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Batman Dick and Robin Tim
DickTim week 2024
He knew where to find him. Call it a hunch, but it's more like ingrained knowledge born from years of studying his every nuance. Deep down, Tim knows him and so finding him here when he's grieving a loss is no surprise.
Tim ducks under the canvas cover that on a show night would be pulled open to invite folks under the big top. It's late so there is no ring master, there are no clowns and only the leftover smells of animal, mixed with stale popcorn and sugary foods.
Tim quietly takes a seat in the last row of the stands, all but lost in the shadows, and waits.
Dick steps into the ring, emerging from the dim edges of the tent. He's wearing his Nightwing suit when he climbs the rope ladder to the top of the small platform, where he steps out and gives a big wave to a crowd that doesn't exist.
In his head Tim can hear the cheering of the crowd, the same way they cheered all those years ago, the night when Tim's obsession with Dick Grayson first appeared.
Up above Dick grabs the trapeze bar and pushes off the platform. He swings several times before releasing the bar and curling into a somersault followed by a perfectly executed twist. He gracefully turns his body, hitting the net below, square in the middle.
Tim is tempted to clap, but keeps his hands gripped on his seat instead, not wanting to pull Dick out of his memories just yet.
Dick flips himself over the edge of the net and climbs the ladder again. Tim watches as Dick twists and spins, defying gravity, relying on the net to catch him. Tim knows that the net would have saved Dick’s parents if they used one on that fateful night.
Dick has forgone the bar this time and instead swings to the middle of the ring in the center of a large hoop. Tim watches as he twirls and spins, flexing himself into more intricate poses. Tim knows the routine. Dick's mother performed it before a crowd of awed onlookers.
Tim is no less awed all these years later as Dick contorts his body into yet another position that has Tim's muscles aching in sympathy to the stretch of Dick’s body. It's as beautiful as it is mesmerizing and Tim is so enthralled, leaning so forward on his seat, he almost topples over when Dick releases the ring and allows himself to fall to the net. Arms outstretched at his sides, he lands on his back, bouncing several times as the net easily takes his weight.
He's on his feet and ringside before Dick has dropped down to the ground. Dick's cheeks are flushed with effort and the hair at the nape of his neck is damp with sweat. His eyes are distant and unfocused. Tim thinks he's never looked more beautiful in his melancholy.
He knows Dick isn't ready to let go of his history, not yet, not when he thought he had years ahead of him.
If Dick is surprised to see Tim he doesn't show it. He steps forward and Tim pulls him into his arms, hands petting at damp hair. He wants to lick at the bead of sweat running over Dick's pulse point. He satisfies himself with a kiss to slick flesh. He inhales Dick's scent; masculine mixed with the efforts of his performance, the underlying smell of his laundry soap and the lingering cologne he put on just that morning.
Tim hurts for him; for Dick's heart, softened by memories. He hurts for the way Dick's body seems to sag into his as though his strings have been cut. Mostly he hurts for the soft keen that works its way out of Dick's throat.
It's later, after Tim has held Dick while he talks softly, that Tim gets him home and into the shower. He stands with Dick under the spray running at his back and shoulders to prompt him to wash himself.
When they get out Tim ruffles a towel through Dick's hair, on the pretense of drying it, until Dick rewards him with a small smile. Tim counts it as a win and hands Dick the towel to finish drying off with.
Tim ushers him into bed still naked. Sex isn't an option, not with Dick feeling like this, but skin to skin contact is something Tim knows he craves when he’s struggling. Dick needs Tim's touch as reassurance that they're both alive and okay.
They sleep until early afternoon, Dick clutching at his body. Tim holds himself pliant allowing Dick the comfort he so desperately seeks.
Tim knows tonight is going to be a challenge, something Dick has been reluctant to do, but the need is too great and Dick can no longer avoid the responsibility of carrying on a legacy that he never wanted.
He dresses in his room, going against Alfred’s strict ‘no capes in the manor' rule. Dick has asked for time alone and Tim grants it with only a little apprehension. Every part of him wants to be by Dick’s side. The urge to go to him in the end is too hard to resist and Tim makes his way to the cave.
He finds Dick sitting on a bench in the quasi locker room. He's almost done dressing for the night. He’s bent over with his elbows on his knees, head bowed. One of his legs jitters with uncontrolled movement.
Tim approaches slowly making sure Dick knows he's there. Dick lifts his head, his eyebrows are drawn together, lips turned down at the corners. Tim takes a deep inhale then exhales a slow breath, unconsciously giving Dick something to mimic.
He steps in front of Dick, feet between his; legs between Dick's knees. Dick raises his head and wraps his arms around Tim's waist drawing him closer still. He rests his forehead against Tim’s abdomen and matches his breath to Tim’s.
Reaching up Tim runs his fingers through Dick's hair in what he hopes is a soothing manner. They stay like this for several long moments; Tim offering what comfort he can.
Dick's grip tightens for just a moment before his body tenses and he pulls away. Tim brushes a thumb under Dicks eye and offers a wan smile.
He steps back allowing Dick to stand, rising to his full height. Tim thinks he looks impossibly taller. Dick raises his hands and pulls the cowl up over his face.
“Let's go, Robin.”