Chapter Eight
Bruce's inner clock informed his subconscious that it was after ten, and high time he was waking up. As was his habit, he took a few moments to put himself into a good frame of mind for the day; his constant late hours were not entirely conducive to a sunny disposition in the morning, especially when he had to deal with the million or so duties of the CEO of Wayne Industries. He lay with his eyes still shut, and thought about breakfast, always a pleasant subject with Alfred's culinary skills involved.
Strange. He couldn't catch the scent of bacon cooking or coffee brewing. Was Alfred sleeping late? Right. Might as well ask if the sun forgot to rise! Bruce woke up a bit more.
Ah. He wasn't wearing pajamas. That could mean only one thing. He'd had company last night. He felt warm, bare skin against his, and soft hair tickling his chest. That explained the rare but welcomed state of relaxation he felt; maybe, if he was lucky, there'd be time for more this morning, provided his partner didn't have to leave. That thought brought a pleasant stirring between his legs. Now, quick, who was it, before you say the wrong name again and get yourself into serious trouble. He breathed in deeply, catching the scent of perfume and trying to identify it. Occult meant Talia, Perfidy meant Selena, and Rumors meant Lois. No, none of those. Another deep breath. Some kind of floral scent, with a touch of spice, and something else, stronger.
Dunhill? But, that wasn't perfume, it was aftershave, the brand that -
"I wondered when you were going to wake up."
Oh, God.
Reality came flooding back. That pleasant stirring was replaced by a tightening in his chest. It was the same sensation he had when faced with one of his deadliest foes. That is insane, he told himself. This isn't that kind of situation. This is Dick. Robin. Nightwing. You trust him with your life on the street.
You trust him, period.
He forced himself to relax, to breathe normally. "Dick." It seemed the safest response. He didn't trust his voice beyond one word, not at this moment. He opened his eyes.
"Bruce, you have any idea how long I've dreamed of this?" Dick grinned at him, and hugged him hard. "Waking up with you, in my bed, like this. It's literally a dream come true. Only one thing missing."
"What's that?" Bruce was almost afraid to ask. Not that he thought it would be anything he couldn't handle, but . . . Last night he'd been running on adrenaline, fueled by desperation and a determination to settle things for once and for all, one way or the other. Such spur of the moment decisions were not his usual habit, but at the time it had seemed to make as much sense as anything else. Today, he wasn't so sure he'd done the right thing. Still, he'd given his word that he'd try to work things out, that he'd be honest about his emotions and his own desires. He couldn't back out, not now. He wouldn't hurt Dick again. "What's missing?"
"This." Dick quickly climbed atop him, put both hands on either side of Bruce's head, and then kissed him, long and hard. "Mmm," he said, when he came up for air. "Damn, that feels good!"
Bruce found that he had to agree. He gave in to the impulse hammering at his subconscious, wrapped his arms around Dick, and kissed him back. That felt even better. A moment later, he realized that he was aroused again.
Very aroused. And quite obviously, so was Dick.
Bruce was shocked to discover that he was very happy about this situation; he felt much the same as he had that night in his bedroom. This time, however, he was determined not to make the same foolish mistake. "So, what next?" he asked, for the moment ready and willing to throw caution to the wind. "What's the plan from here?"
"Plan?" Dick made a face. "Why does everything have to be a plan? Haven't you ever heard of spontaneity?"
"Spontaneity got me here."
"You're kidding me." Dick was incredulous. "You? Mr. Plan-it-to-the-last-minute-detail? You mean to tell me, you just jumped in the car-"
"Bike."
"-Jumped on the bike, rode all the way from the manor, at night, without even a change of shorts, on a whim?" Dick clapped a hand to his forehead. "I don't believe it. Please, tell me you at least thought to bring a toothbrush?"
"Uh, well," Bruce didn't want to admit just how right Dick was; even with Alfred's prompting, he'd still left home without so much as a change of clothes. Yes, he'd thought to bring a copious amount of cash, and had probably had some notion of buying whatever he might need. Hadn't he? At least, that was the story he came up with as he lay there, frantically thinking of a way to make himself look less careless.
Then, he reconsidered. Wait a minute, he told himself. You're forgetting something here. You were going to be honest, remember? You don't need some elaborate deceit. This is Dick you're talking to. Even if there was a good reason to lie to him, he'd never buy it; he knows you too well.
And besides - Batman doesn't lie. Neither does Bruce Wayne, when he can help it. "To be perfectly honest, no, I didn't."
Dick's eyes narrowed, and he gave Bruce the same expression he usually reserved for facing down low-life criminals. "Okay, mister. Who the hell are you, and what have you done with Bruce Wayne?"
Bruce stared at him for a long moment, unsure if he were serious or not. Then, Dick broke into a wide grin, and laughed. Slowly, Bruce allowed himself to smile.
"That is the big question, isn't it?" Bruce asked.
"I'm glad you've recognized that," Dick replied. "I was afraid you were too far gone to realize that yes, Virginia, there is a Bruce Wayne." He leaned forward again, and kissed Bruce once more, then rolled off of him and off the bed.
"I guess I have become a little - intense lately."
"A little intense?" Dick called from the bathroom. "You know, that's one of the things I love about you. You are a master of understatement." He laughed. "Saying you're a little intense is like saying you have a little money in the bank, Bruce."
"Very funny."
"You don't believe me?" Dick came back out, and began rummaging in a closet.
"No, I don't," Bruce sat up, and swung his feet off the bed. "If I've been preoccupied -"
"Okay, fine." Dick stopped searching in the closet and turned around. "You want me to prove it to you?"
"I didn't mean -"
"No, I know you, Mr. World's Greatest Detective, you need proof," Dick said, walking over and standing in front of Bruce. "Tell me this. How long has Tim been living with you?"
Bruce blinked. He wasn't sure what he'd expected Dick to say, but that certainly was not it. "Tim? Well, about two years now, or nearly that. Why? What does that -"
Dick pressed on. "Two years he's been with you, and in all that time he's never really gotten to know you. You've hardly been around."
"If you're implying that I have neglected him - "
"Bruce," Dick sat beside him. "We both know better than that. You couldn't neglect him if you tried. You're too decent a guy." He smiled.
"I do my best," Bruce smiled back. "But I don't understand. I've always tried to be there for Tim, just as I was for you. I'm never too busy to talk, or take off from work, or cancel an appointment."
"Yeah, I know, and that's great. But that's not what I mean." He ran a hand through his hair. "It's like this. Not too long ago, I was talking with him, about you." He grinned at Bruce's frown. "And I mentioned how we used to go to the cabin. He didn't even know about the place, or the beach house, or the island. He doesn't know because he's never been there. Geez, Bruce, two years and he's never even been out of Gotham."
"I see." Bruce reflected on what Dick had told him. He hadn't realized it before, but it was true. "I'm afraid it never crossed my mind. I should have been more thoughtful."
"Don't worry about it too much," Dick said. "I don't think Tim's the outdoor type, anyway. I mean, can you see him trying to bait a hook?" He laughed.
Bruce was silent for a moment, trying to picture the former street urchin in anything but an urban setting. He had to smile. "No, I can't."
"Kind of frightening thought, isn't it?" Dick raised an eyebrow. "But you see my point? He's been around for all this time, and he's probably never met Bruce. Batman, yeah, but you, no. Not the guy I used to know." He paused. "I miss that guy."
Bruce was silent for a moment. "You're right," he admitted. "I didn't realize it. I'm sorry."
Dick feigned shock. "What? Wait a minute, I have to write this down."
"Watch it." He reached up and swatted the back of Dick's head.
"Well, that's encouraging," Dick grinned. "It's nice to have you back, Bruce. Hope you can stay for awhile."
"I hope so, too." Bruce knew what he had to do to remedy the situation, but he wasn't sure if he knew how. Well, here's where more of those communication skills could help - if he could rid himself of his ego long enough. "I want to remedy the situation, Dick. It isn't fair to you or to Tim, or even Alfred." He had a sudden mental flash of his manservant's frequent, subtle hints that he lighten up, and the equally frequent comments by his ward inferring that he was overdoing the serious attitude. "I've been an idiot."
"No, you haven't," Dick said, slipping an arm around his shoulders. "You are many things, Bruce, but never an idiot. I should know - like they say. Takes one to know one."
"Dick." He tried to say more, but couldn't find the words. "So, you seem to have all the answers today. What do I do?"
"Believe it or not, I may actually have an answer for you." Dick got to his feet, and went to the closet again, returning momentarily with a large towel. "Do you remember what Alfred always told me when I had some problem I couldn't solve?"
Bruce looked at the towel, and smiled. "Everything looks better after a hot shower."
"Yep. Alfredism number 42. One of my favorites. " Dick threw the towel to him, and pointed to the bathroom. "Help yourself. I've got to make a run to the grocery, or we'll have to have beer and ketchup for breakfast." He retrieved his shorts from where he'd dropped them the night before, and pulled them on, then got down on the floor to search under the bed. "Ah, I knew they were here," he said, pulling out a pair of jeans and some gym shoes.
"You have an interesting way of storing your clothes," Bruce commented wryly. "I'm sure Alfred would be pleased to see how his training has lasted."
"Hey, it's laundry day, okay? Give a guy a break. I'm lucky I have these to wear. Last week I was down to three socks and one of Tim's tee shirts." He pulled on the jeans and the shoes, and found a shirt on a chair and pulled it on. "I'll be back in a bit. Take your time, try to relax." He leaned over and kissed Bruce, then disappeared out the door.
Bruce's eyes followed Dick as he left, and he noted how the muscles rippled with every movement. He'd watched him before as he hopped around the bedroom, unencumbered by clothing, and had felt himself growing harder. His first reaction had been to pull his gaze away, to think about something else, but he'd fought that tooth and nail, instead forcing himself to give in to the more primal urge. He was glad he did; he had actually enjoyed the view and the pleasant sensations it caused.
As he stepped into the shower, not for the first time he thought, that's what that cliché means, poetry in motion. Dick moved with a grace that was nearly inhuman, yet so perfectly natural and effortless. He'd often watched Dick in action as Robin, and later as Nightwing, and had had similar thoughts - although never with the underlying sense of lustful appreciation he felt now. Then again, perhaps that sense had always been there, only he'd been too stubborn to admit it.
No, not stubborn. Frightened.
He turned on the water full force, deciding at the last moment to forego his usual icy blast to wake himself; he was more than awake already, and besides, he was definitely not in the mood for a cold shower this morning. He adjusted the temperature to as hot as he could bear it, and stood under the spray for some time, relishing the heat and the massaging action of the water. He didn't allow himself a great many physical indulgences, but a good, strong, hot shower was one. Obviously, Dick shared this particular taste, for the fixtures were state of the art, and the hot water was plentiful.
The water had its usual effect, and his mind was clear. He reflected on what Dick had told him. How could he have allowed himself to disappear so completely? When did Bruce Wayne cease to be and Batman become the sum total of his existence? It was disturbing, and yet, comforting in a strange, twisted way. On one hand, Dick did remember those good times; he hadn't been such a bad parent as he'd feared. But on the other hand, he couldn't deny that he had cheated Tim out of that small bit of a normal life. That Bruce Wayne, the man who could occasionally relax and do normal things, had not been around for a long time. Maybe Tim didn't care, maybe he was perfectly content with just the Batman as his guardian, but Bruce knew that he owed the boy the opportunity to make that choice.
And Dick missed that man. God, that made him feel good, although he couldn't quite say why. He was certain of one thing, though, and that was that he owed it to Dick to find a way to reunite them. Of course, that prospect was not without its drawbacks; that Bruce Wayne was the parent, not the partner. It would take some time to reconcile his mind to the change in roles. But, he knew he could do it. He always told himself, he could do anything he put his mind to, and changing an attitude was no different.
And, what Dick had said last night made sense; he wasn't his son, or his brother, he was his ward. Yes, they'd had that sort of paternal/fraternal/avuncular relationship, but there was no reason why that couldn't change. For that matter, there was actually no reason why that aspect of their relationship couldn't still be a part of their lives. He merely had to wrap his mind around it, accept it, get used to it. He found, much to his surprise, that the fact that he was attracted to another man was not nearly so difficult to accept. True, he'd always been very open-minded about the subject of same-sex unions; it had never bothered him in the least. In fact, he'd made a point of emphasizing this philosophy to both Dick and Tim, that whatever their preference might be, it was fine with him.
Of course, he'd never dreamed that he himself would be Dick's preference. Actually, if he thought about it, it was rather flattering. Dick was an incredibly good catch; charming, drop-dead handsome, athletic, brilliant, and wealthy in his own right. He could have anyone, man or woman, that he wanted. Yet, Dick had chosen him. It made no sense. He was over a decade Dick's elder, his body was battle scarred, his personality left much to be desired, he was just this side of psychotic and damned near impossible to live with, besides. Yet, Dick wanted no one else.
Neither did he. He knew it, he recognized it as a fact, he accepted it.
Changing his attitude didn't seem like such an arduous task after all.
He leaned into the water, rolling his neck to stretch the muscles that never really relaxed, and wondered what would happen next. He didn't try to anticipate anything, he didn't try to second-guess or plot out possible strategies. He simply let his curiosity take over, and wondered. It was a pleasant exercise.
Suddenly, he felt a draft of cooler air hit the back of his legs. He didn't recall bumping into the door, but then, he hadn't been paying attention. Very unlike him, but understandable under the circumstances, and anyway, he wasn't in the mood this morning for a self lecture. Without stepping out of the warmth of the water, he reached for the door to pull it shut.
And touched something that was definitely not the etched glass door.
"Wow. Dream number two; you, wet, in my shower."
Chapter Nine
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