives him is gentle and sad. Whatever happened with them in that room, it has affected him.
Batman picks up the story when Robin simply hangs his head, tears streaking down his face, and doesn't go on.
"After I kicked his sorry ass out, I realized he'd do anything to get back at me," he sneers. "Or get back to me, I don't know. He seemed obsessed. He tried to get in with some scientist who could modify his body, make it faster and stronger, and when those guys wouldn't play along, he shacked up with some pretty unsavory, uh, wizard types." Batman scrunches up his nose at that last part.
"Occultists, they were occultists, okay," Robin corrects him. It seems like he still doesn't want to talk about it, but he doesn't want Batman to get it all wrong, either. "And they were really good, like. They taught me that I could create places with my mind, if I focused hard enough, and said the right incantations. Like real ones, not that sideshow crap at all. I was lonely, and I had no place to be, so I. I created home. Our home."
He looks at Batman with those large, pleading eyes. If that inspires any emotions in the man, he doesn't let it show. Robin swallows some tears, and continues.
"And then, I … I thought, well, if I could use my willpower to create places, maybe I could also use it to … to make people do what I want. So every night, I concentrated really, really hard on …" He blushes, very sweetly this time. "On calling him to me. And then one night, it seemed to work." He shoots Bruce another covert look. "But it was you, you came instead. That was an accident, I'm sorry!"
Bruce nods. His voice is a whisper, his tone wistful. "We both wanted -" He starts, then casts a fleeting look at Dick, and says no more.
"I-I tried to act all normal when you came in, because I wasn't sure what was happening and I didn't wanna rock the boat, but then you started, you started to, um …"
He looks at his boots again. "You were so nice to me," he repeats.
For a moment that seems somehow equal parts sickening and sweet, it looks as if Bruce and Robin are going to touch hands, but then Batman's voice cuts the air like a cracking whip.
"Enough. I'm ending this. Get over here, mumbles."
The teenager casts one last look at Bruce, mouths, "I'm sorry," then scurries over to Batman, his Batman. Of course he does, Dick thinks, because when it comes down to it, it'll always be Batman and Robin, every time. He sees him grab the letter opener that's dropped to the floor, and then he's kneeling in front of Batman, cutting the lines around his boots in a show of obedience. Batman grunts in approval.
"Good for something, for once," he grumbles. Then he takes one last look at Bruce, as well. "You make me sick, old man," he informs him. "You're not fit to wear our cowl. I'd say I'll ruin your life for this, but it seems you already did that. Bye."
And with that, he tosses Dick aside like a used napkin, grabbing Robin instead.
"I'm so sorry, for real," Robin chirps at him, before a strong arm drags him away.
As they scram, Bruce's first thought, weirdly enough, isn't pursuit. His first thought is his former partner. Still stumbling from the force of Batman's push, Dick sees him hurry towards him, arms stretched out for support.
"Dick." He sounds anxious, voice trembling. "Dick, are y-"
A surge of angry energy explodes in Dick's body. He shoots up, and sucker punches Bruce so hard that he drops to his knees.
Normally, it wouldn't be possible to fell Bruce with a blow like that; or at all. But he doesn't try to dodge, doesn't try to stop him, doesn't fight back, probably because he knows somewhere in his heart that he deserves it.
Dick wipes his mouth, bile rising in his throat. "Don't touch me."
Bruce stays on his knees, a slumped figure at Dick's feet. He's still as white as a sheet, but now bright red blood is pooling out of his nose, slowly trailing over his mouth, which is also bleeding. But he doesn't seem to feel the pain. He looks as broken and shell-shocked as Dick has ever seen him, but perhaps for the first time in his life, he feels not a kernel of sympathy for him.
"Dick. I'm s-"
"No."
Dick barely recognizes his own voice. His legs are shaking, and all he wants to do is curl up somewhere and cry like a child, he feels so betrayed. But there's no way in hell he's going to cry in front of him, so he starts screaming, instead. He doesn't care anymore who'll hear it.
"How could you?! That kid is what, sixteen?!" He shouts at him, and he can actually see Bruce flinch at that, "Of course he's devoted to you, of course he'd do whatever you want him to. He looks up to you, idolizes you, he loves you. He'd do anything for you. And that is what you choose to do. That."
Bruce lets the tirade wash over him, staring up at Dick with dead, sunken eyes. But right at the end, something flashes in them, something sly and hideous. He licks his blood-stained lips. "Are we still talking about him," he mutters, and suddenly, Dick knows, he knows that Bruce has followed them like the creep he is, and he'd heard him say how he once loved him, and now he's throwing it back in his face. Even at his lowest, his instinct to cruelly deflect is still intact, like a shield.
Dick lets out a roar, grabs the letter opener that Robin has dropped after freeing Batman, and fires it right between Bruce's legs. It gets stuck in the floorboard between his knees, vibrating. If he'd wanted to impale his balls, he could've.
He feels poison collect on his lips. He's never said something like this to him before. He never thought he would.
"You piece of shit."
When Bruce's eyes fall shut, it's like the lid of a coffin closing. He says nothing in his defense. Dick's vision is blurring. He can't breathe. It slowly occurs to him that he's still wounded, too, cut to bits by the other Batman. It seems hard to even stay on his feet -
That's when the alarm starts sounding, saving them from having to look at each other. And somehow, they both immediately know what the other two did.
"Ah." Bruce still sounds affectless, dead. "They - "
"- set the Batcave on fire. I know," Dick finishes, rubbing his face. Hell is not over. He wants to be miles away from Bruce, but he's not gonna let down Damian and Alfred. "Let's go."
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