Part Four
The kiss was the easy part - if the reaction was the wrong one, he could easily toss it off as just a joke. But Dick kissed him back, thoroughly kissed him back, with the tongue and all, and while that was pretty much the reaction he'd dreamed of and hoped for, it made the next part all that much harder. A kiss was one thing, but professing your love for a guy who'd been your idol, your role model, the next thing to a brother to you, well, that was a lot harder. All in all, he figured he'd rather go up against Two-Face alone.
It took every ounce of courage Tim had in him to say it. "You're what's been on my mind, Dick. You're why I can't concentrate. I love you."
"Oh, my God."
It wasn't the ideal response, but Tim counted himself lucky that he got a response at all. By the look on Dick's face, he'd been caught completely unprepared. Anyway, Tim knew it could've been worse. It could've been a lot worse. At least Dick didn't say something like "You don't know what you're saying," or "Wait a minute, we have to talk about this," or "Yeah, right."
"I mean it, Dick," Tim said, cringing as he heard his voice crack. Damn his slow hormones to hell! Why did that always happen when he was nervous? "I mean it, I love you. And I don't mean just like, you know, buds," he hastened to add. Don't leave any loopholes, be precise. Batman would be so proud of him.
Well . . .
"Tim, I, uh," Dick swallowed once, hard. "I don't think you really know what you're saying. I mean, we, uh, we have to talk about this."
"Oh, man." Tim felt the heat crawl up his face, knowing that he was as scarlet as his Robin suit. "Why'd you have to say that?"
"Look, it's okay, you know? I'm not upset with you, honest."
"Honest?" Tim met his gaze, looking deeply into those blue eyes. There was no anger there, no disgust, and most thankful of all, no pity. He'd never realized it before this instant, but he could live with just about anything but having Dick feel sorry for him.
"Honest. But we have to discuss this. This is serious."
"You're telling me?" Tim flashed him a weak grin, and was repaid with that half amused, mock-disapproving, Why-Do-I-Let-You-Get-Away-With-These-Things smile that got him every time. "I think I could talk a lot better if you'd let me up, you know."
"Promise first that you won't leave until we've talked this through."
"Hey, you're the Bat clone, not me."
That garnered him a friendly smack on the side of the head, but Dick rolled off him. They remained where they were, sitting cross legged on the mat. Neither spoke for several minutes.
"How long have you . . . felt this way?" Dick asked, finally.
"Forever," Tim replied. "I mean, I don't remember when it started, exactly."
"Uh huh." Dick nodded, and was silent again. About a week later, he looked at Tim again. "Was it something I said?"
"No." Tim wanted to say, "Only in my dreams. You said a lot in those. Did a lot, too. You'd be surprised." But he didn't say it. He had to play this just right, or Dick would never take him seriously. And he was serious about this, more serious than he'd ever been in his life.
Dick nodded again, and pulled a knee up, resting one elbow on it and staring at nothing. Another long silence, then he looked over at Tim. "Did I ever do anything? Even just fooling around, work outs or training or anything, that you thought was-"
"You didn't lead me on, Dick, if that's what you're getting at."
"Ah. Okay." More silence.
Tim sighed. The Bat clone comment hadn't been entirely off mark. Despite his frequent protestations to the contrary, Dick was more like his mentor than he cared to admit; when the mood struck him, he could be just as laconic and cryptic as Bruce. The resemblance could be irritatingly uncanny. If he didn't do something, chances were good that Dick would sit here all day brooding about it.
And Tim had other activities in mind.
"Look, Dick." He scooted across the mat so that he was facing him, sitting as closely as he could. "You didn't encourage me. You didn't say anything that led me on, or confused me, or any of that bullshit. You didn't grope me on the mats or drop the soap in the shower." He couldn't help a small smile at that - it had been one of his most common wet dreams. "I never caught you ogling me when we were changing into costume. You never talked to me about your sex life. You don't have a loft full of art prints of naked men to give me ideas. You never did or said anything out of line."
"Are you about finished?" Dick raised an eyebrow at him. "If you're just going to rant on some more, I can go check on my laundry."
"I'm almost done." Tim grinned at him, his courage returned in full. "I just want you to understand. This is all my idea. All of it. You didn't influence me in it at all, at least not the way you think. Hell, you were just about a text-book perfect big brother."
"You made that easy, kid." Dick reached over and ruffled his hair, knowing that Tim hated that. "You're just about the text-book perfect kid brother yourself."
"Is that part of this? You know, the incest angle?" Tim was relieved. He had an argument all prepared for that. 'Cause, you know, we're not really related, not even legally -"
"No."
"Then, what?" Even before he asked, Tim knew what the answer would be.
"Tim," Dick put his hands on Tim's shoulders, and their eyes met. "You're fifteen years old. I'm twenty-four. That's the problem."
"I don't see the problem." That wasn't exactly the truth; Tim had also anticipated this argument. "Lots of guys my age are active. They teach Sex Ed in school now, you know. Besides," here was the kicker, "Bruce already told me the facts of life. He bought me condoms, for Christ's sake! He's cool with it, what's your problem?" He grinned, confident that Dick couldn't possibly have any answer to that.
"You think Bruce won't care if you and I have sex. You're sure of that?"
Tim was suddenly suspicious. This wasn't the reaction he'd anticipated, not from Dick. This was bordering awful close to Batman attitude. Well, fine. Tim knew how to deal with Batman, too. "Yeah, I'm sure. You want to hear it play by play?" Chalk up another one to Batman's training; with a little effort, Tim could usually recall entire conversations verbatim. "He said, and I quote, 'It doesn't matter to me who it is, female or male, that's your call. Protect yourself and your partner. No means no. Mutual agreement.' You know, all that stuff."
"I know the drill," Dick said. "I got the same talk, you know."
"Okay, great. So, what's the problem?" Tim was getting impatient. He couldn't see where Dick was heading in this, and his carefully planned arguments were falling apart.
"Tim, the problem is this." Dick got to his feet, and began to pace. "Bruce is cool with you experimenting with other kids your age. That's normal. But me, well . . . I'm not a kid." He wrapped his arms around himself, fell silent again. After a moment, he stopped. "It's like this. You know how he is about kids, about child abuse. He takes it personally."
Tim began to see daylight. What Dick had pointed out was too true. Bruce was fanatical about protecting children from harm; Batman was even more ruthless when dealing with criminals who preyed upon children. "But - this is different!"
"Not to him." Dick shook his head. "Bruce wouldn't see it that way, Tim. You're underage. I'm an adult. End of discussion."
"Hey! Don't pull that crap!" Tim glared at him. He knew Dick hated that little trick of Bruce's and/or Batman's as much as he did. The fact that Dick was resorting to it, coupled with the undeniable truth of what he said, didn't help the situation any. "Yeah, so I'm fifteen. Big deal. I'm hardly a kid."
"Tim -"
"No, listen!" He pounded the mat with a fist. "How many kids do what I do, huh? How many kids my age have lived on their own for a year?"
"That's a completely different set of circumstances."
"Okay, fine. How about this, huh?" He leaned forward until they were face to face. "How many kids my age are Robin?"
"What's that got to do with -"
"It has EVERYTHING to do with it!" Tim jumped to his feet. He knew he was dangerously close to losing control, and either slugging Dick or breaking down into tears; neither was a viable option. He recognized the warning signs all to well; he had to diffuse the nervous energy and anxiety and frustration before it exploded into full fledged rage and ruined what slim chance he had. He knew his temper was a weak spot, but he had learned ways to deal with it. Usually, he opted for a lengthy run, full out top speed for as long as he could stand it, until he could think clearly again; of course, if he did that now, he'd have to leave, and not only would it not solve anything, it would look to Dick like he was running away like a scared kid. Major lame move. Counter productive. He searched the room for something to vent against, and the closest thing was the heavy bag. It wasn't his favorite, but under the circumstances, it would suffice. He lit into it with a vengeance, assailing it with punches and kicks.
"I'm old enough to be Robin," *THWACK* "I can go out every night," *THWACK* "Fly around Gotham on a little wire," *THWACK* "Get shot at," *THWACK* "Get sprayed with poison gas," *THWACK* "Generally get the living shit beat out of me," *THWACK* "And that's okay." He launched a flying kick at the heavy bag, sending it spinning. "I can risk my life for you," *THWACK* "AND him," *THWACK* and every other thankless jerk in this town," *THWACK* "And that's all fine and dandy." *THWACK* "Oh, yeah, I can lay my fucking life on the line for you, but I can't have sex with you!" *THWACK* *THWACK* "Oh, no, can't do that! Now suddenly, I'm a damned kid again!" He let fired off one fierce jab at the bag, putting everything he was feeling into it. "You know what? That's just fine with me, 'cause you can both go to hell!" Tim crying now, silently, hanging onto the bag with his face buried.
Dick was suddenly beside him. "Timbo, I'm sorry. I wish it was different, but that's how it is. It sucks, I know. But that's just how he is. You know it, I know it." Suddenly, Dick's arm was around his shoulder, pulling him away from the bag. "If it's any consolation, I understand how you feel. I've been there."
"Yeah, I know," Tim turned around to face Dick. He knew he shouldn't say it, but the words were out of his mouth almost as soon as he thought it. "Let me guess. I bet I can tell you what you'll say. 'Tim, I'm flattered, but I don't feel that way about you, Chum!' That was the line, wasn't it, Dick?"
You don't live and work with Batman for long before learning to hide your emotions, and Dick had spent most of his life with the man. Still, even he couldn't hide the evidence of the pain Tim's little comment had caused; it was there in his eyes, and in the way his arm suddenly froze on Tim's shoulder. He turned away, again wrapping his arms around himself.
"That's it, isn't it?" Tim pressed on, knowing that he'd regret it later, but too filled with anger and hurt right now to care. "It isn't the brother thing, it isn't even the age thing. You're still in love with Bruce, aren't you?"
"Don't be stupid." It didn't sound very convincing.
"Yeah, right." Tim moved around to stand in front of Dick, forcing him to look at him. "You're still waiting for him, and even though we both know it's a lost cause, you're going to still go on waiting. God damn, Dick! You're not this stupid! Wake up already! He's never going to change his mind, Dick. It ain't in the cards."
"It isn't like that." Tim wasn't sure if Dick was trying to convince him, or himself.
"Bullshit." Tim put his hands on Dick's shoulders, and squeezed, hard. "It's exactly like that. I'm not blind, and neither are you."
"No." Dick looked up, his eyes dark with emotion. "But I - It isn't that easy. You think I like this?" He laughed harshly. "You think I like this unrequited love schtick? I'm the laughing stock of the Titans, you know, 'Robbie's still got a crush on his boss.' Really cracks them up at team meetings. And we won't even go into what it does to my alleged love life." Another laugh. "I'd give anything to change it, but I can't help the way I feel. I've tried."
"I know. Believe me, I know." Tim put his hands on either side of Dick's face, and forced him to look him in the eye. "I know how much it hurts you. I know how much you feel for him. But Dick, you have to know, Bruce can't be what he isn't, any more than you can, any more than I can. And when you keep looking for him, you're missing what's right here in front of you." He pulled Dick's face down to him, and kissed him again. "I love you. I want you. And I'm here." He stepped back, letting his hands fall to his sides. "Which is it going to be, Dick? You going to go on waiting for something that is never going to happen, or are you going to open your eyes and see what you have?"
Tim wasn't sure what to expect. He hadn't intended to attack Dick that way. Sure, he'd known that Dick still carried a torch for Bruce, but it had been so long ago, and they'd apparently come to terms with it. Their relationship seemed little different than the one Bruce shared with Tim. But it was obvious that this was not the case, at least on Dick's part. Still, maybe Tim had gone too far. He debated if he should apologize, take it back, try to patch things over. He didn't want to ruin their relationship entirely; the all or nothing scenario was not in the game plan. Tim was a pragmatist; If they couldn't be lovers, he'd settle for friends. He'd rather have Dick in his life in some way than not in his life at all.
"You're right."
Tim almost jumped out of his skin. The silence had been so intense, Dick's soft whisper had sounded like a gun shot. "Wha- What?"
"I said," Dick put his arms around Tim, "you're right. About all of it." He kissed him, and pulled him into a firm embrace. "You're not like other kids - excuse me, other people - your age. Neither was I. We're a separate breed. Homo Sapiens Sidekickis." They both grimaced at that, and Dick grinned. "And about the other . . . matter. You're right there, too. I've been blind, and stupid, and too damn stubborn to admit to what I did see. But that's going to change. Starting now."
"You mean -" Tim could hardly speak. His mind raced. He doubted his hearing, his sight, his sanity. This wasn't real. This was a dream. He'd wake up soon to tangled sheets and creamed shorts. He didn't care. "Does this mean - what I think it means?"
Dick kissed him again, hard, and slid his hands down Tim's back. "Depends on what you think it means," he laughed. "If you think it means, oh, that you're going to get out of this apartment anytime soon, I'd have to say you're wrong."
"Oh, God." Tim threw his arms around Dick, knocking the both of them to the floor. Thank God for the cushioning work out mats. "Oh, man, you don't know what this means -"
"I have a pretty good idea, actually."
For the next several minutes, they engaged in some serious necking, only stopping to periodically come up for a breath. Tim was euphoric, devouring Dick's mouth and neck and anywhere else he could reach, happily letting Dick guide his novice but enthusiastic hands to all the right places, places Tim had longed to touch for so long, feeling the muscles ripple under his fingers, feeling the skin grow hotter with every touch. And Dick seemed pretty damned happy himself, if the hungry kisses and the circus tent pole pressing against Tim's thigh were any indication. His hands roamed over Tim's body, too, slipping inside the loose sweat pants and the tee shirt, stroking and pinching and squeezing until Tim thought he'd about explode.
When he did come, with Dick's mouth hot on his neck and Dick's voice in his ear and their hands pumping and stroking each other, it was better than he'd ever dreamt of, fireworks and blood roaring and heart pounding and a head rush better than taking to the Batlines, and then the hoarse whisper in his ear, strange words he'd never heard before, beautiful sounds, and his hand suddenly wet and the realization that he'd done it, he'd made love to Dick, they'd made love, this was IT, and suddenly it all made sense, and it was more wonderful than he'd ever begun to comprehend, and he wanted to cry and laugh and scream, and maybe he did all those things, and then he fell back into Dick's waiting, welcoming embrace, soft, gentle kisses now, and oh, God, those arms, holding him, and more of those whispered, strange words, and he knew he'd never be happier than he was right then.
They lay there for some time, a tangle of arms and legs and half-off clothing. Dick's tee shirt had somehow gotten ripped, and Tim had lost both of his socks, but neither of them were terribly concerned. It was late afternoon now, and this side of the building was in shadow. The loft was dark, and without the sunlight pouring in the long bank of windows, it was fairly cold. Neither of them seemed willing to abandon their impromptu nest, however, despite the chill air. But Dick was getting a serious cramp in the arm that Tim lay on. Time to relocate.
"Hey, you," Dick pulled him closer, and kissed him. "It's cold, and my arm's asleep." He sat up.
"No problem," Tim said, leering comically. "I know how we can get warm."
"Oh, no," Dick laughed. "Not yet, buddy. I need recovery time. Besides," he rolled one shoulder, "I've got a cramp in my neck. C'mon." He stood, and reluctantly, Tim did too, and followed him to the kitchen.
"Don't tell me you're hungry," Tim said, leaning against the shiny steel counter.
"Yeah, and dehydrated. Here." Dick pulled a couple of Crocades out of the refrigerator, and handed one to Tim. He took it, and slipped an arm around Dick's waist; Dick put his arm around Tim's shoulder, and nuzzled the top of his head. Neither said anything for some time, and even after they'd both finished the drinks, they didn't move.
"Dick, that was . . . " Tim found he didn't have words. "You know."
"And that's only the beginning." Dick waggled an eyebrow, and laughed when Tim's eyes grew wide and he blushed. "But yeah, I know. I remember what it was like." He was lost for a moment, remembering warm violet eyes and a ready smile and a lulling, Atlantean accent. "Nothing like it, you know," he sighed. "First time, stays with you the rest of your life."
"How- how'd you know?"
"Ah . . . Lucky guess." Dick didn't want to spoil the beauty of the moment with unnecessary embarrassment. They lapsed into silence again, and Dick wondered, idly, if this was some kind of record for the usually chatty Boy Wonder. Before he had time to consider it, however, his stomach growled, loudly. "Look, I don't know about you, but I just burned up a lot of calories."
"Aw, geez, Dick -"
"Hey, you don't want to pass out from hunger, do you?" Dick ruffled Tim's hair, and then pulled him close for a quick kiss. "Besides, there's such a thing as, uh, protocol, you know."
"But I want -"
"Yeah, I know what you want," Dick laughed, and pushed him in the direction of the bedroom. "Me, too. But, first wash up, then some chow, then . . . we'll see."
A bit later, washed, fed, and generally restored, they spooned up on the sofa. Despite Tim's initial insistence that it was "hokey," Dick left the lights off, and lit candles and incense. With a couple of CDs they both loved providing background music, they watched out the bank of windows as night descended upon Gotham. It was comfortable, and beautiful, and felt so perfectly right that Dick nearly wept. He wanted this day to never end, this moment to last forever. But, it was Saturday night in Gotham City, prime time for troublemakers, and he knew it was inevitable that they'd be called out on patrol. So, he pulled Tim a little closer, and made the most of the time they had. Not surprisingly, Tim seemed to be of a similar mind, being content to lie quietly in Dick's arms. More, the usually cynical and wise-cracking young man was quiet; lost in thought, when he did speak, it was uncharacteristically serious and reflective.
"Dick? I'm kind of wondering. What changed your mind?"
"What do you mean? About what?"
"About me. Us. You know. You said no, then you said yes. Why?"
"Oh." Dick pulled him a little closer. "Well, like I said, you were right."
"Yeah, I know," Tim ran his hands up Dick's arms. "But, I mean, I know that wasn't it. So, what was it?"
"Okay, you got me. It wasn't just what you said." Dick brushed the hair away from Tim's face with a feather gentle touch. "It was what I saw in your eyes. What I saw there - you can't lie about that, Timbo. The eyes are the windows to the soul."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. It's like this, Tim. When you looked at me, and said what you did - that you love me, that you want me - I could see you meant it. I knew it was real, the genuine article." He leaned down and kissed the top of Tim's head. "I knew right then, it wasn't what Bruce had seen in mine."
"Oh." Tim twisted around to look at Dick. "You really mean that, don't you?"
"I wouldn't lie to you, Ves'acha."
"That word." Tim shifted so that he could slip his arm behind Dick's back, curling up in his lap. "You said that before, when we - when you came. What is it? What's it mean?"
"It's Rom," Dick replied, taking advantage of Tim's new position to kiss his eyelids gently.
"Hom?"
"No, Rom," Dick emphasized the word. "Romany. Commonly called Gypsy."
"You're a Gypsy?"
"Uh huh. I mean, I'm American, but that's my ethnic background, more or less. It was my first language."
Tim seemed impressed. "Wow. So, what's that word, vest-"
"Ves'acha. It means, beloved."
"Really?" Tim's eyes gleamed, and he hugged Dick hard. "God, that's so cool. I like that. Ves'acha."
Dick laughed. "Congratulations. You can now speak more Rom than Bruce."
"That's nothing," Tim laughed, too. "I already speak more Italian than he does."
Now Dick was confused. "You know Italian? How?"
"My Nona," Tim replied. "My Dad was half Sicilian, and since my mom died when I was so small, my Nona, his mom, raised me. It was pretty common in the old 'hood before we moved to Gotham."
"I'll be damned," Dick said. "I never knew that."
"Guess we got a lot to learn about each other, huh?" Tim grinned.
"Guess so," Dick agreed. "Sounds like fun to me."
"Yeah."
They had just settled into some serious kissing when a loud buzzing noise broke the evening's spell.
"Tell me that's just like, a weird phone," Tim groaned. A look outside answered him; the familiar searchlight sprayed across the clouds, signaling that once again, crime had reared its head in Gotham.
"Sorry, kid," Dick eased out from beneath his lover and made for the computer console. "Time to go to work."
Within minutes, Dick had gotten the details from the computer link, and they were suited up and on their way.
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Part 5 (Part 5 is in two parts a and b)
