Fic: Rock-a-bye
Title: Rock-a-bye
Chapter: 1/1
Characters/Pairings: Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne
Genre: Fluff. Just pure fluff, really. ^_^ There’s almost no plot for the fluff.
Disclaimer: I am a college student. I own NOTHING.
Author's Note: I’ve had this image in mind for quite a while, and I wanted to write something happy. So, here it is. Enjoy the fluffiness of family.
Time Period: Sometime during the Bat-family’s year abroad.
Damn, it was cold.
Really, who’s bright idea had it been, all those years ago when Bruce had been training on his own, to sail from Russia all the way around to China in the middle of February? True, the ocean wasn’t quite as iced over as it would have been in, say, mid-December, but giant chunks of the stuff still made the trip slow going, and, in the not-very-well-heated reformed tanker they were traveling in, downright miserable.
So, when Dick had offered up a theory that his hammock could support both of them, Tim had been more than willing to give it a try, especially if it meant sharing their blankets as well as their body heat.
Which was why he now found himself rocking gently with the rhythm of the ship, nestled between the scratchy burlap of the hammock to his back and Dick covering his front. Dick had his arms around Tim’s shoulders in a definite ‘cuddle,’ as though Tim were a teddy bear. Dick was warm enough and their cabin cold enough that Tim didn’t mind in the least - in fact, he had his arms around Dick’s waist, pulling them as close together as possible, completely burying in each other’s heat. Their blankets had been stacked on top of them, but had slid down during their shifting, and neither of the boys were cold enough as a result to willingly crawl out of their tight, warm little huddle.
The only noises echoing through the cold, tiny metal haul was that of their breathing, mixed in with the squeaking of their swinging hammock and the groaning of the moving ship to create an uneven rhythm. Tim hadn’t quite adjusted to the background noise yet, and it was keeping him on the edge of consciousness - the unfortunate result of their training. Dick had been in a similar conundrum, but his breathing pattern had recently dropped off into the steady pace of sleep.
Lucky bastard.
Tim muffled the groan that wanted to rise out of his throat and pulled himself closer to Dick’s warmth. His brain was getting fuzzy, which was just how he liked it before he went to sleep these days. Didn’t have to think about anything being wrong, or anyone being gone or anything…just nothing, just the dull buzzing and rocking and slee…
The door opened with a pained groan, and Tim was suddenly awake again. He swore in the back of his mind, but kept his eyes closed. He knew this presence, it was just Bruce, finally coming in from his the meditation or whatever the hell he’d be doing out there on the deck. He was trying to be quiet, but he must have known he’d wake them on some level - it was his training that made them like this, after all, even if Dick had hardly stirred at the familiar presence. Bruce was closing the door now, and next he’d make his way over to the cot on the other side of the room and they could all go back to falling asleep.
Except that Bruce’s footsteps didn’t head over to the cot this time, they came straight through the door and right up to where the hammocks were hanging. The sudden presence of another body - this one bigger, heavier and denser - suddenly blocking the otherwise-regular flow of cold made Tim shudder just the smallest bit, but once again, he kept his eyes closed.
Tim could practically feel Bruce’s stare focus on them, drifting between him and Dick, and could only imagine the kind of stare it was. Was reproachful, as though withstanding the cold alone was yet another of the tests they were supposed to have overcome? Was is calculating, maybe scrutinizing the ability of the hammock to hold them both for the entire night? Was it blankly neutral, a general taking stock of his troops, or was it…
The air flow changed as the body moved, and suddenly, so did the blankets. The two scratchy, warm woolen covers came apart from each other with the his of static and the squeak of stretched fibers, moving upwards. The top one was pulled up, sliding over Dick’s shoulders, while the one beneath it was slipped under Tim’s chin by strong, almost clumsy hands.
Bruce was tucking them in, and the thought made Tim’s head spin. Bruce was tucking them in.
The hands didn’t quite move away once the motion was done, hovering a few inches above them. Tim kept his eyes closed, just wondering…what exactly did Bruce think he was doing?…and soon he hear a gentle brushing sound, fingers against skin and through long hair. Dick shifted a bit in his sleep and made a satisfied noise that almost sounded like a purr.
More shifting noises, and now Bruce’s hands were on Tim, the calloused fingers smoothing his hair down against his forehead and temple. There was an odd sort of twitch in the muscles along the joints, as though they weren’t used to the motions. Weren’t used to anything that wasn’t a curled fist or a flippant rich-boy wave to the masses. And yet, the touch was gentle…reverent. Almost…loving.
The touch passed over his closed eyes, and Tim couldn’t stop the natural reaction of opening them. For a split moment, he caught a glimpse of Bruce’s face - his harsh edges softened and his eyes drooping softly in an expression of love and affection - before the hand recoiled in surprise and the gentleness vanished for the blank panic of one who was not expecting to be caught.
Tim met his mentor’s eye and smiled, just the slightest bit. He kept his voice very low so as not to wake Dick. “G’night, Bruce.”
The corners of the man’s mouth twitched up just the slightest big. “Good night, boys.”
And for the rest of the night, the only sounds were that of the boat pushing through the sea and rocking them all to sleep.