Fic: Fraternity, DC Comics, 2/2

[piratelf]

See Part One for disclaimer, etc,

About a year and a half later.

Sometimes, Dick thought, you just can't win.

He lay in bed, wide awake, while Tim slept like a log beside him. Any other night, he'd have been relieved that Tim had crashed so early. Tim's seemingly endless energy and limitless libido could be exhausting; his current record was, if Dick recalled correctly, seven times in one evening. While Dick would be the last to complain, more often than not their weekends together ended with him sleeping until noon Monday, just to catch up. Much as he loved Tim, he sometimes wondered about the wisdom of dealing with adolescent hormones on a regular basis.

Tonight, however, Tim had given in to sleep after two sessions, albeit reluctantly. Dick had had a line snap on him tonight, and while the resulting injury had not been serious, it was painful, and Dick had called it a night sooner than was his habit. Tim had complained a bit, but had given in without much of a fight; the fact that they ran out of condoms probably had had something to do with his capitulation, too. He'd made Dick take some pain medication, and then, despite a valiant effort to stay awake to keep Dick company, had promptly fallen asleep himself. So, Dick was left awake with a painfully throbbing wrist and far too much time to think.

As usual, at times like this, he thought about the situation he'd gotten himself into. He refused to accept that he was obsessing, though; that would be too close to being Batman. The last year and a half had been among the happiest times of his life, and paradoxically, probably the most stressful. It was a strange situation, that was for certain. If someone had asked him a year ago if he thought he could ever fall in love with a kid nine years his junior, he'd have flat out told them no way in hell. But a year can make a lot of difference in a guy's perspective. As he looked at his sleeping lover, he knew he wouldn't change things, even if he could. He loved Tim with all his soul. That Tim's feelings ran as deep, he had not the slightest doubt. Any misgivings he'd had at first, about Tim's youth or the impropriety of their relationship had dissipated after that first weekend. They'd spent as much time talking as they had in bed - and they'd spent a lot of time in bed.

It was a revelation in many ways, that first weekend. Sure, he'd known that Tim was as competent a Robin as he'd been, even if their strengths lay in different areas. He'd known they shared a lot of interests. But it wasn't until they'd talked, really talked, that he'd realized how much alike they were - and that he'd long harbored feelings for Tim that were anything but fraternal. In fact, once the forbidden subject had been broached, and Dick had allowed himself to consider the possibility, he had begun to see qualities in Tim that he'd never before noticed, qualities that were high on his most-wanted list for prospective relationships. Of course, he had the Bat squad requisites - intelligence, honesty, integrity, loyalty, dedication, bad-ass attitude, wicked sense of humor - all of which Dick had long recognized and appreciated. But beneath the Boy Wonder bravado and the street smarts, there was a surprisingly sensitive young man. Tim was warm and affectionate, and possessed of a passionate nature that was more than a match for Dick's own. He was completely open, freely expressing his emotions, and unafraid to expose this hidden part of himself.

He was everything that Bruce was not, could not be.

With this in mind, Dick gave himself over entirely to the prospect of this unorthodox and potentially dangerous relationship. He allowed himself to acknowledge his attraction, and to act upon it, and to accept it as a purely good and precious thing, a blessing, a gift. For the first time in his life, he was in love, truly in love, and it was reciprocated completely. They were two halves of one whole, incomplete without the other, utterly devoted.

Still, there was a problem. Until such time as Tim was of legal age, and possibly even beyond that, there was an ominous shadow hovering over their happiness.

A bat-shaped shadow.

It troubled him greatly, this deception. Oh, they could get away with it, all right; they'd both had enough experience in keeping heavy duty secrets, this was little different. They were excruciatingly careful to not show any undue affection around others, especially Bruce and Alfred. They were also equally careful to not be unduly distant, since that could also bring unwanted attention. The rough-housing, the friendly swats and jibes, the occasional wrestling match, these continued as they always had. Nightwing and Robin fought side by side, trading quips as they traded punches; Tim spent most weekends with Dick, training and studying. Everything was just as it had always been.

Excepting, they had to deceive the one man who, above all others, deserved the truth.

Dick hated this deception. It was one thing to wear a mask to do your job; that was for your own protection and for the safety of those around you, those innocents who might become targets were your identity to become known. It allowed you to walk among the populace unrecognized, to have some semblance of a normal life. That kind of mild deceit he could live with, had lived with for most of his life.

It was an entirely different thing to have to hide from the man who'd raised you, and who would gladly give his life for yours without a second thought.

Dick felt like a heel. He knew it was wrong yet he knew there was no other way, not now, not yet. It rankled, it gnawed at him, it haunted him. For weeks, he lay awake nights, unable to stop thinking about it. It lurked at the edges of his mind even when he was with Tim, a specter waiting in the wings to wreck havoc.

Under any other circumstances, he would have taken his troubles to Alfred or Bruce, talked them out, worked out a solution.

Obviously, he couldn't do that.

So, he had gone to the only other people whom he could trust implicitly.

There was something about putting your life on the line every night, giving everything you had for some vague ideal of justice and righting wrongs, something about that kind of lifestyle that transformed ordinary people into - well, into heroes. The thrill of the risk as you dodged bullets, the rush of the wind in your ears as you plummeted from the top of a building with only ten millimeters of line between you and sidewalk pizza, the knowledge that every night you put on that suit might be the last time - these were things made you grow up very fast in a lot of ways. Frequently, it led to a kind of fatalistic attitude, and an impatience in things like relationships; when you never know if you'll see tomorrow, you don't postpone any chance at happiness.

It also formed a bond among those who shared this kind of life, a bond that endured separations, petty squabbles, jealousies, bruised feelings, even broken love affairs. Few comprehended it outside the exclusive club to which they belonged; the members of the JLA, perhaps, although most of them had come to their chosen field as adults. Dick's fellow Titans knew it all too well, and even the new kids, Robin's peers who had recently begun hanging out together and calling themselves Young Justice - they understood. They were a dedicated bunch, devoted to their work, and fiercely loyal to each other. They had to be; theirs was not your average childhood, and friends outside the loop were not easily trusted. After all, when you had a secret identity to protect, you couldn't just kvetch about the day's - or night's - events to just anyone. On the other hand, you *could* vent to your fellow Titans about how your mentor doesn't allow you any free time, or how it really sucked when you got a tear in your kevlar tights in the wrong place, and know that not only would they understand completely, they'd also keep your secrets to the grave.

So, they'd learned to accept that they were different from the rest of the world, and not only had they accepted it, they relished it. They lived by different standards. Ordinary, non-hero folks could call in sick to work, but if a hero did that, innocent people could die. Ordinary folks didn't make life or death decisions on a daily basis. Ordinary folks didn't deal with world-threatening villains before school every day. Ordinary folks didn't have the maturity at age fifteen to be part of a team - or part of a relationship. Ordinary folks had the leisure to take their time in forming a relationship, had the years ahead of them to wait for a love to show up - or grow up.

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He'd showed up at the Tower on a weekday, about two months after that fateful weekend. While he knew any of the Titans would happily listen and give whatever comfort or advice they could, he really wanted to talk to Wally. Sure enough, the Flash was there, as usual in the kitchen, eating; he claimed his metabolism used up a lot of calories, but Dick had always suspected that his best friend was just using that as an excuse.

"Hey, Dick," Wally said, around a ridiculously large sandwich. "What brings you to this den of iniquity?"

"Hey," Dick replied, grabbing a cold drink from the fridge. "You got a minute to talk?"

"For you, sure. What's on your mind?" Wally was now on his second sandwich, and dripped a splotch of mustard on Dick's shoes.

"Guilt."

"Whoa." Wally stopped mid bite. "Seriously? About what? What'd you do, kill a guy?"

"No," Dick knelt and cleaned up the mess. "I'm, uh, lying to Bruce."

"Ah." Wally sounded uncertain. "Something pretty big, huh?"

"Very big."

"And you can't tell him, or don't want him to know?"

"Exactly."

Wally turned away for a moment, and when he turned back, he was unusually serious. "Look, Dick, I know that whatever it is, you have a good reason for not telling him. I know you well enough to know that you're doing the right thing, whatever it is. But, uh, I can't really help you this time."

"What?" Dick was incredulous. They'd never had secrets from each other. Even among the Titans, whom he trusted without doubt, he trusted Wally more. It hurt, somehow. "Why the hell not?"

"Look, Dick, it's not what you think." Wally spread his hands out imploringly. "But I'm in the big leagues now, the JLA. I gotta work with Batman all the time."

"So? I've done that for years." Dick hopped up to sit on the counter. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"It has everything to do with it." Wally joined Dick at the counter, leaning against it and crossing his arms and ankles. "You know how he is. Spooky. Intimidating. He has ways of knowing what you're thinking. It's hard to keep anything from him."

"Tell me about it. It's tearing me apart, Wally."

"God, Dick, I'm sorry, really I am. Anything else, you'd have my total attention." Just then, he tapped at the transmitter in his ear, and groaned. "I'm gonna kill that kid. Be right back." He disappeared, leaving a strong draft in his place.

Dick shook his head, and leaned back against the wall. Before he could decide what tune to whistle, there was another strong draft, and Flash stood in front of him again.

"Sorry about that," Wally said, pulling down his cowl and running a hand through his hair. "One of these days."

"I can sympathize," Dick grinned. The reputation of Wally's young speedster cousin was well known. "So, you were saying?"

"Yeah, right." Wally seemed to flicker for a moment, and now had another sandwich, larger than the first. "Okay, so like I was saying. I'm real sorry, Dick, but I can't do it. Any other time, I'd be the first in line to give you the old stalwart friend routine, but this time, I have to pass."

"I see."

"You know, Dick, if it was anything else, anybody else, I'd say sure. But if it's something this important to you, I don't want to foul it up."

"It's okay, Wally," Dick smiled reassuringly. "I guess I wouldn't want to be in your shoes, either."

"It's bad enough he's kind of got an attitude about Kyle and me anyway," Wally added, grinning. "I don't need anything else to piss him off."

"Okay," Dick exhaled loudly, and jumped off the counter. "So, who else is around? Somebody's got to play confession with me, or I'm gonna get an ulcer."

"The girls took off, I think," Wally said, pulling his cowl back over his face, "but Garth and Roy were around earlier, I heard them arguing. Unless Garth has killed him, I think they're still in the living room. "

"Well, I guess we can always hope."

"Later, gotta run." Before Dick could say good bye, he was gone.

"I hate when he does that." Shrugging, he shook his head, and made his way to the living room. Thankfully, his first runner up for confessor was there, watching an old film on the huge screen television.

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"Aqualad! Don't you know that surfacer stuff will rot your brain!" Dick hoped his Aquaman imitation was up to par.

There was an infinitesimal pause. "I told you before," Garth growled, without taking his eyes from the screen. "You call me MISTER TEMPEST!" He raised his hand, pointing the remote at Dick. "Don't make me use this."

Dick laughed, and jumped over the back of the sofa to drop beside Garth. "Damn. I used to be really good at that."

"In your dreams, Robbie," Garth replied, grabbing Dick in a crushing, one-armed hug. "How are you doing, buddy?"

"I'm okay," Dick grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the table in front of them. "You?"

"Busy. I've got a real job now, you know."

"About time."

"Having a kid does that to you." Garth smiled broadly. "Makes you respectable."

"Also makes you a chick magnet."

They both turned to see Roy Harper standing in the doorway, a six pack of beer in his hand.

"I guess you need something, huh, Roy?" Dick waved away the offer of a beer. "Too bad you have to resort to that kind of thing to get a date."

"Hah. You wish." Roy dropped down on the other side of Dick, and opened a can. "I'm beating them away from my door."

"Well, you're probably beating something," Garth said.

"Oh, like you aren't."

"I don't have to. I have a wife."

"Nice to see some things never change." Dick reached behind both of them, and gave each a swift smack to the head. "God, I miss you guys."

"You can drop by anytime," Roy said. "Just remember the code - if the hanger's on the door knob, don't come in."

"I thought it was a sock," Garth said, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

"That was Wally," Roy replied. "He had the sock, I had the hanger, Vic had that blue fuzzy thing, Gar had the gym shoes, Garth - What did you have, Gillhead?"

"I didn't bother." Garth gave Roy a warning look. "I've never understood why you Surfacers have such a hang up about it."

"It's a matter of privacy -" Dick began.

"I don't have a hang up about it," Roy protested. "I just don't like to be interrupted." He finished his beer and opened another. "Rob, you didn't use any signal either, did you?"

"I - Never mind. Look, not to change the subject, but can we get serious a minute?"

"Sure, Robbie," Garth nodded. "Do we need to call the others? I think Wally's still here."

"God," Roy groaned. "You're not going to call another meeting, are you? Today's my first day free all week."

"No," Dick shook his head. "Not Titans' business."

"What then?" Garth asked.

"Um, it's personal."

"Well, that's my cue," Roy muttered, reaching for the remainder of the six pack and standing up. "I know when I'm not needed -"

"No, Roy," Dick stood and put a hand on Roy's arm. "Stay, please."

"Sure, Dick." Roy gave him a look that was equal parts confusion, surprise, and gratitude. "Titans together. What's up?" He dropped back to the sofa.

"I kind of have a problem that's driving me nuts," Dick replied, remaining standing.

"So tell us," Garth made an inviting motion with his hand. "I'm good, but I can't read minds."

"Okay." Dick took a deep breath. He'd been prepared to lay it all out for Wally, but after that didn't work out, he'd lost some of his momentum. "It's like this. I - I've been seeing someone."

"You?" Garth was incredulous. "I thought you gave it up for lint."

"That's Lent, Gillhead," Roy laughed. "And he's been choking the chicken for way longer than that. Uh, Short Pants?" Roy leaned forward, his face the very image of concern. "You do realize that a blow up doll doesn't really count."

"Shut up, Harper!" Dick tried to scowl at them as they broke into laughter, but didn't convince either of them; he barely convinced himself. "You know, guys, I didn't come all this way for abuse."

"Where do you usually go?" Roy and Garth said in unison.

"And I wondered why I left here," Dick dropped into a chair, and buried his face in his hands.

"I always assumed you couldn't take the competition," Roy said.

"No," Garth interjected. "That would be you, Roy."

"Hah. Like you're some expert."

"Compared to you, sure."

"You don't count fish, Gillhead -"

"You're just jealous. You couldn't handle -"

"Are you two about done?"

Garth and Roy looked at each other, grinning.

"That didn't take long," Roy observed.

"No," Garth agreed. "Nice to know we've still got the touch." He turned back to Dick. "Sorry, Robbie, but we saw when you came in, and you looked -"

"You looked so intense," Roy cut in. "Way, way too Batman."

"We thought you needed to be . . ." Garth searched for the word, muttering something in Atlantean that sounded suspiciously like cursing. Finally, he shrugged. "Well, lightened up."

"We won't let you turn into him, Short Pants." Roy slouched back and put his feet up on the coffee table. "Titans together, man." He cracked open another beer and slurped it noisily.

Dick was quiet for a moment, just looking at his two friends. He knew he'd been right to come there. It was like Roy said: Titans together. No matter what, they were there for each other.
"Thanks, guys."

"Okay, so you're seeing someone," Garth said, breaking the silence that threatened to turn them all maudlin. "That's great. What's the problem"?

"He's married, isn't he?" Roy leaned forward. "Listen, there are ways around that -"

"No!" Dick threw the now-empty soda can at him. "The problem is, I can't tell Bruce about it. I have to keep it a secret, and it's getting to me."

"Why?" Garth furrowed his brow. "Why would he object? Doesn't he want you to be happy?"

"Sure, I guess so, but it's not that -"

"He can't be jealous. If there was ever a poster child for the terminally heterosexual, it's him."

Dick had to smile at that. "No, it's not that. And," he held up a hand, forestalling Roy's inevitable reference to mentor/sidekick crushes, "it's not that either. I'm over him, completely. I - I found the real thing."

"So what's the frickin' problem?" Roy demanded. "He's not jealous, you're not mooning over him, he wants you to be happy." He threw up his hands. "What else is there?"

Garth looked thoughtful suddenly. "It's who it is, isn't it?"

Dick nodded. "Yeah. He, uh, I don't think he'd understand it. In fact, I know he wouldn't." He took a deep breath. "It's, uh, it's Robin."

Dead silence.

"Holy shit."

"You mean, Robin Robin?" Garth asked.

"Yeah. Tim. That Robin."

Roy whistled. "Damn. I can see where that'd get his tights in a twist."

"Exactly."

"Do you love him?" Garth asked quietly.

"Yes." They knew Dick well enough to understand the absoluteness behind that one word.

"Does he love you?"

"Yes."

A pause. "Have you had sex?"

"Garth!"

Roy hooted. "Way to go, Short Pants," he leaned forward, and slapped Dick's knee. "Congrats and all that." He gave a short, low laugh. "Gives a new meaning to robbin' the cradle, doesn't it?"

"Shut up, Harper!"

"I still don't understand," Garth protested. "If you love each other, why are you afraid to tell him?"

"Gillhead," Roy said. "You remember last year, those twins I was dating?"

"What - Oh."

"Same situation."

Garth shook his head. "Surfacers," he muttered.

"I can't tell Bruce about it, he'll go ballistic," Dick said. "And I can't - not seeing Tim, that's not an option." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to do. It's tearing me up inside. I've never lied to Bruce about anything. I hate this."

"It'll be alright, Robbie," Garth came over and patted his shoulder. "I've done way worse stuff than that, and Arthur always forgives me. I mean, Dolphin left him for me, and he was still my best man."

"As the Tide Turns," Roy muttered.

"I don't know, Garth," Dick sighed. "This is different."

"He loves you like you're his own son," Garth said. "Maybe you don't understand what that means, you're not a father. It . . . changes you. Changes how you look at things." He turned to Roy. "Maybe you can make him understand."

"I hate to admit it," Roy said. "But you know, for once Garth is right."

Dick feigned shock. "That's something I never thought I'd hear."

"You? I can't believe I just said it." Roy ducked as a handful of popcorn sailed past his head. "I'm serious. You'd forgive your kid just about anything. Just yesterday, Lian spilled a whole pitcher of grape juice on Miss February, and I barely even noticed."

"Yeah, well, it's different for us. This is Robin we're talking about, *his* Robin. He's kind of protective, remember?" Dick shut his eyes, and rubbed his knuckles into his temples. "Why did it have to be him? Why couldn't it have been, I don't know, one of you guys?"

There was no reply. Dick didn't look up, but heard movement from the direction of the sofa, and retreating footsteps leaving the room. Well, that was okay. He didn't know what he'd expected them to be able to do, after all; they were his friends, they'd been supportive, but they didn't have the answers. Maybe there were no answers. Well, it had been good to see them, anyway.

Suddenly, he felt strong hands massaging his taut neck muscles. He opened his eyes, and nearly fell out of his chair when he saw it was Roy.

"Settle down," Roy admonished. "You need it. I could string a bow with these. You have to relax, Short Pants. You're going to hurt yourself."

"I know," he sighed. "Damn, that feels good." He looked around the room curiously. "Where's Garth?"

"He said his hour was up," Roy replied. "But I think all this talk about sex gave him ideas."

"Maybe he wanted to see his little boy."

"There's that, too, I guess."

They were quiet for a few minutes, and Dick began to relax under Roy's surprisingly gentle ministrations. He thought to himself that it was probably the longest the archer had ever gone without making some cutting or sarcastic remark. It was refreshing, but a little unnerving; like the calm before a storm.

He nearly leapt out of his seat again when Roy spoke.

"I know I'm not the most sensitive guy around," he said quietly. "I mean, I know you'd rather talk to Wally about this, and to be honest I was kind of surprised that you didn't." He paused, Dick was about to reply when he spoke again. "Anyway. I'm hardly an expert on relationships of any kind. I fucked up with Ollie, with Chesh, probably with Lian - If it weren't for the Titans, I'd probably have no friends at all." He put a hand on Dick's mouth to stop him protesting. "Like I said, relationships aren't exactly my strong point. But I do know this much. You don't pick who you fall in love with. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about."

"Yeah." Dick thought of his god-daughter's mother, and nodded. "I guess you would."

"Look. You love the guy, he loves you. End of story. You do what you have to do to keep him. You deserve it, Dick, if anybody does, you deserve a little happiness."

"Roy." There weren't any other words necessary, and Dick knew that anything he said would just make things awkward. Besides, he didn't quite trust his voice just now. Nothing like underestimating and misjudging a friend to make you tongue tied.

"Look," Roy said after a painfully long, silent minute. "You know I'm here most of the time. You guys ever need a place to hide out, or whatever - you got it. You and Tom -"

"Tim."

"-Tim can stay here, hide out from the big bad Bat. I don't think even he'd be ballsy enough to take on the Titans alone."

"Thanks, Roy," Dick stood, and grabbed him into a bear hug. "Sometimes, you're not a total bastard."

"Hey! You want to destroy my reputation?"

"I don't think that's humanly possible."

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Dick had spent the rest of that day there, hanging out with whatever Titans showed up. It had felt good, and he'd left there feeling much better than when he'd arrived.

That had been over a year ago, and now, while the unease about lying to Bruce was still there, now at least he could deal with it.

He looked over at Tim, sleeping beside him, and knew that the discomfort was little enough price to pay. In a little over a year and a half, they could break the news to Bruce. Maybe he'd understand the need for the deception. He was a reasonable man, most of the time. He treated them as partners; not equals, no, but with respect. He trusted their judgment in the field, trusted it implicitly; could he trust it any less in their private lives? He'd raised them both, given them his values, his morals, his inherent sense of decency. Bottom line, it was as Garth and Roy had told him - the father factor came into play. He never said it, never even referred to it, but there was no doubt that Bruce loved both his boys, like they'd been his own since birth. Sure, he'd probably be angry, and shocked, but he'd get over that. Anger Dick could handle - it was the other emotion that he knew would probably be there, the hurt - that was going to be tough. But he knew they could make amends, make peace, even for that. They didn't say it, either, but Bruce knew how his boys felt about him; knew they'd die for him.

It would work out fine in the end, Dick told himself sleepily. Only nineteen months to go until Tim was eighteen. Then, they'd tell Bruce and Alfred - can't forget Alfred, although Dick was confident, somehow, that Alfred would understand even if they told him now. Yes, they'd tell Bruce, sit him down and explain the situation, and he'd come to understand. Things would go back to normal, and they'd be one happy, if odd, family.

Tim turned over in his sleep, snuggling closer to Dick, snaking an arm around his middle. Once Dick had convinced himself that things would work out, it didn't take long to drift off himself; the pain-killer had finally kicked in, and he couldn't have stayed awake if he'd tried.

He was out like a light in a matter of minutes, and didn't hear the soft click of a window opening, nor the faint footfall and the whisper of a silk cape. So soundly did he sleep, he didn't even wake when a sharp, black object imbedded itself in the wall above the bed.