Fic: Haven (Bruce) (1/1)
Title: Haven (Bruce) (1/1)
Author: BradyGirl
Pairings/Characters: Bruce/Dick
Category: Romance
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: While a storm rages outside Wayne Manor, Bruce contemplates on the peace and joy that Dick brings him.
Date Of Completion: July 27, 2007
Date Of Posting: July 27, 2007
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1065
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: Well, it appears my DCU Muses are stirring again! Please enjoy this little offering after a week of Harry Pottering. :)
The wind howled, rattling the windowpanes as gray light streamed in through the open curtains of the master bedroom. A fire crackled in the marble fireplace, golden flecks of light illuminating bare skin. The ancient trees bent their branches, leaves blowing off as they snapped back and forth. The ocean would be wild and tempestuous, gray-green and foamy, crashing against the rocks.
Bruce Wayne was comfortably stretched out in his large bed, covers up to his waist, his arm firmly around his sleeping companion. He looked down at Dick Grayson, love swelling in his heart.
Dick slept peacefully, trusting Bruce to keep him safe. Beautiful in repose, his dark hair tumbled endearingly over his brow, slightly ragged and glossy. Long, dark lashes curved to accentuate a face that the tabloids and paparazzi loved to photograph. Bruce would have to get in touch with the portraitist to the rich and famous and get a painting done. He had a portrait of the two of them when Dick was a child and one as a teenager, but now his partner was a man in the full bloom of his powers, and that needed to be captured.
Though only on canvas, because could anyone truly capture Dick Grayson, the man who embodied freedom?
Bruce gently stroked Dick’s hair, listening to his breathing as the storm raged outside. Let the elements do their worst. In here, in Wayne Manor, they were safe.
He still felt a little in awe that Dick had chosen him. Such beauty and grace were part of his world, but usually in paintings or as marble statues. Here he had the living, breathing in-the-flesh beauty that other people could only envy.
Wayne Manor had always been his refuge, his haven, and after his parents’ deaths, his hiding place. The world was a very cruel and vicious place, as he well knew even before he’d donned the cape and cowl. It was his duty as a Wayne to protect his city, a duty that was his family’s legacy. His mother had been the head of many charitable committees, his father had established Gotham General Hospital and free clinics, and together they had indulged in bringing gardens and art to a city with its own unique architecture too often obscured by crime and poverty.
And here in his haven, the quiet had lingered over every room after his parents had died. All the laughter had died. His parents had enjoyed telling jokes and laughing, and the house had been filled with those sounds of joy.
Silence was golden, but it was also lonely.
Bruce gently laid a hand on Dick’s chest, the slow rise-and-fall of his lover comforting. When Dick had first come to the Manor, his voice had been small and subdued, grief lacing every word, interspersed with nightmares’ screams. Gradually, as he began to adjust, his true personality began to emerge.
Dick missed his parents every day, had burned with the need for revenge that had turned to the need for justice, but his sunny personality couldn’t be dampened forever. He had brought the sound of laughter back to the house, lighting all the dark and gloomy corners, bringing movement and joy and a love of life that Bruce had forgotten.
And that loss of memory hadn’t been Alfred’s fault. His faithful friend and butler had raised him, grieving himself, and had kept a young Bruce from falling completely into the abyss. Yet the child who had come later in life had brought his lifeline. Alfred had taken care of him and continued to do so. Dick had needed to be taken care of, and that hadn’t changed even though he was an equal partner on Gotham’s mean streets.
The haven became happy again, and Bruce had looked forward every day to getting up and talking with Dick over breakfast, or catching up on the day at dinner, and then going out on patrol together as darkness fell.
They understood each other, out in Gotham, and Dick was part of his blood and bone.
Whenever Robin was threatened, Batman’s blood burned, and his vengeance was savage indeed. Eventually Gotham’s underworld understood that it was bad for business to hurt Robin, though there were always the foolish who needed a lesson taught.
And he and Robin always returned here, to Wayne Manor, the weight of centuries in its quiet passages and meticulously-maintained rooms, the legacy of his family including the legacy of the Batman.
Dick had chosen to share all that with him. He was the heir to the Wayne fortune and legacy, doing his best to fit into Bruce’s Old Money world with the heart of a circus acrobat. He had attracted friends and his cheerful personality had helped keep him from too much isolation from his peers. Yet he had always seemed to enjoy Bruce’s company most of the time, and for that Bruce had been grateful.
He still was. He felt the warm skin next to his and knew that his lifeline was with Dick, that their blood pulsed together and each was the other’s everything. They had friends of their own and shared friends (Roy, Barbara, Ollie, Diana, Dinah, Clark, just to name a handful), but always the most intense or happy moments were with each other.
And Dick had a family legacy of his own. Bringing joy through art was his legacy. Performing, flying, smiles and sunshine sparkled and illuminated Wayne Manor, the city, and the superhero community. The boy who had led the Titans was now a man who would eventually join the Justice League, and Bruce would recommend him.
But most of all, Dick loved him.
Still amazed at his good fortune, he felt a happiness spread through him. His beautiful young lover, vital with the energy of youth, flexibility, and joy was his in bed, charming, inventive, and insatiable. Bruce smirked slightly at the energy he needed to keep up, but he was happy to try.
A gust of wind rattled the windows with a loud snap, and Dick began to stir.
“Mph, Bruce?”
“Yes?”
“Don’ worry, snuggle with me. Safe here.”
Bruce’s face was wreathed with a smile as he pulled Dick even closer, who immediately curled up around Bruce’s body, his arms protectively encircling Bruce. Bruce pulled the quilt up over the two of them and relaxed with a happy sigh as the storm raged outside.
Author: BradyGirl
Pairings/Characters: Bruce/Dick
Category: Romance
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: While a storm rages outside Wayne Manor, Bruce contemplates on the peace and joy that Dick brings him.
Date Of Completion: July 27, 2007
Date Of Posting: July 27, 2007
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1065
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: Well, it appears my DCU Muses are stirring again! Please enjoy this little offering after a week of Harry Pottering. :)
The wind howled, rattling the windowpanes as gray light streamed in through the open curtains of the master bedroom. A fire crackled in the marble fireplace, golden flecks of light illuminating bare skin. The ancient trees bent their branches, leaves blowing off as they snapped back and forth. The ocean would be wild and tempestuous, gray-green and foamy, crashing against the rocks.
Bruce Wayne was comfortably stretched out in his large bed, covers up to his waist, his arm firmly around his sleeping companion. He looked down at Dick Grayson, love swelling in his heart.
Dick slept peacefully, trusting Bruce to keep him safe. Beautiful in repose, his dark hair tumbled endearingly over his brow, slightly ragged and glossy. Long, dark lashes curved to accentuate a face that the tabloids and paparazzi loved to photograph. Bruce would have to get in touch with the portraitist to the rich and famous and get a painting done. He had a portrait of the two of them when Dick was a child and one as a teenager, but now his partner was a man in the full bloom of his powers, and that needed to be captured.
Though only on canvas, because could anyone truly capture Dick Grayson, the man who embodied freedom?
Bruce gently stroked Dick’s hair, listening to his breathing as the storm raged outside. Let the elements do their worst. In here, in Wayne Manor, they were safe.
He still felt a little in awe that Dick had chosen him. Such beauty and grace were part of his world, but usually in paintings or as marble statues. Here he had the living, breathing in-the-flesh beauty that other people could only envy.
Wayne Manor had always been his refuge, his haven, and after his parents’ deaths, his hiding place. The world was a very cruel and vicious place, as he well knew even before he’d donned the cape and cowl. It was his duty as a Wayne to protect his city, a duty that was his family’s legacy. His mother had been the head of many charitable committees, his father had established Gotham General Hospital and free clinics, and together they had indulged in bringing gardens and art to a city with its own unique architecture too often obscured by crime and poverty.
And here in his haven, the quiet had lingered over every room after his parents had died. All the laughter had died. His parents had enjoyed telling jokes and laughing, and the house had been filled with those sounds of joy.
Silence was golden, but it was also lonely.
Bruce gently laid a hand on Dick’s chest, the slow rise-and-fall of his lover comforting. When Dick had first come to the Manor, his voice had been small and subdued, grief lacing every word, interspersed with nightmares’ screams. Gradually, as he began to adjust, his true personality began to emerge.
Dick missed his parents every day, had burned with the need for revenge that had turned to the need for justice, but his sunny personality couldn’t be dampened forever. He had brought the sound of laughter back to the house, lighting all the dark and gloomy corners, bringing movement and joy and a love of life that Bruce had forgotten.
And that loss of memory hadn’t been Alfred’s fault. His faithful friend and butler had raised him, grieving himself, and had kept a young Bruce from falling completely into the abyss. Yet the child who had come later in life had brought his lifeline. Alfred had taken care of him and continued to do so. Dick had needed to be taken care of, and that hadn’t changed even though he was an equal partner on Gotham’s mean streets.
The haven became happy again, and Bruce had looked forward every day to getting up and talking with Dick over breakfast, or catching up on the day at dinner, and then going out on patrol together as darkness fell.
They understood each other, out in Gotham, and Dick was part of his blood and bone.
Whenever Robin was threatened, Batman’s blood burned, and his vengeance was savage indeed. Eventually Gotham’s underworld understood that it was bad for business to hurt Robin, though there were always the foolish who needed a lesson taught.
And he and Robin always returned here, to Wayne Manor, the weight of centuries in its quiet passages and meticulously-maintained rooms, the legacy of his family including the legacy of the Batman.
Dick had chosen to share all that with him. He was the heir to the Wayne fortune and legacy, doing his best to fit into Bruce’s Old Money world with the heart of a circus acrobat. He had attracted friends and his cheerful personality had helped keep him from too much isolation from his peers. Yet he had always seemed to enjoy Bruce’s company most of the time, and for that Bruce had been grateful.
He still was. He felt the warm skin next to his and knew that his lifeline was with Dick, that their blood pulsed together and each was the other’s everything. They had friends of their own and shared friends (Roy, Barbara, Ollie, Diana, Dinah, Clark, just to name a handful), but always the most intense or happy moments were with each other.
And Dick had a family legacy of his own. Bringing joy through art was his legacy. Performing, flying, smiles and sunshine sparkled and illuminated Wayne Manor, the city, and the superhero community. The boy who had led the Titans was now a man who would eventually join the Justice League, and Bruce would recommend him.
But most of all, Dick loved him.
Still amazed at his good fortune, he felt a happiness spread through him. His beautiful young lover, vital with the energy of youth, flexibility, and joy was his in bed, charming, inventive, and insatiable. Bruce smirked slightly at the energy he needed to keep up, but he was happy to try.
A gust of wind rattled the windows with a loud snap, and Dick began to stir.
“Mph, Bruce?”
“Yes?”
“Don’ worry, snuggle with me. Safe here.”
Bruce’s face was wreathed with a smile as he pulled Dick even closer, who immediately curled up around Bruce’s body, his arms protectively encircling Bruce. Bruce pulled the quilt up over the two of them and relaxed with a happy sigh as the storm raged outside.