(no subject)
Title: A Night Off
Fandom: DC: Nightwing
Pairing: Vaguely Dick/Wally
Word count: 1,026
Synopsis: Wally shows up at Dick's place to make him take a break.
Notes: Pre-Blockbuster/Tarantula debacle, although set during the build-up to all of that where Dick was just about running on fumes for about ten issues. If only it had *really* gone this way and worked...
I vaguely intended this to be part of a series. Now I've been reminded of it again I might be persuaded to add to it. It also features my giant fic-glee-inducing factor; people falling asleep on the sofa. For some reason I love that.
A Night Off
Dick’s only just got in from his day job. It’s three a.m.
He’s considered saying something to Amy about the long hours, but he’s not sure “I have a secret nocturnal crime-fighting vigilante career to juggle, would it be OK if I left early?” would really work as an excuse. This evening there’s something unappealing about going back out into the cold, dark, rainy Blüdhaven night when there’s only four more hours before he has to be up to start all over again. Maybe law, order and justice can live without him for (well, half) a night. He could really do with the sleep.
He kicks his boots into the cupboard by the door and heads for the couch to wait for the annoying twitchy adrenaline feeling to wear off. There’s a slim chance that there’s something on the Mystery Channel that will be stupid enough that he won’t be able to solve it.
His couch is occupied.
Dick doesn’t like to think that he wasn’t alert enough to notice that there was, well, someone else in his apartment. But it’s entirely possible that this particular someone else wasn’t there when he got home. Then again, Dick doubts that even Wally is able to fall asleep that quickly.
He leans over the back of the sofa, stares at the napping Flash, and coughs.
Wally bolts upright and looks around so quickly that he’s a blur for a split second. Dick takes the opportunity and vaults the back of the couch, landing neatly cross-legged in the space recently vacated by Wally’s upper body. He notes absently with the detective half of his brain that never really switches off that he can feel the residual Speedster heat radiating from the cushions.
Wally swings his legs to the floor and leans back into the couch, eyes studying Dick.
“You look like hell.”
Dick winces and scrubs a hand through his hair, “Hey, Wally, nice to see you too. Keystone dull at the moment?”
“Oracle told me you were overdoing it.”
“No more than usual.”
“Batboy, I know you, remember? When you come dragging in at…” he glances at his watch, “Dick! Three! …and you haven’t even gone out on patrol yet? See, that’s when I know for a fact that you’re overdoing it. And even if I hadn’t caught you doing overtime, I’d be able to tell by the way you look like hell that you were overdoing it.”
“So she sent you to babysit me.”
Wally aims a smack at Dick’s head, but Dick knows he’s not angry because the smack doesn’t connect. Much. There’s not really much point in ducking when your best friend is the fastest man alive and you’re not feeling your best.
“No, she sent me because she’s your friend and I’m your friend and we’re worried about you, you moron.”
Dick is too tired to argue, so he carefully doesn’t point out the fact that Wally appears to have stocked his fridge with fresh, healthy food, emptied his bins, dusted, vacuumed, reorganised his desk, done all his laundry, and watered his plants; and it even looks like he’s alphabetically arranged Dick’s CD collection, by artist and album title. But maybe Wally’s definition of babysitting is different. Or maybe it’s just that Wally’s been by himself in Dick’s apartment for too long.
Wally sighs heavily, and turns some more so that he can gaze earnestly into Dick’s face with that look that Dick’s learning to mistrust, because it probably means that people are going to make him take downtime when he doesn’t want to.
“We just think you should take it easy for a few days. Sleep. Watch bad TV. Hang out with your buddies at the PD. Hang out with me.”
“But Blockbuster-“
“-Can live without you for a little while, pal. I’ll do your patrol if you can’t afford to let the scumbags have a few nights cape-free.”
He can’t really afford to leave the scumbags alone for a few nights, but the thought of letting Blockbuster anywhere near his friends makes Dick turn cold. Blüdhaven’s his city, and Blockbuster’s his problem, and he’ll be the one to deal with them both.
It probably would do him good to have a break, he supposes. But he’s heard rumours of a big drug deal going down tomorrow night, and some kind of bank raid the night afterwards. He wonders if he could sneak out at night while Wally is asleep. He thinks he probably could. There’s a definite advantage to being Bat-trained, Wally would never even know.
Now, how not to outright lie to his best friend?
“It… might be a good idea, I guess.”
The relieved look on Wally’s face tells Dick that he’s said exactly what Wally wanted to hear, and Wally throws an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in for an awkward Wally-ish sort of lop-sided hug. Wally is warm, and the shoulder under Dick’s cheek is strangely reassuring in its solidness. Dick doesn’t pull away, letting himself enjoy the all too rare human contact.
“Yep, it is. You ‘n me can do normal-guy stuff. How do you feel about bowling?”
Wally waits a while, expecting some comeback about his bowling skills. There’s no reply from Dick, and when the silence continues Wally glances down to find his friend sound asleep against him.
It’s kind of inconvenient. Dick is trapping his arm against the back of the couch, and Wally knows that if they sleep like this for the rest of the night they’re going to wake up needing a chiropractor. But… he can’t get over how exhausted Dick looks and he doesn’t think he could bear to wake him.
He watches the relaxed face for a few minutes, and with his free hand absently strokes back some of the dark hair that is only just beginning to grow out again after the severe police academy regulation haircut. Then he rests his own cheek on the top of Dick’s head and closes his eyes.
He figures telling Dick about the new Oracle-monitored alarms he rigged on all the windows and doors in Dick’s place can wait until morning.
Fandom: DC: Nightwing
Pairing: Vaguely Dick/Wally
Word count: 1,026
Synopsis: Wally shows up at Dick's place to make him take a break.
Notes: Pre-Blockbuster/Tarantula debacle, although set during the build-up to all of that where Dick was just about running on fumes for about ten issues. If only it had *really* gone this way and worked...
I vaguely intended this to be part of a series. Now I've been reminded of it again I might be persuaded to add to it. It also features my giant fic-glee-inducing factor; people falling asleep on the sofa. For some reason I love that.
A Night Off
Dick’s only just got in from his day job. It’s three a.m.
He’s considered saying something to Amy about the long hours, but he’s not sure “I have a secret nocturnal crime-fighting vigilante career to juggle, would it be OK if I left early?” would really work as an excuse. This evening there’s something unappealing about going back out into the cold, dark, rainy Blüdhaven night when there’s only four more hours before he has to be up to start all over again. Maybe law, order and justice can live without him for (well, half) a night. He could really do with the sleep.
He kicks his boots into the cupboard by the door and heads for the couch to wait for the annoying twitchy adrenaline feeling to wear off. There’s a slim chance that there’s something on the Mystery Channel that will be stupid enough that he won’t be able to solve it.
His couch is occupied.
Dick doesn’t like to think that he wasn’t alert enough to notice that there was, well, someone else in his apartment. But it’s entirely possible that this particular someone else wasn’t there when he got home. Then again, Dick doubts that even Wally is able to fall asleep that quickly.
He leans over the back of the sofa, stares at the napping Flash, and coughs.
Wally bolts upright and looks around so quickly that he’s a blur for a split second. Dick takes the opportunity and vaults the back of the couch, landing neatly cross-legged in the space recently vacated by Wally’s upper body. He notes absently with the detective half of his brain that never really switches off that he can feel the residual Speedster heat radiating from the cushions.
Wally swings his legs to the floor and leans back into the couch, eyes studying Dick.
“You look like hell.”
Dick winces and scrubs a hand through his hair, “Hey, Wally, nice to see you too. Keystone dull at the moment?”
“Oracle told me you were overdoing it.”
“No more than usual.”
“Batboy, I know you, remember? When you come dragging in at…” he glances at his watch, “Dick! Three! …and you haven’t even gone out on patrol yet? See, that’s when I know for a fact that you’re overdoing it. And even if I hadn’t caught you doing overtime, I’d be able to tell by the way you look like hell that you were overdoing it.”
“So she sent you to babysit me.”
Wally aims a smack at Dick’s head, but Dick knows he’s not angry because the smack doesn’t connect. Much. There’s not really much point in ducking when your best friend is the fastest man alive and you’re not feeling your best.
“No, she sent me because she’s your friend and I’m your friend and we’re worried about you, you moron.”
Dick is too tired to argue, so he carefully doesn’t point out the fact that Wally appears to have stocked his fridge with fresh, healthy food, emptied his bins, dusted, vacuumed, reorganised his desk, done all his laundry, and watered his plants; and it even looks like he’s alphabetically arranged Dick’s CD collection, by artist and album title. But maybe Wally’s definition of babysitting is different. Or maybe it’s just that Wally’s been by himself in Dick’s apartment for too long.
Wally sighs heavily, and turns some more so that he can gaze earnestly into Dick’s face with that look that Dick’s learning to mistrust, because it probably means that people are going to make him take downtime when he doesn’t want to.
“We just think you should take it easy for a few days. Sleep. Watch bad TV. Hang out with your buddies at the PD. Hang out with me.”
“But Blockbuster-“
“-Can live without you for a little while, pal. I’ll do your patrol if you can’t afford to let the scumbags have a few nights cape-free.”
He can’t really afford to leave the scumbags alone for a few nights, but the thought of letting Blockbuster anywhere near his friends makes Dick turn cold. Blüdhaven’s his city, and Blockbuster’s his problem, and he’ll be the one to deal with them both.
It probably would do him good to have a break, he supposes. But he’s heard rumours of a big drug deal going down tomorrow night, and some kind of bank raid the night afterwards. He wonders if he could sneak out at night while Wally is asleep. He thinks he probably could. There’s a definite advantage to being Bat-trained, Wally would never even know.
Now, how not to outright lie to his best friend?
“It… might be a good idea, I guess.”
The relieved look on Wally’s face tells Dick that he’s said exactly what Wally wanted to hear, and Wally throws an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in for an awkward Wally-ish sort of lop-sided hug. Wally is warm, and the shoulder under Dick’s cheek is strangely reassuring in its solidness. Dick doesn’t pull away, letting himself enjoy the all too rare human contact.
“Yep, it is. You ‘n me can do normal-guy stuff. How do you feel about bowling?”
Wally waits a while, expecting some comeback about his bowling skills. There’s no reply from Dick, and when the silence continues Wally glances down to find his friend sound asleep against him.
It’s kind of inconvenient. Dick is trapping his arm against the back of the couch, and Wally knows that if they sleep like this for the rest of the night they’re going to wake up needing a chiropractor. But… he can’t get over how exhausted Dick looks and he doesn’t think he could bear to wake him.
He watches the relaxed face for a few minutes, and with his free hand absently strokes back some of the dark hair that is only just beginning to grow out again after the severe police academy regulation haircut. Then he rests his own cheek on the top of Dick’s head and closes his eyes.
He figures telling Dick about the new Oracle-monitored alarms he rigged on all the windows and doors in Dick’s place can wait until morning.