Work Text:
Tim ran his hand over the cowl and studied it carefully.
"You going to put it on any time tonight?" Dick asked and though the words were teasing, there was something behind them that made Tim turn around. The cape swirled in a way that his Robin cape never had.
"Yeah," he said eventually. "I suppose so." He touched the cowl again. "Are you sure you don't want...?"
Dick shook his head. "The suit was in your size, not mine. We both know he'd planned on you replacing him."
Tim swallowed hard.
"You've stepped into the shoes of a legend before," Dick said. Again, there was the sympathy and understanding behind the teasing.
Tim deliberately turned away from the case with Bruce's suit. "The pixie boots of a legend, you mean." Tim took a deep breath and pulled the cowl on. It took him a moment to adjust to the extra weight, far more than his old mask. He knew the differences. He'd spent the past month training in this suit, getting used to the weight, the extra capabilities. He couldn't get used to the idea of going out on to the street as the Batman.
He was about to go out there and he still couldn't get used to it. He was only nineteen. He was too young to be the Batman.
Tim started at the pressure of a hand on his shoulder and he looked at Dick. (Vision slightly more restricted in the cowl, extra head movement now automatic.) "Just because it's what he planned, you don't have to do it."
Tim forced a smile. "Robin needs a Batman."
Dick looked as though he was about to say something, so Tim pulled away and walked to the Batmobile. His mouth was dry as he settled into the driver's seat. (More volume of cloak to deal with, heavier than his Robin cloak.) Before he shut the door, he turned to Dick. "If you want to patrol Gotham - just tonight - it'd be appreciated?" He hadn't meant it to be a question.
Dick smiled and settled his mask in place. "Sure thing. Batman."
The Batmobile's smooth power was familiar and that was off-putting. He didn't want to remember the first time he'd driven one, Bruce sitting next to him with that intimidating confidence in Tim's ability to cope.
"Batman to Oracle. What've we got out there?"
"Hostage situation at the Fifth National Bank."
Tim pulled a left turn. "On my way. Any more details?"
"Batgirl's on site. I'm seeing three - no, four hostages. Two male, two female; all middle-aged. Batgirl reports three burglars."
"Locations?"
"Hostages and two burglars are on the second floor. One burglar's in the basement, trying to blow the safe."
Tim parked the Batmobile and rode the lines to the roof of the bank. It was easy to remain unseen in this costume, even with the sirens and lights clustered below. He crouched on the roof. "I'll deal with the hostages. Once I've got them safe, Batgirl can take out the third."
"Read you. Batgirl okays it."
It was a matter of seconds to jimmy the lock on the fourth floor window and slide in. He paused, working out the best route.
"They're at the front of the building and they're guarding the main staircase," Oracle said softly. "Plans show a staircase at the back. Batgirl's feed suggests they're unaware of it."
Tim nodded sharply and moved silently towards the back of the building.
"Second door on the left," Oracle said. "Approximately fifty yards along, door on the right."
Tim oiled the hinges before opening the door. Even so, it was heavy against his grip and the stairs were dusty. He moved silently downwards to the second floor and oiled the hinges again, then paused.
"Floorplan's the same as the fourth floor," Oracle said, picking up on his query. Out this door and into a corridor. They're not watching it."
At the second door, Tim deliberately made a slight noise.
"No reaction."
He made another one, louder.
"We've got one of them coming to investigate."
Tim stepped back from the door as it opened. The burglar was unconscious on the floor before he could make a sound. Even so, Tim took a second to zipstrip him to a nearby radiator. No point in taking the chance of him recovering.
He waited.
"Uh-oh," Oracle said. "He's got suspicious and called the guy in the basement."
"Send Batgirl."
"Done. Your guy's sticking close to the hostages, though."
Tim rolled his shoulders. "Then I go get him."
It was easy enough to get into batarang-shot of the burglar. Then it was just a case of one batarang to knock the gun clear and another to wrap a line round the perp's forearm and jerk him close enough for Tim to drop him.
Tim zipstripped him then cut the hostages' ropes. "Go downstairs and out the main door with your hands in the air. The police are expecting you."
One of the women suddenly burst into tears. "Oh, god, I'm sorry. I just. Thank you."
The younger man patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "Come on, Jenny."
Tim took advantage of the distraction to disappear.
He was swinging towards Wayne Tower when Oracle said, "Good work. All three of them are in custody."
"Thanks, O."
"Heh." An unidentifiable noise. "Never thought I'd hear that from the Batman."
Tim flicked off his communicator and dropped to deal with a mugging.
It was nearly dawn when he returned to the Cave, sweaty and grimy. Alfred was waiting with a glass of milk and a sandwich. Tim ate and drank while checking the status of the burglars from earlier.
"I thought you were a ghost," Dick said from the stairs.
Tim looked around and up. "Hmm?"
"The cowl."
"Oh!" Tim started to pull it off. "I'd forgotten I had it on."
"No," Dick said quickly. "Leave it."
Tim blinked. "Dick?"
"Just for a moment. Just let me..."
"Dick..."
"Hearing you. On the comlink. You sounded just like him."
Dick was so close now. He was still in the Nightwing suit and Tim could smell him. "I'm not-"
"I know you're not him. I'm not asking you to be him."
Tim stood up. "Dick."
Dick's hand was on the back of his neck and Dick was leaning in slowly, giving Tim plenty of time to break away. But how could he? Dick's lips were dry and chapped but his tongue was warm and Tim let his eyes slide shut, let himself lean against Dick.
If he tried, tried very hard, he could imagine they were somewhere else. Somewhere where Bruce wasn't watching them through the empty cowl in the case.
But maybe that was the point.
He slid his hand into Dick's hair, held him, licked his lips, swallowed his faint moans. "Dick," he whispered. Dick was breathing hard and Tim placed a hand at his waist. "Dick," he said again and Dick shook his head slightly. Tim swallowed, then said it. "Nightwing."
Dick was shuddering now.
Tim pulled back, held Dick's head, looked him in the eyes. "What do you want?" He realised too late that the cowl's lenses were active and now Dick's eyes were wide. "Nightwing?"
Dick groaned and dropped to his knees, hands on the fastenings of Tim's suit. And of course Dick knew this suit. He'd helped Tim put it on, the first time. The day of Bruce's funeral.
Tim rested his hands on Dick's head. "Nightwing," he said softly.
"Tim," Dick said after a moment and Tim knew that wasn't the name that had first come into Dick's mind.
But then Dick's mouth was on him, so hot and skillful and Tim hadn't realised he was still so wired from patrol. "Yes," Tim said and reached one hand down. Dick held it for a moment, then let go and Tim ran his hands through Dick's hair. Constantly moving because otherwise he'd just wrap his fingers in it and pull and Dick might actually like that. "Yes," he said again and Dick hummed in response. And that. Tim gasped as his orgasm seemed to surge up from the ground, a driving electricity that left him breathless and heavy.
Dick leaned back on his heels and looked up at him, mouth swollen. "Batman," he said softly. And then, after a moment, he looked down and Tim could barely hear it as he said, "Bruce."
Tim pulled the cowl off as he settled on to the floor. "Dick." When Dick looked up, his eyes were wet and Tim leaned in and kissed him. "Dick," he said into his mouth and swallowed Dick's sob and then Dick was kissing him hard, fingers tight against the back of Tim's neck. He was crying, the first time since Bruce died, and Tim wanted to cry with him but all he could do was hold Dick's shoulders and kiss him.
Dick was in his old room. Tim was in his new room. Bruce's room was empty.
It shouldn't bother him, Tim knew, but it did. More so than the case. The case was Batman and all Bruce had was the room, their memories.
It was six in the morning and, if he looked east, the sky was starting to lighten. And Bruce's room was still empty.
He put a robe on over his boxers and padded barefoot to Bruce's room. It was on the west side, of course, and even with the curtains open, it was still dark. Not that he needed light. His memories of this room were all about texture.
He smoothed the covers and they were cold and heavy under his hands. They'd been warm that night. When he'd followed Bruce in here and Bruce's eyes had been full of desperation and he'd kissed Tim so hard it hurt and-
Tim bit his lower lip and left the bed. The wardrobe was full of the Bruce Wayne suits. Immaculate suits, in sober colours and luxurious fabrics that he touched softly. The bed may be cold but it was still more Bruce than these were.
He shut the wardrobe silently and walked back to the bed, the persian rug thick beneath his feet.
The covers weren't crumpled but he smoothed them anyway and didn't turn around when Dick walked in. He could feel Dick watching him.
"When?" Dick asked.
Tim didn't bother pretending. "Once. Last year. Things went badly in a fight down by the docks. I got hurt. Not badly but it was enough to worry him."
Dick's hand was on his shoulder and his breath of laughter was bitter. "He just benched me."
"We aren't the same. He wasn't the same."
Dick touched his lips lightly to the back of Tim's neck and Tim shivered. "I'm sorry," Dick said softly. "You're not him. I shouldn't ask you to be."
"Not here," Tim said and started to move but Dick held him still.
"Here."
Tim turned round and Dick's hand trailed across his throat. "Not here," he repeated but Dick stepped in closer and pushed gently and Tim fell back to sit on Bruce's bed. The covers were alive under him, alive and cold.
"Don't you see?" Dick said. "It's got to be here."
Tim looked past Dick's shoulder then slowly lay back on the bed. In the darkness, he could barely see the shadow of Dick and he felt miles away until Dick pushed his robe open and brushed his hand down Tim's chest.
"Which scar?" Dick asked and Tim guided his hand to a looping scar just above his right hip. Dick traced the line of it. "Were you still bleeding?"
"No," Tim said. "Alfred stitched it, dressed it. It hurt, though."
Dick's tongue was soft, following the line of his fingers and his breath tickled when he spoke. "Did he care?"
"Not really."
"Was he punishing you?"
Tim thought about it, thought about Bruce over him and how it had hurt at first. "No," he said finally.
Dick hummed into the scar. "Where did he keep his lube?"
Tim swallowed. "In his bathroom cabinet."
Dick hummed again. "Was the tube full?"
"No. Old. Battered." Tim had to close his eyes against the memory because he'd wondered even then. Who had the tube got old with? How could they know so little about Bruce?
"Probably good I brought my own." Dick pulled away, took something out of his pocket then droppped his robe.
Tim took a deep breath and wriggled further back on the bed, letting his arms slide out of the robe's sleeves, then rested the soles of his feet on the covers.
"Lift," Dick said and slid Tim's boxers off when he obeyed.
The air was cold against Tim's cock and he shivered.
"Shhh," Dick said and Tim shivered again.
Dick's body was harder than Bruce's, sinew rather than muscle as he settled on top of Tim and lazily licked Tim's lips before sliding his tongue between them. Tim didn't make a sound as Dick slowly moved his hips, pressing his own erection against Tim's.
And then Dick was sliding down his body, kneeling between his legs and Tim didn't need to be told to rest his thighs on Dick's shoulders.
The first brush of the lube against his ass was cold and Tim pressed his head back into the mattress. The first push of Dick's fingers was burning hot and Tim pushed against it. "More," he said, too loud in the silence of Bruce's room.
"Were you demanding with Bruce?" Dick asked and his voice melted into the quiet. "Did you tell him exactly what to do?"
Tim shut his eyes. "No."
Dick pressed his lips against the inside of Tim's thigh. "Then hush."
But he pushed in another finger and Tim couldn't help lifting his hips and thrusting into the warmth.
"That's it," Dick said. "Fuck yourself."
His calves were pressing hard against Dick's back as he worked himself on to Dick's fingers. He bit his lip, trying to keep silent, but a grunt escaped and Dick laughed, warm breath tickling Tim's thighs.
"I need to fuck you now," Dick said and Tim couldn't hold back a whimper as Dick pulled his fingers out. He welcomed the slight stretch in his thighs as Dick leaned forward, hands planted on either side of Tim's shoulders. "Go on," Dick said and Tim reached round to guide Dick's cock into him.
He'd expected the first long, hard thrust but it still made him gasp. Made him whimper when Dick eased out before shoving in again and he'd somehow thought Dick would be slow, sensual but Dick was just hammering into him and Tim couldn't stop moaning, his eyes screwed shut.
"Look at me," Dick said. "Look at me."
Tim opened his eyes and the dingy grey light was just enough to see Dick's face, eyes wide and mouth parted, and Tim had to pull Dick down and kiss him. Dick's rhythm shattered and he seemed to open up under Tim's hands; wrapped his own hands in Tim's hair and kissed him back, hard and desperate and hungry.
Tim let his legs drop off Dick's shoulders because Dick was heavy and solid against him and it felt so good. But then Dick lifted his head and his smile was dazed.
"Shhh," Tim said and pulled Dick's head down to rest on his chest. They'd have to go back to their own rooms soon but they had ten minutes or so and they both needed this.
Tim focused his binoculars and frowned. There were more people involved in this drug deal than his information had suggested. Which meant he should leave it but there was too much heroin there to let it out on the street. "O. I'm going to need back-up."
"Sure. N can be with you in two minutes."
Tim's frown deepened. "He didn't say he was patrolling."
"You expected him to laze around at home?"
"What about B?"
"Other side of town." Oracle sounded concerned. "What's wrong with N?"
It would have sounded stupid to say that he was backing up Batman too often, even if it was at least once a night for the past month. "Nothing. Send him over."
It took less than two minutes for Dick to land next to him. Tim handed him the binoculars and pointed. When Dick put the binoculars down, he raised both eyebrows. "Big haul."
"With a lot of protection. You take the frontal assault. I'll go round the back and surprise them. I'll give you the mark to attack."
Tim didn't bother waiting for Dick's agreement before leaving. He didn't have to. He was Batman. "O?"
"What is it, boss?"
"The problem with N is that we're getting to rely on him and he's got to go back to Blüdhaven soon."
"Ah." That was the sound of Barbara tapping a pen against her teeth. "Has he given you a date?"
"He hasn't mentioned it. But we need to get into the habit of working with just B and me."
"Gotcha. From now on, N patrols alone."
It wasn't an answer, Tim decided as he settled into place. But it was all he could do for now. "N. Go."
He caught the flicker of movement as Dick dropped from his perch, hardly seeming to need his line. He knocked out the first goon as he flipped off the line; instantly dropped and kicked, which sent another two stumbling backwards. By now, the surprise was gone and Dick was single-handedly taking on twelve armed men.
Time for the second surprise, Tim thought grimly, and jumped down.
With the two of them working together, it took less than ten minutes to get the goons down and zipstripped. Tim studied the face of one of the unconscious men, the only one in a suit. "O? Have we got an identity for this guy?"
"I'll get on it. Do you want some uniforms down there?"
Tim glanced around. "Yeah." He nodded sharply at Dick. "Good work."
Dick grinned breathlessly and wiped a splash of blood from his cheek. He looked like he was about to say something, so Tim nodded again, shot his grapple and left.
He was over in Old Gotham when Dick caught up with him.
"Why do you keep running away when we're out?" Dick said, without preamble.
Tim stretched out his arms and legs. "There's only three of us. We need to be as spread out as possible."
"There've been three of you for the past year."
"And we kept ourselves spread out," Tim said, letting some of his impatience show.
Dick nodded slowly. "So, you want me to keep well away from you."
Tim shut his eyes and breathed deeply at the tone of Dick's voice. "When we're patrolling."
Dick stepped closer. "But not when we're at home."
"Dick."
"Batman," Dick said and his voice was low, intimate, his fingers resting on the line between the cowl and Tim's cheek.
"Boss, got an ID for you."
Tim's jaw tightened. "Go ahead, O."
"Nathan Misyutin. Worked for the Russian mob."
"Is this going to cause trouble?"
"Possibly. He was due to meet with a Ghost Dragon. I'm hearing the Dragon backed out when he saw Misyutin had more muscle than agreed."
"But the Russians aren't going to see that. Damn." He looked at Dick. "You heard it?"
Dick nodded.
"You cover the Ghost Dragons. I'm going to see Kryukov."
Dick swallowed. "Are you sure? Have you dealt with him before."
Tim smiled, small and vicious, and watched Dick step back. "Batman has. And I'm Batman."
It was easy to get into Kryukov's building, easier to work the gaps between patrols until he was right outside the man's office. And, judging by the security, there was a big meeting going on.
Tim rolled some gas marbles and watched the security crumple. Pathetic.
The door was oiled and he slipped inside silently. As expected, of the seven round the table, six were ranting furiously. Kryukov was listening with condescending patience.
"The Dragons have gone too far," one man shouted, thumping the table. "They deliberately handed Misyutin to the police. Misyutin himself is not important - he knows nothing - but this cannot be allowed!"
"Your revenge cannot be allowed," Tim said and stepped out of the shadows.
The man who had been shouting reached for a gun but Kryukov waved a hand and he reluctantly settled down. "I wondered when you'd appear," Kryukov said. "Coffee?"
Tim didn't move.
"No, I didn't think so. I heard you were involved in Misyutin's... upset."
"He brought more muscle than agreed. The Dragons didn't trust him in those circumstances and backed off. You do not bring warfare on to my streets because one of your men was incapable of following orders."
Kryukov nodded slowly. "I suspected it may be something like that. Misyutin is very good at following orders. Unfortunately, he is not very selective as to whom he takes them from." Kryukov glanced round the table and Tim took advantage of the moment to slip out of the window. He hung outside, listening as Kryukov contined. "You may all go. Except Semenov."
He shot his line to the next building and swung free. "O. Crisis averted. We can expect a clean-out among the Russian lieutenants, which should keep them occupied for a while."
"Names?"
"Semenov. On his way out."
"Got it." He could hear the smile in Barbara's voice.
"What's going on with the Dragons?"
"N reports most of them are holed up. I'll get word among them that it was a rogue element."
"And I'll get back on patrol."
Dick was in the Cave when Tim drove in. His mask and gloves were on the desk and he was staring intently at the screen while he ate his milk and cookies.
"Any left?" Tim asked as he pushed the cowl off.
"Yep." Dick gestured vaguely without looking away from the screen. "Under the cover."
Tim grabbed a cookie and sipped his milk as he looked over Dick's shoulder. "What's happening?"
"Just checking up on the Russians. They're all being charged and the police have tied Misyutin to a murder earlier this year. The John Doe in the dumpster on 67th." Dick spun the chair round and grinned at Tim. "Looks likely to go down for a good long while."
"Good." Tim stripped his cloak and cowl and slung them over the desk, covering Dick's mask and gloves. He rolled his head and shoulders, feeling the bones crack. "Ow."
"Here." Dick moved to stand behind him and his hands were gentle on Tim's neck. "You're too tense, Tim."
Tim smiled a little at that and let his head drop forward as Dick's thumbs moved against his neck. "That's a surprise?"
"Not really. Get your top off. I can't do anything with kevlar in the way."
Tim let his smile relax into a tired grin. "Are you trying to seduce me, Mr Grayson?"
"Am I succeeding?"
Tim turned and held Dick's head. "You always do," he said and kissed him.
Dick smiled into the kiss. "You're working too hard," he said as he pulled away and started unfastening Tim's suit. "There are three of us, you know."
Tim didn't say anything.
"You don't have to work as if Gotham was yours alone." Dick touched his lips to the spot on Tim's jaw where the cowl had rubbed him slightly.
Tim turned away and bit his lip.
"What?" Dick asked, frowning.
"There won't always be three," Tim said. "You're going to have to go back to Blüdhaven."
"Oh." Dick's frown blossomed into a smile. "Not any time soon. Not till you've got a Robin."
Tim rubbed his hands through his hair. "Where do you get a Robin?"
Dick shrugged and smoothed Tim's hair down. "They seem to turn up just when you need them, in my experience." He raised an eyebrow. "And you can't do anything about finding one right now."
"So what should I be doing?"
Dick pulled his top over his head. "Screwing me until my brains fall out."
Tim pulled his cowl on. "O."
"Here."
"What I said yesterday, about N not providing back-up. Cancel it."
"Cancel... Right. So N's in for the long haul?"
Tim thought about it.
"Boss?"
"Let's just say, until things change."
Barbara sighed and Tim could hear the humour behind it. "Be cryptic then, Batman."
Tim smiled to himself. "What have we got?"
"Building fire in the business district, cleaning crew trapped. B's on it."
Tim dropped into a stretch. "I'm feeling... pent-up. Where's the best spot?"
Barbara laughed. "Pick your poison. But streetcrime's been picking up again in Old Gotham."
"Right. I'll be patrolling Old Gotham."
Barbara had been right, Tim reflected as his boot crunched into a would-be mugger's chin. He'd been concentrating too much on the big picture. But there was a certain satisfaction to be had in the small work, too. He zipstripped the mugger, still groaning, and fastened him to a fire escape. "O, I need a uniform."
"On their way. You're keeping them busy tonight."
Tim rolled his shoulders and smiled slightly. "Good."
"And, right now, you're going to find yourself a private little rooftop and have a snack and a drink. You've been going nonstop for three hours."
"Who made you mom?"
"I did. Do as you're told."
Tim headed for a roof with a good view of the area. "Okay, mom." He'd hardly had time to take a mouthful of water when Barbara was back.
"N's asking for you for back-up, down by the Trigate Yards."
Tim screwed the lid back on the waterbag. "I'm on it."
"B's closer."
Tim paused. "Did N say it was urgent?"
Barbara sounded reluctant. "Well, no."
"Then I'm on it."
The Batmobile meant the journey was quick and smooth, although it took him a few moments to locate Dick.
"What've we got?" he asked as he landed.
Dick only looked away from his binoculars briefly. "Smugglers."
"Drugs?"
"I don't think so. Whatever they're moving is small. If it is drugs, it's not enough to warrant this sort of muscle."
Tim took out his own binoculars and focused. "Interesting."
Dick looked at him and grinned. "Shall we?"
Tim allowed himself a small smile. "After you."
Tim hung back, let Dick take out most of them. He could probably have found a reason, if asked, but he liked to watch Dick move and Dick always moved best in a fight. Tim casually dropped two goons who moved towards him but his attention was on Dick.
When Dick finally stood upright, the apparent ringleader under his boot, he was breathing hard and grinning. "Well," he said. "That was fun." He reached down and yanked the briefcase out of his prisoner's hand. "Let's see what little toys you're playing with." He tossed the briefcase to Tim.
It only took a few moments to pick the lock on the case and Tim looked at the ringleader, now safely zipstripped. The man evidently had money but no brains or experience. Which was, of course, a good thing.
When he opened the case, Tim's eyes widened. Surrounded by dark blue cloth, the small pocket of diamonds picked up what little light there was and shattered it.
"What is it?" Dick asked.
Tim turned the case round and watched Dick's face.
"Pretty," Dick said and picked one out. He held it up and studied it in the glare of a small flashlight. "Cloudy, though."
"Keep that one," Tim said. "We need to see where they came from."
Dick nodded and dropped it into a pocket on his glove, next to the flashlight. "What now?"
"O. We need uniforms."
"On their way."
Tim flicked off his communicator and nodded for Dick to do the same. "Follow me," Tim said and left.
He stopped a few blocks away, on a quiet rooftop. Moments later, Dick landed. "What is it?" Dick said and Tim kissed him.
For a second, Dick just stood there but then his hands were on Tim's back, under the cape, and he was biting at Tim's lips, pressing against him, pushing him back against the roof entrance. Tim waited until his back was against the breezeblocks, then pushed and twisted and now it was Dick slammed up against the wall.
"Yes," Dick whispered and his legs were apart and he was pulling Tim closer in against him and it was armour against armour and that made it hotter. Dick was thrusting against him, pulling him in closer, kissing him hard and vicious and all Tim could do was fight back. "Batman," Dick said into his mouth and Tim bit, yanked at Dick's uniform until he could get his hands under it. Dick hissed at the touch of Tim's gauntlets and ground against him.
"That's it," Tim said and pushed Dick's pants down. He wrapped his hand round Dick's cock and let Dick thrust into his grip, hard and solid, and he was groaning, biting his own lip. "Nightwing," Tim said and Dick's groan turned into a whimper, his hands tight on Tim's arms. "Nightwing," Tim said again, voice low, and Dick bucked against him as he came.
Tim licked the semen off his gauntlet and studied Dick, sprawling against the wall. Beautiful. So fucking beautiful. Then Dick smiled at him, lazy and sated, and dropped to his knees and Tim didn't think he'd ever get used to the way Dick sucked him, like this was every one of Dick's fantasies brought to life.
So he rested his hands on the wall and looked down at Dick until he couldn't hold his orgasm back any more and it rolled through him.
Dick looked up at him and wiped his mouth. "Back to patrol?"
Tim nodded.
It was easier when it was just the two of them, without Batman. It meant Tim could sprawl on his back, Dick on top of him, as they lazily kissed, as they took everything so slowly, so softly. It meant Tim could laugh with the pleasure of it all; meant Dick could ruffle his hair and stretch his arms above his head and fuck Tim until they were both heavy from orgasm overdose.
Tim rested his head on Dick's chest and absently stared at the Hudson University pennant still on the wall. He smiled as Dick played with his hair. Two months of this and he already knew he could never have enough.
"I'm not changing my name back," Dick said.
Tim forced down the hope that threatened to fill him. "Hmm?"
"I'm not changing my name back to Robin. And there's no way I'm wearing the short-shorts." He paused and Tim could feel the slight tension in Dick's neck. "But you can have the function without the name."
It was hard to keep the hope down. "You mean - you're staying?"
Dick shrugged. "If you want me to."
Tim kissed Dick hard. "Yes," he said. "Oh, god, yes."
A week later, Tim had Dick pinned on the practice mats. He grinned down at him and increased the weight of his hold. "I could think you weren't paying attention."
Dick narrowed his eyes and Tim had to take a deep breath. "What on earth could I have been distracted by?" Dick said and Tim could practically feel the heat of Dick's gaze trailing down his unclothed chest.
"Why don't you tell me?" Tim said.
Dick just grinned at him.
"Tell me," Tim said. His grin widened. "Come on, Robin."
Dick swallowed and his smile melted off his face. And, suddenly, Dick's arms were free and he'd hauled Tim down on top of him. "Batman," he said, and his voice was hoarse and dark.
Tim couldn't breathe. Not when Dick was staring at him like that. Not when Dick was thrusting up against him and he could feel everything, everything, through his sweatpants. Not when his own smile was hardening, when he was turning into the Batman just because that was what Dick had called him. So he wrapped his hand in Dick's hair and he didn't need to make his smile vicious. "Robin," he said quietly. "My own little Robin."
Dick was writhing under him, kicking off his own sweatpants, spreading his legs, whining with need. Tim shoved down his pants and jock, bit Dick's neck, and Dick flexed under him. "Please, Batman," Dick said and Tim drove into him.
Dick's head hit the mat hard and the noise he made was almost a scream. Tim bit deeper, wrapped his hands around Dick's wrists, and fucked him. Dick's eyes were screwed shut and he was biting down hard on his own lip.
Tim paused and suddenly felt nauseous. "Dick?" he said.
Dick opened his eyes. "Batman," he said and his smile was desperate, lost, hungry, and Tim couldn't hold himself back as he shoved into Dick. Hot, hard, painful, perfect, absolutely fucking perfect, and he felt victorious as his orgasm ripped through him, tore him to shreds, left him washed up on Dick's body.
Dick was still hard, still panting under him, and he shifted to the side, spat on his palm and wrapped his hand round Dick's cock; placed his other hand by Dick's head and rested his weight. "Come on, Robin," he said, and it only took a couple of rough, vicious strokes before Dick twisted his head, biting Tim's wrist to muffle his cries. A couple more and Dick was curling round himself as he came.
Tim punched with his left arm, blocked with the same. Ducked, kicked. Punched with his right arm but it didn't work. He didn't get the twinge of pain that made him want to look across to where Dick was fighting.
So he changed his position, punched left, blocked left, punched again, again, again, and every time he remembered the look on Dick's face.
And he speeded up, so they could get the fight over with, so they could get to a rooftop, so they could let it all out.
Tim didn't look up from his microscope. "Hey, Dick." He didn't bother even trying to avoid the swat on his ass.
"What're you up to?"
"Looking at that diamond again."
"Anything? And Alfred gave me the all-clear to forcefeed you if you didn't eat under your own steam."
Tim rolled his eyes as he looked up. "I eat." But he was hungry, so he took the sandwich Dick was offering. "Very badly cut. The depth to diameter is about 46%, making it look bigger than it is. It's a modern brill cut but the angle's off on about half the facets." He frowned as he chewed his mouthful. "Would have been better off shrinking the diameter and sticking to an eight cut."
Dick nodded. "But then it weighs less, so it's not as much use as underground currency."
"Exactly." Tim tapped his fingers on the edge of the worksurface. "All I'm getting from a chemical analysis is that it contains a lot of nitrogen, which isn't exactly surprising in a cheap diamond. Nothing to place where it was mined."
"What about the rest of them?"
Tim shook his head. "The police haven't run an analysis. And I can't see the commissioner lending them to me so I could do an analysis." He pulled a face. "And, of course, if any of the guys we pulled in do know anything, they're keeping it very quiet." He narrowed his eyes. "Although... That was a pretty hefty amount we caught. If it was expected as currency, that could have caused problems."
Dick smiled slowly. "Deals suddenly being called off, that kind of thing."
"Exactly." Tim grinned. "Let's see what Barbara can get for us."
"The Escabedo Cartel," Barbara said. "Backed out of a bunch of stuff a few weeks ago and not popular because of it."
"Good work," Tim said and swivelled in his chair. "Are they re-scheduling any of those deals?"
"Funny you should mention that..."
Tim smiled.
Tim watched the motor yacht pulling into the marina and counted the visible security. Manuel was taking no chances with this shipment. "B. N. In position?"
"Yes."
"Yeah."
The yacht slid neatly into place at the pontoon. Two of the security detail were on the dock before the crew. Tim bit his lip and tapped his fingers on his thigh. Was it all going to-
Yes.
There was the Escabedo rep, stepping out of the car they'd pegged ten minutes ago. And there was the courier, looking understandably nervous.
"B, N, move in."
And they were straight into their assigned positions, blocking the courier from getting back to the yacht and the rep from getting back to his car; stopping their security from getting any closer. Which meant Tim just had to deal with the courier and the rep and that was going to be easy.
He kicked as he swung down, spun, kicked again, punched - and they were both down, the courier groaning and the rep unconscious. He looked up. Batgirl had her men down, which was no surprise. But her head was up and she was staring past Tim.
Tim span round and his brain froze. Because Dick hadn't seen the man on the deck of the yacht, swinging a pistol up, aiming it at Dick.
Tim yelled the first name that came into his head and Dick rolled just as the pistol cracked and then he was springing on to the deck of the yacht and wrenching the pistol out of the man's hand and Dick was safe.
And then Tim realised what name he'd shouted.
Robin.
He smiled.
Tim felt a surge of brutal joy as his heel smashed into the kneecap of a would-be rapist. He jumped and kicked and the man stumbled back, blood splattering from his now broken nose.
Tim zipstripped him to a streetlight. "O."
"Uniforms on their way, boss. You done for the night?"
Tim glanced at the sky, beginning to show the light of the false dawn. "Yes."
He hadn't seen Dick that night. It was the first time for two weeks that they hadn't needed to back each other up at some point. The first time for two weeks that patrol hadn't been interrupted. Tim shifted a little and was glad when he hit the highway and could put his foot down.
Dick was already in the Cave when Tim pulled in. And Dick...
He hadn't actually changed his uniform. But what had been black was now a green so dark it was nearly black. What had been blue was red.
What had been Nightwing was Robin.
"I'm not changing my name," Dick said as he approached Tim, peeling off his mask.
Tim didn't smile but his mouth opened slightly and he licked his lips. "Robin," he said and stripped his gauntlets, dropped them on the floor.
Dick did smile, knowing and dark. "Batman," he said and now he was close enough for Tim to grab him, haul him in, kiss him, and Dick was pushing him back towards the Batmobile.
And Tim got it.
So he pulled, twisted, and Dick was bent over the Batmobile's hood, hands on the warm metal, staring at his own reflection in the black windshield.
Tim stood behind him, hands on Dick's hips, and watched them both. Watched Dick's breathing deepen. Watched his own hands tighten, watched himself lean forward and taste the small band of skin between the collar of Dick's uniform and his hair. He didn't even need to say 'Robin'. It was all there in the windshield.
He pulled back, mouthing Dick's spine through the suit's fabric, following it right down his back. Farther back, pushing Dick's pants down as he went, licking his way down the cleft of Dick's ass. He wished he could see Dick's face now, as he licked deeper, thrust his tongue in.
But he could hear the constant moaning; could feel it, even, vibrating through Dick's body, and that was almost enough. Closer to enough when he wrapped his hand round Dick's cock and jerked hard and the moans went up in pitch.
He could smell the hot metal-rubber-oil of the Batmobile, mingled with Dick, and it was so good, so damn good that he stabbed his tongue in harder, deeper; twisted his hand on Dick's cock, and Dick's moans fractured into stuttering, incoherent sobs as he came.
It took Tim a moment to get the muscle control to stand up again and he needed to lean on Dick, stare into the windshield and watch Dick watching him lick semen from his hand. Batman and Robin, framed by the fall of his cloak.
"Fuck me," Dick said.
Tim didn't say anything, just shoved Dick's top up and licked up his spine, tasting the salt and heat and need. It seemed like his whole life was fighting and fucking, nothing else there, nothing else needed. And sometimes he thought he didn't even need the fighting if he could keep on having this.
And he was still thinking that as he pushed into Dick, watched Dick's eyes widen and his mouth drop open; as he leaned forward and twined his fingers with Dick's, metal so hot underneath them. This was perfect, so perfect, so perfect and he wanted it to last forever; wanted every moment to be this, to be Batman fucking Robin, to be perfect always.
To be moving inside Robin, to be staring at his face, at the desperation and longing and desire, to be feeling all of it inside himself, and he couldn't stop his hands tightening round Robin's, couldn't stop himself moving harder, faster, couldn't stop the coiling hunger that was slithering though him, couldn't hold it back as it ripped him apart and left him draped over Robin's back while the engine ticked and cooled under them and the cloak slithered over them.
And he wondered what had happened to Dick and Tim.
The fight was an easy one, against stupid opponents. And normally it was a case of taking them out of action as quickly as possible but these five hadn't just robbed the liquor store. They'd taken their time, done their best to humiliate the aged owner. And then they'd thought they stood a chance fighting Batman and Nightwing.
Tim leaned against the wall and watched Dick. He smiled to himself, quietly said, "Robin," and watched Dick's fighting move up a gear, become that touch more violent. Tim felt a little sick.
In ten seconds, all five were unconscious and Dick looked at him. "Batman." His voice was full of banked fire and Tim shivered.
All he had to do was say that one name, those two syllables, and Dick was his. He nodded upwards and Dick unholstered his own grapple gun, shot and flew upwards. Tim followed.
He knew where Dick was going. Dick liked it when the streets were bright and busy below them, when they could hear the pounding beat of Gotham's rotten heart surrounding them. And he liked the gargoyles. Liked to lie back on the cold, living stone while Batman fucked him.
And Batman liked to look out at his city while he fucked his Robin.
Tim landed easily, a fraction of a beat before Dick, and didn't even let Dick get his second boot on the roof before grabbing, twisting, and Tim was on his back on the gargoyle, looking up at Dick. "Dick," he said and let himself smile, a Tim smile, not Batman.
Dick's smile faltered and Tim started to reach up, then pulled off his gauntlets, dropped them on the roof.
"Dick," he said again and reached up to rest his hand on Dick's cheek. Dick licked his lips, stared down at him and Tim slid his hand to the back of Dick's neck and pulled him down, kissed him. Soft and slow and Dick was trembling. Tim slid his legs apart, let Dick settle between them, kissed him again.
"Batman," Dick said and his voice was hoarse and low.
Tim ran his fingers up through Dick's hair and hummed into his mouth, shifted his hips and felt Dick gasp. "Fuck me," he said and Dick's hands were suddenly tight on his shoulders.
"Oh, god," Dick said.
With his free hand, Tim worked on unfastening his uniform, shoving his pants down as much as he could, then Dick was helping and the stone was so cold on his ass that Tim had to laugh. "Why didn't you say how stupid this felt?" he asked.
Dick's mouth curled up a little and he shrugged. "It didn't."
Tim traced the line of Dick's mask, then wrapped his legs round Dick's thighs and pulled him in close. "Distract me," he said and Dick mouthed at Tim's chin.
"I can do that." Dick kept looking at him as he brought Tim's legs up to rest on his shoulders. Tim dug his fingers into the gargoyle's feathers against the stretch as Dick leaned forward and kissed him.
Tim tried to follow Dick back as he stood up but Dick's hand was on his throat, gently pushing him back down. And he didn't actually mind because Dick's other hand was on his ass, sliding into him and Tim couldn't fight down the whine that spilled out of him. "Dick," he said breathlessly and Dick's mouth tightened into something that was almost a smile, and his fingers were replaced by his cock and now Tim's fingers were scrabbling against the gargoyle.
Dick slid his hand up to rest on Tim's cowl. "Batman," he said, with a sort of proud possessiveness and Tim closed his eyes, gave himself up to the feeling of Dick driving into him with none of the softness that was in his voice.
And he was so close when Dick stilled, gasped and Tim looked up in time to catch the expression on Dick's face.
In that moment, he hated the lenses because he wanted, so badly, to see Dick's eyes. But all he had was Dick's body and it wasn't enough, would never be enough. "Dick," he gasped and suddenly Dick was kissing him and that wasn't enough but it was closer and Tim closed his eyes. "Love you," he said into Dick's mouth.
"Tim," Dick said and Tim came.