Fic: Resist
Title: Resist
Characters: Tim Drake, Dick Grayson
Rating: PG
Warnings: Tim being creepy.
Word Count: 1, 700-ish
Author's Notes: Written in response to sofia815's prompt of "Moriarty!verse - Tim meets Dick/Kon/YJ. Resisting a smile". So this is Dick and Tim's first meeting, before Nightwing meets Moriarty, and the little snippet at the end is part of a much larger fic, but I like teasing you guys.
The party isn’t in Gotham. Tim wouldn’t be here if it was, there are still too many people who might recognize his face, even though he’s much thinner than he used to be, and his hair is short, almost cropped, and dyed a light brown with just a tinge of red. It makes him look older than he is, old enough that he can almost get away with being unaccompanied.
Batman - Bruce Wayne - is supposed to be here. He attends so many of these functions in order to maintain his status as a generous playboy. It’s some type of charity thing, of course, and Bruce has probably donated millions to the cause. It makes Tim sick. Bruce could do so much more if he wasn’t wasting all his time and money on being Batman.
He’s not here though. Tim’s standing with his back to the wall, champagne flute in hand, scanning the crowd for any sign of the man.
He’s so focused that he doesn’t notice the man sidle up next to him.
“Don’t think I’ve seen you at one of these before,” the man announces his presence with the question, and Tim turns to him sharply.
The combination of surprise and the fact that Tim just turned his head to see Dick Grayson results in Tim clenching his hands into fists automatically, crushing the glass in his hand.
“Oh jesus, I’m sorry,” Dick apologizes as champagne drips off Tim’s fingers.
It takes him a second to note that there are shards of glass buried in his hand and that people are looking at him. The latter is what makes him flinch, but Dick seems to interpret it as a reaction to pain.
“I’m really sorry. You want me to help you fix that up?” Dick apologizes a second time, gently taking Tim’s hand and uncurling his fingers to inspect the wounds.
Tim should say something. Anything. But his breath is caught in his throat and his chest feels too tight because Dick is touching him.
“I...” is all he manages to fumble out as a waiter comes over and starts cleaning up the shattered glass. Everyone else goes back to socializing but Dick is still watching Tim, obviously concerned.
“Come on, will you let me patch you up?” Dick asks, but he doesn’t wait for an answer before letting go of Tim’s hand to hold onto his shoulder instead, gently guiding him towards a bathroom.
Tim lets him. He just lets him because it’s Dick Grayson and Tim is too busy trying to remember how to breathe. The cuts sting faintly, nothing that Tim can't tolerate, but he doesn’t push past the pain like he would, because a normal kid wouldn’t. He lets the pain make his eyes water, his bottom lip trembling slightly as Dick sits him down on the edge of the bathtub.
“Hey, hey, it's okay. I’ll get this glass out and you’ll be as good as new,” Dick says gently, grabbing a pair of tweezers and pulling out one of those little bottles of antibacterial gel and rubbing it onto the tweezers. “Give me your hand?”
Tim holds his hand out, and Dick wraps his fingers around Tim’s wrist, keeping him still as he starts pulling out the shards of glass. Tim whimpers and flinches a little, but it’s not from the pain, it’s from Dick touching him, the pad of Dick’s thumb stroking over Tim’s wrist. He wants to pull away. He also wants this to never end.
“You’re doing great, I’ll be done in a sec,” Dick’s voice is soft and smooth and it makes Tim whimper again.
There’s blood on his hands, and he’s struck with the brief urge to tilt his hand so that his blood runs onto Dick’s fingers, the thought nearly makes him smile but he supresses both urges, because he’s sure Dick would react badly and he might leave and Tim... doesn’t want that at all.
Dick pulls out the last shard, and puts the tweezers on the edge of the sink, “How’s it feel?”
“It hurts a little...” Tim manages, his voice feels all tight and wrong, just like his chest does.
“Sorry, this is gonna sting a little more,” Dick warns him, letting go of Tim’s wrist - Tim misses the touch already - to grab a gauze pad and wipe Tim’s hand clean of blood, then he seems to pull an antiseptic spray out of nowhere, spraying it on Tim’s hand before pressing another gauze pad on top. Tim makes himself wince.
“Thanks.”
“It was my fault anyway, this is the least I can do,” Dick smiles and Tim’s heart clenches. He wants to smile back, but he can't. He shouldn't.
“N-no, it’s my fault, I’m always so clumsy,” it’s a lie, but Dick doesn’t know that.
“Well, how about we say it’s both our faults and forget about it?” Dick’s still smiling. Tim can’t keep his thoughts straight when Dick is smiling like that, so he looks down at his hand instead, covering the gauze pad with his uninjured hand to hold it down.
“Sure...”
Dick frowns, Tim sees the furrow of his brows when he risks a glance upwards, “You’re not gonna get in trouble for that or anything are you?”
“No, it’s fine. I doubt my dad will even notice,” Tim offers. More lies, but they’re necessary. The next words start to tumble out of his mouth without his consent. “You’re Dick Grayson, aren’t you?”
Dick laughs, bright and clear. “Yeah, that’s me. You a fan?”
Tim almost blushes, but he has better control than that, even if Dick seems to be stripping all his walls down just by looking at him.
“I’ve just... heard of you. Everyone has.” Tim tries to cover up his embarrassment.
“Yeah, I suppose they have,” Dick keeps smiling. Tim wonders if his face ever hurts from smiling so much. “What about you? Should I know you?”
Tim shakes his head, “Oh, no. I’m not anyone.”
“Everyone’s someone. You have a name?”
“It’s James Draper.” Lies upon lies upon lies.
“Nice to meet you, James, I’d shake your hand but, well...” Dick smiles sheepishly at Tim’s cut up hand.
“I think the bleeding has stopped, but I understand.” Tim pulls the gauze away, and inspects the cuts. “It doesn’t look too bad?”
Dick takes Tim’s hand again, gently brushing his fingers over the palm of Tim’s hands, making Tim shiver. “Looks good. Maybe we should stop hiding in the bathroom now.”
Dick grins and Tim finally smiles back even if it's a small, tight little thing. He puts a slight, teasing whine in his voice. “But it’s so boring out there.”
It gets another laugh out of Dick, and Tim really has to stop enjoying those so much.
“I’m sure we can find something fun to do,” Dick says, his smile turning conspiratorial.
Tim knows it’s a bad idea, he knows that this is potentially the stupidest thing he’s ever done but he doesn’t know how to stop himself. He moves forward, trapping Dick against the sink.
“What--” Dick starts, but Tim cuts him off by pressing his mouth against Dick’s.
It’s not much of a kiss, Tim’s too terrified to be forceful and after a moment of Dick not responding, Tim backs off.
“I-- oh my god-- I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have...” Tim can’t even look at Dick, and he can’t tell if the ‘awkward teenager’ he’s doing right now is an act or not.
“It’s all right,” Dick’s still smiling; it makes Tim want to hit him until he stops.
“No, it’s not. That was entirely ina--”
This time it’s Tim being cut off, by the gentle touch of Dick’s fingers under his chin, tilting his head up to look at that stupid, beautiful smile. Tim feels like he hasn’t taken a breath for years, like he’ll never breathe again as Dick’s lips, as gentle as his fingers, meet Tim’s.
It’s a brief, soft kiss, almost innocent except for that way Tim’s gasping for air when Dick pulls away.
“I should get back to the party,” Dick offers with an apologetic little smile as he lets go of Tim, trailing his fingers lightly along Tim’s throat.
Tim swallows hard, trying to get some composure back, “I should... find my dad...”
“Have a nice night, James.” Dick says, as he walks out of the bathroom.
Tim doesn’t answer, doesn’t say anything because he’s too focused on trying not to shake. He almost wants to cry, but he’s not sure if it’s because Dick kissed him, or because Dick kissed him and then left.
He decides that he hates feeling like this.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When Dick finally gets a glimpse of the man who's been chasing him all night, he feels like all the air's been ripped out of his lungs. Their informant said that Moriarty was holding a meeting with the mob. He'd gotten there only to find the place completely abandoned.
Then he'd gotten shot. The bullet clipping his arm. He tried to go towards the bullet, but that had just resulted in him being shot at more, until he finally turned tail and fled. He'd been trying to circle around and get behind the guy, but it hadn't been exactly successful.
"You're Moriarty?" Dick practically gasps, the hair is longer, darker, but it's still... "James?!"
James -- Moriarty, tilts his head to the side, smiling faintly, "Did you really think I'd give you my actual name?”
"You kissed me!" It's a ridiculous thing to say, but it slips out anyway as Dick stares down the barrel of a gun.
The smile shifts. Becomes darker and amused and it makes Dick shiver.
“And you kissed me." Moriarty's voice is flat except for that hint of amusement that's shared with his smile.
There's another gunshot, and the world goes dark.
Characters: Tim Drake, Dick Grayson
Rating: PG
Warnings: Tim being creepy.
Word Count: 1, 700-ish
Author's Notes: Written in response to sofia815's prompt of "Moriarty!verse - Tim meets Dick/Kon/YJ. Resisting a smile". So this is Dick and Tim's first meeting, before Nightwing meets Moriarty, and the little snippet at the end is part of a much larger fic, but I like teasing you guys.
The party isn’t in Gotham. Tim wouldn’t be here if it was, there are still too many people who might recognize his face, even though he’s much thinner than he used to be, and his hair is short, almost cropped, and dyed a light brown with just a tinge of red. It makes him look older than he is, old enough that he can almost get away with being unaccompanied.
Batman - Bruce Wayne - is supposed to be here. He attends so many of these functions in order to maintain his status as a generous playboy. It’s some type of charity thing, of course, and Bruce has probably donated millions to the cause. It makes Tim sick. Bruce could do so much more if he wasn’t wasting all his time and money on being Batman.
He’s not here though. Tim’s standing with his back to the wall, champagne flute in hand, scanning the crowd for any sign of the man.
He’s so focused that he doesn’t notice the man sidle up next to him.
“Don’t think I’ve seen you at one of these before,” the man announces his presence with the question, and Tim turns to him sharply.
The combination of surprise and the fact that Tim just turned his head to see Dick Grayson results in Tim clenching his hands into fists automatically, crushing the glass in his hand.
“Oh jesus, I’m sorry,” Dick apologizes as champagne drips off Tim’s fingers.
It takes him a second to note that there are shards of glass buried in his hand and that people are looking at him. The latter is what makes him flinch, but Dick seems to interpret it as a reaction to pain.
“I’m really sorry. You want me to help you fix that up?” Dick apologizes a second time, gently taking Tim’s hand and uncurling his fingers to inspect the wounds.
Tim should say something. Anything. But his breath is caught in his throat and his chest feels too tight because Dick is touching him.
“I...” is all he manages to fumble out as a waiter comes over and starts cleaning up the shattered glass. Everyone else goes back to socializing but Dick is still watching Tim, obviously concerned.
“Come on, will you let me patch you up?” Dick asks, but he doesn’t wait for an answer before letting go of Tim’s hand to hold onto his shoulder instead, gently guiding him towards a bathroom.
Tim lets him. He just lets him because it’s Dick Grayson and Tim is too busy trying to remember how to breathe. The cuts sting faintly, nothing that Tim can't tolerate, but he doesn’t push past the pain like he would, because a normal kid wouldn’t. He lets the pain make his eyes water, his bottom lip trembling slightly as Dick sits him down on the edge of the bathtub.
“Hey, hey, it's okay. I’ll get this glass out and you’ll be as good as new,” Dick says gently, grabbing a pair of tweezers and pulling out one of those little bottles of antibacterial gel and rubbing it onto the tweezers. “Give me your hand?”
Tim holds his hand out, and Dick wraps his fingers around Tim’s wrist, keeping him still as he starts pulling out the shards of glass. Tim whimpers and flinches a little, but it’s not from the pain, it’s from Dick touching him, the pad of Dick’s thumb stroking over Tim’s wrist. He wants to pull away. He also wants this to never end.
“You’re doing great, I’ll be done in a sec,” Dick’s voice is soft and smooth and it makes Tim whimper again.
There’s blood on his hands, and he’s struck with the brief urge to tilt his hand so that his blood runs onto Dick’s fingers, the thought nearly makes him smile but he supresses both urges, because he’s sure Dick would react badly and he might leave and Tim... doesn’t want that at all.
Dick pulls out the last shard, and puts the tweezers on the edge of the sink, “How’s it feel?”
“It hurts a little...” Tim manages, his voice feels all tight and wrong, just like his chest does.
“Sorry, this is gonna sting a little more,” Dick warns him, letting go of Tim’s wrist - Tim misses the touch already - to grab a gauze pad and wipe Tim’s hand clean of blood, then he seems to pull an antiseptic spray out of nowhere, spraying it on Tim’s hand before pressing another gauze pad on top. Tim makes himself wince.
“Thanks.”
“It was my fault anyway, this is the least I can do,” Dick smiles and Tim’s heart clenches. He wants to smile back, but he can't. He shouldn't.
“N-no, it’s my fault, I’m always so clumsy,” it’s a lie, but Dick doesn’t know that.
“Well, how about we say it’s both our faults and forget about it?” Dick’s still smiling. Tim can’t keep his thoughts straight when Dick is smiling like that, so he looks down at his hand instead, covering the gauze pad with his uninjured hand to hold it down.
“Sure...”
Dick frowns, Tim sees the furrow of his brows when he risks a glance upwards, “You’re not gonna get in trouble for that or anything are you?”
“No, it’s fine. I doubt my dad will even notice,” Tim offers. More lies, but they’re necessary. The next words start to tumble out of his mouth without his consent. “You’re Dick Grayson, aren’t you?”
Dick laughs, bright and clear. “Yeah, that’s me. You a fan?”
Tim almost blushes, but he has better control than that, even if Dick seems to be stripping all his walls down just by looking at him.
“I’ve just... heard of you. Everyone has.” Tim tries to cover up his embarrassment.
“Yeah, I suppose they have,” Dick keeps smiling. Tim wonders if his face ever hurts from smiling so much. “What about you? Should I know you?”
Tim shakes his head, “Oh, no. I’m not anyone.”
“Everyone’s someone. You have a name?”
“It’s James Draper.” Lies upon lies upon lies.
“Nice to meet you, James, I’d shake your hand but, well...” Dick smiles sheepishly at Tim’s cut up hand.
“I think the bleeding has stopped, but I understand.” Tim pulls the gauze away, and inspects the cuts. “It doesn’t look too bad?”
Dick takes Tim’s hand again, gently brushing his fingers over the palm of Tim’s hands, making Tim shiver. “Looks good. Maybe we should stop hiding in the bathroom now.”
Dick grins and Tim finally smiles back even if it's a small, tight little thing. He puts a slight, teasing whine in his voice. “But it’s so boring out there.”
It gets another laugh out of Dick, and Tim really has to stop enjoying those so much.
“I’m sure we can find something fun to do,” Dick says, his smile turning conspiratorial.
Tim knows it’s a bad idea, he knows that this is potentially the stupidest thing he’s ever done but he doesn’t know how to stop himself. He moves forward, trapping Dick against the sink.
“What--” Dick starts, but Tim cuts him off by pressing his mouth against Dick’s.
It’s not much of a kiss, Tim’s too terrified to be forceful and after a moment of Dick not responding, Tim backs off.
“I-- oh my god-- I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have...” Tim can’t even look at Dick, and he can’t tell if the ‘awkward teenager’ he’s doing right now is an act or not.
“It’s all right,” Dick’s still smiling; it makes Tim want to hit him until he stops.
“No, it’s not. That was entirely ina--”
This time it’s Tim being cut off, by the gentle touch of Dick’s fingers under his chin, tilting his head up to look at that stupid, beautiful smile. Tim feels like he hasn’t taken a breath for years, like he’ll never breathe again as Dick’s lips, as gentle as his fingers, meet Tim’s.
It’s a brief, soft kiss, almost innocent except for that way Tim’s gasping for air when Dick pulls away.
“I should get back to the party,” Dick offers with an apologetic little smile as he lets go of Tim, trailing his fingers lightly along Tim’s throat.
Tim swallows hard, trying to get some composure back, “I should... find my dad...”
“Have a nice night, James.” Dick says, as he walks out of the bathroom.
Tim doesn’t answer, doesn’t say anything because he’s too focused on trying not to shake. He almost wants to cry, but he’s not sure if it’s because Dick kissed him, or because Dick kissed him and then left.
He decides that he hates feeling like this.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When Dick finally gets a glimpse of the man who's been chasing him all night, he feels like all the air's been ripped out of his lungs. Their informant said that Moriarty was holding a meeting with the mob. He'd gotten there only to find the place completely abandoned.
Then he'd gotten shot. The bullet clipping his arm. He tried to go towards the bullet, but that had just resulted in him being shot at more, until he finally turned tail and fled. He'd been trying to circle around and get behind the guy, but it hadn't been exactly successful.
"You're Moriarty?" Dick practically gasps, the hair is longer, darker, but it's still... "James?!"
James -- Moriarty, tilts his head to the side, smiling faintly, "Did you really think I'd give you my actual name?”
"You kissed me!" It's a ridiculous thing to say, but it slips out anyway as Dick stares down the barrel of a gun.
The smile shifts. Becomes darker and amused and it makes Dick shiver.
“And you kissed me." Moriarty's voice is flat except for that hint of amusement that's shared with his smile.
There's another gunshot, and the world goes dark.