Vanilla, Dick/Tim, DCU, Mature
Title: Vanilla
Fandom: DC
Pairing: Dick/Tim
Word count: 6800
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Sex? This was supposed to be fluffy, and then angst showed up all over :| What. So it's both fluffy and angsty. That's how things work.
Summary: Dick is feeling nostalgic.
Other/setting info: Written for the
kink_bingo; kink: costumes (free card). Here is my kink bingo card.
Based on a drawing I commissioned Marcus To during the Toronto ComiCon of Dick and Tim pillow-fighting in boxers.
Set after Red Robin 12.
Thanks to inabathrobe and kaichan for the beta.
faraway-hills drew a companion piece, too. (Click here to see the post in which the picture was posted if you want to leave a comment on it!)
Vanilla
He's had a long day. Between dealing with the media harassing him, being Tim Wayne, and trying to manage Bruce's company, all of Tim's days have been dragging and painful to the point where he has to remind himself a few times through them that it's definitely all worth it and that he's seen worse. He's suddenly very aware of why Brucie was such an idiotic playboy: because it required less out of Bruce to fool around during the day, because he could wake up at noon if he really needed it. Not that Bruce woke up at noon as often as he let the public think he did. Tim had always known all this to a certain extent, but now that he can't have that sort of public persona since he's trying to get a board of directors to trust him, even though he's not even eighteen years old, he's getting completely jealous of Brucie.
Things are going so well as Red Robin, too, that he can't bring himself to take a night off. Damian would get on his back about it and be the little idiot he is and Dick would... Dick would understand and not say anything, actually. However... things are going well. It's possibly very superstitious to think that missing one night could change this, but he can't quite erase that thought from the back of his mind.
He reaches his apartment after the sun has set and thinks about maybe grabbing a protein bar or an apple before going out since he doesn't really have the time for more --
There's someone in his place. He can tell once he's a few steps in, and he would have been able to tell the second he walked in if he had been paying a little more attention to his surroundings. Just great, he's not even out, and there might be a psycho in his kitchen already. He stops walking and just listens, hoping it's someone who's there for Tim Wayne and not for Red Robin. The number of people knowing his identity is high enough, already.
"I can hear you just standing there, little brother."
Dick. He should have known, and he really needs to get his game back within the next half-hour before he leaves for patrol, or he's going to have a really bad night out. Tim hears Dick opening the fridge and closing it soon after.
"Why don't you have any beers in here?"
He rolls his eyes and lets the silence speak, meaning "because I'm seventeen" and "aren't you going to patrol tonight?" at the same time.
"So you have no alcohol in your apartment at all?"
"No, Dick, I don't," Tim answers because Dick is going to continue babbling about this if he doesn't. "What sort of adult are you, telling a minor to --" He stops as he walks into the kitchen, frowns, and practically snaps, "Why are you wearing that?"
Dick stretches because he can and isn't affected by Tim's tone at all, just smirking, and the smirk is always that much more intense when he's wearing his Nightwing costume. "Patrol; why else?"
Tim's look becomes much more dangerous very quickly.
"Okay, listen to me instead of glaring for a moment."
"It'd help if you gave me decent answers to listen to." He's crossing his arms on his chest now, and all of his exhaustion has disappeared by now. At least, something good has come out of Dick's visit.
"So uhm, well, I was thinking --" Tim raises his eyebrow in that "wow, really?" way that Dick sees way too much of. "Shut up." Dick grins. "So I was thinking about when I took on the cowl, right? And told you I thought we were equals and that you couldn't be my Robin."
"You fired me, Dick."
"I know! I know, and that was a really bad move, okay? Not-- not to take Damian in, but to push you away like that? It made you take off all crazy-like to find a dead man in Europe."
"I found him. I was right."
"Yes, but, you know..."
And Tim does know. This is Dick's weird way of apologizing for how things happened, even though it couldn't really have happened any other way.
Tim sighs. "I know, but it's fine now, and I'm trying to understand why you're bringing this up. We're fine, now."
"We are, but it's not the same."
That's when Tim gets it. Really just understands it all. "So you were nostalgic for the good old days and decided to put on your old costume for a patrol," he states. And this is-- very Dick, the lack of logic and the burst of impulse and all. He was missing something and needed to feel it. Dick doesn't respond like Tim at all when a situation upsets him; he does things like putting on the Nightwing costume for reasons only he can entirely understand, and somehow, this is supposed to make things better.
"Damian is going to love the fact that there's no Batman out tonight."
Dick shrugs, smiling again. "He has a night off. You know the city has been calm for a few days."
Tim can tell where this is going. "Nightwing and Red Robin?"
"I was thinking Nightwing and Robin. Like way back. We could find a train to ride with blindfolds and eat ice cream."
"And fail at patrolling."
"Calm nights."
Tim stares at him, trying to read Dick, so he can tell if Dick is really serious about this. Of course, he is.
"My Robin uniform doesn't fit me anymore."
"Oh, right, congratulations on the growth spurt by the way."
"Oh, shut up."
"Never. But I planned this all." A second later, Tim is being thrown a bag that he catches without thinking. He peeks inside it and shuts his eyes, shaking his head just slightly.
"Old school?"
"I told you, trains and blindfolds. Robin should wear green, anyway."
"You do realize that this is completely ridiculous, right?"
"But it's going to be fun. Come on, I know you want to."
Because Dick doesn't talk. When a situation is awkward and he wants to make it better, he acts, and that is exactly why he wants to do this. Tim would talk, would prefer to talk, but what Dick wants isn't a bad idea, and it would make him happy that they're doing something together.
Tim has missed this.
So he quickly looks inside the bag one last time and starts walking toward his bedroom.
*
"So how did you even get Alfred to make this uniform for me?"
They're on top of a building, and there are a few gargoyles on the edge below because this is Gotham and all the buildings have to have these delightful decorations.
"What makes you think I asked Alfred? I could have made it myself." Dick gets a look that makes him chuckle. "Okay, okay. It wasn't hard; Alfred didn't even ask me any questions, and two days later, I had a costume for you."
Tim isn't entirely sure if it's because Alfred was wise enough not to ask because he knew the answer would probably be ridiculous or if it's because he knows Dick well enough that he didn't need to ask to know exactly why Dick was asking him to make the costume.
When Tim glances at Dick, there's something in his smile that says nothing good, and if he weren't wearing a mask, Tim would be getting the same vibe from his eyes.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks hesitantly.
Dick grins, licks his lips, and pokes Tim on the shoulder --"Tag!"-- and then leaps off the building and runs away because Dick is just that mature and has probably been missing being such an idiot, considering he can't do anything like this as Batman.
"We're patrolling," Tim says into his radio, a hint of exasperation in his voice.
"Don't give me too much of an lead, little brother; you'll regret it," says Dick's voice in Tim's ear. Tim can see him landing on a roof a bit lower, maybe fifty or sixty yards away. He doesn't keep on going, instead turning around to face Tim and wave at him. Even in the night and at that distance, Tim can tell that he's grinning.
"I'm going to start running away soon if you don't start moving."
"Nightwing," Tim nearly growls, serious.
"Robin," Dick answers, mockery in his voice and not one bit intimidated. "Calm. Nights."
"Is this going to be your new motto?"
"Yep. And I'm going to start moving again in five, four, thr--"
Tim jumps off the roof and shoots a line.
*
"What time is it?"
"Is this a tactic to distract me, so you can tag me while I look for the time?"
Dick doesn't answer for a few seconds, and Tim is about to make a snide remark when Nightwing lands by his side, nearly appearing out of thin air. Tim hadn't heard anything. It always annoys him when people manage to sneak up on him, but at the same time, it reminds him why Dick is always going to be one step ahead of him.
"I don't need to distract you for this," he says cheerfully, not making any move to touch Tim and pass the tag. "Now tell me what time it is."
Tim frowns curiously and looks it up. "Twenty to midnight."
"Ah shit! I thought we'd have at least a quarter of an hour more. Come on." He starts moving, and Tim follows on instinct.
"Where are we going?"
"There's an ice cream place down on King that closes at midnight!"
"You were not --" Tim pauses and shakes his head, jumping from roof to roof behind Dick. "Of course, you were serious."
It's nice to follow Nightwing around; it's so different from how it's been with Dick as Batman. The costumes are different, of course, but Dick also moves differently. He's more open; he looks like he's having more fun. Tim knows he's trying to find his place in the Batman costume, but Dick was never made to be that serious.
Experience aside, Tim would have probably made a better Batman than Dick; it wouldn't have had to give up an important part of himself to try to fit into the mold Bruce left behind.
Dick laughs in his ear, and it hits Tim hard because he can't remember the last time he heard him laugh. Dick was right: they needed to do this and be silly together for a night. Dick has made it clear that he misses Tim, and Tim needed this to realize that the feeling is entirely mutual.
"The poor guy at the ice cream stand is going to have a heart attack."
"Nah, he'll just be able to tell his wife that two idiots dressed up as heroes from years ago got ice cream in the middle of the night."
It's not a man at the ice cream stand, but a tired teenager with huge dark rings under her eyes. She stares when she sees them coming and doesn't seem sure Dick's serious when he asks her for chocolate and strawberry ice cream in a cup.
Dick looks at Tim expectantly and raises his eyebrows at him.
"Vanilla."
"Oh, come on!"
"French vanilla?"
"We're out at midnight to get ice cream, and you want vanilla. Honestly, Robin." And a minute later, Tim has a small plastic spoon and a cup of bright green pistachio ice cream.
"Uh," the girl says, still unsure and maybe a little scared. "It's going to be six-fifty."
"Oh right! Hold this." Dick shoves his own cup in Tim's hands and starts fumbling through Tim's belt.
"What are you doing?"
"I can't very well put my money anywhere, can I?" He finds a few bills in one of Tim's pouches -- he knows where; he's the one who put that money there -- and pays the girl, telling her to keep the change.
A minute later, they're eating ice cream on a low rooftop; the building is four stories high.
"How's your ice cream?"
"It would be better if it were vanilla," Tim answers, teasing. Dick doesn't answer, but his smile says how glad he is to hear Tim joke and see Tim smile.
"I'm sorry about everything."
Tim swallows his ice cream very slowly. "I know. It's fine. I said we were fine earlier."
"Yeah but we became fine without me apologizing, and I was a very fail big brother."
"Don't worry; Jason will always be the fail big brother, and I don't think you can take the title away from him."
They eat without speaking until the silence starts bothering Dick. "Come back to the Manor."
"Nightwing." Said this way, it sounds everything like "Dick."
"Your room's still there, and you said we were fine. Come back to the Manor."
Tim sighs and bites his lower lip from the inside in that subtle way of his, even though Dick can tell by now when he does it. Dick smiles because he knows he's getting to Tim just like that because he can tell what's going on in Tim's head. He waits for Tim to say something instead of poking at him to pull it out of him, and that means something.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Tim turns around quickly, settling on his feet, leaving his cup of ice cream on the edge of the roof. Dick doesn't move, except to grin and glance over his shoulder.
"It was your night off."
"Did you give me the night off, so you could replace me?"
Tim feels like pointing out that, actually, he replaced Tim. Damian just glares at him.
"You're not even patrolling! I go out to try and find you, and you're eating ice cream with Drake on a roof!"
The name makes Tim wince and Dick frown. "What did we say about using names in costume?"
"I'm not calling him Robin. That's my name."
Tim gets where Damian comes from and isn't looking for a fight, so he sighs, annoyed, and takes out his grappling hook. "Yeah, it is. You can finish patrolling together."
Dick grasps his wrist before Tim can jump off the roof. "Come back home. Come on. You still have clothes there."
Tim shrugs. The moment between him and Dick is gone. They're not Nightwing and Robin; they're Batman and Red Robin; and Dick has his Robin, who just walked in on them.
He doesn't answer and shoots his line.
*
He doesn't go straight to his apartment, instead stopping a drug dealer and scaring him a little. And then remembering that he's in the wrong uniform for that. It works anyway, but he doesn't have quite the right attitude for the costume.
He can't patrol anymore in this costume, too. He doesn't want anyone with a camera spotting him; if he ends up in the newspaper, he's never going to hear the end of it from Damian.
He thinks back to Dick telling him that he still has his room in the Manor and to come home. When he thinks about home, he's still not quite sure where home is. Something painful pushes him back to where he lived with his parents, and then his father and Dana, before his father went bankrupt. Then, where they lived together until his father died.
Those places obviously aren't really home anymore, but they still have their place in his heart. The Manor might be more like home than his apartment, though. He ends up grappling his way quietly to the Manor, trying not to think too much. And then he avoids using the hidden entrance and makes his way to the window of his old room, opening it from the outside.
It's still the same, and Tim… He sort of misses it. He also knows it will only hurt him because Bruce isn't here; he's lost somewhere in time when he should be here. And Damian lives in this house; his room is probably on the same hallway. It would... be weird.
He hesitates a bit too long, and before he can crawl out of the room, someone's knocking on the bedroom door.
"I know you're there, and if you're planning on escaping through the window, I'll chase you down," Dick says, amused, from the other side of the wooden door.
Tim rolls his eyes and can't help the small smile spreading on his lips. When he opens the door, Dick's grinning, and he's still in his Nightwing costume. The grin isn't as self-assured as Nightwing's is normally.
"I got Damian back home. You left your ice cream behind."
"Next time, let me get French vanilla, and I'll make sure not to."
"As if."
There's a short silence, and Tim feels compelled to ask, "Is Damian going to be okay?"
"Yeah, he is. He's mad, but he's always mad, so it's nothing new."
"Nightwing and Red Robin wouldn't have been enough for you?"
Dick's smile looks slightly dangerous. "Little brother, I don't mind Red Robin when I'm out as Batman because I'm supposed to be all serious and dangerous, but that cowl? You really need to get rid of it."
"You can start a club with Superboy; he completely agrees with you."
Dick takes a few steps inside the room and switches the light on. "You could get a mask, and we wouldn't have to start one."
Tim wants to argue, wants to explain to Dick why he's wearing that particular uniform and doesn't want to change it, but Dick is in a good mood. It had been a good evening until Damian arrived. It's still early, and neither of them is tired.
"You're staying, right?"
Tim presses his lips together. "Yes."
"I meant you're staying for good. You're moving back. Not just staying for the night."
Of course, Tim had known this, but he'd thought a vague response could get him out of making any promises he won't be able to keep.
"I'm going to go shower."
"You know I'm not going to just leave this hanging."
"Are you going to follow me into the shower, Dick?"
Dick seems to consider it, and it makes Tim look away, making the turn fit into a movement toward the bathroom. It's a mistake because, when he isn't looking, Dick wraps his hand around Tim's torso and holds him close from behind. It's awkward and makes Tim realise that he's nearly Dick's height now. He really did hit a growth spurt.
"I want you home," Dick repeats, not letting go. "We could pretend we're a normal, functional family."
The gesture and the words annoy Tim because he's so vulnerable and he can't help wondering if Dick is acting this way because he knows exactly how to play Tim. But that's not something Dick would really do. Bruce, maybe. Not Dick.
"I know you miss me," Dick adds, his tone playful again. But Tim knows better, and he can tell just how much Dick really wants this- and how worried he is.
"Let me go take a shower."
Dick must have liked the tone Tim used because he lets go and ruffles his hair.
*
"What are these?" Tim asks, entering Dick's room. Tim doesn't yell or doesn't barge in, but everything in his behaviour says that he wishes he were. Dick is lying on his bed, wearing nothing but boxers, and looks exceedingly pleased with himself.
Which tells Tim that this is all his fault.
"Did you pay someone, so they'd custom-make boxers with bats on them, just so you could fill my drawers with them?"
"Of course not. It was Alfred's idea."
"I am. So tempted to steal some of your boxers. You have no idea."
"They'd be too big on you. Guess you're stuck with the ones you're currently wearing. They fit you very well, by the--" Tim throws his wet towel at Dick, which does stop him mid-sentence, but only because he's now too busy laughing to form words, never mind sentences.
He pushes the towel onto the side of the bed and grabs one of his pillows, throwing it at Tim. Perfect. A weapon.
It takes a few seconds, and Dick is standing by his bed, trying to hit Tim with his other pillow while Tim's using the one he kept as a shield, waiting for a moment to strike-- There! He hits Dick in the face with the pillow and ducks when Dick tries to retaliate, and then they're both laughing too hard to think about any sort of tactical way to win the pillow fight.
Dick is the agile one. Compared to anyone else, Tim is extremely flexible, and his reflexes are amazing, but when compared to Dick, he's clumsy and slow. So when Dick lets himself fall after being hit a few more times, Tim knows that he's planning something.
Dick hits his bed, twisting in a way that allows him to circle Tim's thighs with his legs, and soon Tim is losing his balance and falling onto Dick. They're both smiling lazily, panting slightly from the fight.
"It's good to hear you laugh," Dick says and pulls Tim onto him. His hair is not yet dry, and it's leaving wet patches over the blanket.
"You're being extremely clingy."
"I have to be with someone. Damian's not going to let me."
Tim wouldn't normally let Dick get away with this, but he doesn't mind right now. He likes hearing Dick's heartbeat. "The Nightwing and Robin scenario was only a way to get me to accept the excessive cuddling without complaining, wasn't it?"
"Yep. Exactly. You're good."
"Trained by the world's greatest detective," comes the immediate answer.
They don't move for a while until Tim stretches and begins pushing himself out of Dick's hold because he needs to go back to his room eventually. Dick follows the movement, and Tim only has the time to give him an inquisitive look before their lips are pressed together in a nearly chaste kiss.
Tim tenses up and doesn't kiss back.
"I've been missing this, too."
"Is this part of pretending to be a normal, functional family?"
Dick smiles. "Yes, you're going to be Damian's stepmom."
"Congratulations on making me think about me with Bruce, Dick." Tim's voice couldn't be more deadpan.
Dick rolls his eyes and sits up, moving Tim with him, so he's straddling Dick's thighs. Tim doesn't fight against it, but doesn't do anything to encourage Dick.
"There were problems with this before you got rid of me."
Dick winces, but Tim doesn't regret his choice of words. He also doesn't stop just because the topic is making Dick uncomfortable. It always made him unsure, and Dick doesn't talk things through after all: he acts. But right now, acting is not enough. They can't just have sex as if nothing had happened, and Tim can't move to the Manor if they're... entertaining a sexual relationship again. It would hurt too much.
"It wouldn't be like before," Dick promises. Tim knows how Dick is about his promises: he means them when he makes them, but he can't always keep them.
"I can't move to the Manor and live with you if we're having sex all the time, Dick. You know that." Because he'd want more, because Tim likes to have long, lasting relationships, because Dick hasn't had anything close to that for years, because Tim loves Dick and doesn't hide it, which means he expects Dick to be respectful and not toy with his feelings.
"It doesn't have to be all the time. Just once now, and then we can be a nice, real family and act brotherly again."
Ah-- there it is. Dick doesn't even suggest the relationship because he knows himself well enough to predict the outcome of that and he doesn't want to hurt Tim. It will still hurt Tim because he wants Dick to want something long-term and monogamous, and he still hopes that, when Dick does, he'll choose Tim over-- Barbara or Kory.
Tim stands no chance.
He's there because Dick needs someone who loves him. Dick loves it when people love him and give him attention and affection. And Tim's okay with that. He'd accepted it a while back. His hopes that things will change are feeble at best.
"Tonight. And then only when I seek you out." And this will only work because Tim trusts himself. He knows he won't be exploiting this opportunity too much or in a way that is going to hurt him. He knows exactly what he's doing.
Dick grins, nods quickly, and kisses him again. This time, Tim kisses back, moving his hands behind Dick's neck and shifting into a more comfortable position. He tilts his head, so the angle of the kiss is better and opens his lips, inviting. Of course, Dick takes the invitation and pushes his tongue past Tim's lips, and Tim sucks on Dick's tongue right away. Dick isn't the only who who's missed this-- not that Tim is going to be honest about it, not even with himself.
He can feel Dick's constant grin in the kiss, and he arches into the touch when Dick puts his hand on his hips and pulls him closer. Their growing erections rub against each other, only separated by the thin fabric of their boxers.
Tim doesn't look down. He might usually, but he's wearing the ridiculous bat boxers, and he's sure it will be a complete turn-off if he looks at them.
Dick moves his hips up and makes Tim grind down and again and again until Tim's breathing becomes just a bit louder and that he can't control it anymore.
"See. I knew you'd missed me." Tim tightens his grip behind Dick's head and pulls on his hair. Dick chuckles. "Is this any way to treat your big brother?" And this is Nightwing speaking. The voice isn't that difference, but there's something else when it's Nightwing. Something subtle.
"Only when you deserve it," Tim --Robin-- answers, serious. Nightwing raises an eyebrow and smirks, and there's obviously something going through his head--
His hold on Tim tightens, and it takes a second for Dick to raise Tim and flip him over onto his stomach on the bed where he can lie on top of him and hold him there that way. Tim doesn't squirm, but it's a close call.
"Dick," he says, meaning "don't be an idiot" and "I'm not in the mood for this."
Dick doesn't seem to mind, though, and he's spreading, so he can grab one of Tim's wrist and hold it down. "Robin, learn to have some fun without overthinking everything."
It's probably way too late for that tonight, but Tim goes with it. "You know I could get out of this pin."
"Yes," Dick says, nearly chipper, "But do you want to?" Dick's lips are sucking on the skin right below his ear, and he's pressing himself against Tim's ass, although he's not moving nearly enough and he's right: Tim really isn't sure he wants to get out of the pin at all. He fists his hands into the sheets and wriggles his hips up against Dick, which makes him chuckle in a very Nightwing way.
"Is this what you want?"
Tim buries his head in the mattress and groans. Of course, Dick being in a Nightwing mood means he'll tease about five times more than he usually does.
"Robin," he continues, his tone vaguely scolding in a cheerful, amused way. "It's important to be very clear in order to avoid misunderstandings." He sucks Tim's earlobe into his mouth and nibbles on it before licking around and behind Tim's ear. Because he's a horrible person who knows how much Tim likes that and is exploiting it, which is totally counterproductive because he's asking Tim to talk.
Maybe, that's what Tim would want, but this-- This is not what Robin wants. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he's laughing because he's not being the right Robin right now. He's dressed in Conner's colours and is too forward, too serious... but Nightwing wouldn't mind.
Tim twists the wrist Dick is holding as he's pushing up, getting a hold on Dick's arm and pulling to flip him over. This is a hard pin to get out of, and he'd never be able to if Dick had been expecting it. Dick hadn't, and he's way too agile not to fall gracefully onto his back. Tim straddles his waist for the hell of it because he can't actually hold Dick down that way.
"Do I need to tie you up?"
Dick knows what that means, and the way he's looking at Tim tells him that Dick's not really against the idea. "Are you feeling toppy? You know I love it when you are."
Tim simply raises his eyebrows, not answering Dick's teasing and waiting for an answer.
"No, you don't. I can control my hands. Look--" He raises them to the side of his head, palms up. "I'm not moving them."
Tim is very sceptical, and it shows on his face, but he's okay with this. If Dick can't control his hands --which has a very good chance of happening-- he knows where to find zipstrips.
"Leave them there."
He leans over Dick to kiss him, slow and lingering. Dick pushes against his lips and makes the kiss more aggressive, more needy and follows Tim up when he backs away. Tim puts his hand down on Dick's shoulder and doesn't actually press down, but Dick gets the message and leans back against the mattress.
"This would be more comfortable if I had a pillow."
"Sad that you decided to throw it at me, then, isn't it?"
Then, his tongue is tracing Dick's lips, not kissing anymore. Dick opens his mouth and pants softly, everything about him asking for more. Tim can tell he's thinking about putting a hand around Tim's neck and pulling him closer.
"I told you to leave them there," Tim reminds him, lips brushing against Dick's.
"Oh, come on, I didn't move them an inch."
"But you were thinking about it," Tim answers, and it's not a question, so he doesn't wait for an answer before moving his mouth down the side of Dick's jaw, biting his way softly down to his neck and then down to a nipple. Dick's nipples aren't really sensitive, not like Tim's, but he still likes licking and sucking on them and hearing Dick's little gasps that are more encouragement than anything else.
He doesn't keep going nearly fast enough for Dick's taste, and it takes all of thirty seconds for Tim to feel a hand in his hair pushing him down because that is how patient Dick is. Tim begins lifting his head off Dick's skin with a serious expression, and it takes half a second for Dick's hand to be back where it should be.
"I didn't move! I don't know why you'd think I did." He's still looking exceedingly pleased with himself. Nightwing never learns, and his smile doesn't falter when Robin stares at him.
It doesn't move even when Robin stills entirely and crosses his arms over his chest.
"Are you seriously going to sulk about this?"
Robin doesn't look like he's sulking at all. Sure, his arms are over his chest, but he looks very serene, except for the amusement in his eyes. He's waiting for something, and if Nightwing doesn't figure it out soon, he's not going to get any.
"I'm not going to move again?" he says, now a bit uncertain. Who would have known you could get performance anxiety while basically doing nothing with your boxers still on. Robin doesn't move a muscle.
Dick moves his hips up, trying to shift and twist in a way that will make his cock rub against Tim's, but Robin doesn't let him, moving away and still waiting because, as opposed to Dick, he's good at that and can even be patient, although he's just as hard as Dick is right now. He can tell from the way Dick is looking at him that he thinks that this is all unfair. Maybe, he's even thinking for a second about taking control back, but dismisses the idea.
"Come on. Don't leave me hanging." He's close to moving his hands again, but doesn't, instead turning them, so he can grasp at the sheets. "Please keep going? I want you. Robin, come on." If the begging wasn't quite begging when it started, it's starting to sound more and more like it.
"Need your mouth. Need your dick. I'm so ready to spread myself for you. If you let me use my hands, I'll open myself up and put the condom on you myself." And of course, with Nightwing, it's going to turn into dirty talk for the sake of dirty talk.
Tim shivers, but so subtly that Dick can't see --can't feel it--, and he puts a hand over Dick's mouth to stop him from talking. Dick shuts up, their eyes meet, and then Tim's gracefully pushing himself back between Dick's legs and licking at his erection through the fabric of the boxers, mouthing the head and smelling --tasting-- Dick's arousal.
He's not surprised when Dick arches up into the touch, trying to get more out of it. He licks up Dick's shaft, his tongue flat against the cotton, one long, hard, wet trail, and doesn't stop until he reaches the skin just above Dick's waistband. By now, Dick is moaning, obviously turned on but also annoyed and impatient.
But he's not moving his arms.
Tim curls a fist around Dick, the fabric wet from his saliva and from Dick's precum, which brings a very lost sound out of Dick. Tim knows why: he's enjoying this, but this isn't what Dick wants, and he's going to get mad if he comes this way. He moves with Tim's strokes for about a minute and then tenses up and stops.
"A problem, Nightwing?"
"God, you're such an ass when you want to be." He shifts away from Tim's hand and swallows. "If you make me come like this, I'm going to hate you."
Tim doesn't seem to mind the threat and continues, daring Dick with his eyes to make him stop. He loves watching the torn expression spread across his lover's face.
"Okay, stop! Stop." He comes very close to pushing Tim away with his legs. "I don't-- Don't make me come that way. I want your mouth on me. I know you love to suck me off. Don't be an idiot. I'm so not letting you fuck me if--"
Robin's look makes Dick stop and moan, retracting himself. "Okay, so maybe, I wouldn't really kick you out of bed at all, but I really want you to suck me off." He pauses and throws his head back, closing his eyes. "Please, I won't-- Christ, stop stroking. God, I hate--"
Tim stops and practically rips off Dick's boxers, removing them without any sort of grace and throwing them on the floor, and in the same motion, he's kneeling down and taking Dick in his mouth. Dick spreads his legs and starts thrusting up into Tim's mouth right away. "Okay, I love you. I lied." Tim closes his eyes and knows that that isn't what Dick really meant.
And then the ramblings begin. Dick always talks during sex, but it's nothing compared to how much Nightwing talks.
"Keep going. God, I love your mouth. You know that right? Do the thing with your tongue. You teased me for way too long. I'm not going to last. No, don't slow down. If you slow down, I'm going to hit you so hard. I really wish I had a hand in your hair, and I know, I won't do it but it's just so-- You know that you're a jerk and-- Oh shit, that was really. Shit. Shit. Push a finger-- yeah just like that. Oh, fuck, I'm close."
It only requires one good suck after he pushes an unlubed finger inside Dick for him to unload down Tim's throat, groaning and shaking.
It takes all of ten seconds of afterglow before Nightwing begins talking again. "So, can I move and get the lube and condoms now?"
Tim is still licking his lips and tasting Dick, liking the taste in his mouth. He doesn't answer. It makes Dick lift his hips and raise his legs, so he can hook his toes into Tim's waistband and start slowly pulling down Tim's boxers. He speeds up when Tim doesn't stop him, getting them down to Tim's knees, moving one foot to stroke Tim's cock and balls carefully. He's way too dexterous. Tim's breathing starts speeding up again, and it's the only sign of his arousal, other than the way his dick is twitching.
"Where are they?"
Dick looks to his right. "Top drawer," he answers with a satisfied smile.
Tim moves back, pushing Dick's foot away before standing up to get to the drawer. His boxers fall on the ground and are forgotten there. He's back on his knees between Dick's legs, ripping a condom open soon after, though not soon enough for Dick.
"Sure you don't want me to roll it on you?"
Tim raises an eyebrow and puts lube all over his right hand just so he can push three fingers bluntly inside of Dick, ripping a yell out of him. "Okay! Okay, just do it fast. Or slow. I don't know what I'm supposed to say to actually make you go fast because you're all about reverse psychology when power goes to your head."
And this makes it so very tempting to take it extremely slow, but Tim's starting to feel restless too and simply finishes rolling the condom on, swipes his hand over it to spread the slickness there and positions himself, pushing himself inside Dick. It takes three thrusts to spread the lube enough that he can bury himself to the hilt without friction interfering.
Dick's eyes are half-closed, and so is his mouth, and he's flushed all over, wriggling to try and make Tim move faster. He looks-- incredibly good, and Tim takes a few seconds to savor the sight and etch it into his memory because he doesn't know when --or if-- this is going to happen again.
"Robin, you've already driven me crazy enough for the whole month."
Tim takes a deep breath, and balances on one arm, so he can raise his other to Dick's cheek and stroke it. "Dick."
Dick looks up and meets his eyes before turning his head to the side to kiss Tim's palm.
"Tim," Dick breathes against his skin. And Tim knows Dick's about to say that he loves him because Tim's buried inside of him and they're having sex and Dick loves everyone, especially if they're currently prodding at his prostate.
So he cuts him off with a hard, almost violent kiss and starts moving in and out, hard and fast, biting at Dick's lips and groaning with every thrust. He doesn't stop Dick when he moves his arms and puts one around Tim's back, holding him there, and one on his ass, grabbing forcefully and guiding him.
It doesn't last long, and Tim's groaning loudly in Dick's mouth when he comes, shivering and letting himself fall onto the other man.
He pulls out and doesn't clean himself, closing his eyes and breathing deeply for a few minutes. Dick's cock doesn't stay up without the attention, and Tim doesn't make a joke about how old he is.
"You moved your arms."
"You weren't Robin, anymore."
Tim hums, waits another few minutes, and starts stretching to stand up and go back to his room. Dick tightens his grip on him.
"Dick."
"Hmm?" he answers innocently. Tim pokes him, and Dick loosens his arms, letting Tim crawl away. He cleans up quickly and gets rid of the used condom before putting the ridiculous boxers back on.
"You could stay the night." A pause. "Whatever's left of it."
It's tempting, of course, but Tim knows better. "No, it's fine. I have to get used to my old room if I'm going to move back in."
"Well, at least we should definitely do this ag--" Tim picks up one of the pillows they abandoned on the floor and throws it at Dick's face.
"See you later." He smiles and walks out, closing the door behind him. Now he needs another shower.
Notes: Fic written on pornday. Extra notes here.
Fandom: DC
Pairing: Dick/Tim
Word count: 6800
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Sex? This was supposed to be fluffy, and then angst showed up all over :| What. So it's both fluffy and angsty. That's how things work.
Summary: Dick is feeling nostalgic.
Other/setting info: Written for the
kink_bingo; kink: costumes (free card). Here is my kink bingo card.
Based on a drawing I commissioned Marcus To during the Toronto ComiCon of Dick and Tim pillow-fighting in boxers.
Set after Red Robin 12.
Thanks to inabathrobe and kaichan for the beta.
faraway-hills drew a companion piece, too. (Click here to see the post in which the picture was posted if you want to leave a comment on it!)
Vanilla
He's had a long day. Between dealing with the media harassing him, being Tim Wayne, and trying to manage Bruce's company, all of Tim's days have been dragging and painful to the point where he has to remind himself a few times through them that it's definitely all worth it and that he's seen worse. He's suddenly very aware of why Brucie was such an idiotic playboy: because it required less out of Bruce to fool around during the day, because he could wake up at noon if he really needed it. Not that Bruce woke up at noon as often as he let the public think he did. Tim had always known all this to a certain extent, but now that he can't have that sort of public persona since he's trying to get a board of directors to trust him, even though he's not even eighteen years old, he's getting completely jealous of Brucie.
Things are going so well as Red Robin, too, that he can't bring himself to take a night off. Damian would get on his back about it and be the little idiot he is and Dick would... Dick would understand and not say anything, actually. However... things are going well. It's possibly very superstitious to think that missing one night could change this, but he can't quite erase that thought from the back of his mind.
He reaches his apartment after the sun has set and thinks about maybe grabbing a protein bar or an apple before going out since he doesn't really have the time for more --
There's someone in his place. He can tell once he's a few steps in, and he would have been able to tell the second he walked in if he had been paying a little more attention to his surroundings. Just great, he's not even out, and there might be a psycho in his kitchen already. He stops walking and just listens, hoping it's someone who's there for Tim Wayne and not for Red Robin. The number of people knowing his identity is high enough, already.
"I can hear you just standing there, little brother."
Dick. He should have known, and he really needs to get his game back within the next half-hour before he leaves for patrol, or he's going to have a really bad night out. Tim hears Dick opening the fridge and closing it soon after.
"Why don't you have any beers in here?"
He rolls his eyes and lets the silence speak, meaning "because I'm seventeen" and "aren't you going to patrol tonight?" at the same time.
"So you have no alcohol in your apartment at all?"
"No, Dick, I don't," Tim answers because Dick is going to continue babbling about this if he doesn't. "What sort of adult are you, telling a minor to --" He stops as he walks into the kitchen, frowns, and practically snaps, "Why are you wearing that?"
Dick stretches because he can and isn't affected by Tim's tone at all, just smirking, and the smirk is always that much more intense when he's wearing his Nightwing costume. "Patrol; why else?"
Tim's look becomes much more dangerous very quickly.
"Okay, listen to me instead of glaring for a moment."
"It'd help if you gave me decent answers to listen to." He's crossing his arms on his chest now, and all of his exhaustion has disappeared by now. At least, something good has come out of Dick's visit.
"So uhm, well, I was thinking --" Tim raises his eyebrow in that "wow, really?" way that Dick sees way too much of. "Shut up." Dick grins. "So I was thinking about when I took on the cowl, right? And told you I thought we were equals and that you couldn't be my Robin."
"You fired me, Dick."
"I know! I know, and that was a really bad move, okay? Not-- not to take Damian in, but to push you away like that? It made you take off all crazy-like to find a dead man in Europe."
"I found him. I was right."
"Yes, but, you know..."
And Tim does know. This is Dick's weird way of apologizing for how things happened, even though it couldn't really have happened any other way.
Tim sighs. "I know, but it's fine now, and I'm trying to understand why you're bringing this up. We're fine, now."
"We are, but it's not the same."
That's when Tim gets it. Really just understands it all. "So you were nostalgic for the good old days and decided to put on your old costume for a patrol," he states. And this is-- very Dick, the lack of logic and the burst of impulse and all. He was missing something and needed to feel it. Dick doesn't respond like Tim at all when a situation upsets him; he does things like putting on the Nightwing costume for reasons only he can entirely understand, and somehow, this is supposed to make things better.
"Damian is going to love the fact that there's no Batman out tonight."
Dick shrugs, smiling again. "He has a night off. You know the city has been calm for a few days."
Tim can tell where this is going. "Nightwing and Red Robin?"
"I was thinking Nightwing and Robin. Like way back. We could find a train to ride with blindfolds and eat ice cream."
"And fail at patrolling."
"Calm nights."
Tim stares at him, trying to read Dick, so he can tell if Dick is really serious about this. Of course, he is.
"My Robin uniform doesn't fit me anymore."
"Oh, right, congratulations on the growth spurt by the way."
"Oh, shut up."
"Never. But I planned this all." A second later, Tim is being thrown a bag that he catches without thinking. He peeks inside it and shuts his eyes, shaking his head just slightly.
"Old school?"
"I told you, trains and blindfolds. Robin should wear green, anyway."
"You do realize that this is completely ridiculous, right?"
"But it's going to be fun. Come on, I know you want to."
Because Dick doesn't talk. When a situation is awkward and he wants to make it better, he acts, and that is exactly why he wants to do this. Tim would talk, would prefer to talk, but what Dick wants isn't a bad idea, and it would make him happy that they're doing something together.
Tim has missed this.
So he quickly looks inside the bag one last time and starts walking toward his bedroom.
*
"So how did you even get Alfred to make this uniform for me?"
They're on top of a building, and there are a few gargoyles on the edge below because this is Gotham and all the buildings have to have these delightful decorations.
"What makes you think I asked Alfred? I could have made it myself." Dick gets a look that makes him chuckle. "Okay, okay. It wasn't hard; Alfred didn't even ask me any questions, and two days later, I had a costume for you."
Tim isn't entirely sure if it's because Alfred was wise enough not to ask because he knew the answer would probably be ridiculous or if it's because he knows Dick well enough that he didn't need to ask to know exactly why Dick was asking him to make the costume.
When Tim glances at Dick, there's something in his smile that says nothing good, and if he weren't wearing a mask, Tim would be getting the same vibe from his eyes.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks hesitantly.
Dick grins, licks his lips, and pokes Tim on the shoulder --"Tag!"-- and then leaps off the building and runs away because Dick is just that mature and has probably been missing being such an idiot, considering he can't do anything like this as Batman.
"We're patrolling," Tim says into his radio, a hint of exasperation in his voice.
"Don't give me too much of an lead, little brother; you'll regret it," says Dick's voice in Tim's ear. Tim can see him landing on a roof a bit lower, maybe fifty or sixty yards away. He doesn't keep on going, instead turning around to face Tim and wave at him. Even in the night and at that distance, Tim can tell that he's grinning.
"I'm going to start running away soon if you don't start moving."
"Nightwing," Tim nearly growls, serious.
"Robin," Dick answers, mockery in his voice and not one bit intimidated. "Calm. Nights."
"Is this going to be your new motto?"
"Yep. And I'm going to start moving again in five, four, thr--"
Tim jumps off the roof and shoots a line.
*
"What time is it?"
"Is this a tactic to distract me, so you can tag me while I look for the time?"
Dick doesn't answer for a few seconds, and Tim is about to make a snide remark when Nightwing lands by his side, nearly appearing out of thin air. Tim hadn't heard anything. It always annoys him when people manage to sneak up on him, but at the same time, it reminds him why Dick is always going to be one step ahead of him.
"I don't need to distract you for this," he says cheerfully, not making any move to touch Tim and pass the tag. "Now tell me what time it is."
Tim frowns curiously and looks it up. "Twenty to midnight."
"Ah shit! I thought we'd have at least a quarter of an hour more. Come on." He starts moving, and Tim follows on instinct.
"Where are we going?"
"There's an ice cream place down on King that closes at midnight!"
"You were not --" Tim pauses and shakes his head, jumping from roof to roof behind Dick. "Of course, you were serious."
It's nice to follow Nightwing around; it's so different from how it's been with Dick as Batman. The costumes are different, of course, but Dick also moves differently. He's more open; he looks like he's having more fun. Tim knows he's trying to find his place in the Batman costume, but Dick was never made to be that serious.
Experience aside, Tim would have probably made a better Batman than Dick; it wouldn't have had to give up an important part of himself to try to fit into the mold Bruce left behind.
Dick laughs in his ear, and it hits Tim hard because he can't remember the last time he heard him laugh. Dick was right: they needed to do this and be silly together for a night. Dick has made it clear that he misses Tim, and Tim needed this to realize that the feeling is entirely mutual.
"The poor guy at the ice cream stand is going to have a heart attack."
"Nah, he'll just be able to tell his wife that two idiots dressed up as heroes from years ago got ice cream in the middle of the night."
It's not a man at the ice cream stand, but a tired teenager with huge dark rings under her eyes. She stares when she sees them coming and doesn't seem sure Dick's serious when he asks her for chocolate and strawberry ice cream in a cup.
Dick looks at Tim expectantly and raises his eyebrows at him.
"Vanilla."
"Oh, come on!"
"French vanilla?"
"We're out at midnight to get ice cream, and you want vanilla. Honestly, Robin." And a minute later, Tim has a small plastic spoon and a cup of bright green pistachio ice cream.
"Uh," the girl says, still unsure and maybe a little scared. "It's going to be six-fifty."
"Oh right! Hold this." Dick shoves his own cup in Tim's hands and starts fumbling through Tim's belt.
"What are you doing?"
"I can't very well put my money anywhere, can I?" He finds a few bills in one of Tim's pouches -- he knows where; he's the one who put that money there -- and pays the girl, telling her to keep the change.
A minute later, they're eating ice cream on a low rooftop; the building is four stories high.
"How's your ice cream?"
"It would be better if it were vanilla," Tim answers, teasing. Dick doesn't answer, but his smile says how glad he is to hear Tim joke and see Tim smile.
"I'm sorry about everything."
Tim swallows his ice cream very slowly. "I know. It's fine. I said we were fine earlier."
"Yeah but we became fine without me apologizing, and I was a very fail big brother."
"Don't worry; Jason will always be the fail big brother, and I don't think you can take the title away from him."
They eat without speaking until the silence starts bothering Dick. "Come back to the Manor."
"Nightwing." Said this way, it sounds everything like "Dick."
"Your room's still there, and you said we were fine. Come back to the Manor."
Tim sighs and bites his lower lip from the inside in that subtle way of his, even though Dick can tell by now when he does it. Dick smiles because he knows he's getting to Tim just like that because he can tell what's going on in Tim's head. He waits for Tim to say something instead of poking at him to pull it out of him, and that means something.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Tim turns around quickly, settling on his feet, leaving his cup of ice cream on the edge of the roof. Dick doesn't move, except to grin and glance over his shoulder.
"It was your night off."
"Did you give me the night off, so you could replace me?"
Tim feels like pointing out that, actually, he replaced Tim. Damian just glares at him.
"You're not even patrolling! I go out to try and find you, and you're eating ice cream with Drake on a roof!"
The name makes Tim wince and Dick frown. "What did we say about using names in costume?"
"I'm not calling him Robin. That's my name."
Tim gets where Damian comes from and isn't looking for a fight, so he sighs, annoyed, and takes out his grappling hook. "Yeah, it is. You can finish patrolling together."
Dick grasps his wrist before Tim can jump off the roof. "Come back home. Come on. You still have clothes there."
Tim shrugs. The moment between him and Dick is gone. They're not Nightwing and Robin; they're Batman and Red Robin; and Dick has his Robin, who just walked in on them.
He doesn't answer and shoots his line.
*
He doesn't go straight to his apartment, instead stopping a drug dealer and scaring him a little. And then remembering that he's in the wrong uniform for that. It works anyway, but he doesn't have quite the right attitude for the costume.
He can't patrol anymore in this costume, too. He doesn't want anyone with a camera spotting him; if he ends up in the newspaper, he's never going to hear the end of it from Damian.
He thinks back to Dick telling him that he still has his room in the Manor and to come home. When he thinks about home, he's still not quite sure where home is. Something painful pushes him back to where he lived with his parents, and then his father and Dana, before his father went bankrupt. Then, where they lived together until his father died.
Those places obviously aren't really home anymore, but they still have their place in his heart. The Manor might be more like home than his apartment, though. He ends up grappling his way quietly to the Manor, trying not to think too much. And then he avoids using the hidden entrance and makes his way to the window of his old room, opening it from the outside.
It's still the same, and Tim… He sort of misses it. He also knows it will only hurt him because Bruce isn't here; he's lost somewhere in time when he should be here. And Damian lives in this house; his room is probably on the same hallway. It would... be weird.
He hesitates a bit too long, and before he can crawl out of the room, someone's knocking on the bedroom door.
"I know you're there, and if you're planning on escaping through the window, I'll chase you down," Dick says, amused, from the other side of the wooden door.
Tim rolls his eyes and can't help the small smile spreading on his lips. When he opens the door, Dick's grinning, and he's still in his Nightwing costume. The grin isn't as self-assured as Nightwing's is normally.
"I got Damian back home. You left your ice cream behind."
"Next time, let me get French vanilla, and I'll make sure not to."
"As if."
There's a short silence, and Tim feels compelled to ask, "Is Damian going to be okay?"
"Yeah, he is. He's mad, but he's always mad, so it's nothing new."
"Nightwing and Red Robin wouldn't have been enough for you?"
Dick's smile looks slightly dangerous. "Little brother, I don't mind Red Robin when I'm out as Batman because I'm supposed to be all serious and dangerous, but that cowl? You really need to get rid of it."
"You can start a club with Superboy; he completely agrees with you."
Dick takes a few steps inside the room and switches the light on. "You could get a mask, and we wouldn't have to start one."
Tim wants to argue, wants to explain to Dick why he's wearing that particular uniform and doesn't want to change it, but Dick is in a good mood. It had been a good evening until Damian arrived. It's still early, and neither of them is tired.
"You're staying, right?"
Tim presses his lips together. "Yes."
"I meant you're staying for good. You're moving back. Not just staying for the night."
Of course, Tim had known this, but he'd thought a vague response could get him out of making any promises he won't be able to keep.
"I'm going to go shower."
"You know I'm not going to just leave this hanging."
"Are you going to follow me into the shower, Dick?"
Dick seems to consider it, and it makes Tim look away, making the turn fit into a movement toward the bathroom. It's a mistake because, when he isn't looking, Dick wraps his hand around Tim's torso and holds him close from behind. It's awkward and makes Tim realise that he's nearly Dick's height now. He really did hit a growth spurt.
"I want you home," Dick repeats, not letting go. "We could pretend we're a normal, functional family."
The gesture and the words annoy Tim because he's so vulnerable and he can't help wondering if Dick is acting this way because he knows exactly how to play Tim. But that's not something Dick would really do. Bruce, maybe. Not Dick.
"I know you miss me," Dick adds, his tone playful again. But Tim knows better, and he can tell just how much Dick really wants this- and how worried he is.
"Let me go take a shower."
Dick must have liked the tone Tim used because he lets go and ruffles his hair.
*
"What are these?" Tim asks, entering Dick's room. Tim doesn't yell or doesn't barge in, but everything in his behaviour says that he wishes he were. Dick is lying on his bed, wearing nothing but boxers, and looks exceedingly pleased with himself.
Which tells Tim that this is all his fault.
"Did you pay someone, so they'd custom-make boxers with bats on them, just so you could fill my drawers with them?"
"Of course not. It was Alfred's idea."
"I am. So tempted to steal some of your boxers. You have no idea."
"They'd be too big on you. Guess you're stuck with the ones you're currently wearing. They fit you very well, by the--" Tim throws his wet towel at Dick, which does stop him mid-sentence, but only because he's now too busy laughing to form words, never mind sentences.
He pushes the towel onto the side of the bed and grabs one of his pillows, throwing it at Tim. Perfect. A weapon.
It takes a few seconds, and Dick is standing by his bed, trying to hit Tim with his other pillow while Tim's using the one he kept as a shield, waiting for a moment to strike-- There! He hits Dick in the face with the pillow and ducks when Dick tries to retaliate, and then they're both laughing too hard to think about any sort of tactical way to win the pillow fight.
Dick is the agile one. Compared to anyone else, Tim is extremely flexible, and his reflexes are amazing, but when compared to Dick, he's clumsy and slow. So when Dick lets himself fall after being hit a few more times, Tim knows that he's planning something.
Dick hits his bed, twisting in a way that allows him to circle Tim's thighs with his legs, and soon Tim is losing his balance and falling onto Dick. They're both smiling lazily, panting slightly from the fight.
"It's good to hear you laugh," Dick says and pulls Tim onto him. His hair is not yet dry, and it's leaving wet patches over the blanket.
"You're being extremely clingy."
"I have to be with someone. Damian's not going to let me."
Tim wouldn't normally let Dick get away with this, but he doesn't mind right now. He likes hearing Dick's heartbeat. "The Nightwing and Robin scenario was only a way to get me to accept the excessive cuddling without complaining, wasn't it?"
"Yep. Exactly. You're good."
"Trained by the world's greatest detective," comes the immediate answer.
They don't move for a while until Tim stretches and begins pushing himself out of Dick's hold because he needs to go back to his room eventually. Dick follows the movement, and Tim only has the time to give him an inquisitive look before their lips are pressed together in a nearly chaste kiss.
Tim tenses up and doesn't kiss back.
"I've been missing this, too."
"Is this part of pretending to be a normal, functional family?"
Dick smiles. "Yes, you're going to be Damian's stepmom."
"Congratulations on making me think about me with Bruce, Dick." Tim's voice couldn't be more deadpan.
Dick rolls his eyes and sits up, moving Tim with him, so he's straddling Dick's thighs. Tim doesn't fight against it, but doesn't do anything to encourage Dick.
"There were problems with this before you got rid of me."
Dick winces, but Tim doesn't regret his choice of words. He also doesn't stop just because the topic is making Dick uncomfortable. It always made him unsure, and Dick doesn't talk things through after all: he acts. But right now, acting is not enough. They can't just have sex as if nothing had happened, and Tim can't move to the Manor if they're... entertaining a sexual relationship again. It would hurt too much.
"It wouldn't be like before," Dick promises. Tim knows how Dick is about his promises: he means them when he makes them, but he can't always keep them.
"I can't move to the Manor and live with you if we're having sex all the time, Dick. You know that." Because he'd want more, because Tim likes to have long, lasting relationships, because Dick hasn't had anything close to that for years, because Tim loves Dick and doesn't hide it, which means he expects Dick to be respectful and not toy with his feelings.
"It doesn't have to be all the time. Just once now, and then we can be a nice, real family and act brotherly again."
Ah-- there it is. Dick doesn't even suggest the relationship because he knows himself well enough to predict the outcome of that and he doesn't want to hurt Tim. It will still hurt Tim because he wants Dick to want something long-term and monogamous, and he still hopes that, when Dick does, he'll choose Tim over-- Barbara or Kory.
Tim stands no chance.
He's there because Dick needs someone who loves him. Dick loves it when people love him and give him attention and affection. And Tim's okay with that. He'd accepted it a while back. His hopes that things will change are feeble at best.
"Tonight. And then only when I seek you out." And this will only work because Tim trusts himself. He knows he won't be exploiting this opportunity too much or in a way that is going to hurt him. He knows exactly what he's doing.
Dick grins, nods quickly, and kisses him again. This time, Tim kisses back, moving his hands behind Dick's neck and shifting into a more comfortable position. He tilts his head, so the angle of the kiss is better and opens his lips, inviting. Of course, Dick takes the invitation and pushes his tongue past Tim's lips, and Tim sucks on Dick's tongue right away. Dick isn't the only who who's missed this-- not that Tim is going to be honest about it, not even with himself.
He can feel Dick's constant grin in the kiss, and he arches into the touch when Dick puts his hand on his hips and pulls him closer. Their growing erections rub against each other, only separated by the thin fabric of their boxers.
Tim doesn't look down. He might usually, but he's wearing the ridiculous bat boxers, and he's sure it will be a complete turn-off if he looks at them.
Dick moves his hips up and makes Tim grind down and again and again until Tim's breathing becomes just a bit louder and that he can't control it anymore.
"See. I knew you'd missed me." Tim tightens his grip behind Dick's head and pulls on his hair. Dick chuckles. "Is this any way to treat your big brother?" And this is Nightwing speaking. The voice isn't that difference, but there's something else when it's Nightwing. Something subtle.
"Only when you deserve it," Tim --Robin-- answers, serious. Nightwing raises an eyebrow and smirks, and there's obviously something going through his head--
His hold on Tim tightens, and it takes a second for Dick to raise Tim and flip him over onto his stomach on the bed where he can lie on top of him and hold him there that way. Tim doesn't squirm, but it's a close call.
"Dick," he says, meaning "don't be an idiot" and "I'm not in the mood for this."
Dick doesn't seem to mind, though, and he's spreading, so he can grab one of Tim's wrist and hold it down. "Robin, learn to have some fun without overthinking everything."
It's probably way too late for that tonight, but Tim goes with it. "You know I could get out of this pin."
"Yes," Dick says, nearly chipper, "But do you want to?" Dick's lips are sucking on the skin right below his ear, and he's pressing himself against Tim's ass, although he's not moving nearly enough and he's right: Tim really isn't sure he wants to get out of the pin at all. He fists his hands into the sheets and wriggles his hips up against Dick, which makes him chuckle in a very Nightwing way.
"Is this what you want?"
Tim buries his head in the mattress and groans. Of course, Dick being in a Nightwing mood means he'll tease about five times more than he usually does.
"Robin," he continues, his tone vaguely scolding in a cheerful, amused way. "It's important to be very clear in order to avoid misunderstandings." He sucks Tim's earlobe into his mouth and nibbles on it before licking around and behind Tim's ear. Because he's a horrible person who knows how much Tim likes that and is exploiting it, which is totally counterproductive because he's asking Tim to talk.
Maybe, that's what Tim would want, but this-- This is not what Robin wants. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he's laughing because he's not being the right Robin right now. He's dressed in Conner's colours and is too forward, too serious... but Nightwing wouldn't mind.
Tim twists the wrist Dick is holding as he's pushing up, getting a hold on Dick's arm and pulling to flip him over. This is a hard pin to get out of, and he'd never be able to if Dick had been expecting it. Dick hadn't, and he's way too agile not to fall gracefully onto his back. Tim straddles his waist for the hell of it because he can't actually hold Dick down that way.
"Do I need to tie you up?"
Dick knows what that means, and the way he's looking at Tim tells him that Dick's not really against the idea. "Are you feeling toppy? You know I love it when you are."
Tim simply raises his eyebrows, not answering Dick's teasing and waiting for an answer.
"No, you don't. I can control my hands. Look--" He raises them to the side of his head, palms up. "I'm not moving them."
Tim is very sceptical, and it shows on his face, but he's okay with this. If Dick can't control his hands --which has a very good chance of happening-- he knows where to find zipstrips.
"Leave them there."
He leans over Dick to kiss him, slow and lingering. Dick pushes against his lips and makes the kiss more aggressive, more needy and follows Tim up when he backs away. Tim puts his hand down on Dick's shoulder and doesn't actually press down, but Dick gets the message and leans back against the mattress.
"This would be more comfortable if I had a pillow."
"Sad that you decided to throw it at me, then, isn't it?"
Then, his tongue is tracing Dick's lips, not kissing anymore. Dick opens his mouth and pants softly, everything about him asking for more. Tim can tell he's thinking about putting a hand around Tim's neck and pulling him closer.
"I told you to leave them there," Tim reminds him, lips brushing against Dick's.
"Oh, come on, I didn't move them an inch."
"But you were thinking about it," Tim answers, and it's not a question, so he doesn't wait for an answer before moving his mouth down the side of Dick's jaw, biting his way softly down to his neck and then down to a nipple. Dick's nipples aren't really sensitive, not like Tim's, but he still likes licking and sucking on them and hearing Dick's little gasps that are more encouragement than anything else.
He doesn't keep going nearly fast enough for Dick's taste, and it takes all of thirty seconds for Tim to feel a hand in his hair pushing him down because that is how patient Dick is. Tim begins lifting his head off Dick's skin with a serious expression, and it takes half a second for Dick's hand to be back where it should be.
"I didn't move! I don't know why you'd think I did." He's still looking exceedingly pleased with himself. Nightwing never learns, and his smile doesn't falter when Robin stares at him.
It doesn't move even when Robin stills entirely and crosses his arms over his chest.
"Are you seriously going to sulk about this?"
Robin doesn't look like he's sulking at all. Sure, his arms are over his chest, but he looks very serene, except for the amusement in his eyes. He's waiting for something, and if Nightwing doesn't figure it out soon, he's not going to get any.
"I'm not going to move again?" he says, now a bit uncertain. Who would have known you could get performance anxiety while basically doing nothing with your boxers still on. Robin doesn't move a muscle.
Dick moves his hips up, trying to shift and twist in a way that will make his cock rub against Tim's, but Robin doesn't let him, moving away and still waiting because, as opposed to Dick, he's good at that and can even be patient, although he's just as hard as Dick is right now. He can tell from the way Dick is looking at him that he thinks that this is all unfair. Maybe, he's even thinking for a second about taking control back, but dismisses the idea.
"Come on. Don't leave me hanging." He's close to moving his hands again, but doesn't, instead turning them, so he can grasp at the sheets. "Please keep going? I want you. Robin, come on." If the begging wasn't quite begging when it started, it's starting to sound more and more like it.
"Need your mouth. Need your dick. I'm so ready to spread myself for you. If you let me use my hands, I'll open myself up and put the condom on you myself." And of course, with Nightwing, it's going to turn into dirty talk for the sake of dirty talk.
Tim shivers, but so subtly that Dick can't see --can't feel it--, and he puts a hand over Dick's mouth to stop him from talking. Dick shuts up, their eyes meet, and then Tim's gracefully pushing himself back between Dick's legs and licking at his erection through the fabric of the boxers, mouthing the head and smelling --tasting-- Dick's arousal.
He's not surprised when Dick arches up into the touch, trying to get more out of it. He licks up Dick's shaft, his tongue flat against the cotton, one long, hard, wet trail, and doesn't stop until he reaches the skin just above Dick's waistband. By now, Dick is moaning, obviously turned on but also annoyed and impatient.
But he's not moving his arms.
Tim curls a fist around Dick, the fabric wet from his saliva and from Dick's precum, which brings a very lost sound out of Dick. Tim knows why: he's enjoying this, but this isn't what Dick wants, and he's going to get mad if he comes this way. He moves with Tim's strokes for about a minute and then tenses up and stops.
"A problem, Nightwing?"
"God, you're such an ass when you want to be." He shifts away from Tim's hand and swallows. "If you make me come like this, I'm going to hate you."
Tim doesn't seem to mind the threat and continues, daring Dick with his eyes to make him stop. He loves watching the torn expression spread across his lover's face.
"Okay, stop! Stop." He comes very close to pushing Tim away with his legs. "I don't-- Don't make me come that way. I want your mouth on me. I know you love to suck me off. Don't be an idiot. I'm so not letting you fuck me if--"
Robin's look makes Dick stop and moan, retracting himself. "Okay, so maybe, I wouldn't really kick you out of bed at all, but I really want you to suck me off." He pauses and throws his head back, closing his eyes. "Please, I won't-- Christ, stop stroking. God, I hate--"
Tim stops and practically rips off Dick's boxers, removing them without any sort of grace and throwing them on the floor, and in the same motion, he's kneeling down and taking Dick in his mouth. Dick spreads his legs and starts thrusting up into Tim's mouth right away. "Okay, I love you. I lied." Tim closes his eyes and knows that that isn't what Dick really meant.
And then the ramblings begin. Dick always talks during sex, but it's nothing compared to how much Nightwing talks.
"Keep going. God, I love your mouth. You know that right? Do the thing with your tongue. You teased me for way too long. I'm not going to last. No, don't slow down. If you slow down, I'm going to hit you so hard. I really wish I had a hand in your hair, and I know, I won't do it but it's just so-- You know that you're a jerk and-- Oh shit, that was really. Shit. Shit. Push a finger-- yeah just like that. Oh, fuck, I'm close."
It only requires one good suck after he pushes an unlubed finger inside Dick for him to unload down Tim's throat, groaning and shaking.
It takes all of ten seconds of afterglow before Nightwing begins talking again. "So, can I move and get the lube and condoms now?"
Tim is still licking his lips and tasting Dick, liking the taste in his mouth. He doesn't answer. It makes Dick lift his hips and raise his legs, so he can hook his toes into Tim's waistband and start slowly pulling down Tim's boxers. He speeds up when Tim doesn't stop him, getting them down to Tim's knees, moving one foot to stroke Tim's cock and balls carefully. He's way too dexterous. Tim's breathing starts speeding up again, and it's the only sign of his arousal, other than the way his dick is twitching.
"Where are they?"
Dick looks to his right. "Top drawer," he answers with a satisfied smile.
Tim moves back, pushing Dick's foot away before standing up to get to the drawer. His boxers fall on the ground and are forgotten there. He's back on his knees between Dick's legs, ripping a condom open soon after, though not soon enough for Dick.
"Sure you don't want me to roll it on you?"
Tim raises an eyebrow and puts lube all over his right hand just so he can push three fingers bluntly inside of Dick, ripping a yell out of him. "Okay! Okay, just do it fast. Or slow. I don't know what I'm supposed to say to actually make you go fast because you're all about reverse psychology when power goes to your head."
And this makes it so very tempting to take it extremely slow, but Tim's starting to feel restless too and simply finishes rolling the condom on, swipes his hand over it to spread the slickness there and positions himself, pushing himself inside Dick. It takes three thrusts to spread the lube enough that he can bury himself to the hilt without friction interfering.
Dick's eyes are half-closed, and so is his mouth, and he's flushed all over, wriggling to try and make Tim move faster. He looks-- incredibly good, and Tim takes a few seconds to savor the sight and etch it into his memory because he doesn't know when --or if-- this is going to happen again.
"Robin, you've already driven me crazy enough for the whole month."
Tim takes a deep breath, and balances on one arm, so he can raise his other to Dick's cheek and stroke it. "Dick."
Dick looks up and meets his eyes before turning his head to the side to kiss Tim's palm.
"Tim," Dick breathes against his skin. And Tim knows Dick's about to say that he loves him because Tim's buried inside of him and they're having sex and Dick loves everyone, especially if they're currently prodding at his prostate.
So he cuts him off with a hard, almost violent kiss and starts moving in and out, hard and fast, biting at Dick's lips and groaning with every thrust. He doesn't stop Dick when he moves his arms and puts one around Tim's back, holding him there, and one on his ass, grabbing forcefully and guiding him.
It doesn't last long, and Tim's groaning loudly in Dick's mouth when he comes, shivering and letting himself fall onto the other man.
He pulls out and doesn't clean himself, closing his eyes and breathing deeply for a few minutes. Dick's cock doesn't stay up without the attention, and Tim doesn't make a joke about how old he is.
"You moved your arms."
"You weren't Robin, anymore."
Tim hums, waits another few minutes, and starts stretching to stand up and go back to his room. Dick tightens his grip on him.
"Dick."
"Hmm?" he answers innocently. Tim pokes him, and Dick loosens his arms, letting Tim crawl away. He cleans up quickly and gets rid of the used condom before putting the ridiculous boxers back on.
"You could stay the night." A pause. "Whatever's left of it."
It's tempting, of course, but Tim knows better. "No, it's fine. I have to get used to my old room if I'm going to move back in."
"Well, at least we should definitely do this ag--" Tim picks up one of the pillows they abandoned on the floor and throws it at Dick's face.
"See you later." He smiles and walks out, closing the door behind him. Now he needs another shower.
Notes: Fic written on pornday. Extra notes here.