When Bruce wakes -- his body tells him that it's at least *near* dawn, and he's inclined to let that guide him for now -- Harvey's gurney is empty and Bruce is somewhat... scaly.

He'd always known unprotected sex would be messy, but the realities are --

Showers. There are showers here as there were in *his* universe, and, at this time of day, there will almost certainly be no teenagers in them. The part of him which speaks with Clark's voice is murmuring something teasing about 'the perfect crime,' but Bruce need not listen.

Why *had* he designed the showers to be comfortable for four people at a time? What had he been thinking? He has a vague memory of thinking about aiming multiple streams of water at himself, but he'd never actually *done* that --

And he's not getting any less disreputable just lying here.

He stands up, wraps the sheet around him just in case, and heads toward the showers --

And hears Harvey humming what seems to be a very *old* song. Perhaps something from the 'swing' era?

Bruce drops his sheet and walks into the steamy heat --

"Whoa -- oh, thank God it's just you, big guy. The *last* thing I needed to see this morning was naked teenager ass," Harvey says, and he's smiling easily, warmly --

"How... how do you feel?"

"I --" Harvey shakes his head and points to the shower head next to his own.

"Of course," Bruce says, and walks over --

"Careful, it comes out ridiculously cold at first -- and you already know that. Heh. God, big guy, I should've known you'd be able to keep a secret like no one else."

He sounds so clear, so --

No, not happy, but *calm* -- and Bruce realizes that he hasn't heard *that* in Harvey's voice in a long, long time. Of course, he'd always been so *busy* --

Bruce shivers once for the blast of cold, breathing deeply with his head down --

"Hey, are *you* okay?" And Harvey's hand is on his shoulder, strong and warm and clean of everything --

Bruce looks up and smiles. "You sound wonderful, Harv. It's occurring to me how much that wasn't the case in the past year."

Harvey winces and squeezes Bruce's shoulder before letting his hand drop. "You're not wrong. I was really a *mess*, Bruce. I still am, actually -- but now I can see it from the outside, a little," and Harvey smiles ruefully. "That J'onn guy doesn't mess around."

Bruce nods slowly -- hm. "Would you have used a curse there instead of 'mess' if you were talking to someone other than me?"

Harvey blinks, coughs -- "Ah -- probably? You told me about how your Dad hated cursing when we were *kids*, big guy. I remember *some* things."

"You remember much," Bruce says, considering while he lathers his hands. "I'm not sure I want to be responsible for censoring you, Harv."

"It's not censoring. It's just being polite -- I don't have to curse all the time, and I know it makes you happy when I don't -- hey, how the hell do you get those mooks out on the street to listen to you, anyway? Most of them only *know* curses."

Bruce frowns -- "Violence, mostly. Sometimes it takes a great deal to *make* them listen."

Harvey blows out a breath and starts washing his hair with the shampoo on the shelf placed at *Bruce's* hand-level --

Just as the soap dish is higher than it is in most other showers. Clearly, he hadn't been thinking of teenagers *then*. Or, if he had, those thoughts had been buried very deeply, indeed. And --

Harvey. "Harv... I'm so sorry I didn't notice."

"You *did* notice, big guy. You asked me if I was all right every time you saw me -- usually two or three times."

"Still --"

"Still *nada*," and Harvey turns to face Bruce with his hands in his soapy hair. "I blew you off *every* time, and that's on me. God, how I *ever* thought I could deal with this crap by myself --"

"You *won't* be alone," Bruce says, trying and mostly failing to keep the Batman out of his voice --

And Harvey grins at him and winks. "No, I *won't*, because just as soon as I track down Gilda, I'm taking myself to a damned shrink for a good, long while."

Bruce blinks and pauses in soaping himself. "You're not planning to return to our universe?"

"Big guy, think -- how much of our universe is even still *there*? Wherever there is. Uh." Harvey shakes himself like a dog. "Half of me wishes I'd taken more physics classes. The rest of me thinks that'd just make my head hurt *more* now."

"I... I have to try to go back."

"And if you get sucked into a pocket that sends you to an even *more* screwed-up universe? No, Bruce, the *smart* thing is for us to track down our friends and loved ones and settle someplace *quiet*."

"And if there's no such thing?"

Harvey frowns. "There is."

"Harv --"

"There -- heh. There's always *this* world, you know? From what those kids have been saying, they could probably use *both* of us, you know?" And Harvey is being honest -- Bruce can *feel* that -- but there's also a shadow *behind* those words... and Bruce knows what it is.

"I... haven't yet looked at their files on the you from this universe --"

"You should," Harvey says, sharp and *hard*. "You gotta know what I can do if it all goes to hell, Bruce."

"But you feel better --"

"Heh. Better enough to *know* better, you mean. 'cause I can see all the little -- and huge -- fuck-ups my brain was throwing at me, which means I can see them *coming*, but if they all hit me at once? Like maybe if something pissed me off just that much?" Harvey shakes his head. "I have *no* problem with the idea of finding my Gilda and bringing her here where she'd have a bunch of vigilantes fucking invested in keeping an eye on my behavior."

"You sound like you're volunteering to be *imprisoned*, Harv."

Harvey raises his eyebrows. "Do I? Maybe, I guess. To me... to me, it just feels like being practical. J'onn *showed* me things in my head. Ugly, horrible, *crazy* things, and I could tell that they were all *my* things. I could feel where they fit in my head and where they *hid* in there, and right about now? I wanna stay *real* damned close to people who can tell when I'm about to lose it. Maybe I won't feel the same in a few weeks or months, but for now? Freedom's overrated."

Bruce frowns again --

"Big guy --"

"I've always... I've always needed you to be free, if only so I could see what you did with it, Harv."

And Harvey gets a very *soft* look on his face --

He pushes his soapy hair back from his forehead and walks close, cupping both of Bruce's shoulders --

"Maybe... maybe you haven't been free for a real long time, Bruce?"

Bruce nods, and realizes he's just standing here with soapy hands -- "I should --"

"Wait -- wait a sec, okay?"

Bruce nods again, and wishes he could smell Harvey over the scents of water and soap and shampoo --

There's water dripping from his jaw, the lobes of his ears --

Bruce has never bitten him there, of course, but a part of him is insistent that it knows how that would *feel* --

"Jesus, all your *scars* -- this is why you wouldn't go to the beach with me and Gilda last month?"

"I -- I was working a case --"

"They call you -- they say you're a detective like no one else, and that just tells me that I should've known it was you, because no one else puts things *together* like you do, even when we were in *school* --"

"No, Harv, you were always the brilliant one, so passionate about knowledge --"

Harvey cuts Bruce off by squeezing his shoulders hard. "*You* didn't need passion to get by, big guy. You had -- God, everything else. And you still do," and Harvey grins at him, sunny and warm -- "What the hell was I talking about?"

Probably not making love -- "I'm not entirely sure, Harv."

"Ah, big guy -- you know what it is? When we were kids, you were all wrapped up in your grief -- no freedom there. A little older than that and you were traveling the world learning how to make your body do all those crazy *things* -- yeah?"

Bruce nods --

"Yeah. So maybe six months after you get back from -- what was the last place you visited?"

"Brazil."

"Yeah, okay, and I bet you didn't even look up from your studies to check out the hot salsa dancers -- uh, anyway. Suddenly there's a damned *Bat*-man flying all over Gotham, lurking on the roof of Central and making poor Jim about ten years older *overnight* --"

"I always. I wanted to make things easier for him. For both of you."

Harvey frowns mildly and searches Bruce -- and then blinks and smiles. "I didn't know you liked redheads, too, big guy."

Oh -- Bruce blushes --

Harvey sighs and reaches up to rub at Bruce's cheek a little -- "I guess I know why you didn't just go with a Zorro-mask?"

"I've gotten better -- to some extent. I rarely blush for strangers, anymore."

A nod -- "You... you never stopped wanting me, did you?"

"Harv --"

"Please. Tell me."

Bruce closes his eyes for a moment -- and when he opens them again, he can smile. "Considering what I've been told about how the Bruce from this universe conducted himself with young men... at present, I feel rather better for having spent half my life mooning over you."

Harvey laughs *and* frowns -- "Okay, that's fair, but -- uh. What does that mean?"

"Robin was Bruce's lover."

"He's... twenty-three?"

"Twenty-five. His Bruce was murdered six years ago... after they had been lovers for six years."

Harvey's jaw drops and he steps back, making Bruce instantly regret having said anything -- "Are you *serious*?"

Bruce smiles ruefully. "I'm afraid so."

"*Jesus*. Just -- do you *go* for kids that young?"

Children, yes -- Bruce shakes his head. "I never thought so --"

"That's past tense. Why is that past tense?"

"Superman has been... focused about making me face things about myself, Harvey --"

"*Harv*, you call me *Harv* --"

"I -- if you're sure --"

"Are you telling me that you're *going* to go after kids like some kinda *predator*?"

"*No* --"

"But you wanna go back to our universe and... find Robin? This kid who's -- what? Sixteen years younger than you with *no* experience, *no* huge muscles or detection ability or --"

"Actually, Mr. Dent, what Robin had to offer was more than any of that combined," and that's -- Cardinal. He's dressed in a school uniform save for the mask over his eyes. The ensemble makes him look both older and younger than he had in just his Cardinal uniform, as if the mask conveys some sort of -- faintly corrupt -- maturity while the school uniform removes doubt --

Bruce doesn't know --

"*Jesus*, kid. You ever hear of privacy?"

Cardinal looks Harvey over and smiles sharply. "Not in these showers."

"I -- point. And I know this is your place and *not* mine, but --"

"*But* you're about to lay into Bruce for, essentially..." Cardinal sighs and shakes his head. "I never knew our Bruce, but I know precisely how much he meant to Robin. You can quibble all you'd like about the moral rectitude of the two of them entering into a romantic and sexual relationship, but please keep in mind that Robin is my *guardian*, and so you are, as Starling would say, talking shit about my *parents*."

Harvey rears back and shakes his head. "That -- kid --"

"Cardinal, please."

Harvey closes his eyes and blows out a breath. "Okay. Cardinal. I -- wait, how *long* have you been running around on the streets like this?"

"I was twelve when I started training and thirteen when I took the Oath and was given my sanction. I'm fifteen now."

Oath -- but could it be the same? He feels as though he's staring *daggers* at Cardinal, but all the boy does is smile at him with a sort of gentle *acceptance* --

And Harvey's hand is on Bruce's chest, pushing him back to the wall --

"Harv?"

"He's too *young*, big guy!"

Bruce frowns. "I wasn't -- it's only that I have questions for him --"

"I'll answer all of them I can, Bruce," Cardinal says, and this time his smile is -- openly flirtatious.

Oh --

Harvey growls. "*Bruce*. You were looking at him the way you look at *me* sometimes."

Bruce winces. "I understand. I will never offer injury or hurt --"

"Robin said you wouldn't," and Cardinal's smile has neither dimmed nor dulled --

"Look, Cardinal, you may think that it's okay for you to get involved with an older guy -- and there's definitely nothing wrong with you getting involved with a guy period --"

"Oh, I'm *very* glad you think so, Mr. Dent," and Cardinal leans against the doorway, face pulling oddly -- no, he's raising an eyebrow behind his mask. "I... Mr. Dent."

"I'm listening, Cardinal."

Cardinal touches his tongue to his upper lip for a long moment --

Long enough for Bruce to wonder about the *quality* of his noticing it, about the motives and murk *behind* that noticing --

And then Cardinal sighs. "I'm not going to try to say that you know nothing about the nature of intergenerational relationships and the myriad ways they can affect the participants -- that would be ridiculous -- but you have to understand that Starling, Skylark, I, and all of the other teenaged vigilantes have made a choice to put our lives on the line for the greater good. For *justice*. Neither you nor anyone else will stop us -- *can* stop us -- from making other sorts of choices, entirely. And we will *profoundly* resent any efforts on your part to *try*."

Harvey's fingers curl in against Bruce's chest --

Bruce *covers* Harvey's hand --

Harvey shivers and steps back, shaking his head and turning away. "I need to finish showering. I -- fuck. I don't know anything right now," he says, and much of the calm is gone from his voice despite the fact that he's not shouting or even straining.

Cardinal's nostrils flare and he reaches for his -- perfectly innocent -- belt --

No. Bruce moves to cup Harvey's shoulders, to rub at the tension, to try to *will* Harvey to feel confidence in himself, in his own *sanity* --

"I'm okay, big guy --"

"You're not."

"Heh. I -- did you see it on me before or *after* Cardinal over there got ready to try to *destroy* me?"

"At... it was almost simultaneous. Harv, tell me what's wrong?"

"This -- I. I was going with the idea that maybe this universe could be --" Harvey shakes his head again. "I don't know. They're *kids*. They're -- Christ, how old's the *girl*?"

"Skylark is sixteen, and you should probably think twice before you say anything remotely sexist or patronizing, as I'm not above editing this footage down just for her."

"Footage -- the *shower* is bugged?"

Bruce fights back a blush badly. "Sometimes I grow paranoid about whether or not there have been intruders in the Cave."

Harvey looks at him as if he's *mad* --

Bruce smiles ruefully. "It seemed the better choice."

"Than *what*?"

"Staying up for several days in a row lurking near every entrance I could find."

*That* makes Harvey seem *pained* -- but he also doesn't seem to be getting lost in the terrible labyrinths of his mind, anymore.

Bruce nods internally and squeezes Harvey's shoulders. "I promise to always try to be the man you want me to be, Harv."

A different pained look --

And when Harvey pulls Bruce close --

It's too much not to think about his body, so strong and sleek in the water. His skin is scarred here and there, but nothing like Bruce's own. He has almost no chest hair, but what abdominal hair he has is thick, as dark as Bruce's own. His penis is soft, *vulnerable* against Bruce's own --

"You've always been the best, big guy. I thought -- God, I don't know what I thought when you started going around acting like an idiot --" Harvey pulls back and searches him. "Was it that you couldn't trust me? That some part of you knew that I was falling apart?"

"No, I -- I never meant to tell *anyone*, Harv. I always thought that it was something I had to do alone. The Batman was allowed allies from time to time, but I couldn't -- I couldn't let myself become *distracted*."

"You -- *distracted*? And *I'm* the crazy one?"

"Hn. We never said Bruce wasn't crazy, *too*," Cardinal says --

Bruce had *forgotten* him for a moment --

What does he think when he sees Bruce holding Harvey like this? What assumptions does he make? How would it feel if *all* of them were entirely correct --

"-- saying that Robin *helped* him or something?"

No, he must pay attention. He swings Harvey around enough that they can both see Cardinal --

"*Jesus*, big guy --"

"I'm sorry. I must know."

Harvey looks more *resigned* than troubled --

Had he seen this in Bruce before? Had he *suspected*?

"Go ahead, Cardinal, tell us what happened," Harvey says, and Bruce knows he'd phrased it that way *for* Bruce --

Bruce grips Harvey tighter, tries to be *comforting*, at least --

And Harvey's smile for him is small, but there. Bruce takes a deep breath and turns to find Cardinal examining them both with a sort of *quiet* intensity --

And Bruce is abruptly sure that *that* expression is the most common one on Cardinal's face, that his *default* social position is that of the one who studies -- no, Bruce doesn't know him, yet. He can't make assumptions like that. He --

He will ask.

Cardinal sighs and nods once. "The older heroes, to a man -- and woman -- found Bruce's personality perfectly horrible. Some few appreciated his efficacy and professionalism, but no one really *wanted* to work with him other than Superman, and even Superman has admitted to wanting to throw Bruce into orbit more than once."

"What? He's *Bruce*. You can't not like *Bruce*."

Oh... Harvey... "I... believe Cardinal was referring to the role I played as the Batman, Harv."

Harvey frowns. "Sure, you were a little creepy and annoying when we all met up at Central, but you weren't an *asshole*."

Cardinal smiles again, and Bruce wonders what it looks like when his smiles offer no threat.

He's such a *sharp*-featured boy, so lean and spare --

"To you and Jim Gordon? Probably not. That would certainly make sense given what Robin knows of that era. To everyone else... well, Bruce?"

"The Batman has an image to maintain."

"Mm-*hm*," and Cardinal licks his teeth, shifting enough that the left side of his jacket falls behind his body, exposing... his shirt. Just his shirt. "Suffice it to say, that image was of an arrogant, broody, rude, brusque, judgmental -- I could go on, but I'm sure you get the point...?"

"And you're saying Robin changed all that."

"Not overnight, to be sure. Most of the people who were around then agree that it probably took at least a quarter of the length of Robin's training before Batman became someone occasionally worth speaking to," Cardinal says, and turns to him. "Someone occasionally like himself."

Bruce frowns. "Was that wise? Perhaps if he'd been more professional --"

"The bullet that killed our Bruce..." Cardinal shakes his head. "It was a graze on his right arm -- a wound much like the ones our Bruce had accustomed himself to ignoring until the battle in question was done, and that's just what he did. The Joker had worked with poisons twice before, but there had to be injections, repeated doses... he was no master chemist. There was no reason to expect the bullet to have been coated in poison -- much less with one that virulent. Our Bruce captured the Joker with Robin's help... and almost immediately collapsed. The paralysis didn't start affecting him until enough of the poison had reached his brain --"

"And, once it began, it worked very quickly, indeed," Robin says, and cups Cardinal's shoulders. "You were supposed to sleep for another hour, little brother."

Cardinal winces. "I --"

"Wanted to brace the confused and *very* naked men in the shower? I caught that," and he turns Cardinal around to face him. "Your shake is waiting for you in the kitchen, and I *know* you'll want to drink it before it gets much warmer, yes...?"

Cardinal makes a distinctly *nauseated* sound --

And Robin's smile is bright with cruel joy -- and open love and affection for... his little brother.

"Robin --"

"Ah-ah-ah, begging's for your *other* brother," Robin says, and gives Cardinal a playful -- but firm -- shove.

Cardinal departs at a jog --

Robin has his lenses down, and so, when he stops smiling, he looks more blank and ominous than anything else.

Harvey steps away from Bruce and raises his hands --

"You -- think I'm threatening you. And that's actually a perfectly reasonable thought for you to have," and Robin rubs his temple. "God. I'm sorry, Dent. You've never done anything to me or mine, and it was wrong for me to treat you as though you had. Truce?" And Robin is raising *both* of his eyebrows behind the mask --

Harvey raises his own and lifts his chin -- and then nods. "Truce. Look, lemme just get this shampoo out of my hair before it shellacs itself there and you can talk to Bruce as much as you want, okay?"

"I appreciate that," and Robin smiles slightly and shrugs off his robe, revealing a body *crisscrossed* with scars.

Most of them by far are on his legs and arms -- thanks presumably to that *nothing* of a uniform he used to wear -- but there are many more on his chest --

Robin laughs. "You can check out the ones on my back when you wash it for me, Bruce."

Bruce blinks -- "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare."

"I always wanted your eyes on me, boss."

"Okay! I'm done," Harvey says --

"Harv --"

Harvey smiles at him, amused and *bright*. "It's okay. *I'm* okay. I'm... gonna lift some weights or something, all right?"

Bruce holds back an apologetic frown and nods.

Harvey claps Bruce's shoulder and walks out, gesturing Robin to the spray he's leaving behind.

"Thank you," Robin says, and takes it, immediately wetting his hair and then flipping it back out of his face. It's not quite shoulder-length --

"You've never made love with him."

He knows, of course, that Robin means Harvey -- "No, I haven't."

Robin nods and begins soaping himself with care. He moves neither quickly nor slowly --

"Did you... sleep well?"

Robin's smile is as sharp as one of Cardinal's. "Are you offering small talk to distract yourself or are you honestly interested?"

That... "I can honestly say that there's nothing I don't want to know about your family."

"Especially Starling...?"

Bruce needs to actually *clean* himself -- he works on doing so. "I'm not sure... Robin, I'm at a loss. There's so much I didn't know about myself. About my... potential."

Robin nods. "When you touched me, at first, it was always abundantly clear that you wanted me *badly*... and that you didn't *want* to want me."

"You were -- so young."

Another smile. "So were you. You told me -- on our first anniversary as partners -- that you'd been a virgin. I've never told that to anyone else. A part of me was actually *embarrassed* for you."

"I imagine I didn't perform especially --"

"No, you were wonderful. *Every* time. You made me feel wanted, needed, loved... you made me think that if something terrible happened and we were the last two people on earth... that it would still be all right," and Robin's smile is gentler this time. "I was *surprised* that you were a virgin -- even though there was no one I could think of who *could* have made love with you. I suppose I thought you'd found someone briefly during your travels."

"But -- to be embarrassed --"

Robin laughs and sluices off. "Oh, Bruce. You were pushing *thirty* when we made love the first time. I was pushing fourteen -- and had already started thinking about taking up various people on their various offers. I would have, too -- if you hadn't finally walked into my bedroom one night and closed the door behind you," and Robin's expression is distant --

Lost to the past? Bruce crouches to wash his legs and feet and waits --

"You were so... you're missing a few of the scars I memorized back then, but the rest of them are in all the right places. I can't look at you without wanting you, Bruce."

"I'd like. Please let me know you," Bruce says, looking up --

"I also can't look at you without... mourning isn't a good enough word for it. Part of me has been screaming and crying nonstop for the past six years."

"I don't think I would ever have left you --"

"Me?"

"Someone. I can't imagine making love to anyone without first being in love with them, Robin. Perhaps it is embarrassing, but Harvey never wanted me that way --"

"He did."

Bruce blinks and focuses -- he *tries* to focus on where he believes Robin's eyes are -- "What do you mean?"

"He -- by which I mean Two-Face on enough anti-psychotics and mood stabilizers to choke an emotionally-disturbed *horse* -- told Cardinal all about it. How Bruce Wayne was his only true friend, how he used to beat himself up for pretending not to need him, how he hated himself for never kissing him... and so on," Robin says, and grabs one of the bottles of shampoo. "Cardinal wrote a heavily-edited report of that particular visit to Arkham in order to protect my feelings, but I made him tell me everything, anyway."

What --

Could his Harvey be the same?

*Why* would he keep himself apart --

"My guess? Being in love with Gilda Baines Dent and the concept of monogamy. Before that... well, how many openly gay politicians do *you* know?"

Bruce winces. "I hadn't meant to say that aloud --"

"I know," Robin says, and gives him another gentle smile. "You love him like no one else."

"I don't measure love as some... there is no competition in my mind or heart, Robin."

Robin narrows his eyes and cocks his head to the side, studying Bruce in much the same way Cardinal had done. Bruce stands and offers as much of himself as he can, from the arousal he feels for the memory of Harvey's body against his own, to the curiosity Cardinal had engendered in him, to this moment -- with a man close to his own age and infinitely beyond him in terms of life experience -- and vigilante experience, as well.

"I -- I would learn from you."

Robin shivers and reaches up to touch Bruce's face, stroking against the grain of the stubble -- "I believe you. I believed you then, too. You just never *stopped* loving Dent, and so never stopped needing to try and make it better for him. You would've done the same for me..." Robin smiles ruefully. "I'm not a kid anymore. I'm not quite sure *how* that happened, but... I can recognize *you* when I see you. And you were never capable of falling out of love."

Bruce swallows and nods, reaching up to cup Robin's hand against his face --

Robin sighs and pulls back, turning -- "Let me feel your hands on me again, Bruce."

"I --"

"Please," Robin says, quiet and calm -- but still pleading.

"Yes," Bruce says, lathering his hands and using what he's learned of massage --

Robin *gasps* -- but he doesn't stop Bruce. He just walks forward and braces himself against the tile. He --

"Robin..."

"Don't stop. Don't -- just keep going."

Bruce nods and can't -- this --

This *desire* for him --

They don't know each other -- no. Robin knows him, understands him, loves --

Bruce massages more firmly, seeking out points of tension and working them away. He moves on something like instinct, because the sensei who had taught him much of what he knows of aikido had also been fanatical about the importance of easing the body after hard work -- and about developing healthy friendships between himself and his students. Bruce had been terrible at both when he began, but the sensei had only pushed him more, demanded more *of* him --

And Bruce doesn't know what the man would've thought of this. This -- there is no friendship in this touch -- not once he pulls Robin back into the spray to sluice away the soap and reveal muscle, deep olive skin, scars --

Bruce strokes and tries to learn Robin with his hands, tries to understand -- but. "You're beautiful."

Robin laughs. "Even like this...?"

"I -- I don't know how you looked as a boy --"

"Oh... rounder-cheeked. Skinnier. Just a *little* bendier. Puppy fat on my face and ass --"

Bruce's swallow is much too loud --

"Oh, Bruce... I forgive you for everything. You know that, right?"

"Robin..."

"Dick. I'm *Dick* --"

*Permission* -- but. "You -- not... Richard?"

Robin's laugh is musical and bright. It echoes off the walls and seems to *urge* Bruce, to make him *need* more --

"Please --"

"Never Richard or Ricky or anything like that. Just Dick -- though I let *some* people call me Dickie."

"I -- truly?"

*Dick* smiles back over his lean-muscled shoulder. His lenses are up, revealing eyes that flash like blades -- no, the blue is too soft for that.

Bruce touches Dick's cheek. "I will call you anything you wish to be called --"

"Just my name, Bruce. Just -- oh."

And for a moment Bruce is confused... but then he realizes that he's cupping Dick's hips. He swallows again. "Is this all right?"

"What -- what do you want from me, Bruce? Tell me everything --"

"I want to *know* you. I want you to help me understand --"

"Yourself? Or me? Or the family?"

"All of you, everything --"

"Are you attracted to Cardinal?"

"I -- he's very. Very small --"

Dick smiles again, moving his left hand from the wall to cover Bruce's own on his hip. "Starling --"

"He. He told me his name."

Dick gasps -- "Oh... dirty little wing. I guess you *do* already know how to kiss the sense out of a guy. Fine. *Jason* loves how small Cardinal is."

Oh... "They're lovers?"

"For almost three years now. Jason *found* Cardinal, and only hesitated long enough to *ask* me before bringing him home to us. Where he belongs --" Dick shakes his head and licks his lips. "He likes to pick Cardinal up and move him where he wants him. *Everywhere* he wants him."

"Cardinal... he seems very happy. Very *secure*, I mean --"

"He is -- most of the time. He -- Jason *helped* him. Just like you helped me, boss," and Dick lets his head hang.

"You -- I would like to kiss you here. The back of your neck --"

"*Mm* -- fuck. Do it --"

Bruce leans in and presses his lips there. The hair is soft and wet, sleek -- he doesn't shave here, or perhaps he hasn't had his hair trimmed for a very long time --

This life can make one so *busy* --

"Bruce..."

His name was almost *swallowed* -- and Bruce realizes that he's kissing Dick there over and over, *licking* against the grain of Dick's hair -- "I'd like. To make love to your scrotum. I... please tell me what I may have with you."

Dick laughs again, more breathless this time. "With me? There's nothing you can't have with me."

"Oh -- Dick..."

"Squeeze me. My hips. Let me feel -- *mm*. Oh, Bruce, I -- Jesus, your mouth on my throat -- no, don't stop --"

Bruce kisses the side of Dick's throat wetly, indulging himself in the *thrill* of flesh, of tension --

Where Dick is hard to the touch, he is holding himself that way. He's human, and so is his strength. It's *possible* for Bruce to bite too hard, to bruise and abrade --

Dick moans and throws his head back, tensing more -- and relaxing all over when Bruce pulls his body against his own. That --

No, he won't ask *yet*. He sucks Dick's throat and strokes his terrifyingly scarred body, always holding him as close as possible --

"*Please*."

Bruce bites down --

Dick cries out and *shoves* his buttocks back against Bruce's thighs, and that --

"Tell me, Dick. Tell me what you want --"

"Touch me, hold me, *talk* to me --"

"Will you --"

"*Yes* --"

And Bruce doesn't -- it's *necessary* to spin Dick back against the wall, to tilt his head up and study his eyes --

He looks *drugged* --

"Who *are* you, Dick?"

"The boy -- oh, God --" He gasps and then there's another of those musical laughs. They aren't quite feminine, but they're *very* far from masculine --

"Please tell me --"

"I'm the man who *used* to be the boy who would've done anything for you at *any* time, no matter who else it hurt --"

"No, I would never --"

Dick presses two fingers to Bruce's mouth. "No, you wouldn't. And that just made me *determined* to be perfect for you, to be *right* --"

Bruce kisses Dick, and he can't make himself close his eyes for it --

Dick keeps his eyes open, too, and they're looking deep within his own, seeking and, perhaps, *finding*, because *eventually* he closes his eyes and presses close --

His lean, sleek body --

The staggering and *startling* interruptions of his scars --

Bruce strokes Dick's sides and back --

No, he cups the back of Dick's head and pulls him more deeply into the kiss --

Dick groans for that and *claws* Bruce's back, and Bruce has to buck, grunt like an animal and shove Dick back against the tile --

Kiss, yes, but there are other places *to* kiss, other ways to appreciate, worship, *ask* --

Bruce breaks the kiss. "Tell me. Tell me what you always wanted your Bruce to do --"

"He gave me everything --"

"I want --"

"He didn't." Dick moans and shakes his head, squeezes his eyes shut and reaches to stroke Bruce's stubble again --

"Did I hurt you --"

"God, no, just -- " He opens his eyes again and pants, licks his lips -- "He never let me suck him enough. There -- there is no *enough* for that."

Bruce pants. "I wanted -- I thought it would be something --"

"That you could do for me...?" Dick's smile is wet and sly, *bright* -- "Trust me when I say it is... though I think it's possible that Tink loves this even more than *I* do," and Dick pushes Bruce back --

"Please --"

"Let me," and Dick's eyes are serious, *hard* with pleading --

"Yes," Bruce says, and it's the only answer he can give, the only possible way to acknowledge --

Dick drops to his knees gracefully, easily despite the scars showing on his knees and lower thighs --

Perhaps the injuries were minor. Perhaps --

Perhaps he'll be able to do nothing save breathe roughly for this, to pant like a bellows for the feel of Dick's hand around the base of his penis --

"Oh, Bruce..."

"Yes. I --"

"Did Clark do this for you, yet?"

"No. I didn't think to ask --"

"Understandable, you being *you*," Dick says, and kisses along Bruce's shaft. "What surprises *me* -- God, I wish I did this while you still had Clark's come all over you --"

Bruce grunts again and feels himself twitch --

"Oh. Ooh. Was that a happy thought...?" Dick looks up at him and raises his eyebrows behind the mask --

"I imagine... I imagine you and Clark are beautiful together."

Dick pants twice --

Dick kisses the head of Bruce's penis *wetly* --

"I don't know if you would've found last night beautiful or not, Bruce..."

"You -- you made love with Clark last night?"

"He saved me from myself -- again. He's promised to always do just that, that -- that it's no hardship --" Dick groans quietly and *licks* the head of Bruce's penis, lingering at the meatus. "You taste the same. So much the *same* --"

"I don't. I don't think I know what you mean --"

"I want my brothers, Bruce. I want their hands on me, I want *them* on their hands and knees. I want to take them, hurt them, *touch* them -- " Dick *sucks* --

"Dick --"

Dick closes his eyes and sucks *harder*, forcing Bruce to grab at the tiled wall, hold himself *up* --

Is this what he'd made Clark feel?

This --

There is such *power* for the one who fellates --

Is that what the Bruce from this universe wanted to deny to Dick?

How could he deny *anything* -- "Please, Dick --"

Dick pulls off and pants more, licks his lips -- they're already swollen.

"You're so beautiful..."

"Heh. The first time you told me that you were *teasing* me, Bruce."

"I -- " Bruce tries to shake off the haze of arousal. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking --"

"Easy, easy," Dick says, and pats Bruce's hips. "That was one of the things I taught you -- how to make teasing work between friends."

"Teasing... I've never thought it could be..." Bruce shakes his head. "I've joked with Clark, but to say something deliberately hurtful --"

"It was all *right*. I laughed, too -- *after* you finally let me take off the dress, the heels, the stockings, the falsies, the *gaff*, the *makeup*..."

"I -- I disguised you as a *woman*?"

Another of those musical laughs -- "A *beautiful* woman, boss," and Dick licks him, sucks kisses along the vein -- "You let me change the subject. *That's* not good."

"Surely you don't expect me to judge you for desiring them? You *know* them --"

"And they're wonderful, so perfect and wonderful -- *mm* --" And Dick takes half of him in a gulp, making Bruce's flesh feel too tight, his mind too *hot*, somehow --

"*Dick* --"

Dick *nods* and sucks in pulses, rhythmic and *firm* --

So -- "You'll unmake me --"

Dick slurs *no* and scrapes with his *teeth* --

Bruce groans and cups the back of Dick's head with one hand --

Dick pulls *back* --

"*Please*, Dick --"

"I used Clark last night, the way I've done -- too many times since taking Jason in. I used him, and I *made* him use me, and I don't deserve his friendship --"

And then Clark is *there*, chewing on what appears to be a muffin and wagging his finger at Dick --

Who splutters and hides his face against Bruce's thigh. That --

"I'm afraid I'm deeply confused," Bruce says, and strokes Dick's hair as gently as he can --

Dick is laughing breathlessly, and that seems like an improvement, but the simple fact of the matter is that Bruce is absolutely sure that he's incapable of speaking with any degree of intellect at the moment. He decides to focus on looking hopeful at both of them --

"*You* -- oh, excuse me," Clark says in a rather muffled voice before swallowing hugely and sighing. "Dick, you didn't *use* me."

Dick strokes Bruce's thighs. "Yes, I did --"

"You were imagining your brothers performing acts I would dearly love to see them perform --"

"*Clark* --"

"And you were making love to *me*, as you always do," and Clark moves close, heedless of the spray as he crouches down beside Dick -- "Oh, my, that's truly --" Clark *kisses* the head of Bruce's penis --

Bruce grunts for the heat --

Dick snorts and tugs Bruce's penis closer to his own mouth. "Wait your *turn*, Clark."

"Yes, I will, of course, but it was right *there* -- and you've begun to feel guilty for far too many things."

"I can't *live* like you, Clark --"

"And no one is asking you to do so --"

"Guilt's the only thing that keeps me from doing *terrible things* --"

"Loving things, beautiful things -- you don't know how much your brothers love and need you. You won't *let* yourself know."

"And I'm making you talk about them *again* instead of -- ow --"

Bruce loosens his grip on Dick's hair. "I'm sorry, Dick, but it seemed the thing to do. And I believe Clark began discussing your brothers first."

Dick frowns -- but it's not a scowl. It's a troubled thing, a *hurt* thing --

"Oh, Dick..." Clark clasps Dick's shoulder and squeezes, undoubtedly filling Dick with warmth and security. "There is nothing I wouldn't give if it would make you happy."

"And you, Clark? What makes *you* happy?"

"To see your family complete, at long last... though of course it could be *more* complete," Clark says, and squeezes again. "There are other things -- such as the completion coming in the form of a Bruce who enjoys my company --"

"I've always enjoyed your company, Clark. I -- I can't imagine that changing."

"Oh, beloved friend... yes, I see, you *pretended* --"

"And I will never do that again, unless it's some deception I must enact for the sake of the Mission."

Clark sighs and smiles at him -- and turns back to Dick. "I know I must have seemed reluctant last night, but truly it was only because your brothers seemed so *willing* --"

"Jason was holding -- Cardinal back --"

"He needed more time, it's true... but you didn't hear the conversation he and Cardinal had after we left. They will not turn away from you now -- and the only time *I* will turn away from you is when I believe you can be better served by another. Assuming I'm feeling altruistic at the time, of course," and Clark smiles quite sharply --

Dick shivers and reaches up to cover Clark's hand on his shoulder with his free one. "I'll think about what you've said."

"Good --"

"And I do. I do make love to you every time --"

Clark kisses Dick firmly, twining his fingers with Bruce's own in Dick's hair and making Bruce pull again --

*Harder* this time --

And Dick begins to moan. It's low and quiet at first, but rapidly becomes higher, louder --

Dick is *shaking* --

Dick breaks the kiss and swallows Bruce *whole*, making Bruce stagger on his feet --

And then he simply *does* have his back against the tile. Clark had found a way to lift and move them both --

Dick gives Clark the thumbs-up --

Clark steps out of the spray and *blurs* -- no, he's dried himself. He's still there *watching* as Bruce struggles not to pull Dick's hair *out* --

"Isn't he wonderful, Bruce?"

Dick groans in his *chest* --

"I -- yes. I've never felt --"

"I knew he'd want to be your first for this. I knew..." Clark sighs and leans against the place where the stone of the Cave meets the tile. "You should tell him what to do."

It makes his penis *twitch*, but -- "Clark, I have no *idea* what he should do --"

"Use your *imagination*, Bruce," and Clark points toward Dick --

Dick is looking up at him with wide eyes, *wanting* eyes --

"Oh, lovely..." Bruce reaches down and strokes the edges of Dick's mask, his flushed cheeks -- "So... you're *tight* around me -- *ah* --"

Swallows, those must be --

It's just that they're constant now, painfully and wonderfully *rhythmic* -- "I don't want to -- no, I was about... to lie. I would like to thrust --"

Dick nods rapidly, strokes Bruce's hips and buttocks --

*Claws* them the way he'd done to his back --

"*Dick* --"

"*Mm* --"

"I meant -- more warning --"

Dick shakes his head and digs *in* with his short fingernails --

"I find that -- very arousing --"

Dick opens his eyes for long enough to *wink* --

And Bruce blushes. Of course he'd known that. He knows everything that arouses Bruce, every possible *trigger*, and perhaps it's simply proof of Bruce's basic inability to accept beauty and wonders when they're offered that a part of him is only wishing he could *surprise*. To, perhaps, make Dick's eyes widen once more --

They're so beautiful, and he had *surrounded* himself with beauty, from the blunt rawness of Jason to the sharpened stiletto and gamesmanship of Cardinal --

Dick's brothers. His beautiful brothers who he desires --

As much as Bruce does? He's had far longer to come to know them and their quirks, their --

Dick *shudders* --

And Bruce realizes that he'd lost himself *again*, that he'd began a *harsh* rhythm of one thrust after another --

He's *taking* Dick's mouth, and he'd barely even -- no. No. Bruce tugs on Dick's hair and pulls out at the same time --

"Bruce, *please* --"

"I need. I need more of you," Bruce says, and hopes the apology in his voice comes through the roughness, the animal *bluntness* --

Dick stares up at him and pants --

His beautiful mouth is so --

Bruce drops to his own knees and cups Dick's face, strokes the strong cheekbones with his thumbs, pets Dick's ears --

"Bruce..."

"May I --"

"*Yes* -- *mmph* --"

The kiss is much too hard, at first -- barely more than a mash of lips and a *clash* of teeth -- but Bruce can soften it, can make love to Dick's beautiful and generous mouth --

Oh, Dick is coaxing Bruce's tongue into his mouth, leaning back -- no, lying down. Bruce covers Dick and thrusts with his tongue --

Dick wriggles down and lines them *up*, and the touch of Dick's penis --

He's so hard and *warm*, so human --

Bruce moans into Dick's mouth and tries a *thrust* --

And Dick wraps his legs around Bruce's *chest*, grips Bruce and holds *on* --

"Dick --"

"More. *Fuck* against me --"

Bruce bucks and -- it doesn't stop. He can feel himself twitching for the pleasure of this touch, this --

It's so basic, so --

It's nearly the first sexual fantasy he *had* -- the sense-memory of Harvey's hugs and the painstaking efforts of his imagination to remove their clothes before the hug happened. And they would touch like this --

Rub and *move* like this --

Dick whimpers and chases everyone away but himself. Bruce must --

"What -- what should I do --"

"Feel -- God, *Bruce*," and Dick is wriggling more beneath him, *writhing* with pleasure as he drags his body against Bruce's own --

He almost doesn't seem to *care* if his penis receives direct stimulation from Bruce's own, but --

It feels right to hold Dick down by his shoulders --

"Oh..."

That was *Clark*. Bruce had *forgotten*, but when he turns to face him -- Clark's hand is warm and firm as he turns Bruce back to Dick --

"I am well, beautiful friend. Here," Clark says, and cups Bruce's scrotum --

Bruce grunts and -- no, he won't squeeze his eyes shut. He'll watch Dick as *he* squeezes his eyes shut, as he gasps and moans so *high* --

It must've been higher then, but Bruce is grateful to have *this*. If Dick was nineteen when the Bruce from this universe had been murdered, then that Bruce may not have had the opportunity to see Dick's full growth. He certainly hadn't seen or touched *all* of these scars -- 

No, he needs more. He squeezes Dick's shoulders hard --

Dick's eyes fly open --

"*Yes*," Bruce says, and he can't even recognize his voice, but it makes Dick cry out and *strain* -- not struggle.

Bruce uses more of his strength to pin Dick, thrusts and *grinds* and imagines something deeper. Something tight and hot --

"I *want* you, Dick --"

Dick cries out -- and uses his powerful legs to flip them. Bruce allows it -- his only options would involve *hurting* Dick --

And it feels good to be beneath this beautiful man who knows so much about him, to be --

Oh, Clark is holding his scrotum *again*, squeezing it firmly over and over --

"Nnh -- *Bruce* --"

"Yes. Yes, Dick --"

"Clark has you?" It's *barely* a question, but --

"Yes, he -- his hand is so very warm --"

"*Hot*. He's --" Dick whimpers and wraps his hand around both of their penises --

"*Dick* --"

"Oh -- *please*, boss, just *hump* --"

Bruce groans and follows orders, sitting up on one elbow in order to see it more clearly, to watch his pre-ejaculate slick Dick's scarred and graceful hand, to see Dick's foreskin sliding back and forth --

Dick moans and shakes his head, tightening his grip until every thrust feels like he's *forcing* himself against Dick, forcing --

"*Dick*, I -- you're so -- tell me what to *do* --"

"Don't *stop*. And -- God, I promise, I won't look away, I won't run away  --"

"Stay. You'll --"

"*Please*, Bruce," and Dick's eyes are wide again, but they're wild, needy and *full* --

"Dick..." He can't make the same promise, the promise Dick *and* Clark want --

Dick sobs and begins *stroking* them both, and the feel of it --

The calluses which are so much *like* his own, but held differently, positioned for a smaller, more *deft* hand --

Bruce groans and thrusts harder, faster --

But Dick sobs *again* and Bruce must --

Bruce sits up the rest of the way and grips Dick's shoulders, holds them and tries to soothe, to give -- "I can't -- I can't forget this --"

"I *know* that, Bruce, I -- *oh* --"

And Bruce notices the loss of Clark's hand on his scrotum just as his vision fills with the sight of Clark wrapped around Dick and holding on -- all without jostling his moving arm --

"Clark, I'm *okay* -- *mmph* --"

The kiss is obviously a deep one, loving and sure and promising --

Everything Bruce can't *be* --

But he doesn't have to just *use*. He twines his fingers with Dick's own and *helps* the stroke, not changing the rhythm because it's perfect --

Perfect for him.

Dick *knows* --

"*Please*," Bruce says, and isn't sure what he's asking for until Dick turns away from Clark and lunges in to kiss *him* even as he's making the stroke harder, more *implacable* --

Bruce moans Dick's name into his mouth and reaches with his other hand for Clark --

Clark catches his hand and breathes hot on the palm, licks between his fingers, bites the pad of his thumb and the heel of his palm --

All while Dick demands the *thrust* of Bruce's tongue, the *taking* --

He wants to be taken, as well, wants to be moved as far beyond his own responsibilities as possible --

(You must not *waver*!)

Bruce's groan must not sound strange -- nothing stops, and for that he's more grateful than he has words to express. He pulls Clark's hand to Dick's thick hair and they muss and tangle it together.

He thrusts until there's nothing he wants more *than* more, until the images fall all over each other, leaving him to pant and groan and *grunt* into Dick's slick and willing mouth --

"I'm sorry --"

"No, no --"

"I won't -- if there's a next time --"

But Dick kisses him too firmly for Bruce to say anything else --

And Bruce understands that more than he wants to. This, then, and the rapid loss of ability to stay anything like on rhythm --

He's *rutting* now --

Dick is *smiling* against his mouth, and Bruce must lick, must give *many* kisses --

Dick gasps --

Dick cries out and ejaculates, slicking them both and making both him and Clark groan more --

"Oh, *God* -- *ohn* -- " Dick throws his head back --

And Bruce darts in to bite that vulnerable *throat*, feeling both bestial and *correct* when Dick cries out again and spills once more.

A flurry of arms and motion --

And Bruce is on his back, unprepared and *thrilled* -- "*Dick* --"

"I'll teach you," he says, *beaming* -- "But you have a promise to keep," and he scoots back and bends down --

"Oh -- oh, *Dick* --"

"Mm-hmm --"

Bruce pushes both hands into Dick's hair and tries to keep himself from closing his eyes --

Dick is tasting *both* of them right now, and "I want -- I want *this* --"

Dick gazes up at him with a *mischievous* look in his eyes --

"*Please* --"

"*Mmm*," but Dick narrows his eyes -- and begins to work his head on Bruce's penis, taking *himself* --

"Oh. Oh, I *see*," Bruce says, and holds Dick's head still as carefully as he can --

Thrusts --

And Dick nods almost frantically. He had denied. He would want --

When *Clark* had thrust into his mouth --

"I -- I'm sorry I was *selfish*," Bruce says, and begins to thrust in the fast, *rough* rhythm Dick had set --

Clark sighs and smiles at both of them, hand moving on his penis in an unknowable *blur* --

Dick is moaning in rhythm -- no. His moan is continuous, and is being choked *off* by Bruce's thrusts. It's the single most frightening and *arousing* thing --

"*Dick*."

Another nod and a *dazed* look, and Bruce knows that this is Dick's pleasure, this -- this giving and *taking* --

He tries to say Dick's name again --

He tries to force himself to at least -- no, he can't slow, he *won't* --

Not even when the press of Dick's long, *hard* fingers behind Bruce's scrotum makes him yell and *yank* Dick's hair --

Such *pleasure* --

"I'll *have* this," Bruce growls --

Dick *whimpers* --

Clark moans --

And Bruce sits up again and *holds* Dick's face against him, grinding in once --

Twice --

He can't count, but he can groan and spend himself, body sensitized enough that the spray feels like *needles* -- no, a watery caress --

Dick's mouth --

Dick's *throat* --

He's gasping before long, struggling --

Dick *isn't* struggling. He's swallowing over and over again with no *complaint*. He --

"I -- I have no more to *give* --"

"I have my doubts about that, my companion," and Clark's smile is both obnoxious and warm.

Bruce -- it isn't in his power to scowl --

And Dick shakes his head. Oh --

"I'm sorry," Bruce says, tugging Dick away from himself --

Dick whoops in a breath and immediately laughs it out. He's beaming again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand --

"I should have -- I don't know what I was thinking --"

Dick covers Bruce's mouth with his sticky hand, and Bruce can't stop himself from making a noise --

And licking --

Dick's smile is intensely predatory for a long moment -- "I forgot to mention that I *always* enjoyed it when you lost control... and I'd forgotten *entirely* how much you used to apologize when you did."

Bruce raises an eyebrow --

Dick moves his hand --

"I *stopped* apologizing?"

The predatory smile is back. "The last time you did was the Friday before the weekend I got crazy with Arsenal -- and Arsenal's *arsenal* of bondage and domination toys."

Bruce blinks --

Considers --

"Yes, I think I see. Hm. You enjoyed that?"

"Oh, *goodness*, yes," Dick says, standing and offering his hand --

Bruce uses it to stand --

"I enjoyed it, but I'm also not really built for it. *You*, now... you started tying me up after that. And there were spankings, cock rings, a paddle we never actually used... a few other little things."

That -- "How --"

"Boss. Don't ask me how old I was. It won't change anything for you to know."

"I'm..." Bruce smiles ruefully. "You must've guessed, by now, that I'm rather conflicted by the prospect of meeting the Dick from my universe."

Dick smiles, too, and strokes Bruce's stubble. "Wanna field this one, Clark?"

"Oh, if I may...?"

Dick laughs softly. "Please do, Uncle Clarkie."

"Really, Dick, I'd like to keep some measure of dignity around *this* Bruce."

"Not a chance," Dick says, and moves in to press his body against Bruce's own --

Oh, a *hug* -- Bruce wraps his arms around Dick and holds on, promising --

He wishes he could promise everything. He wishes --

It's *frightening*, but this is so warm, so safe and -- not simple. *Not* safe. Their Bruce had *died*, and --

And he never would've been *able* to prepare for a neurosuppressant like that. There's only so much armor he can wear and still be mobile enough for the *work* --

Dick sighs and pats Bruce's back -- it's the same thing Harvey does when he's about to pull away --

"Please. Please stay for a moment?"

Dick leans just his head back for a moment. "It feels like I'm hugging a *wall*, Bruce, and while I've been known to do just that when Arsenal talks me into the consumption of alcoholic beverages --"

"It's only -- I'm worried," Bruce temporizes, and hopes his stroke for Dick's hair and back is distracting *enough* --

Dick frowns. "It's not just you freaking out about meeting a thirteen-year-old me and maybe -- as the inimitable Starling might say -- bouncing him on your cock, is it?"

*Puppy* fat --

"I believe it is *now*, Dick," Clark says, and moves close enough to rest his hands on both of their shoulders.

His hand smells a great deal like his *semen* -- "I missed your orgasm," Bruce blurts --

"Then I'll just have to be assiduous about making sure you miss as few of them as possible," Clark says, *winking* --

"Please, both of you, *one* of you -- tell me what *good* can come of me taking a young boy from his life --"

"He --*I* had had my life destroyed when you took me in, boss. And no, I won't tell you how."

Bruce frowns. "But -- if I can prevent it --"

Dick smiles gently and shakes his head. "That... I've always known that was the difference between us, boss. If you had a chance to get the life you had as an eight-year-old back, you'd throw everything -- all of this -- away. Me? I could never do that. It's all meant too much."

Bruce shakes his head and tries to --

There's nothing he can *say* to that --

What had Dick lost? Had it been his parents? Would he honestly let them be killed or -- no, he couldn't. No one could -- no. No one so loving and kind and *caring* could -- "You won't tell me."

"No, Bruce. I'm sorry."

"Surely -- surely there was a time when you *would've* wished someone to keep your life from being destroyed?"

Dick cocks his head to the side and narrows his eyes. "Right after, yes. And for the weeks before I discovered that the absentminded and just plain *absent* billionaire who took me in was really the Batman. After that... an hour or two. The time it took me to think 'I could be his partner.' Come to think of it... that was probably no more than twenty minutes. I'd *thought* about becoming a vigilante before, Bruce, so... About five weeks *total* -- versus the last nearly thirteen years of my life. There's never any competition in your mind and heart, Bruce, and I *can't* say the same for the most part... but I can for this."

"I must -- I'd have to try to *help* --"

"Don't you see, Bruce? You *did* help. You gave me a life where I could save people each and every night, and help make the city better for the good, law-abiding citizens -- and for some of the good, *non*-law-abiding citizens, too. On top of that? I got to go to the best schools, eat the best food, learn everything I *ever* wanted to know about healing wounds and illnesses and enforcing the law. On top of *that* -- you always asked me my opinions about things the Wayne Foundation could do to help still *more* people. On top of *that* -- everyone else. Clark, here, and my Titans, and the Justice Society, and the Justice *League* -- the best people in the world are on my speed-dial, all of whom are ready to sacrifice themselves to work for the greater good at *my* say-so, because *you* trained me and everyone knew that Batman was the best. How could I give that up? How could I even think of doing that?"

"But -- your *family* --"

"Is right here. For the next ten minutes, anyway. It's almost time for Jason and Cardinal to go to school, and I have to make sure Cardinal hasn't convinced Jason to let him wear glitter in his hair or something. Again," Dick says, and rubs Bruce's cheek one more time. "I..." Dick smiles softly. "Sometimes the end of the world isn't so bad. That wasn't *always* my philosophy, and it took a beating when our Bruce died... but *it* didn't die. It bounced right back the night I found Jason boosting the tires off the Robinmobile. Try... I guess I'd like you to try to look at it from my perspective, Bruce."

Bruce nods, feeling his thoughts *roil* --

Dick sighs. "Well talk about it more later, if you'd like."

"Thank you," Bruce says, and knows his voice sounds rough in the *wrong* ways --

But Dick only looks at him for a long moment before turning to retrieve his robe and leave.

Bruce stares at the exit to the shower --

"Bruce... he is happy far more often than he isn't."

Bruce nods again. That -- he could tell that, he thinks.

Clark cups Bruce's shoulders and guides him more fully into the spray --

"Hm. This is the longest shower of my life, Clark."

"Truly? I spent a rather exceedingly long time taking cold or lukewarm showers when I was a teenager."

Bruce smiles helplessly. "You were concerned about your parents' hot water bills...?"

"Bruce, some of those showers lasted well over two *hours*."

Bruce laughs. "I... I'm thinking of one particular shower. It was after Alfred had explained masturbation to me --"

"You had to have it *explained*?"

"I was a slow child in many ways, Clark --"

Clark coughs and -- soaps Bruce at speed. *Thoroughly*.

Bruce blinks and considers and rejects checking to see if Clark had truly soaped his cleft as well as it seems like he did -- he sluices off.

"The shower?"

"Yes. I..." Bruce turns to look at Clark. "I stayed in the shower until I had five orgasms, but that only took forty minutes."

"Oh, my. Perhaps... ah. Perhaps it was *because* you'd needed it explained...?"

Bruce hums and turns in the spray. "That was always my assumption, yes."

"Oh, you missed a spot --"

"Clark."

"Ah... yes?"

Bruce smiles and opens his stance before raising his arms.

Clark sighs. "You do realize that you're only encouraging me."

"The thought had occurred," Bruce says, and inclines his head.

He's clean, dry, out of the shower, and in a robe within the time it takes to blink twice. And really --

"I'm surprised that you didn't take the time to dress me in workout clothes --"

He's dressed in workout clothes.

Hm.

"Forgive me," Clark says, and smiles with exceeding insouciance. "I had to find where those were kept."

"I... believe I'm not going to dare you, anymore."

"Oh... if you're sure."

Bruce laughs somewhat helplessly. "Clark... thank you."

*This* smile manages to be both brighter and softer -- and then Clark looks up. "Ah, Dick is driving the boys to school today. Would you like to see them off?"

"I believe I'd rather not test my libido at the moment -- or my ability not to interrogate them about their lives."

Clark strokes Bruce's face. "They love the lives they have now, Bruce -- far, far more than they enjoyed the lives they had before they lost their parents."

Bruce blinks. "All of them?"

"I'm afraid so. Don't ask them for their surnames. Don't make them choose between this life and a morality which would sink them deep into worlds of abuse and neglect."

Bruce winces. "Even -- even Dick?"

Clark shakes his head. "Dick lived in a world outside of the world, and there was much he never learned -- much less understood -- before he came to know you. Of course, there was much *you* never learned before then..." Clark spreads his hands. "I cannot -- and will not -- answer questions like that."

"You agree with him about 'the end of the world.'"

Clark cocks his head to the side and raises his eyebrows --

Which is an excellent trigger for forcing Bruce to consider what he knows about Clark's history. About Kal-El.

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut and inclines his head. "Your point is made."

"I have my doubts that it's been made for good and all... but then, I don't think you would be yourself if it could be so easily," Clark says, and cups Bruce's shoulder.

Bruce covers Clark's hand with his own. "I believe I need to speak with Alfred."

"I think that would be wise."

"I -- I've left Harvey alone --"

"I'll go upstairs and tell Alfred you wish to speak with him when he has a spare moment. That will give you some time...?"

And what if Alfred doesn't wish to speak to *him*? What if it's too much to ask?

Alfred *hasn't* come to speak to him, and --

And Bruce has never wished to *impinge* on Alfred's time if it was something which could possibly be helped. This Alfred may not have *watched* his Bruce die, but he had grieved. He --

Alfred is *correct* about his emotions -- *always* -- but that does not mean that they aren't *present*. What if this situation is too *much* --

"Bruce...?"

Bruce smiles ruefully. "I don't particularly wish to... make things difficult for him --"

"Oh -- Bruce. Do you need him?"

"Yes --"

"How would *you* feel if you knew Alfred needed you but wasn't seeking you out?"

"I'm not --"

Clark... looks at him. Quite powerfully.

"I suppose you believe I'm being somewhat ridiculous --"

"*Yes*."

"Hm. When *are* you going to go back to Metropolis?"

"Bruce --"

"I will speak to him. I -- I will... lean on his wisdom."

Clark smiles at him *brightly*, as if Bruce had agreed to something much more --

Bruce doesn't know.

And Clark strokes Bruce's face lightly. "I was back and forth to Metropolis all night. Right now, Lois is having her second cup of coffee. She'll be ready to speak with me midway through her third."

Bruce laughs. "You use your powers well, my friend."

Clark inclines his head. "I do try. Ah..."

Bruce leans in and kisses Clark softly and, he hopes, with *enough* promise --

Clark moans and sucks Bruce's lower lip hard before pulling back. "Thank you," he says *solemnly* --

Bruce raises an eyebrow.

"Everything you do like that is a first, beloved friend. And quite possibly a *last*."

"That's true with any --"

Clark's fingers are on Bruce's mouth. "More so with you, in my heart."

Bruce closes his eyes briefly and nods.

Clark strokes Bruce's mouth -- and flies.

Bruce takes a deep breath and listens for the clank of the weights -- but of course it's muted. Harvey has been working out in gymnasium environments since he was a boy. When they'd met at age fourteen, Harvey had been taller than most of the other boys, more muscular *and* more graceful --

Of course he'd had the awkwardness of adolescence to contend with, but it had never seemed as severe in Harvey as it had been in other boys -- or in himself, for that matter. His overlarge hands were never clumsy, and he never tripped over his own feet.

Perhaps it had been the fact that he'd done various physical jobs 'off the books' from the time he was twelve -- and inclined to lie about his age in order to have at least a few extra dollars --

"Big guy? You okay?"

Bruce blinks and focuses -- he'd allowed himself to keep walking while he woolgathered, and now he's holding the barbell Harvey was working with instead of setting it down or giving it *back*. He winces and sets it down. "I'm sorry. I was thinking about your past."

Harvey winces. "Uh -- maybe we can have as little of that as possible? Maybe?"

Oh -- "I didn't mean -- I was thinking about how graceful you were. Even as a teenager."

Harvey... looks at him.

Bruce laughs quietly. "You have to admit that you were far less likely to make a fool of yourself in P.E. than the rest of us were."

"Ah, that's nothing, Bruce," and Harvey lies back down and starts lifting again, smoothly and easily. "I just spent as much time as I could running around and playing games on the street, is all."

"Yes, along with your studies and *working*."

"Heh. When you don't wanna go home, you find all kinds of things to do."

Bruce winces again. "I'm sorry --"

"It's okay, it's okay. I know you didn't mean to go there, and *I'll* be going there in a big way once J'onn shows up to play with my brain."

"You're very brave --"

"No, big guy. I'm just less scared of J'onn than of what I can do if I don't get this taken care of. You -- why don't we talk about you, a little, hunh?"

Bruce strokes the bar, forcing himself to avoid Harvey's clenched fingers -- "I... Robin has an interesting -- and terrifying -- philosophy of life."

"Well, let's see, he dresses up in red, yellow, and green clothes which are *super* tight and goes out to fight crime every night. Oh, yeah, and he's been doing this since he was thirteen. *And* he's your ex. Your future ex. Your -- you know what I'm talking about."

Bruce hums. "I think so. You believe that I shouldn't be surprised that his way of thinking is different than my own."

"Uh, huh. But you -- you went for him," Harvey says, and frowns a little.

"Harv...?"

"I -- don't mind me, big guy. I just -- I got used to you balling socialites, only now I know -- wait, *were* you?"

"Never."

"Not *one* of them?"

"I... no," Bruce says, and fights back a blush. "I convinced many of them that we... had, though."

Harvey's frown is deeper. "Convinced *how*?"

"Hypnosis, mostly. Mild to moderate doses of sedatives and drugs which interfere with memory formation --"

"*Jesus*, Bruce --"

"I tested -- I would find ways to test my 'dates' for allergies beforehand. If one of them proved to have a sensitivity, I would 'forget' our date, or simply ignore her in favor of a woman I could safely drug --"

"Just to protect -- no, I know there's no 'just' about that," Harvey says, shaking his head and sitting up on the bench. "C'mere and sit next to me?"

Bruce nods and does so. There's not really enough room for both of them, but Bruce can't say he minds. Harvey's skin is warm and sleek with fresh sweat, and the loose workout clothes he's wearing do nothing to hide his scent --

"So... so. You weren't really doing anything with all those women."

"The kissing... the kissing and public groping were bad enough, Harv."

Harvey frowns again and nods, clenching his hands together and staring at the floor -- "So what you're saying is that you're definitely gay? Just gay, I mean."

"I don't... believe so."

Harvey turns to look at him. "Meaning there *has* been a girl somewhere?"

Dinah on Ted's *lap* -- "Not. Not the way you mean, Harv. But I've felt attraction to them."

"Well -- okay, then. You can still find a nice woman and settle down --"

"Harv... I don't think I want to. The feelings I have for men are much stronger --"

"And the ones you have for *boys* are much stronger than that?"

Bruce shakes his head. "No --"

"Well -- thank Christ for that. You really freaked me out with the way you were looking at Cardinal."

"It's only --"

"You had questions for him, I know. And..." Harvey unclenches his hands and reaches over to take one of Bruce's hands in his own.

"Oh, Harv --"

"Yeah. Yeah, we almost never did this, but, you know, secret hole in the ground and everything --"

Bruce squeezes Harvey's hand --

"Ah, big guy, I really love you, you know?"

"I. I love you, too --"

"In maybe different ways? Heh. Maybe the same ways," Harvey says, and turns to look at him. His warm, deep brown eyes aren't wide, but they're *full* -- "You know -- you gotta know I've always wanted you. Right?"

*No*, but -- that's not true. Even beyond what Dick had told him, even -- "Sometimes when you've looked at me... I've thought, perhaps, that it would be all right if I reached out."

"Aw, Bruce -- fuck. It would've been. Except that sooner or later -- probably sooner -- I would've pushed you away again."

Yes, that. "I always knew that you would never let me be with you the way I wanted --"

"Bruce --"

"Robin told me about... about something the Harvey they know said about regret."

Harvey swallows audibly. "I bet. I bet I can guess what that's about. Considering."

Bruce nods and squeezes Harvey's hand again. "I always knew you had your reasons."

"But you didn't agree with 'em."

Bruce frowns and shakes his head. "You wanted what you have now. The DA's office, a loving wife, a *future* --"

"I wanted *you* -- but, yeah, it's not like I could ever give up on anything I have, and it's not like I could see mooching off you to get along. I'm good at *one* thing, and that's the law --"

"Harv --"

"No, no, I'm not having this fight with you. I don't know why I even --"

"It doesn't have to be a fight, Harv. You -- I would never pressure you," Bruce says, and tries to be convincing, calm --

"Meaning you maybe gave up on me a long time ago, big guy?"

"I -- I've never --"

"Fuck, was that *ever* not a fair question," and Harvey laughs softly and squeezes Bruce's hand. "It's just that -- maybe I'm wondering if you would've been throwing yourself at kids if you'd. If you'd had -- someone like me."

Bruce swallows. "Harv... what are you saying?"

"That I -- that I maybe warped you? Or -- you're *you*, big guy. You were too smart to believe that I didn't want you, and you -- what did you even *think*? That it was wrong?"

"Yes --"

"It's not. It's -- it's only wrong for stupid people. *Ignorant* people --"

"I know that now --"

"Do you?" Harvey searches him a little wildly. "You know you could go out and get yourself a man? Someone good and smart and -- uh. Okay with the whole vigilante thing and also *your own age*?"

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Someone... I believe I would also need this hypothetical man to accept polyamory."

Harvey blinks. "Seriously? You -- wait, you hooked up with Robin and who *else*?"

"Superman."

"Well -- okay, he's an adult. Also an *alien*, but there's a damned Martian playing with my mind, so fine --"

"I -- I kissed Starling."

Harvey winces. "He's -- the big one. The tough guy."

"He's... much more than that."

"Of course you think so. Of course you do. You wouldn't have made out with him -- Jesus, big guy, you ever think maybe you were *repressed*?"

"Yes, Harv. More and more."

"So -- so go with that. People who were repressed can make some -- some pretty crazy decisions. You've gotta *relax* a little, figure out who you are, make the best of it. The *best*, not the -- the easiest or something."

Bruce frowns. "That makes good, objective sense --"

"*But*?"

Bruce smiles ruefully. "I've never been attracted to so many people before, Harv. It's... heady."

Harvey frowns again and nods. "Maybe... maybe you're a little drunk on it?"

"Intoxication... yes, that sounds correct."

Harvey releases Bruce's hand and cups Bruce's shoulder, instead. He squeezes hard --

"I'm listening, Harv."

"They're all... right here. Living in *your* house. Having *sex* in your house -- like no one has since your parents were still alive. That -- it's gotta be tripping your triggers, some, yeah?"

Bruce nods. "And... they're all attracted to me. Or claim to be."

"Cardinal didn't even --" Harvey blows out a breath. "Okay, yeah, he did. He absolutely did. Jesus." Harvey scrubs at his face with his hand. "Hey, is it safe to go upstairs, yet? Robin at least should have some shaving cream and a razor or two."

"Oh, there's a more traditional washroom -- hm. There *was* a more traditional washroom down here, but it may have been affected by the earthquake. I'll --"

"The what now?"

"Apparently, Gotham was hit by a terrible earthquake recently. Robin called in all of the heroes to help with relief and repairs."

"I didn't even know we could *have* earthquakes out here. I -- hell. The death toll had to be *awful*."

"Yes," Bruce says, and covers Harvey's hand on his shoulder with his own. "Let's look for a place where we can shave."

"*Good* idea. Not like I wanna look like Tokey the Bear when all those physicist guys find a way to send us where we need to go."

"Home --"

"Wherever *Gilda* is first. I gotta find her. I -- heh. Not that I haven't thought about going to see this universe's Gilda. Seeing if maybe -- I don't know. It's stupid."

"I don't think it is --"

"It is, big guy, it is," Harvey says, and stands, offering his hand.

Bruce takes it and stands --

"All the vigilantes should be built like you --"

"I'm rather glad they *aren't* --"

Harvey coughs and pulls Bruce in for a hug. "I -- it's stupid because -- okay, look, everybody here is all over you, and that's gotta be making you think positive, but you *still* don't know everything the me from this universe *did*. I -- he broke her heart. He had to have done it. Time after *time*..." Harvey shudders --

Bruce holds him more tightly. "You're not him --"

"I *look* like him. Enough like him to make your pal Robin try to strangle me when I first woke up --"

"Oh -- *no* --"

"He apologized, big guy, relax. And I can't blame him one little bit," Harvey says, patting Bruce's back and pulling away. "Shave?"

"Yes, of course. I think I saw something that might be the remains of a washroom --"

And then Alfred clears his throat. He's several yards away, but he had still managed to get down the stairs silently --

He is himself. "Good morning, Alfred."

"And to you, Master Bruce. Master Harvey," Alfred says, and inclines his head. "If you would both follow me upstairs, I have prepared a collection of toiletries I believe you will find to your liking."

"Oh, God, Al, you know how to make a guy smile," Harvey says, and does just that. "I'm not *allowed* to grow a beard."

"Indeed, sir? While many young men are incapable of developing the gravitas necessary to be truly suited to a beard, I have always felt that you had no such weaknesses."

Harvey laughs. "Ah, I only have gravitas when I'm in front of a judge, Al. The rest of the time I'm just a guy. You know that."

Alfred blinks rapidly before turning to Bruce, and it's the *only* sign that he's having any difficulty with the situation, but -- both he and Harvey see it.

"Say, you okay? I know -- this has gotta be incredibly hard for you."

Bruce nods. "Please, Alfred. If there's anything I can do --"

Alfred reaches out and pats Bruce's forearm with his gloved hand before folding his hands together again. "I am quite well, Master Harvey, and I will be sure to let you know, Master Bruce. Please, follow me," and he turns and walks toward the stairs.

Harvey looks a question at him, but all Bruce can do is shake his head. Alfred was never a father to him -- he had been quite clear that he could never be that, and Bruce remembers feeling a strange and *hollow* gratefulness for that -- but, at the same time, what *do* you call someone who cooked your food, cleaned your messes, cared for your injuries, taught you how best to comport yourself in any given situation, told you stories, learned your hurts... and everything else?

*Everything* else.

Bruce shakes his head again -- internally this time -- and focuses on following Alfred without tripping himself on the backs of Alfred's shoes. He can see that Harvey is still troubled, but they've all given him far too many reasons to *be* troubled.

If anything, this place should be made an island of calm for him while he works through his emotional difficulties. They should *all* be helping him --

And a part of Bruce would very much like to know when and why the rest had begun thinking of Bruce's and Dick's families as a single entity. Bruce winces internally --

Harvey rests a hand on Bruce's lower back. Bruce can almost hear his "keep it steady, big guy," and he can't help but think of all the times Harvey had told him just that. Times when Bruce had grown blackly angry at how unfairly Harvey had been treated by the professors and other adults at Exeter, or when he had grown distinctly anxious and wary about going to one of the dances, or when he'd simply become lost in his thoughts about something Harvey -- and the rest of the world -- found perfectly normal. Things like naming conventions for American cars, or the way most members of so many different ethnicities didn't automatically try to get to know people from other ethnicities or races, or anything else.

Bruce was *very* slow as a child, and a teenager, and, apparently, even as an adult. He has no difficulty seeing how he would've learned from someone like Dick, and he's already learned from Clark and Jason, as well. He'd *known* as a teenager that he needed people who were more worldly to *help* him. Why had he forgotten?

What possible help could he be to Gotham if he hides himself from the people who know her best? Who are *capable* of knowing her best?

Alfred leads them up to the second floor -- and pauses. And clears his throat without turning to face them.

"Al...?"

"Master Harvey, your bedroom is here to the right, and you will find the toiletries in the bathroom along with several... older suits which should fit you well. I'm afraid the suit you were wearing when you came to us is in need of extensive repairs -- if, indeed, it is salvageable at all."

"Al, you're a miracle worker," Harvey says, and moves to clap Alfred on the shoulder lightly before turning to face him. "Are you *sure* you're okay, though?"

Alfred's smile is gentle, but shows all the years between the last time they'd seen him in their own universe and the now of *this* universe. Fifteen years, and some of those years must have been very long, indeed.

"Please, Alfred. I know I've made your life very difficult over the years, but if there's anything I -- *we* -- can do to ease this time for you, you must let us know."

Alfred hums and closes his eyes for a brief moment. When he opens them again, his expression is shrewd -- and focused on Bruce himself. "You and I must talk, Master Bruce, but I confess that I am not sure where to begin."

"We'll find a way together, Alfred."

Alfred blinks rapidly again -- and then gestures to the suite which had -- as far as Bruce knows -- last been used by a cousin who'd died in a boating accident when Bruce was only four --

"I'm goin', Al. Uh. Say --"

"There are some few breakfast items waiting for you in the small dining room when you are ready for them, Master Harvey."

Harvey's grin is bright and rueful. "Thanks, Al. I mean it."

"You are quite welcome, sir," Alfred says, and they watch him walk into the suite together.

Once he's out of earshot, Bruce turns back to Alfred. "I imagine Dick has taken the master suite?"

"In truth, Master Bruce, it had been his to share with you for many years."

Bruce swallows and nods. "How. Would you tell me how it happened? From your perspective, I mean."

Alfred gives him a very long and level look. "Are you saying that you do not know for yourself, Master Bruce?"

"I..." Bruce shakes his head. "Was he... very like Cardinal?"

Alfred blinks again, *starts* to shake his head, and then gestures Bruce to follow.

Bruce does so, and they pass the bedroom suite which had been -- apparently -- favored by Bruce's grand-aunt Germaine, the sitting room which hadn't been used in Bruce's lifetime, the long window seat Bruce had sat in to read more times than he could count --

Times when he could've joined his mother in the library but *hadn't* --

The last suite in the hall also hadn't been used in Bruce's lifetime, but it's bright and only smells *very* faintly of dust. The linens are fresh, the windows are thrown open on as clear and fresh a day as Gotham and its environs ever get --

Bruce nods his approval, Alfred inclines his head, and then Alfred gestures him toward the bathroom.

The shaving materials aren't the same --

"Master Dick chooses to use your razor, cup, and brushes."

Bruce nods and tests the edge of the new-to-him razor reflexively, nodding his approval and preparing the cream on something like autopilot. "I would like to know as much about that time as possible."

"Do you truly intend to do things differently, Master Bruce?"

Bruce frowns. "I'd like to believe that I could have... more and better self-control."

Alfred nods. "This is something anyone would desire, I believe..." Alfred takes a deep breath and meets Bruce's eyes. "You told me that you had never felt for anyone what you felt for Master Dick. You told me that you were, at all times, both moved and something very like stunned. You told me that you feared yourself with him --"

"Yes. Yes, I must have --"

Alfred holds up a hand. "You told me that when you held yourself apart from him, he felt the distance and grew hurt. In truth, you did not have to tell me that, at all. I believe -- I must believe -- that there was a time when the young sir's feelings for you could have been defined as being nothing but, or at most little more than, an adolescent crush, which could then be set aside with the care and good sense of the adults around him. I believe this despite the fact that I observed no such moment."

Bruce stops stirring the cream -- no, the texture will be all wrong if he does that, and Alfred hates it when his shave isn't perfect. He -- he stirs. "Is there more, Alfred?"

Another gentle smile. "Master Jason would say -- in his own painfully obscene way -- that there is always 'more,' and that the nature of the world we live in precludes an end."

("The end of the world isn't so bad.")

But what is happening in his own world?

What --

Had all the pockets grown together in some way?

What of all the *people*?

Of *Dick*, eleven years old and still living in the only world he's known --

He doesn't know what that world is, but he *must* find a way to save it for Dick --

Against his wishes.

Against his own...?

"Master Bruce...?"

"When... will the people working on the problem of my presence here know to call even when Dick isn't available?"

"Master Dick has made himself into an individual who is always, for better of worse, available."

"But -- he's taking his brothers to school --"

"And he's wearing the waterproof, shock-proof, pressure-proof, *et cetera*-proof communicator which can and does connect him to *every* vigilante on the planet, in one way or another."

Bruce frowns. "That can't possibly be -- when does he *rest*, Alfred?"

Alfred hums. "Master Clark has been known to... insert himself into the lives of those people who would call on Master Dick when he is sleeping."

"When does *Clark* rest?"

Alfred raises an eyebrow --

And Bruce blinks and nods. "He did tell me that, though he didn't explain it. I believe a part of me seized on the omission as proof that it could forget the entirely unpalatable discovery."

Alfred rests his hand on Bruce's forearm and squeezes gently --

Bruce has stirred the cream enough. He applies it evenly and carefully, grateful to not have to subject himself to the Fortress' shaving *lasers* again. For all that he'd been smoother than he'd been since his teen years, it had all been slightly traumatic. And --

"Please. Please tell me more of Dick."

"When you did acquiesce to the desires you and Master Dick shared, I told myself that it was a matter of the lives you led, and that the two of you could not possibly fall so far into each other..." Alfred frowns and shakes his head. "That was not the truth."

"Alfred...?"

"I spun a fantasy of the young sir growing out of his more... difficult feelings for you. I encouraged you to encourage him to spend as much time as possible with the young heroes your allies had gathered to themselves, and you made sure that they had a place of their own to gather and rest where all of their needs would be fulfilled without their ever having to call on their guardians."

"Did I...find that difficult?"

"I did not ask, Master Bruce."

Bruce frowns and pauses to flick foam and hair from the blade. "Alfred... please."

"I saw jealousy in your eyes many times... but you worked diligently to protect Master Dick from the consequences of it."

Bruce nods. "That's what Dick implied. I..."

"You were afraid that he was exaggerating the truth?"

"It's nearly textbook for the victims of some abusers to paint their victimization as love --"

Alfred holds up a hand again. "Master Bruce, I must ask you. Are you questioning me now so that you may learn how to protect a child, or are you doing so in order to better punish yourself for the failures of another man?"

Bruce swallows. "You do see it as a failure."

And Alfred seems to pause all over, rearing back *slightly* --

He knows --

"I see," Alfred says. "The third option -- you seek absolution for crimes you have committed in your heart, if not yet in the flesh."

Bruce shaves himself carefully and quickly. It wouldn't do to -- to --

"Master Bruce... we have never discussed these... predilections."

"Perhaps. Perhaps we should. Or... there's so much I could never speak of to a psychiatrist --"

Alfred raises his hand once more.

Bruce shuts his mouth, breathes, and continues to shave. And waits.

He can see Alfred staring at the floor in the mirror, and he can see Alfred's *jaw* work. This is hurting Alfred so *badly*, and surely the other Bruce must have known that, that it *would* --

How could he have been so *selfish*?

"Master Bruce. I guided you away from your 'hands-on' involvement in the Wayne Foundation when you decided that more money and time should be spent on children's charities. Did you never wonder why?"

It had been when he was twenty-one. He'd been resting at home for six months, since he knew he had to wait at least eight to get time with the muay Thai sensei who had come most highly recommended. He had spent his days training his mind and reteaching his body the lessons he'd learned in the past three years -- and he'd had a great deal of free time.

Not enough of it to keep from feeling grateful when Alfred had encouraged him to leave the business of the charity to those who were more experienced, though, and --

"Are you saying... you feared I would... take up with one of the charity's recipients?" And when he looks at Alfred, his eyes are hard. Bruce puts the razor down. Just -- for a moment. He can't keep his hands from shaking. "Alfred. How -- how did you *know*?"

Alfred looks him over for a long moment -- and then nods once. "I had to be certain, Master Bruce."

"Of -- oh. You thought that I already knew this about myself? That I was lying for sympathy, or to have an excuse? Alfred, I know that there *is* no excuse. I only..." Bruce shakes his head and stares at his hands until they still, and then for a moment longer before he finishes shaving. "I would like to know that you could still respect me --"

"Yes, Master Bruce," Alfred says, and steps closer, resting his bare hand on Bruce's biceps for a moment. "If you had asked me that question before I realized what you were -- what you *could* be, given precisely the wrong sorts of opportunities --"

"What I became when I took Dick in --"

"No. You." Alfred swallows and shudders once. "I can only speak as the man I am. I can only speak as the man who tried to raise you in the absence of the people you truly needed. I can only speak as the man who loves you as... as a son --"

"Oh -- Alfred --"

"*Wait*," Alfred says, and his eyes are hard again, sharp and -- not icy. There's far too much *feeling* for that.

Bruce nods dumbly and waits.

After a moment, Alfred nods. "I have neither authority nor objectivity, and so it is perhaps meaningless that I say you have never hurt a child, and never will... but it is all I have to say just the same."

Bruce blinks. "Alfred...?"

Alfred pats Bruce's arm once more and then slips the glove back on. "I will never -- *can* never -- give my blessing to your... your *affairs*, Master Bruce, but I will not and cannot condemn them, either. Do you understand?"

"I do. And I believe I am more frightened of myself than I was before."

Alfred smiles sharply and raises an eyebrow. "I believe that is the best we can hope for. For all that I wish you only happiness, I have seen the good which has come from your fears, Master Bruce, and that is where I rest my own fears -- as well as my hopes. Do you understand?"

Bruce stands straight. "Yes, Alfred. I will never offer hurt."

"Be sure to use the lotion I've provided after you have finished your shave. It is of a better grade than what you became used to... in your own universe," Alfred says, and blinks again.

"I will, Alfred. I... will you accept my apology for all the difficulties I've given you over the years?"

Alfred's smile is gentle again. "I have always felt that it was the prerogative of a parent to deny such things out of hand." And Alfred turns and walks away, pausing in the bedroom -- "I will expect you for breakfast in no more than ten minutes."

"I -- yes, Alfred."

Alfred allows Bruce to hear him walk to the hallway before moving back into his usually silent gait.

Bruce finishes his shave and applies the lotion. It does indeed feel even more refreshing than usual.

*

The alarm on Jason's incredibly special and complicated 'watch' goes off just as he's walking out of English class on his way to pick up Tim -- before he 'accidentally' provokes any *more* fights over how goddamned queer he is --

And really --

*Really* -- Jason can't blame him. They go to school with the richest, most motherfucking *entitled* assholes in the state. When Jason was Tim's age, he was still flat-out daring fuckers to fuck with him.

Tim's more subtle about things, but the fights still happen. Mainly because *some* of these guys are smart enough to understand when Tim whips out the fifty-cent words to insult them, and -- yeah. Jason can't *blame* him, but Tim made the decision to live *way* the fuck out loud, and, yeah, that just has a little too much in common with a certain local vigilante who's *also* black-haired and fucking *diminutive*.

So. No fights allowed.

Still, if *his* alarm is going off -- and yes, he *is* heading to the designated exit for this time of day, right at the northeast corner of the campus -- then so is Tim's. Considering where his last class is located, he should already be out the door, and maybe -- just maybe -- he hasn't convinced any of his admirers to *follow* him out the door because they're just *that* passionate for his company.

You'd think at least some of these guys would *learn*, but then you'd *stop* thinking that, because --

("Minor injuries only... means that they come back for *more*, Jay. Over and *over* again.")

Because Tim is Tim. And *not* Tink for these little sessions, because *Tink* likes to *maim* bigots, and maybe cripple their hands a little. *Tim* likes to fight like an extremely mean girl who's maybe not as committed to ass-kicking as she could be.

No breaks, a minimum of sprains. No scars, not too much bleeding.

No reports to the school authorities, because that would endanger the fuckheads' theoretical payback --

("I *do* think first, Jay.")

A whole fucking lot of blows to the sac and *seriously* sexual teasing --

("I like to think of it as doing my part to help these poor, brainwashed young men along their way to their happy futures as fulfilled, productive gay men."

"You *like* to give them nightmares about waking up on their hands and knees with big, fat cocks up their asses.")

Which is probably why he's thinking more about Tink shoving a gauntleted hand down his pants than about the alarm --

That's never even *fun* as opposed to fucking painful --

He's still fucking thinking about it. Jason sighs and pushes through the door, doing a quick scan for preppies curled up on the ground gripping their nuts -- none today. Okay, then.

And there just happens to be a big, green minivan parked on the street. *The* big, green minivan to be precise --  because sometimes Dick does terrible fucking things when Jason talks shit about the Robinmobile.

*Unforgivable* things.

Jason sighs and does the quick-and-casual walk to the thing, swings into the back -- and stops dead, because Dick is *right* there kissing the *life* out of Tim. Just --

Okay.

Okay --

Dick pulls back -- "Close the door, Jay," he says, and that's not fair, because right now he sounds like the kind of porn that's actually worth something --

Jason closes the door --

Tim *gasps* --

And Jason sees that Dick has a fucking *grip* on Tim's tackle. Tim's eyes are wide and *blown* --

Tim's seat is fully reclined --

And Dick is looking *him* over.

"Uh. Big Bird?"

"I think. I think I'm not really thinking *well* right now," and Dick's laugh is cracked and *fucked* --

"That's fair --"

"I need you. Both of you. *Right* now."

And there goes his cock. Just -- "Uh. Fuck?"

Dick licks his lips. "Do you want this, Jay?"

Jason hears himself make a sound like --

He doesn't even *know* what that sound is, except that it's *close* to the noise he'd made when Tink had to wear that Catholic schoolgirl's uniform. "Dick. Uh." Think. Think. Just -- fucking *think* -- oh, yeah. "In the *car*?"

"I'm okay with being in the car for this. I think -- I think I'd like to build many happy memories in this car," Tim says, licking his lips and kinda *pushing* into Dick's hand --

Dick *purrs*. "Oh, little brother. I've got you. You know that, right?"

Tim whimpers and nods --

Jason folds himself into a seat and tries -- thinks --

Grabs his *own* tackle and thinks about big, messy news stories about *scandals* --

Okay. "Dickie, man, drive us off by the athletic fields, at least. They'll be deserted --"

"We *have* tinted windows, little wing --"

"And we -- we're totally gonna make the mommy-box rock on its shocks, Dick. C'mon, think with the big head."

"I'm insulted that *you* are -- but I can wait for a few minutes," Dick says, and *leers* at him --

Jesus -- "Uh. I'm in shock right now, k? Don't be insulted. *Drive*."

Dick licks his *lips* --

Tim moans --

And Dick yanks Tim's shirt out of his pants and shoves his tongue in Tim's belly-button --

"*Fuck* -- ohn -- Dick, *please* --"

Dick grabs Tim's hips and -- God, Jason can see the tendons and veins sticking out. He's holding on *tight* --

"Oh, Dick, I'll do *anything* --"

Dick growls and bites Tim's belly in about nineteen different places --

Tim whimpers and arches like he's *dying* for it --

And maybe Jason is fucking *pumping* himself through his stupid-ass uniform pants --

*Definitely* he is, because it looks like Dick is *devouring* Tim, eating him right up --

"C'mon. C'mon, Big Bird --"

Dick growls and bites the thin skin right over Tim's ribs --

Right over Tim's *bruise* --

Tim *shouts* --

And then Dick is bending and twisting and folding and spindling himself into the front seat and Jason can breathe.

And reach over to just kinda *rub* Tim a little, cool him down, heat him up, *feel* him up --

Tim is panting and moaning every few seconds, and -- yeah. He's *tenting* his pants.

"Why don't you open up, baby? Get a little breathing room --"

"No," Dick says, and drives. "That's mine right now."

Jason grunts. "Uh. What about --"

"You..." Dick gives that really *sunny* laugh that means everything's *okay* --

Jason *relaxes* --

"You've got another few minutes before you're my property, little wing --"

"*Jesus*, Dick --"

"Like you haven't had that fantasy," Dick says, and winks in the fucking *rearview* --

"Yes, okay, I've had that fantasy --"

"I -- I have definitely had that fantasy," Tim says, and starts stroking his own chest a little. He looks *dazed* --

And Jason would be, too. Just -- "Neither of us have had that fantasy involving the *minivan* --"

"Actually --"

"*Tim* --"

"All right, no, I haven't, but I'm having it right now and I think that counts," and Tim licks his lips and spreads his legs more --

Dick shows his *teeth* in the rearview --

"Dick --"

"Jay. If I took you guys to a place with a bed -- or even with better-quality carpeting -- both of you would be walking funny tonight."

Jason makes *that* sound again.

Tim's noise is more strangled --

"I'm not... uh... do I get to ask what made you change your mind?" And Jason knows his voice is a little too *cautious* for the moment, but --

Dick sighs. "I need you. I used Clark last night for -- for the last time --

And then Clark is in the passenger seat --

Dick snickers and *swerves* --

"Oh, do be careful, Dick," Clark says, and steadies the steering wheel.

"*Thank* you, Clark --"

"You're very welcome. Ah --"

"I didn't mean I'd stop making *love* with you," Dick says, snickering *more* --

"Oh, good! I did have to check," and Clark pats Dick's shoulder and turns around to smile at them.

Well, mostly he's smiling at their bulges, so Jason flexes his cock in a little hello twitch --

Clark licks his lips and *starts* to crawl into the back with them --

Dick growls and grabs Clark by the cape.

"Oh -- yes, I see," Clark says, and sits back down. "Perhaps you should tell them about the other thing that went into your decision...?"

Dick shows his teeth in the rearview again and pulls into the shady little parking lot that butts up to the *tiny* patch of woods that makes the Eston brochures look so pretty. "Bruce wants *both* of you."

"*Ahn*!"

"Aw, Jesus, Big Bird, lemme touch him a *little* --"

"Mmm... no," Dick says, and crawls back to join them again. "Alfred made a *point* of telling me that I should watch you both closely for 'signs of difficulty related to Master Bruce.' So --"

"Wait, wait, *Alfred* told you Bruce wanted our asses?"

Dicks shows even *more* of his teeth as he opens Tim right up --

Tim arches to make it easier -- and probably because he *has* to --

"To be *exact*... Alfred essentially told me that Bruce would be *going* for your delightful little asses, and... heh. I saw you both *first*," and Dick's eyes get that crazy light which usually means --

Crazy. It means crazy.

Jason checks himself to see if he cares --

Tim whimpers and *holds* himself arched because he can't fucking do anything else --

Yeah, he doesn't care. Mostly doesn't care. Wait. "Dick --"

Dick holds up a finger and sucks hard on the head of Tim's cock --

"*Dick*!"

Dick closes his eyes and *moans* -- and yeah, Jason can see it. He's tasting his little *brother*, and that's making him --

God, Jason *needs* --

Dick pulls back and pants. "Making love to Bruce -- he was better. He *is* better. So much more *generous* -- I can be that. I can *make* myself --"

"Don't --"

"*No*, Jay --"

"I just -- I was just gonna say don't *hurt* yourself, Dick..."

Dick licks his lips and then turns to face Jason --

He looks Jason *over* --

Jason's cock twitches like the idiot it is --

And Dick smiles. "I know you'll have my back, Jay --"

"Fuck, *always* --"

"I know... I know you won't let me fall," Dick says, shivering all over and then turning back to Tim. "One day, little brother, I'm going to fuck you until you *cry*."

*Tim's* cock twitches and fucking *leaks* for that --

"Oh... oh, yeah, little brother? That's what you want...?"

"I -- I want *you*, Dick -- I've always --"

Dick presses his fingers to Tim's mouth --

Tim whimpers again and twists until he can suck those fingers *in* --

Dick narrows his eyes --

Tim looks a *challenge* at him --

"Oh, Tim, you..." Dick licks his lips and starts *fucking* Tim's mouth with his fingers. "I'll give it to you. I'll make you -- you won't have to wait. *We* won't have to wait --"

"Oh -- *drat*," Clark says, and frowns vaguely north.

Dick smiles *gently* -- which looks fucking *odd* with the crazy-eye thing, but -- "Where's the problem, Clark?"

Clark sighs. "Nova Scotia. Really a terrible storm, and I --"

"Have to go. I know. I promise we'll tell you *everything*," Dick says, reaching back with his free hand --

Clark kisses Dick's fingertips, smiles at Jason, licks his *lips* at Tim --

And then he's gone.

"Alone at last," Dick says. "You won't be able to call for help..."

Jason snorts. "Dick, I think we're both *okay* with you taking it out on us a little."

Dick raises an eyebrow at him and fucks Tim's mouth faster. "Just a little...?"

Tim moans and starts pumping his little hips, starts *needing* at Dick --

"You. You can't make him wait too much longer --"

"Answer the question."

And there goes his cock *again* -- "Fuck. A *lot*, Big Bird. You can -- what are you even actually *into*?"

"Depends on the person. You know that. And even then..." Dick shakes his head and pulls his fingers out of Tim's mouth, then drags them around and around Tim's cock in a spiral.

Tim pants and clutches at the sides of the chair --

Jason licks his lips -- "Even then?"

"Sometimes... sometimes you build up fantasies about a person. What they'd like from you, what they'd want to do *to* you, *for* you.... you know what I mean?"

Jason nods and *then* thinks -- yes, he knows. "But -- it's different if you wait too long?"

"And sometimes if you don't wait, at all --" Dick shakes his head and makes a cock ring for Tim with his fingers --

"Oh! *Dick* --"

"Shh," Dick says and kisses Tim all over his face. "I know you like it when your lovers get a little dirty."

"*Yes* -- I mean. I can shut up," and Tim's eyes are wide and *half*-dazed. He'd had a little time to get himself *together* --

"I've wanted you so *much*, little brother. I've listened to the noises you make for Jay, for Kon, for *Bart*..."

What -- but Tim planted bugs. Of course he did.

"Did. Did you watch?"

Dick smiles and nods. "Sometimes, anyway. Clark would helpfully tell me which time stamps to fast-forward to."

Tim groans and squeezes his eyes shut -- because Dick is pinching and *pulling* on his nipples, switching his free hand back and forth --

God, when -- "When. When I do that to him --"

"You have to fuck him. *Every* time. I know, little wing. I *think* I have a little more control than that."

"That's... good?"

Dick smiles *wetly* at him. "I know I'll have the control after I fuck your mouth... Jaybird."

"Aw -- *Jesus*," and Jason grabs his cock through his pants and squeezes *hard* --

Dick narrows his eyes. "You're that ready for me already?"

"Fucking -- you're *you*, you're not talking the bad crazy, and also you're molesting my baby *brother*. What the fuck do *you* think?"

"I think... I think we can do most of our talking later," Dick says, scooting back into the foot-well, punching the button that makes Tim sit up --

"*Ahn* --"

And Dick growls and takes Tim's cock right in --

Fuck, he's even lipping his own fingers -- and Tim's rigid and silent save for fucked little gasps, shaking all *over* --

"You're gonna come as soon as he lets go, aren't you, baby?"

"Nnh -- nnh --" Tim nods jerkily and grips Dick's hair --

Dick hums *loudly* --

Tim cries out and starts to *pump* --

"You do that... you do that to your Superboy...?"

Tim nods and *sobs*, and -- fuck. It's not like he *wants* to watch Tim with his incredibly annoying and *young* team, but if Dick watches it --

If Dick watches it to get *off* -- yeah, Jason's been missing something. He's not missing anything *now*, though. Dick is working his head on Tim's cock in *just* the right rhythm --

Tim is crying out and -- he yanks his right hand out of Dick's hair and starts to beating at the window with his *fist* --

Dick reaches up and *grips* Tim's wrist --

And Tim's rigid again, straining and tossing his head just like --

"Is he sucking you *hard*, baby?"

"*Nnh* -- Jay -- oh, it's so *good* --"

"Tell me --"

"*Hurts* --"

"*Fuck*, I want -- I don't fucking know what I want --"

"Ngh --" And then Tim is gasping out some *fucked* laughter --  yeah, he knows exactly what Jason means.

And Jason *really* wants to get his pants off before his boxer-briefs get too fucking *slick*, but -- Dick's party right now, and he wants them to fucking *feel* it --

He's humming *rhythmically* now --

Tim is *writhing*, and the sounds he's making don't even sound completely *human* --

"C'mon. C'mon, Dick, get him *off* --"

"*Please* --"

Dick grunts and lets go of Tim's wrist to push his hand back up under his shirt again --

Tim cries out *loudly* --

"*Fuck*, Dick, *please*, I need you --"

Dick grunts again and takes his hand out of Tim's shirt so he can *choke* him --

"You fucking better not let Superboy do *that* --"

Tim *grins* -- and then his mouth falls open and his eyes go wide --

Dick moves his hand --

And Tim is fucking *yowling* the way he usually only does when he's getting fucked on his hands and *knees* -- Dick's letting him come.

Dick is *swallowing*, and even knowing that he would --

That he fucking *always* would, and Roy was *crystal* clear about that --

("He sucks it down like you're about to run *out*.")

Tim is *shuddering* --

And then he gasps and slumps as Dick pulls off and jerks the lever that makes the seat recline again.

Tim moans softly -- he's so not going anywhere right now. Just -- no. Dick, however, is looking at *him* --

And maybe that was definitely a fucking whimper coming out of him. "My turn?"

Dick licks his lips and nods --

"Fuck, get your cock *over* here. Or -- no, get in the back so I have *room* to go down on you the right way --"

"Are you giving orders, Jay...?"

"Uh? May-- no?"

Dick smiles that fucking *dangerous* smile -- the one that makes his smile-lines look like *weapons* --

"Okay, no, I was definitely not giving orders. Sir?"

"Get in the back."

"Yes, definitely --"

"Open your pants and take your dick out where I can see it, Jay..."

Jason moans and *follows* orders, because he can fucking *do* that --

And Dick's right next to him on the bench seat just that fast, *gripping* him in his hard, callused hand --

Jason grips the seat and tries to do more than pant. Just -- he's wanted that hand from the word *go*. The hand that didn't get soft even after hours in the gauntlets, even after a ton of moisturizer, even after fucking *marinating* in the massage oil he'd used to turn Jason into fucking *pudding* --

Hands that have been hard and fucking *tough* since Dick was a *kid*, because people fucking *work* in circuses --

"You like this, Jay...?"

"Yeah. Fuck -- your *hand* --"

"I watched you grow this pretty dick, little wing..."

Jason moans and *arches* --

"*Down*."

"*Fuck* -- yeah, okay, I'm down, I'm down -- *mm* --"

Dick's kissing him like he's gotta make a fucking point, like --

Jesus, in the parking lot at their *school*, and this can't *possibly* be anything like a good idea --

But Dick's kissing him, and he's wanted that, he's *needed* that, because Dick's mouth is just a little smaller and *harder* than his own, because Dick doesn't kiss if he doesn't mean it -- he'd known that by *looking* at the guy --

("Oh, *yeah*, Jay, he can -- 'mano can make a guy forget his own *name* when he wants you --")

And Kory had sighed at him when he'd asked *her* --

("Sometimes, he would try to *distract* me with his kisses... and I must admit that he could come very close...")

And then her hair just *was* around his ankle and he was on the floor and, no, he *doesn't* know when the fighting turned to fucking, and he's okay with the fact that he never will --

Just like he doesn't know when Dick started stroking him off or when he'd starting *pumping* --

Fuck, he's gotta stay *down* --

But Dick isn't stopping, so maybe --

No, he'll stop, he'll hold still --

Dick pulls back and *licks* Jason's mouth. "Good boy. Ready for more?"

Jason opens his mouth -- and whimpers because Dick's grip strength is *almost* as good as Jason's own and he's fucking *using* it -- "Dick --"

"Shh, yes or no question."

"Uh -- yes? Yes. I mean --"

And then Dick throws himself back against the door, making the minivan rock that much more -- his jeans are already open. He --

God, he just fucking whips it *out*, and, yeah, Jason's seen it a million times before, and he's even seen it *hard* --

But not that hard. Not that slick and fucking *ready*, foreskin all pulled back --

"Dick..."

"C'mon, Jay. Gimme your mouth," Dick says, and his eyes are bright and hungry --

And his cock looks even hungrier, and Jason is nodding and leaning in, letting his own cock dangle and swing --

"Dick... ah. Would you mind terribly if I sucked Jay off while he was sucking you --"

"Yes, I *would* mind, little brother. Stay put," and Dick doesn't turn away from Jason for even a *second* -- "Faster, Jay -- *mm* --"

"Mmm," Jason says, because he can't actually manage anything else with his mouth full. The thing is, he can take Dick *easily* at this point, but he also really fucking can't.

He'd never known this taste, or this fucking *quality* of slick, or *that* sigh, or *that* hand pushing into his hair --

And it doesn't matter that the same was true with *every* first-time he ever had -- Dick is making him feel like a virgin with every slow, steady *push*, inch by inch until Dick's in his throat --

"Oh, Jay... you should know *exactly* how good you look like this..."

Out of his throat --

"You... mm. More," Dick says, *gripping* Jason's hair to keep him place --

He won't fucking *move* --

And the thrusts get faster, *smoother* somehow, and Jason can keep his fucking eyes open for this. He can't -- he has to *feel* this, just like Dick wants him to, *needs* him to.

Dick called them out of *school* for this -- and Jason's groaning in his chest, bracing himself on the seat-back and Dick's long, perfect *thigh* --

And it's gotta be okay if he strokes that a little, if he swallows as hard as he can and tries to *hold* his throat tight --

"Wanted this, Jay. Wanted *you*."

Jason tries to nod -- he can't. He -- not without *fighting* --

"Shh, just take it..."

Jason's cock twitches hard -- *fuck*. That's -- Roy at his meanest. Kal-not-Clark at his -- fucking *selfest* --

Bruce? Could it be?

Would it really be *fair* for Bruce to have all that fucking everything and *also* be a good top? Jason looks up as much as he can, looks a *question* --

Dick shows his teeth and shakes his head -- and starts thrusting *harder*.

And there's no way he can keep his eyes open for that, but maybe he can encourage -- heh. He reaches out and snaps his fingers for Tim, then points at Dick --

"*Oh* -- ah. I'm. Ah. Somewhat *focused*, Jay --"

"And so should *you* be, little wing," Dick says, and strokes Jason's cheek and ear with his free hand. "Maybe I'm not -- nn. Maybe you need a little more from me?"

Jason groans again and squeezes his eyes shut, straining to get closer somehow, get more, get that sac on his *chin* --

"Oh, but -- you're such a good boy when you really. Really buckle *down*."

Jason takes a *sip* of air -- and that's all he can get before Dick is fucking *doing* him --

Tim moans high and -- yeah, that *is* the sound of Tim stroking himself off -- he'd know that rhythm *anywhere* --

Dick is fucking *rolling* his hips up, practically *pouring* himself into Jason's mouth --

Oh, fuck, he can come in Jason's *mouth* --

And Jason strokes Dick's thigh faster --

Jason catches himself stroking Dick's thigh like it's his fucking *cock* --

And Dick's laugh is breathless and sweet. "I know what you need, Jay," Dick says, slowing to a stop --

Jason whimpers *loudly* --

Tim makes a strangled noise and starts jerking off *faster* --

And both of Dick's hands are in Jason's hair. He's --

Oh, fuck. Oh --

He's working Jason's head on his cock. He's *making* Jason --

He was doing that before, but it's *different* now. Dick is fucking controlling *him*, and that --

Is this what he'd fantasized when he thought about picking Jason up? Was this something from Clark's dream machine?

Jason's hands are fucking *shaking*, but this --

This is making him harder, needier --

He looks up -- and Dick's eyes are wild and *starving*. He looks like he's feeling everything, hearing and *tasting* everything --

His mouth is open and he's *panting* --

And when Jason tries to put everything he's feeling into his eyes, all of his pleading and the incredible fucking *ache* --

Dick winces and grunts at the same time, tightens his grip -- "*Jay* --"

Yeah, Dick, *please* --

"Jay, I -- God, I *need* you -- *hnh* --"

And Jason still can't nod, but he can maybe be a *little* soothing with the way he's stroking Dick's thigh --

"*Ohn* -- *Jay* -- "

Anything you want, anything you fucking *need* -- only a part of Jason is glad he couldn't say that, because it's not true. It -- well, he doesn't *know* if it's true, because what if Dick is still *crazy* about them? As opposed to being crazy about them in the good ways, the fun ways --

The grab-Jason-by-the-hair-and-*use* ways --

Fuck, maybe he *does* mean anything, because this is gonna fucking *work* him. It already *is*, but Jason knows there's more, that there's gonna be an *after*, and all he'll be able to do is nod and smile and try not to beg to be fucked like this every *day*. It's possible, right? He's still got something --

Something like a little *pride* --

Except that Dick's shouting now, and it feels like Jason's cock is twitching for every last one of them, twitching and *begging* --

"*Brother* --"

Tim grunts *loudly* --

Dick gasps laughter -- "Oh, Tink. Did I *say* you -- you could come again?"

Tim whimpers -- "I'm -- sorry. I will be sorry. You -- ah. Maybe let Jason breathe? Maybe?"

No, no way --

"He's checked for another -- forty-five -- *fuck* --"

And the next thing Jason knows he's on his back and Dick is everything he can see, everything he can *taste* --

Dick is fucking his throat like it's trying to get *away* --

The black is creeping around the edges of his vision and he's gotta push through, has to *take* --

"Jay -- oh, Jay, I love you so -- so *much* --"

He still can't nod and now Dick can't *see* him all that well --

"Gonna -- I'll make you *see* --"

Yes, *fuck*, yes -- but he can't keep himself from tightening up his mouth when the black creeps in a little more --

Dick shouts --

Dick growls and claws at Jason's *scalp* --

Okay, *not* letting up, and really, he should've known Dick would go for that --

"*Hnh* -- you -- *ready* --"

C'mon, c'mon while I'm still fucking *conscious* --

And Dick growls like something being torn out of the fucking air, growls like he's gonna fucking *eat* Jason after he's done fucking him --

Jason's scalp is gonna fucking *bruise* -- but Dick is shouting as he comes down Jason's throat, one spasm after another, and *God*, he wants some of that on his tongue --

"Oh -- Dick, let him *taste* --"

*Dick* whimpers -- but he manages to pull out just enough that the last spurt hits Jason's tongue and the roof of his mouth --

And the taste is Dick, *pure* Dick, right down to the fact that it even tastes like he's been eating exactly as healthily as he has been --

And it would be a bad fucking time to snicker, considering the fact that he *just* managed to get in a breath and he needs about another ten before he'll be up to doing more than passing out before his cock gets any more love.

So. Breathing --

Lots of tasting, yeah, but *breathing* --

"Oh, little wing. You're gonna turn Bruce on so *much* with that."

"He's that... ah... rough?"

Dick snickers and does some panting of his own. "*If* you can push him that far, Tim. Takes some doing, though. Keep in mind that *this* Bruce apologized for fucking my mouth about *half* this roughly -- after I'd begged for just that," and Dick pulls out slowly and gives Jason a little *room* to breathe, but --

"That *had* to have gotten old back in the day, Big Bird. But I'm thinking that if Tink can't convince the guy to ream him out, we're all SOL."

Dick snickers *more* -- "This one, I think, is just a *tad* more trainable than mine was."

Jason sits up, careful to keep his clothes from rubbing on his cock too much. "You *made* this one yours."

Dick's smile is a little wry. "I believe *you* collected the first touch."

"Aw, c'mon. *Clark* did."

Dick shakes his head. "Clark isn't part of the *immediate* family."

"So all that fucking didn't really count? 'cause I'm wondering how Bruce's *ass* feels about that."

Dick gets a thoughtful look on his face.

Tim starts to get up to move back --

And Dick points him back to his seat. Just --

Tim squeaks and sits *down*, and that --

"Dick, man, *please* tell me I can at least jerk off for *that*."

Dick's grin is lazy and --

"Also -- I gotta make Roy tell me more *stories* about you, because that's *his* fucking expression."

Dick wiggles his tongue at him --

Jason snorts --

Dick waggles his fucking *eyebrows* --

"Okay, see, if you were *really* Roy? You would've brought beers for us so we could look and smell *extra* disreputable when you sent us back to class."

*Dick* snorts, then leans over and pulls a bottle out from under Tim's seat.

"What the *shit* --"

"Ah-ah-ah, little wing -- I'll have you know that this is forty-year-old single malt scotch."

Tim kind of... squinches. "Dick... why did you bring us scotch?"

"Ah... we don't actually have any beer in the manor. I checked, and everything."

"So basically what you're saying, Big Bird, is that it seemed like a good idea for you to Roy us to death?"

"No, I'm saying it seemed like a *great* idea. And since we're three orgasms and one *delightfully* thick erection into this party -- I gotta say I'm right," Dick says, and smiles *brightly*. But --

"Dick, uh. Fuck, get me off so I can *think* clearly!"

Dick licks his lips. "Are you just going to try to reason with me afterwards, little wing...?"

"Uh... no?"

Dick touches his tongue to his upper lip and raises an eyebrow. "Promise...?"

Jason whimpers so bad -- there are whipped dogs who whimper with more dignity than he just did.

Dick strokes a line down the underside of Jason's cock with his *fingernail* --

"*Dick* --"

"Will you trust me, little wing?"

"Yes, always, I just -- I just need you to not. Uh. *Crazy*!"

Dick turns to smile at Tim. "He's always been a fighter, hasn't he?"

Tim blinks and turns away from Jason's cock. "Um? Yes! Yes. To whatever you just said."

That makes Dick snicker and reach out to stroke Tim's cheek, his chin, his mouth -- with his dirty hand.

Tim moans for it and leans in --

"What do you think, little brother?"

"I think -- penis. What?"

Dick strokes Tim's lower lip, back and forth and back -- "What do you think about me letting Jay reason us out of this?"

Tim winces --

Jason kicks Dick's shin lightly. "I am *just* soft enough to know that was totally unfair."

Dick winces -- and nods. "I can't -- I can't be myself. Not all of myself."

"*Jesus*, Dick --"

"You both *love* Roy, and he's -- heh. He taught me a *lot*, Jay. He *built* a part of me, so -- it's not like I'm lying to either of you. Not completely --"

"We need *you*, Dick," Tim says, getting up and coming back to wedge himself in Dick's damn footwell --

"Also, you couldn't have brought the limo for this?"

"Too conspicuous. Also -- also you make the cutest faces when I make you get in this minivan, Jay."

"Okay, so that was you thinking about *torturing* me --"

"Even more than I'm doing right now...?"

Jason frowns. "Dick, seriously, work with us here --"

"Yes, *please*. I know -- I know you don't want to hurt us --"

"I do, though."

Tim pants -- "Dick -- please don't get me hard again already."

Dick turns and narrows his *eyes* at Tim -- "Say. Say 'please' again."

"Ah -- please?"

"Not like that. Not --" Dick licks his lips again. "Little brother, you -- I'm trying to buy control here. I'm trying --" Dick smiles *painfully* and bangs his head against the window.

"You can --" Jason reaches out slowly and *carefully* --

And Dick grabs his wrist and squeezes hard --

"Fuck, that's such a fucking *turn-on* --"

"Then let me. Let me take care of you, Jay. Let me --" Dick takes a shaky breath and he's not *looking* at either of them.

Tim frowns at him helplessly --

Jason pinches his cock hard and *whines* for the pain -- yeah, he's going down --

And Dick is *studying* that reaction like he's filing it away for another fantasy he won't fucking *share* --no.

No. "Dick. You're gonna be scared shitless about losing too much control with us until you prove you *can* deal --"

"Or that I can't," Dick says, and his voice is -- too fucking old. Too --

"*Lean* on us, Dick. Let us --" Tim growls a little and gets that look like he's thinking seriously of nerve-striking Dick somewhere but knows he won't get away with it. Finally, he takes a deep breath and *glares* at Dick. "Is it that you don't trust us to stop you if you go too far?"

"You -- you both look up to me so *much* --"

"You're *you*, Big Bird. I -- okay, learning this side of you is fucking *new*, but we learn *fast*. And neither of us will put up with being abused -- in part because *you* taught us better than that."

Dick frowns and stares at his hands -- then laughs. "Bruce used to do this all the time. Probably when he was thinking thoughts like these..." The frown gets deeper for a moment, and then Dick nods and turns to Tim. "Suck him hard again, little brother. Stop *exactly* when I tell you... because I won't be able to put up with disobedience."

Tim catches his breath. "Oh -- Dick, are you really --"

Dick raises an eyebrow and his eyes --

It's like watching someone turn the heat up in an old-fashioned oven. It's like watching Kal -- no, not that. It's Dick, and right now it almost looks more like that *exhaustion*-fueled rage he gets sometimes at the end of the night than lust.

Almost.

Tim moans and *scrambles* out of the footwell, moving between them -- "You -- you should hold it for me. So I don't have to use my hands."

He sounds about two years younger and that's *scary*, but -- fuck, yeah. It's not like he can ever say no to Tim -- and he sure as fuck can't say no when Dick is watching like this. He's bringing his thumb up to his mouth *slowly*, the one which gets tooth-dents and fucking *calluses* during bad cases --

Jason bends his cock down to Tim --

And Tim takes just half of him. It's actually *confusing* for a moment, because Tim should be fucking *swallowing* him --

But then Jason remembers that Dick had told Tim to *suck*, and Tim is just better --

So much fucking better -- 

"Dick -- Dick, can I touch him?"

Dick shakes his head and *gnaws* on his thumb as he stares at the back of Tim's neck, at Jason's cock, at Jason's fucking *abs* --

Jason nods and pulls his button-down up over his nipples. "Can I touch myself?"

And Dick's cock twitches. Just --

He's getting hard again fucking *fast* -- "Please, Dick --"

"Call me. Call me 'big brother.'"

Tim sucks Jason fucking *hard*, but --

That -- was almost a question. But they're going with this. They -- "Big. Big brother. Please let me play with my nipples?"

Dick winces *hard* -- and then looks up to meet Jason's eyes. He's still chewing his thumb, but his other hand is *clawed* against the seat, and his eyes --

He's *searching* Jason's eyes, and Jason thinks he's maybe looking for resistance, the bad kind of teasing, contempt --"It's okay, big brother. You know I want you."

Dick nods slowly -- and equally slowly reaches down to cup Tim's head.

Tim jerks and moans around him --

Jason pants and fucking arches --

"Jason. *Down*."

Jason drops and gasps for the fucking *jar* -- "S-sorry, big brother --"

Dick licks his lips. "It wasn't all Roy. You know that, don't you?"

Roy's never left bruises on Jason's *scalp*, so -- "Yeah. I know --"

Dick nods slowly and strokes down to the back of Tim's neck --

Tim whimpers and shudders --

"Are you hard for me, little brother...?"

Tim nods -- shakes his head -- raises his hand and waves it.

Jason snorts --

"Quiet, Jay."

"Shit -- yes, big brother. Sorry --"

Dick looks at him.

Jason shuts up.

Dick tightens his grip on Tim's neck. "Are you hard for both of us, Tim?"

Tim nods *slowly* -- and Jason gets that Dick's holding on tight enough to make nodding hard --

"Tim... scrape him with your teeth. Lightly."

Tim shivers and does it, working his head --

Fucking --

Jason swallows and tries to be quiet, tries --

He still winds up whimpering for it, but *Jesus* --

And Dick takes a deep, *slow* breath and meets Jason's eyes again. "You like that pain."

"Y-yeah. I do. A lot --"

Dick nods and pushes his hand back into Tim's hair, gripping hard and pulling -- no, he's working Tim's head on Jason's cock, and that's --

Fuck -- "I -- I wanted this -- I mean. *Fuck*, I'll shut up --"

Dick smiles at him. "Maybe you need something in your mouth again?"

"Fuck, *always* -- wait, I meant to *nod* --"

Dick laughs, and it actually sounds happy and a little easy, like maybe there's *room* for the Dick they love in the midst of all the crazy --

That would be nice --

"Jay... how's this: I let you talk all you want... and you let me watch -- and direct -- Bruce fucking you once or twice."

Jason winces and fucking *slumps* -- "Jesus -- Jesus, okay, yes, sure, anytime you want, I'm not gonna -- are you *sure* it's okay that I want him?"

"It's the most natural thing in the world," Dick says, and *yanks* Tim's head back --

Jason and Tim cry out at the same damned *time* --

"Good... good boys. Tim, get back in the seat."

"Yes -- big brother?"

Dick smiles, and it looks gentle and *fucked* at the same time --

Tim moans -- "Please. Please let me suck you, too --"

"You came without my permission, little brother."

Tim moans *again* -- "I'm sorry -- I'm so sorry, it's just --"

"You're young. Needy. Hungry..." Dick licks his lips. "I've changed my mind," he says, and *yanks* Tim over his lap --

"Oh *fuck* --"

"Oh, God. Oh -- fuck, Big Bird, are you sure?"

Dick pauses with his hand hovering over Tim's ass, face pulled into kind of a *rictus* --

"It's okay," Tim says, panting and wriggling *just* until Dick folds his arm up behind his back. It's not a hard stretch for Tim, and --

"You -- " Jason swallows. "It's not that I think it's too extreme! I just -- uh. *Timing*. And -- *location* --"

"This *won't* take long," Dick says, and he looks up at Jason. His eyes are wild as *fuck*, but he's focusing, and he's *seeing* Jason --

Jason nods. "Okay. Uh. I'll wait my turn."

Dick narrows his eyes and *claws* Tim's ass. "Not something harder for you, Jay?"

"Your hands. Your hands were the hardest things I'd ever seen. Just -- you know. To put that out there."

Dick pants and growls -- stops. "You don't have to count off this time, little brother."

"Ohn -- okay?"

And Dick starts spanking Tim hard and *steadily* --

"Oh -- *oh* --"

"The first time Bruce did this to me... was after the first time *Clark* did this to me," Dick says, and his smile is nostalgic *and* crazy --

But that doesn't mean Jason doesn't wanna hear it. "Yeah? Like... uh. Did he do it like that?"

"Lighter. I was only *four*teen," and Dick laughs a little. "Of course, his hands were..." Dick shakes his head. "He did it before patrol, so his hands were as hard as they ever got. I was too horny to go out, too... needy. Tim. Are you ready for me to hurt you?"

Tim grunts and *slams* his hips against Dick's thigh --

"Don't come again, little brother..."

"Ohn -- I'm sorry, please -- please yank on my scrotum --"

Dick sighs. "You didn't have time to make love to him this morning, Jay...?"

Jason rubs at his own thighs. "God, I -- I *wanted* to, but. No. I slept late."

"Tim... don't let him sleep late anymore."

"No! I'm sorry, big brother, I won't, I *won't* -- *ahn* --" And then Tim is whimpering and writhing a little, meaning the yank was either *meaner* than what Jason gives him or that he's dying for it just that much even after *two* orgasms --

And Jason can't fucking blame him. He's *scratching* his own thighs now, and getting to the point where he's gonna *need* the first thing Dick does to hurt or he'll go off *immediately* -- say it. "Dick. I -- hurt me? You know -- uh. Some?"

Dick smiles. "Absolutely, little wing. Now, Tim... are you ready?"

"*Yes*, big brother --"

"Here," and Dick starts really *reddening* that ass up, going back and forth, getting his upper thighs -- definitely no shorts for gym this afternoon --

"Tell... please tell us more about Bruce doing you, big brother," and Jason licks his lips and almost hopes he's out of line by Dick's rules. Just -- *something* for him to sink his teeth into a little, or --

Tim's crying out *quietly* --

"I came... very close to calling him Daddy. I wanted to *be* his son, the son he loved enough to discipline, enough to *hurt*..." Dick licks his lips again. "He kept asking me if it hurt, if I liked it, if I wanted more... the answer was always yes, and, by the end, he was panting like he did after his *toughest* workouts and his sweat was dripping onto my back."

"What. What was his cock like?"

Dick smiles and lifts Tim's sac out from between his legs. "Close those thighs, little brother..."

Tim sobs and does it --

"It was hard as I'd ever seen it. Dripping. *Dark*," Dick says, and starts *patting* Tim's sac --

Tim jerks and makes a questioning sound --

"Shh, it's okay, little brother. I love you. I'll *always* love you," and as Dick speaks the pats get hard and harder --

"*You*, Dick, you, I've loved you *forever*," and Tim sounds like he's *crying* a little, not just sobbing --

Dick gasps and spanks Tim *hard* --

Tim *screams* -- and doesn't come.

And then Dick gathers Tim into his arms, holds Tim on his *lap* -- "I wish I was bigger for you, little brother," he says, and pulls Tim's head down onto his shoulder. "Breathe."

"Yes --- yes. I -- need. I can't --"

"Just breathe, Tim. You did so well for me, so... you gave me what I *wanted*."

Tim's moan is a little questioning, a little *confused* --

Jason's never spanked him that hard, and he's guessing no one else has, either. It --

"You're all right, baby. You know it had to be this way," Jason says, using the rough voice that always seems to --

There. Tim relaxes just like that, pushing close to Dick and nuzzling --

Dick sighs and smiles so *brightly* -- "Never -- you know I'll never let you go, right? I *had* to let go of the Titans, but this, you -- both of you..."

Heh. "You're ours -- and we're yours, big brother."

Dick licks his lips and reaches down to squeeze Tim's ass *hard* --

"*Ohn* --!"

"Jason... Jason is going to suck you off for me, little brother. But not yet."

"Yes -- oh, yes -- "

"Go back to your seat and wait for me. *Don't* touch yourself. If you do, I won't let you come, at all."

Tim's eyes are wide and *blown* -- "Yes, big brother," he says, and moves just as quickly and gracefully as he always does when he's focused on a goal --

And Jason lets himself look at that pretty cock as Tim eases himself down. It's not too thick, but it's gotten a lot longer in the past couple of years -- to the point where he's had really *stupid* fantasies of getting Tim in his mouth and holding him there until he just grew right down his throat --

Which is close *enough* to what he'll be doing just as soon as Dick says --

"Spread your legs, Jay."

-- something. Definitely... something. "Uh... you mean facing front or --"

"Facing me," Dick says. "And get your pants and shorts off. One ankle will do... mm. Do you know how much I love your thighs, little wing?"

Jason *resists* the urge to stroke them for Dick and just -- yeah, he can get his pants and boxer briefs down over his stupid school shoe and throw his leg up on the back rest -- "Uh. Like this? And -- you're the one who made 'em this way, big brother."

Dick narrows his eyes and leans in to *rake* his nails down Jason's inner thighs --

Jason grunts and *barely* manages not to arch -- "Please --"

"I knew the first time I got you naked that you were going to be incredible. You... *no* one who lived like you were living deserved to have that much *muscle*..." Dick licks his lips again. "Bruce... Bruce is going to want to massage every possible muscle group until you're moaning and begging."

"Fuck, big brother, *you* do that --"

'Who do you think I learned it from...?" And Dick's smile is soft and *hot* -- and it doesn't change even a little when he pulls the bottle of slick from his pocket. Just --

It's not like there are all that *many* things Dick could do which needed Jason spread out like this, but it's still a shock, still enough to make his heart hammer in his fucking *throat*. "Please," he says, and it comes out strangled, *needy* --

"I was going to leave this home... but then I caught myself heading down to the Cave to bring a massive bottle of massage oil, instead," Dick says, and laughs at himself a little. "I *think* I can stick to just using my fingers --"

"You don't have to," Jason blurts and tries to spread *wider*. "God, I. I know you know how long it's been since I've had something other than fingers... or. Uh. Finger-y tentacle things?"

"Three months. And Roy used the Superlube."

Jason groans. He'd known because he'd *watched* -- "Yeah. Yeah. He likes -- you know what he likes --"

"*He* likes fingers... but he likes giving the people what they want even more than that. And he knew you wanted it fast, hard, and repeatedly."

"Nothing..." Jason bites his lip to keep from *scooting* toward Dick -- "Nothing better than the Superlube for that. Uh. Big brother --"

"It'll be fast and hard... but you'll need a little time to recover, I think. Tell me yes, anyway --"

"*Yes*, big brother --"

Dick sighs out most of his air. "Even though it'll hurt?"

"*Yes* --"

"You love me --"

"You're also fucking *hot*, Big Bird -- I mean -- I mean I'm shutting up, because you're slicking your whole damned *hand*."

Dick laughs. "Shh. Don't worry, little wing. I only play *that* game with Roy. Still -- I want everywhere I touch you to be *good* and slick."

"Okay? Uh. What -- what do you need me to --"

And Dick has his dry hand on Jason's shoulder and his slick hand right *there* --

" -- do? Please --"

"Beg for it," Dick says, searching Jason's eyes and then studying his mouth, and then going back to his eyes --

"Please, D-- big brother -- please fuck me, please *do* me, I've thought about it -- I wanted you to bend me over the *car* --"

"Jay."

"Uh. Yeah? Also -- also... oh, God, Dick, your *fingers* --"

"Right here, little wing, right where. Where you're *hottest*..."

Tim whimpers and shifts on his seat --

And Dick turns Jason back to face him. "Just me."

"Yeah, okay -- sorry, big brother --"

"You fantasized about me fucking you over the car you habitually make fun of."

"It's *yours*."

Dick opens his mouth and pants, searching Jason a little more -- "You want me. Somehow... somehow that just brings it all home," he says, and laughs softly. "Oh, Jaybird... scream."

"Wha -- oh, *fuck* -- *fuck* -- *Dick* --"

"Louder," and Dick twists his fingers, his *two* fingers, in so deep --

No fucking *prep* --

"*Jay*."

Jason whimpers and tries to fight through the shock, the pressure so heavy that it's not even *pain*, yet --

But then Dick twists again and Jason is yelling, reaching down to try to spread his ass wider --

Dick knocks Jason's hands away and starts to *thrust* --

In and in and --

And the shock and pressure turns to a burn, something that smolders the way fires that are *about* to flare up do. Jason knows he's still yelling, that his mouth is open and his eyes are as wide as a *kid's* --

It -- or maybe something else -- makes Dick wince and press *up* --

Jason cries out and -- fuck, he's gripping the little hook for suits and shit --

Okay, he just heard the thing crack. Maybe. Maybe if he just grabbed the seatback or something --

"Jay."

Jason gasps --

Whimpers --

"*Dick* --"

"You looked..." Dick bites his lip *hard* for a moment -- "You looked like you were losing focus again."

Jason shakes his head and tries --

If he can just stay *still* --

"Your fingers -- so fucking --" Jason grunts, clenches, and grunts *again* --

Dick pants. "Oh, little wing... work your hips."

Jason nods *frantically* and does just that, throwing his head back and letting himself picture --

Roy, because Dick is using his fingers like he's never fucking *doubted* that he knew how to do it right --

Clark, because those fingers go so fucking deep, fucking long-ass fingers --

*Dick*, *Robin*, because those fingers know they're fucking *welcome*, and Jason can't keep himself from twisting his hips in the opposite direction --

"Oh, Jay..."

Jason whimpers and nods, takes *more*, deeper somehow --

He *needs* Dick, needs --

"I'm right here, little wing. I -- I'm so sorry --"

"*No* --"

"I'm sorry I *waited* --" 

"*Fuck*, big brother, okay, you can be sorry, you can totally -- please don't *stop* -- *nnh* --"

"You liked that. That little..." And then Dick does it again, that --

"You -- crooking and... rubbing?"

Dick's smile is a little dazed as he nods. "Tricky without superpowered fingers... but you're not too tight for me."

Jason shakes his head --

Jason *nods* --

"Please. Please --"

"I'm here. I'm here, and I -- " Dick closes his eyes for a long moment, but he doesn't stop --

Thank fucking *Christ*, he doesn't stop, because there's *enough* lube, but not for a fuck this hard, this *good* --

Jason's gonna fucking *feel* this --

"I want -- I want *that*," Tim says, and he sounds helpless, sounds so *good* --

"You -- heh. You can have *this*, little brother," Dick says, and wraps his free hand around the base of his cock --

Tim moans like he's *dying* --

"*Right* now, Tim --"

"*Yes*, big brother," and Tim wedges himself into the footwell again, twists enough that it has to be *killing* his back, but he's damned well not in Dick's *way* --

Those fingers --

God, those fucking *knuckles*, right --

Jason shouts for the feel of Dick's hand *spasming* --

"Sorry -- sorry, little wing --"

"No! It's good, it's --" Jason licks his lips and jerks his chin at the back of Tim's head. "He's doing you good?"

Dick pants and smiles. "You know exactly how good he is."

Jason bites *his* lip. "Yeah, I. The first time... the first time he did me I nearly punched a hole in his fucking headboard --"

Tim moans high and *slurps* --

Dick groans and *stops* fucking Jason with his fingers -- then growls and does it *harder* --

"Aw, *fuck*, big brother --"

"Tim has another sixty seconds of -- playtime. After that? I'm fucking you. Right here."

Jason's cock fucking *jerks*, spattering Jason's abs and the seat. Jason looks at his watch -- no way he can measure time in his head right *now* --

"Oh, Jay... you shouldn't... shouldn't rush your little brother..."

Tim makes some seriously *urgent* noises, fuck-me noises, listen-to-the-smart-person noises --

"Yeah. Uh. Uh? Fuck, Dick, I'm *ready* for you --"

"And you need me to... hurt you a little more?" And Dick doesn't quite sound *hopeful*, but...

"It's always. It's always harder on my back, big brother --"

Dick's sigh is *shaky* -- and then he grabs Tim by the hair and starts to *pump* --

Tim flails out to grab the seat, Dick's t-shirt --

Tim's pumping his hips at *nothing* --

And Jason hears himself moaning like he's fucking *dying*, but since it's happening because he's getting *opened* in the world's most corrupted minivan, he's totally allowed. Just like he's totally allowed to sit up and *whine* when Dick pulls out --

"*Down* --"

"*Fuck* --" But Jason follows orders --

And Dick *pulls* Tim off his cock --

And Tim looks dazed and ready for *any* fucking thing, but Dick points him back to his seat --

"Yes. I. Yes, big brother," Tim says in a *small* voice --

Dick growls. "No, you -- I *want* you."

Tim's eyes fly open wide. He *searches* Dick --

And Dick pulls a smile for Tim out of *nowhere*. Just -- he strokes Tim's face with his dry hand. "This isn't over. You know that, right?"

"You -- you and Jay --"

"And then *you* and Jay. For me."

Tim grunts and *whimpers*. "I -- I want it to be for you --"

"And it will be. Not... not every time," Dick says, wincing and fucking *obviously* struggling --

"It's okay, big brother," Jason says, rubbing at the seat since he can't rub at Dick himself at the moment --

"Yes," and Tim's smile is a fuck of a lot better than either of theirs. "I'm okay. I just. I get a little... um. When I can't bring someone to orgasm."

Jesus, that's *right*. The *one* time it had happened with *them* was because Tim's live-in had decided to actually *check* on him for once and Jason had had to *dive* under the bed. By the time she'd left it was time for Jason to patrol and he'd put himself in *that* headspace... and Tim had been fucked-up for the hours it took for Jason to come *back*.

Jason shakes his head. "Sorry, big brother, we should've told you."

Dick is panting and stroking Tim's face, really --

Really rubbing and touching and *making* Tim feel it --

Tim's leaning in and *nuzzling* --

"You'll make me come... a lot, little brother. I promise."

Tim nods and kisses Dick's thumb, his knuckles, his fingertips --

"It'll be... just for us sometimes." Dick frowns. "But I won't ever try to take you from Jay --"

"All of us, big brother," Tim says, and *licks* Dick's thumb --

And Dick looks at Jason --

Jason nods and opens his arms, smiling as best he can and *knowing* it's coming out crooked and fucking *starved* --

Dick nods right back and presses his fingertips against Tim's pretty swollen mouth. "Watch us for now, little brother."

Tim smiles *brilliantly* -- "Yes, big brother."

Dick smiles and gestures Tim back to his seat -- and then he just *is* over Jason and nuzzling Jason's face, biting Jason's *cheeks* --

"*Fuck* -- fuck, big brother --"

"Every day since the first time I saw you naked, little wing. Every day I've wanted this -- or something like it --"

Jason whimpers and arches --

Dick bites Jason's *ear* -- "Come for me *fast*."

"Yes, yeah, anything you say, let me --"

"Do you want to guide me in?"

Jason groans and *clenches* -- "Yeah -- wait, no, you -- maybe let Tim do it?"

Tim whimpers *loudly*, making Jason twitch and spasm --

"*Do* it, Tim --"

"*Yes*, big brother --"

And Jason can't feel those hard little hands, yet, but he knows they're there, knows it by the way Dick narrows his eyes --

By the blunt nudge of Dick's perfect *cock* --

"*Nnh* --" There. Right around his hole. Just a little stroke, but --

Dick shows his teeth. "Naughty little brother."

"Um. I'm sorry?"

Dick laughs and *shoves* in --

Jason screams and beats at the back window --

Dick groans and sounds like he's winning at *every* fucking thing -- "Little... little brother..."

Tim pants -- "Y-yes?"

"Do you want that?"

"*Yes* --"

"Then go sit down again. Hard enough that you. Really feel that spanking --"

Tim goes and Jason forces himself to stop crying out, stop *beating* --

Yeah, Tim squeaks for them, for Dick, for *them*, because Dick *knows* he and Tim belong to each other, that it's for always --

Dick leans in and bites Jason's *throat* --

"*Hnh* -- big brother --"

"Did that hurt enough?"

"I -- I -- it still *does* --"

Dick sighs and licks his lips, licks Jason's throat and jaw -- "You're so beautiful. You -- this won't be slow."

Jason nods a lot and clenches because he *can* --

Dick *growls* --

"Sorry --"

"Do -- do that *again* --"

Jason does, and the *bright* hurt goes all the way through him, makes him really *feel* that three months --

How long since he'd done it without the Superlube?

How long since he's had *this* burn, this crazy fucking --

So hot and Dick's making him *feel* tight --

So --

But he can do this again and again, he can yank up the burn and the pressure for himself, make himself really --

Really fucking *need* --

And Dick is groaning and starting to rock, starting to --

"Dick -- I mean big *brother* -- *hnh* --"

Fuck, that was his *ear* again --

"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking -- *please*, big brother, not *slow* --"

*Dick* whimpers, cuts himself off with a growl and a *gasp* -- "You're. Absolutely right --" And then those hard, *hard* hands are on Jason's shoulders --

No, one's on his shoulder and one is shoving Jason's knee back to his *chest* --

And Jason's yelling for it, feeling himself stretch, feeling Dick get fucking *deeper* --

"Oh, Jay, he's *in* you!"

Jason nods and tries to remember not to look at Tim, not to reach *out* --

"Does it -- how *much* does it hurt?"

Jason *pleads* up at Dick --

"Go ahead," he says, and his voice is low, fucking *heavy* --

Jason opens his mouth --

And all that comes out is a *yell*, because Dick's thrusting *hard*, thrusting *fast* --

Jason *starts* yelling in rhythm --

He can't keep it up. He --

These thrusts --

Jason can *tell* that Dick isn't really splitting him or anything, but that just means that there's the friction, the -- the fucking *flow* --

The burn and the *sweetness*, like nothing fucking else --

Nothing *ever* -- and this is what Dick wants him to have with *Bruce*. This -- he wants to make Bruce do it *his* way --

And Dick is smiling down at him like some kind of *monster*. His eyes are wild, his smile is *sharp*, and he's so flushed, dark under olive --

"Big -- big brother --"

"Go ahead," he says again, and he just keeps *fucking* him, just --

It's what Jason had *asked* for, and it's ratcheting him up, making his *sac* feel tight, making his skin feel --

God, he's fucking *sweating* for it, and now Dick's lips are parted, Dick's *searching* him --

"I like it, I *love* it --"

Dick blows out a breath. "You love me...?"

"*Yes* --"

"Tell -- tell Tim how much it hurts. Get him ready for me --"

"I *am* ready for you --"

Dick hisses and starts --

God, *faster* --

And Jason is grunting and *gripping* the seats, bucking for it because he has to --

"Oh, Jay, my little... my little wing --" And Dick squeezes his eyes shut and throws his head back, showing off that lean and beautiful throat, the way his pulse is going so *fast* --

And Jason has to reach up to touch, has to stroke --

Dick growls and *bites* Jason's fingers --

Jason grunts and bucks *hard* --

And Dick's eyes get wilder, *hotter*. He *shakes* Jason's fingers in his mouth before pulling back -- "*Tell* him."

"Feel it -- fuck, I can feel him in my fucking *toes*, baby --"

"Oh, *Jay*, is it --"

"So hot. So -- so *hard* --"

"Tell me you want it *harder*, Jay," and that was another *growl* --

"Harder! *Fuck* me --"

And then they really *are* rocking the minivan, making it obvious --

*More* obvious --

God, Jason *wishes* he didn't care, but the truth is that caring is making it *hotter*. Just -- *let* someone catch them at this, or *wonder* about this, or --

He doesn't know. He just knows that a part of him is looking forward to punching people who talk shit about how he and Tim are gonna look and *smell* when they get back to class --

Anything to pay for *this* --

And Dick is pushing Jason's knee up higher --

Dick is shoving his other hand in Jason's hair and *pulling* --

"*Anything* --"

"You're *mine*, aren't you?"

"Family -- fucking --"

Dick growls again and claws Jason's *face* --

"*Jesus* --"

"Maybe. Maybe you need a little --" And Dick's hand is wrapped around his cock and *squeezing* --

Jason throws his head back and *wails*. Just -- like a kid. Like *Tim* --

"Oh, Jay..."

But Dick wants this, needs it --

Dick *dreamed* of it, so it's okay that Jason's losing it like this, banging his head back and bucking off-rhythm, trying to get more for his cock, *deeper* for his ass --

"All -- all *through* me --"

"*Mine* -- and the family's too. Everyone -- *all* of you --"

"Oh -- *yes*, big brother," and that's *Tim*, and he's gotta be feeling this, too, imagining it from every reaming he *has* taken --

But there's nothing but *heat* now. The burn in his ass, the friction for his cock, the way he's just fucking *sweating*, tossing his head and begging --

"Please *what*, Jay?"

"Fuck -- big *brother* --"

"*Say* it --"

"Make -- make me *come* --"

Dick growls *loudly* -- and then he's fucking *stripping* Jason's cock, jerking and pulling and making Jason feel sensitive enough to wail again, cry out for it like it's the first time, the only time --

The *right* -- "Any -- anytime you *want* --"

"*Come*."

Jason wails *again* --

"*Look* at me --"

Jason opens his eyes -- and Dick's hair is hanging in his face, Dick's lip is bleeding from a bite, Dick's teeth are *gritted* --

He's holding back. He's --

He needs Jason to come *first* -- and that's the best fucking reason in the world to let himself fall into this, to let himself lose focus and everything else until he's just a tortured cock and a *happy* ass, bucking harder, faster, *wilder* --

"Little wing. *Always*," and Dick starts rubbing his thumb on the head of Jason's cock in *fast* circles --

Just like the way Jason would do in the showers back when he was new and *knew* Dick didn't want him the way *he'd* wanted *Dick* --

Dick had *watched* --

And the look in Dick's eyes is a yes, an always, an I *love* you --

And that's all Jason's got. He feels himself jerking into an arch, twitching hard in Dick's grip --

He opens his mouth and *nothing* comes out --

He can't rock anymore, can't meet --

Oh, those fucking *thrusts*, so good, so --

And Jason manages to keep his eyes open for just long enough to see Dick point Jason's cock at himself -- but that's enough to drive him over into the white, the heat, the nothing --

The everything that *counts*, because he's losing it for family. The best, the *only* --

He's jerking and wailing --

Fucking *screaming* --

And falling back into everything that makes him who he is in time for Dick to start *reaming* him, one thrust after another that makes him whimper and nod and *reach* --

Dick catches Jason's hand in his own sticky one --

Dick shouts and stares --

Jason squeezes Dick's hand as hard as he can --

Dick's rhythm stutters *hard* -- "You. Both of you -- I *need* --"

"We're *here*," and Tim says it *with* him --

"*Mine* --" But not all of it gets out before Dick is shouting again, eyes wide and *lost* as he thrusts and comes and *thrusts*.

And the look in his eyes --

Jason knows he wasn't ready to come. That he'd wanted more from this, from *him* --

Jason grabs Dick's shoulders and *yanks* him down over him while he's still losing it --

God, so hot and *slick*, and even knowing that Clark is more of both isn't enough --

"It's *you*, Dick," Jason says when he can.

And Tim kneels on his seat so he can reach back and grip Dick's calf a little. "We love you. And -- um. Penis."

Dick laughs against Jason's neck, and that's ticklish enough that Jason has to squirm a little --

Dick turns the cuddle into a *pin* --

And then he turns it back into a cuddle, but it's a more aggressive one, knocking out about half of Jason's air.

"I love you, little wing. I love you -- you're so much of what I *need* from the world. You and Tim. If I ever make you think I don't love you, don't need you --"

"We'll let you know, big brother --"

Dick laughs. "Okay, go back to calling me by my name. That was... an interesting experiment."

Tim hums. "I think it was a bit more than an *experiment*... Dick."

Dick shivers and turns enough that he can fix Tim with a *look*. "Really, little brother...?"

Tim shifts a little -- and yeeps for the way the seat is making his ass feel, Jason bets. "Um. Um? I don't think it's unreasonable -- I mean, you've obviously had the fantasy of us calling you that --"

"And you shouldn't think we didn't get off on it, Big Bird. You *are* our big brother. You've taught us damned near everything we *know*."

"You made us. *Changed* us."

"You made us *fit*."

Tim grins. "And you also made us look *very* pretty."

Dick narrows his eyes -- and his cock twitches *in* Jason.

"Oh -- *damn*, Dick. Uh. Again?"

Dick narrows his eyes a little *more*, obviously *thinking* about it --

Jason eases his down leg up to rub it against Dick's hip --

Dick groans and shoves it down. "If we do that, you're not going back to school today."

"That's -- uh. Wait, what's my motivation here?"

"Jay. Where's the little boy who got up two hours early for his first day back to school -- after sleeping through half of his *birthday*?"

"You worked my *ass* off for my birthday, and -- heh. I didn't know school would be full of *dumbasses*, Big Bird."

Dick smiles and grinds his hips a little. "Rich dumbasses, at that."

Jason moans. "Uh -- Dick?"

"I'll pull out in a second. And then you'll get comfy and leak all over this towel while I drive us around and you both eat," Dick says, and pulls a towel from behind the seat.

"Wait, there's food for us?"

"Alfred packed a cooler. Presumably there's also a beverage of some sort..." Dick shakes his head and laughs. "Let's all agree not to think about how Alfred knew I was going to need to have a 'picnic' with you two."

"He's *Alfred*," Tim says, and wriggles in his seat a little more. "And -- um --"

Dick coughs a laugh. "Oh, God, I can't believe I forgot about your hard-on, little brother. Here," Dick says, pulling out slow and steadily --

Taking some of Jason *with* him --

Jason squirms and stuffs the towel under his ass. "C'mere, baby, get on my chest --"

"No, not that. I need to be able to see you both more," and that *was* Dick's reasonable voice, but there's another voice kind of *under* it --

"I -- I'm short enough still that I can stand without crouching too much," Tim says, and demonstrates---

Dick nods slowly and licks his lips.

Yeah, that works. "Slow or fast, Big Bird?"

Dick pulls a wipe from the little baggie on the door -- and uses it to *work* his cock while he's wiping it.

Tim moans --

And Jason's mostly staring. Mostly -- well, he's also leaning in just enough that he can *stretch* his tongue to the dripping head of Tim's cock --

Dick *grunts* --

Jason makes a *show* of licking Tim while Tim grips the seatbacks and pumps toward Jason's face --

"*Please*," Dick says --

"Anything, Dick, you know -- it's *anything*," Tim says, and starts pumping faster while Jason licks *slower* --

"You -- both of you. Not a show. I can't take -- a show."

Jason blinks -- and files that away for thinking about later --

"Oh -- it. Is it something you've wanted, Dick?"

Or now. They can talk about it now --

Dick shakes his head slowly and it looks *nothing* like no. All right --

Jason sucks the head *nice* and hard -- 

"*Ahn* -- *Jay* --"

"Get -- put your hands in his hair, Tim."

"Yes, big -- I mean, Dick, I mean --"

Dick's laugh is soft and *cracked* --

Jason can *hear* him jerking himself faster -- 

And he can *feel* Tim massaging his scalp, *looking* for the bruises and sore places and trying to ease them, work away the pooling blood a little --

Jason pulls back with a slurp. "Love you so much, baby..."

"Oh, *Jay*, please, please suck me, please do it hard --"

"You want it to hurt a little, baby?"

"*Yes*, oh --"

And it's the best thing in the world to get his mouth back on, get one hand on Tim's -- currently -- fuzzy little sac and the other on his hip --

Suck him *deep* --

Dick pants and works himself *faster* --

And then the minivan is rocking *again* --

"Oh -- this is a wonderful blend of scents," Clark says from Tim's seat --

Tim jumps and twitches --

Jason snorts and tries not to cough --

And Dick just reaches out with his free hand.

Clark catches it, kisses it, nuzzles it. "Did you want some assistance...?"

"Nn -- no. I want my brothers to see this about me, to -- hnh. They -- should know."

"Oh -- I agree wholeheartedly. Goodness, I do believe you've left *hand*-prints on Tim's rear."

Tim blushes and twitches *again* --

And Jason gives up waiting for him to grow a little more and swallows him down --

Tim shouts --

"Oh -- lovely. Dick, if you'll notice, Jason tends to flare his nostrils quite often when he's fellating Tim --"

"He. He has to smell him. Has to -- take every part --" Dick groans and squeezes himself *hard* --

Jason nods and starts *moving* Tim a little --

"Oh, Jay -- Jay, I'll come *fast* --"

"*Do* it, little brother," and Dick's voice is low and fucking *harsh* --

Tim cries out and starts fucking Jason's mouth, Jason's *throat* --

He's looking deep into Jason's eyes and his mouth is open for every cry, every --

He's telling Jason he *needs* him, and that's good, that's right, that's --

It's *not* everything, but it should be, and the only reason Jason isn't jerking *himself* off right now is that he *always* gives himself a little love when he sleeps too late to get it from Tim... and then he gives himself a little more between second period and third --

And he's totally never doing that again. Better to be rock hard in class than miss a chance for *this* --

Tim *grips* his hair --

Clark moans softly -- "One must... must enjoy their strength, of course --"

Dick groans again and he's doing himself like *his* teachers could yank open the doors to the van at any moment --

"Perhaps... perhaps they should use their strength on *you*, Dick...?"

Dick gasps and bangs his head against the door --

"Oh, no, Dick, don't," and the minivan is way too fucking *small* for this, but Clark is somehow lounging on top of the folded-down seat and cushioning Dick's *head* --

Dick's laughing and *shouting* --

Tim is whimpering for every last *one* of Jason's sucks --

"Clark. Clark --"

"Yes, Dick?"

"Stick a finger up Tim's ass," Dick says, and his eyes are so narrow they might as well be *closed* --

And Tim is fucking his throat *wildly* --

"Do it *fast* --"

Clark moans --

Tim *screams* --

"Work him. Both of you *work* him --"

Jason grinds his face against Tim's groin --

Clark whisper-babbles something *way* too fast to catch -- <<I am one who has been gifted-held, I am wealthy and warm -->>

*Fuck*, yes --

Tim screams again --

*Again* --

Dick grunts and comes on Jason's *thigh* --

His *shirt* --

"*Dick* --! Ahn -- ahn -- *ahn* --"

And Jason pulls back *just* in time to get all that come right on his tongue where it belongs, where he fucking *needs* it --

Tim slumps and Jason and Clark catch him together --

"Oh my *God*," Tim says, and Jason's just about to congratulate himself for a job well done -- when he hears Clark slurping.

Jason snickers *with* Dick --

Dick ruffles his hair. "Yeah, we should've seen that coming, little wing."

"Yeah, Clark's always gotta get a taste," and Jason leans back and starts making vague efforts toward figuring out how to de-semenify his clothes --

And then stops, because Dick is lifting the cooler over the seat and Jason's stomach is growling like crazy. Just --

"Fuck, yes, Big Bird. Whatcha got for me?"

"Soap for your dirty, dirty mouth...?"

Jason flips him off with both hands.

Dick *looks* at him --

Jason raises his eyebrows and aims his fuck-fingers at his own ass --

And Dick snickers again. "Okay, I see how you're gonna handle me. I like it."

Jason blows on his fuck-fingers and buffs them on his shirt.

Dick throws a thermos at him, which is more than enough reason to start his lunch with tea while Tim whimpers and meeps and generally makes all kinds of cute noises. Jason checks --

Yeah, he's getting hard *again*, and his eyes have rolled back in his head. Good deal, but --

"We gotta make sure he eats, Clark."

"Mm-hmm..."

Tim shudders all over -- but Clark's got a good grip on him. He'll be fine.

Lunch turns out to be a nice Mediterranean spread. Chicken and couscous with a bunch of seasonings Jason can't guess at, stuffed grape leaves, a salad with that feta cheese Tim's not allowed to eat unless they won't be sharing a room for at least four hours, because it fucking well makes him gassy and Tim's incapable of just letting it rip when he's around *anyone* he's screwing --

And he makes these little pained *faces* --

Jason eats most of the salad.

There's pomegranate-cherry juice to go with the tea, some baba ghannouj for Dick -- who has been known to *hit* them if they try to eat his share --

Way better than cafeteria food, even if the cooks at Eston *do* get paid about three times as much as the average school cook. By the time Jason's mostly done, Tim is dozing in Clark's arms and Dick is getting that crazy look back --

Clark hands Tim to Dick *immediately* --

And Tim wraps his arms around Dick's neck and nuzzles close in the way that only happens when he's *that* fucked-out. It makes Jason's arms ache a little, but --

Dick's never felt that. Dick's never *had* that. Dick --

Right now, Dick has his face buried in Tim's hair, and he's holding Tim *tight* --

And everyone in this goddamned mommy-box knows that Dick needs this *bad*. So.

Jason eats a little more, pokes around -- nice. Weird sesame-candy-brittle *stuff*, and Jason doesn't know what it's sweetened with, but it's awesome. He breaks off some for Clark --

"Oh, thank you very much," Clark says, and hums while he chews.

"Yeah, figured you could use something to wash your mouth out, Big Blue."

Clark makes a *face* --

Jason snickers and grins. "It's just that you react so *hugely* to those nicknames."

"Hm. I suppose it is rather sad that I'm jealous of people you've named after characters on children's shows and *toys*, but I am," and then Clark gives him the *soulful* look.

"Aw, Jesus, Clark, I -- Snuffleupagus? Eh? Eh...?"

"You just don't *mean* it, Jay."

"Well -- you appear and disappear, that's one. And you... uh."

"There is no two, is there, Jason?"

"No. No, there is no two. But! Dick's nothing like Big Bird. Except for how he likes the color way too fucking much --"

"It's a completely different shade of yellow," Tim says, and he's definitely getting some of his Tink back --

"Thank you, Tim," Dick says, and kisses Tim's forehead softly and *hotly* --

Tim shivers --

Dick rocks him a little until Tim deliberately relaxes himself, and then Dick sighs and buries his face in Tim's hair again.

Jason thinks he can *feel* Tim willing himself not to grow too much, but -- they're *going* to get Dick in one of their beds, and they're going to keep him there for a good long while after patrol --

And, when he checks, Clark is still giving him the soulful look.

"Aw, Jesus, Clark --"

Clark winks at him and eats more sesame candy. "You give most of your nicknames within hours and days of meeting the people you give them to, you know."

"I -- Tim wasn't 'baby' until we screwed. That -- that took a whole two weeks --"

"The longest, most frustrating two weeks of my life."

"Hey, I got you off a *couple* of times --"

"By *kissing* me. And *dry-humping* me. And then you'd leave, and I'd be stuck with my toys and no idea whether I wanted to jump directly onto your penis or *garrote* you for being a *tease*."

Dick laughs. "What about me, little brother? Did you want to strangle me?"

"I -- ah. You didn't really -- a part of me is still running around yelling because you're attracted to me. I didn't believe -- you know that."

"Yeah, Big Bird. I knew that you didn't think we were hideous or anything, but I also *knew* that you would never go for us, no matter *what* we said or did."

Dick's smile is a sad one. "Alfred. Alfred taught me a lot about how to lie. He taught Bruce the same lessons -- " Dick shakes his head. "It's just that I took so much from both of you already --"

Tim pulls back --

"Don't. Please."

Tim's breath hitches -- and he snuggles right up again. "I was just -- I was going to say that you *gave* us far more things than you took from us."

"Heh. Maybe, baby bro. Or maybe he's thinking of how much sleep we don't get, and how we don't get to even *try* to make friends outside of the community, and how our nightmares are fucked-up beyond all human comprehension, and how none of us are probably going to go to college... that about right, Dickie?"

Dick kisses Tim's forehead again. "You could always see so clearly, Jay. You don't know how many times I got up in the middle of the night to check to make sure you hadn't run away... it's one of the reasons why I did everything I could to make sure you *could* have Tim, that you wouldn't second-guess yourself about your feelings for him. I could see from the start that you'd never leave him."

"Jesus, Dickie, I'm not a fucking *quitter* --"

"But you're also the vigilante I'd vote *most* likely to stop doing crazy things once you realized they were crazy."

"Well -- the wrong *kind* of crazy, sure --"

"I already knew I had -- some of -- the wrong kinds of crazy, little wing. And I didn't know that I could... keep a leash on it."

Jason winces and nods. "But you know *now*."

Dick's smile is better this time. "I do. I also know my *littlest* brother will put up with being treated like a kid *half* his age if his pervy older brother needs it."

"It really is -- ah. Pleasant? I wouldn't make you put up a *fight* --"

Jason clears his throat *loudly*.

Tim scowls at him. "You were trying to rock me to *sleep*!"

"I'm not even talking about *that* time, baby."

"Oh -- well. You were painting my toenails the wrong *color* --"

"Not that time, either."

"I -- hm. I suppose I'm just making your point for you at this point?" And Tim nuzzles Dick's collar bone very deliberately.

Dick strokes Tim's hair. "Mm-hm. Jay, give Clark a nickname."

"Uh. I -- I can't do it on *command* --"

Dick *looks* at him. "It's not like *peeing*, Jay."

"It -- uh." Jason turns back to Clark, who's giving him the Superman-is-very-interested-in-what-you-have-to-say-you-adorable-youngster look. "*Augh*!"

Clark bites his lip, and he's totally and completely laughing behind his eyes.

"You -- see, I *know* you use that look when you're hitting on people who are way too fucking young for you -- wait."

"Yes, Jason...?"

"I got a nickname for you. It's actually -- heh. I've been using it in my head for you for *years*. Pretty much from the word go, actually... Chester."

Dick chokes.

Tim *coughs* --

Clark raises his eyebrows. "You do realize that Zatanna owes me many favors, and that I can *always* spend one or two by having her make you find... oh, *anything* sexually attractive...?"

Jason licks his teeth and sits back, planting his elbows on the backrest. "Like you *aren't* thinking about having her make me think I'm ten or something."

Clark looks down just enough that the visible portions of his smile look demonic. He coughs, hums -- and when he looks up, his smile is bland, friendly, and completely innocent.

Jason snorts --

"Ten, you said."

"Yeah, I fucking said it, you perv --"

"Out of curiosity... was that when you began your own puberty...?"

Dick throws the thermos at Clark's head --

Clark catches it, has a long swallow of tea, and *blands* at Jason again.

"You realize I'm gonna call you that in front of people, right?"

"I suppose I'll just have to endeavor to live up to it," and Clark tilts his head enough that Jason can be *sure* that he's checking out Tim's ass.

Tim picks *right* then to wriggle -- no, he could totally feel Clark's eyes on him. Tink likes that kind of attention just fine.

Jason shakes his head. "Okay, Chester. How 'bout you grab me a clean shirt --"

And Clark shakes it out for him right there and hums. "When will you let Alfred take your measurements for new ones?"

"Hey, these totally still fit --"

"Not as well," Tim says, and starts rubbing Dick's chest before turning to look at him. "*I* like getting the impression that you're seconds away from bursting out of your clothes to stand, gloriously naked, above your stunned and brutalized enemies -- but."

Jason pictures that for a little while -- "Which enemies?"

"It varies. At present, it's the varsity football team."

"Are *they* naked?"

Tim wriggles a little more --

Yes, Clark is checking out his ass again. Jason kicks him lightly. "Seriously."

"Well... their clothes are torn. Strategically."

Jason makes a face --

"Whether or not you've fucked them is *ambiguous* in the fantasy. But they're definitely available for that."

"So you're saying that I've beat them to the ground *and* made them my harem?"

Tim gets a thoughtful look on his face, so Jason leaves him to it and puts on his new shirt, which --

Okay, it *is* tight in the shoulders and a little through the chest, but it's not like the buttons are straining or anything.

Much.

Jason puts his jacket back on --

"I think this fantasy may actually be too disturbing for me now," Tim says, and frowns.

Dick snickers. "I suppose that only happens *rarely*...?"

"Well -- *yes*. There are few things healthier than an active fantasy life --"

"Oh... I've always thought so," Clark says, and somehow he's *closer* --

"Clark," Dick says, and lowers his eyebrows at him a little. "You can't have him, yet."

"I wasn't truly -- well, yes, I suppose I was." And Clark sighs and goes back to his seat.

Tim turns enough to give Clark a *promising* look --

Clark *beams* --

And Tim turns back to him. "Their clothes are still torn, but now it's in a less overtly sexual way."

"That's cool. No harem?"

"I'm making a different fantasy for that. I'll let you know."

"You do that, bro," Jason says, and gets dressed the rest of the way. He's still gonna leak a little, but it won't be much. His boxer briefs can take it, and --

Yeah. There was a time when Tim almost never talked about his fantasies -- not the casual ones and *really* not the real ones -- but Jason and Clark had gotten him over that by enjoying every fantasy he *did* talk about. Tim's an *imaginative* little fucker, and that --

Well, it fucking *works*. Jason can act when he has to -- and Tim wanting it is *totally* a 'has to' -- and Clark can do all those voices and facial expressions. Dick...

Well, Dick is a *walking* fantasy for Tim, so it'll probably be a while before he comes up with any about him. Or maybe not. Either way, Jason *is* gonna hear about 'em, and that's just fine by him.

Better than.

Tim starts eating quickly and neatly once Dick lets him turn around and Jason checks his watch. Sixth period is a wash for both of them --

"I told the vice principal that I needed you both for two hours today," Dick says, and grins like a shark.

"Heh. I know you didn't tell him why, Big Bird, but did you give him anything *like* a reason?"

Dick grins wider and shakes his head.

So *they're* gonna have to come up with something. Jason sighs. He'll make Tim do it on their way back inside. It's not like he -- or possibly Tink -- *won't* come up with a way to make Jason pay for it.

And *that* makes Jason's cock twitch just a *little* -- but Jason has every intention of staying dressed until he's home, so he gives Clark the stand-down gesture and shakes his head ruefully at Dick -- who gives him a *promising* look.

Jesus, he'd already forgotten that was -- yeah. He can deal. And that's just what he'll do.

*

Bruce had tried to stay near Harvey once J'onn had arrived, but Harvey had waved him off with a slow, tired smile on his face.

("Go on, big guy. You can't help with this, and I don't wanna put it on you, anyway.")

Which had hurt, for all that Bruce knew it wasn't meant to. But J'onn had been very gentle --

(He wishes to remain... unsullied in your eyes.

He could never be --

I believe he will begin to come to know this after today. Please, be patient.)

And so that's what Bruce has been doing for the last few hours. The exercise equipment in the Cave is all the same as what he'd acquired for himself in his universe, and that is deeply reassuring. For all that it would be reasonable for there to be new, futuristic exercise equipment for Dick's family to use, it's the kind of reasonable which would...

Not hurt. *Panic*. The idea that there would be conditioning exercises to do which he doesn't know about --

Bruce sighs and then forces himself to breathe normally through his routine on the pommel horse. A part of him had come to believe -- despite the *myriad* reasons why such a belief is inherently dangerous -- that he had *finished* his training, that he had reached a point where, while he *could* learn more, he didn't *have* to.

He doesn't need to spar with Dick to know that that was a foolish belief. He needs to spar with Dick in order to *learn*. He's not even sure that he's street-ready compared to Dick's family. For all that he's reasonably sure that Jason and Skylark wouldn't have been able to beat him had he not been so injured and exhausted --

Bruce sighs again internally. *Part* of his reasoning behind wanting to teach Jason is that he wants to prove that he *does* have something to teach. He's going to have to watch himself for pettiness and jealousy along with all the other things he has to watch for. Like how much he misses Clark and Dick already.

Clark's Mission never pauses, and, of course, he's married. Dick needs time with his brothers and to do the necessary things to keep WE and the Foundation running smoothly --

Jason is in school, as is Cardinal.

Bruce wants too much. This is the danger of allowing himself these freedoms. This *distraction* --

Bruce dismounts perfectly enough to satisfy himself in a small way and tries to convince himself that he'll be *capable* of turning away from the wonders and beauty of Dick's family --

Of Harvey --

Of *Clark* --

But perhaps he *should* focus on Harvey. There's no -- Harvey has control and is *monogamous*. It wouldn't matter how much Bruce mooned over him, because Harvey wouldn't allow anything to happen. Certainly, *Alfred* had always approved of their friendship --

And Harvey is, in his way, as correct as Alfred. He *won't* allow anything --

He -- a part of Bruce even *believes* that. It's the part of him which has always wanted him to be a certain kind of 'realistic.'

Of course, Bruce *isn't* irresistible in any way -- but he's also not as awkward and uncomfortably bearish as that part of him would have the rest believe. Bruce knows he's attractive, and that he's capable of saying and doing things which make him even more attractive --

And Harvey has been both jealous and inclined to distract Bruce from his attraction to the younger heroes. Bruce never *wants* Harvey to throw himself on the *grenade* of Bruce's sexuality, but there's a possibility that he'd do it. That --

It's a sickeningly attractive and *warm* thought. It comes with images, scents not truly appreciated since they were in boarding school together and Bruce could smell Harvey in the moments and minutes after a self-induced orgasm --

Harvey.

Bruce works himself on the rings and gives himself room to indulge. A Harvey who wished to remind him of sexuality no educated person could consider wrong. A Harvey who allowed himself to wallow in the attraction he's felt. A Harvey who would lean in to kiss, to touch, to *hold* --

Bruce moans quietly and moves into an Iron Cross, holding himself in position and looking for signs of fatigue -- there are none. He still feels as *renewed* as he had after that ridiculously long shower, and that...

Of course he'd already known what sorts of things constant, ruthless repression could do to a person, mentally and physically --

He'd never realized he *was* -- that repressed. Well. Bruce smiles to himself and continues to work, feeling his body respond the way it always should --

He'd forgotten what it was like to be healthy and uninjured so *quickly*... the dangers of adaptability? Bruce promises himself time to consider the matter deeply --

And finds that he'd already promised a goodly fraction of his time to considering Dick and his brothers. And Clark. Bruce winces. He'll have to adjust those schedules at least a *little* --

"Are you hurting yourself?" The voice is female and openly accusatory --

"Skylark," Bruce says, and *then* looks down --

Skylark is eating what looks to be a truly unhealthy candy bar and staring at him -- "Well?"

Bruce does an inventory of himself -- "No, Skylark, I am not hurting myself."

Skylark licks her teeth --

Skylark digs between two teeth with her thumbnail --

"Stupid damned peanuts," she says, pulling a paper napkin from her jacket pocket -- other than the jacket, she's wearing what seem to be well-worn workout clothes as well as her mask -- and spitting out -- presumably -- the peanut pieces before taking another large bite of the bar. "Anyway," and her mouth is mostly full when she says it, "why should I believe you're not hurting yourself? You *look* hurt."

The scent of chocolate, caramel, and, yes, peanuts wafts up to Bruce -- "Hm. I suppose you can see tension in my face?"

"Like someone fucking *blasted* your nuts."

Hm. "I assure you, Skylark, no one has aimed a beam weapon at my genitals today," and Bruce moves into the next position.

Skylark tilts her head to the side and studies him. "You're better now."

It's tempting to respond to that with a question, but... he knows what she means, he thinks. "I was thinking, earlier, that I felt renewed."

She takes another thoughtful bite. "Screwing'll do that. If you do it *right*, anyway," and she licks her teeth again. "Teach me something."

For a moment, it seems as though Bruce has found an escape hatch from his future of pederasty and worse -- teaching someone else would take away time from his own training, and that can't be allowed to happen. And he'll explain (some of) that --

Except that he's already down from the rings and leading Skylark to the mats. Which is terribly predictable --

Is it better that she's female? Could it be?

"Would you tell me how old you are?"

She gives him a very long look, and, even though the lenses on her mask are down, it's a *speaking* look. Though this may have something to do with the sneer her mouth is pulling itself into.

"It's only --" *Does* he have a rational and non-sexual reason for wanting to know? "I'm curious about how much more you will grow, as it will have some impact on what you can be most effectively taught right now."

She raises her eyebrows behind the mask. "Sixteen. Robin says I'll probably hit at least five-ten before I finish growing. I'm gunning for six feet," and she finishes her candy bar in one large swallow. Or -- it's possible that she chewed once or --

She burps --

Snorts --

"Excuse me."

"You're --"

"Which of 'em *did* you screw? Other than Clark, I mean."

"-- excused. I --" Bruce coughs, knowing it for a truly pathetic gambit before he even raises his hand to his face.

She plants her fists on her hips and raises her eyebrows quite high, and --

"When did you put your mask on?"

"I -- heh. When I got on the grounds. This bike and these clothes belong to a civilian, so... it's not like I could suit up this early. Answer the question."

"Robin. I -- Dick."

She tilts her chin up rather pugnaciously -- hm.

"How are you at taking blows to the face?"

"Good enough to *avoid* it -- most of the time, anyway. The rest... it's pretty hard to knock me out with just a punch," and Skylark studies Bruce's eyes. It's abundantly clear that she's looking for a surprise -- or 'surprise' -- hit, as she's holding her body *most* of the way into a ready position.

Bruce gestures stand-down, just to --

She moves smoothly into a straight, loose posture.

Bruce nods. "I'm -- going to examine you. I may touch you lightly while I'm doing so, but I don't mean to --"

"Molest me?"

"If I may ask... do you feel I was wrong to make love with Robin?"

Skylark snorts again. "Hell, yeah. If you were making love with *Robin*."

"I wasn't. It -- all of you seemed determined to hide your identities from Harvey."

"Your not-quite-as-psycho-as-he-could-be buddy." She juts her chin at him again. "What do you want from us?"

Us. She -- will she live here, as well? Can he ask?

To have a young *woman* in Wayne Manor --

To have a young woman like Skylark -- but he has to focus. "I wish to be a help in any way possible while I'm trapped here. And then -- I wish to return to my universe and try to salvage the situation there, or at least try to help those people who *can* be helped."

"You know, don't get me wrong? But I'm kinda thinking that you're either a *lying* asshole... or the kind of asshole who hits and quits. Which one do *you* think you are?"

Well, that's -- Bruce shakes his head. "Skylark, I mean no harm to you or your family --"

"So what? You just didn't *notice* that Robin's been grieving for the you who *belonged* here for years? That he's a walking, talking open wound with your name on it?"

"I --"

"Lark." And perhaps it's fitting that Dick continues to surprise him -- this time by walking up to them from -- perhaps -- the Cave entrance closest to the East lawn.

Skylark, for her part, jumps somewhat dramatically -- "*Gah*. *Robin* --"

Dick strokes a line down the bridge of her nose. "Don't worry; I'll be teaching you that soon enough. I'm betting you'll get it faster than Jay... hasn't. Heh."

"*Robin*, he's --"

Dick gestures stop. "Jay already came out. He came out *first*, as a matter of fact -- because Bruce here is charming when he puts his mind to it."

"He charmed the hell outta *you*."

Dick smiles broadly. "Effortlessly. Enough that I begged, cajoled, demanded... he's a good man, and I used every weakness I could think of."

Skylark frowns and stares -- glares -- at him.

Bruce raises his hands and nods to her. "I was, of course, entirely ready to be convinced. Clark, Dick, and Jason have already taught me much about the nature of my sexuality."

Dick coughs out something -- yes, it was 'Tinkerbell.' Hm.

"Is it all right that I'm afraid of the lessons he could teach me?"

*That* makes Skylark laugh -- a snicker, really -- and Bruce can't help but smile for it. She has a very infectious laugh, and there's nothing wrong with preferring it to her suspicion and contempt.

"Shall I be cowardly more often, Skylark?"

She hums and licks her teeth again. "I don't know. Is *that* how you roll?"

"Really *not*, Lark --"

Bruce rests a hand on Dick's shoulder. "When it comes to matters of the heart, Robin, I'm ruled by fear far more often than I'm not."

Dick frowns for that. "You were never -- with me. I see. I think I see?" Dick laughs quietly. "If you tell me that you were *afraid* of *Clark* --"

"I was. A part of me still is."

"Oh --"

But Bruce catches Dick's wrist before he can -- it seems as though he was only going to slap him. Hm. "Perhaps I should have let that land."

Dick... glitters at him. "Boss, boss, *boss*. Do you wanna play with me...?"

*Yes*. And again, and again after that --

Movement --

Bruce dodges Skylark's kick --

Dodges again --

Dick twists free and moves to flank, gesturing commands to Skylark that Bruce doesn't know -- ah, she moves into a more actively belligerent ready-position --

And they come at him nearly as one. It's clear that they haven't worked together *extensively*, but Skylark follows Dick's orders -- which keeps her in the spar far longer than she would otherwise have been. She's quick, strong, and flexible, but she leaves herself vulnerable whenever she consciously attempts to pick up speed.

It's something he hadn't learned how to avoid until he was nearly twenty-one, and only then because he'd acquired an aikido sensei who was willing to work with him -- and *on* him -- for hours into the night.

Dick, for his part, is obviously testing him. He's allowing Skylark her vulnerabilities in order to see what Bruce can and will choose to do -- hm.

He gives Skylark his right side and attacks Dick with *all* of his speed --

And Dick matches him well, blocking with arms and legs and continuing to direct Skylark's attacks on Bruce's back and sides --

Bruce leaps over what would've been a powerful sweep, goes for the quick -- and weak -- kick which often connects with even the fastest opponents --

It doesn't connect here, at all, because Dick is rolling, flipping up onto his hands --

Capoeira has never been Bruce's strong suit, but it's obvious that Dick has no such difficulties. Bruce considers --

He turns to take Skylark down with a sweep of his own, a kick which he's careful to only *graze* her ribs with --

"You're down, Lark," Robin says --

"*Fuck* --"

"Up, out of the way, *watch*."

"Done," she says, and uses her own impressive gymnastics ability to flip up onto her feet before she jogs fifteen feet away.

Bruce blocks the punch which was truly a feint, blocks the kick which wasn't, spins and leaps into the muay Thai which was something of a *relief* to learn, considering the fact that it allowed for more use of his generally greater strength --

Dick smiles sharply, *hotly* , and goes back to capoeira. The rhythms are unmistakable, even as they shift --

"I would like to see you dance, sometime," Bruce says, and uses his speed to throw a flurry --

Dick quick-steps back, spins into a kick which just misses Bruce's wrists -- "Haven't done that in a while."

"Was it something --" Bruce strikes for Dick's shoulder --

Blocked.

His chest --

Blocked.

He drops and strikes for Dick's shin -- contact, but not enough of it. Dick is staggering, not limping --

"Was it something you shared with your Bruce?"

Dick's smile is bright and wide. "It surprises me not at *all* that you share the same kinks," and his stomps are shaky and slow --

Bruce evades, considers --

No, the stagger isn't a true one. He's hoping to lure Bruce in. Bruce nods to himself and switches to karate, where his speed is the best for reasons he's never been able to define --

Dick sucks in a quick breath and meets him speed for speed --

Movement --

*Bolo*, and he's quick enough to keep it from going around both of his ankles, but it still catches his toe --

He controls his fall as much as he *can* --

Dick snorts. "Didn't I say you were down, Lark?"

"Hey, it's not like I *wouldn't* still have my belt, Rob."

"Very true," and Dick is pouncing before Bruce can free himself. A grapple, then, and a part of Bruce is only wondering how often *this* sort of thing led to other sorts of things entirely --

He *has* to move his leg that way to *free* it --

Dick gasps and tangles their legs together, using surprising and wonderful strength to make Bruce *fight* to avoid the leg-lock --

Dick is throwing strikes with his left hand and blocking Bruce's strikes with his right --

Enough. Bruce uses his greater strength to roll them --

Rears away from a head-butt and remembers to *reach* --

He needs both hands to catch Dick's wrists, and it's immediately clear that he won't be able to switch to one hand --

His legs are still tangled with Dick's own -- hm.

"We appear to have something of a standoff."

Dick sighs --

"Wait a minute, doesn't he have you *pinned*, Rob?"

"Sort of. Look at our legs, Lark."

She comes closer and strokes down Bruce's calf. "He's not using all of his strength, though."

Oh, that's a very good --

"Good observation," Dick says. "However, if he *does* use all of his strength, all he can do is roll us around -- and that would give me the chance to break or twist free."

Skylark hums and strokes Bruce's forearm. "He's stronger than you... but not strong enough to hold your wrists with one hand."

"Exactly. It becomes a question of which of us has the better willpower and focus, Lark, and I know where I put my money for that one."

Another snort -- "Like you *couldn't* distract him with your fucking *dick*."

Dick purses his lips. "You've been spending too much time with -- Starling." 

"So we *are* going with protocol?"

"Yes --"

"Rob, if I was spending too much time with Starling? I'd say 'cock.'"

Dick sighs again, though this time it's the parody of a long-suffering parent. "You see what I have to put up with, boss?"

"You could consider punishing your siblings for their language."

"Hey, I'm not -- I mean. I don't have any siblings."

Dick turns and smiles lazily at Skylark. "No...?"

Skylark blushes. "Anyway -- punishing wouldn't work. Robin kidnapped Starling, Starling brought Cardinal in and Cardinal can and will do whatever the fuck he wants *whenever* he wants, and I'm -- independent. Mostly."

"Exactly. Also, when did you get the whole story? I was planning to sit you down for it today since you had a half-day."

Skylark smiles brightly. "Cardinal and Starling have been texting me all day. By the way? Good job christening the minivan."

*Dick* blushes -- and then his smile turns dark and sharp... but only for a moment. He raises his eyebrows behind the mask at Bruce --

Bruce releases Dick's wrists --

Dick releases Bruce's legs --

They stand, and Dick looks him over thoughtfully.

"Yes, Robin?"

"You never broke out the muay Thai against me except when I was *really* taking advantage of my speed and flexibility."

"Your Bruce knew your strengths and weaknesses as well as he knew his own. I only knew that you were a seasoned operative in his prime... and thus that I had to treat you as one of my more dangerous opponents."

Dick -- it's more of a flush this time -- "Turn around, Lark."

"Why?"

"Good point," Dick says, and pushes up on his toes to kiss him. It's a cautious kiss at first, but all it takes to change it to something rough and *needful* is a hand on Dick's freshly-shaved cheek. Or --

Perhaps it's the way Bruce can't stop himself from seeking out stubble, roughness --

This cheek had been *downy* the first time the Bruce from this universe had touched it with intent, with need which could only be answered with *more* need --

Dick moans and throws his lean, powerful arms around Bruce's neck -- and Bruce realizes that he's cupping and stroking Dick's hip through his shorts. His body --

His body is perfection, art --

Bruce pulls back --

"*Bruce* --"

"I'd like. May I sketch you?"

Dick raises his eyebrows behind his mask and laughs breathlessly. "I *found* my Bruce's sketchbooks after he died. You -- you're a pervert, and of course I can't say no --"

"You *can* --"

"Not to you, boss. Never --" Dick shakes his head. "Kiss me again. One more time and then we have to train --"

"Of course --"

"Shh --"

Bruce kisses Dick the way Clark had kissed him, tilting their heads just so and making the kiss a creation of power and hunger --

Dick moans *loudly* into Bruce's mouth --

Bruce nods for that and *takes* Dick's mouth --

"Okay, yeah, I'm seeing the worth-it-ness. You guys just go ahead and enjoy yourselves while I languish *alone*. And so totally *unloved*. And, like, surrounded by gay men when I'm not even *close* to being a fag-hag --"

Bruce coughs --

Dick snickers and pulls back --

"That's... that's really a terrible term, Skylark."

She crosses her arms over her chest and raises her eyebrows at him in obvious challenge --

And Dick walks over and shakes a finger at her. "People who use that particular f-word around here have to give Tink mani-pedis."

Skylark's jaw drops -- she closes her mouth and juts her chin. "You're *not* serious."

"Oh, I really am, little sister. And they have to be up to *his* standards -- he *will* make you do it all over again if you miss a cuticle or smudge the clear polish."

And now she looks somewhat... stricken.

Dick nods and pats her cheek. "Consider that your first -- and last -- warning."

"But -- Starling makes fun of Tink's damned sexuality all the *time*!"

"He also pays for it -- all the time."

"It's totally not paying if he gets to come from it, Rob. Just -- you *know* it isn't."

"Starling has given Cardinal six pedicures and five manicures -- he managed to stop himself after 'fa,' barely -- and, frankly, we let Tink set the rules for the rest."

"But you're *all* queer!"

Dick smiles quite sharply again. "When we consulted the magic mirror, it was agreed that Tink was the... ah... fairest of us all. Ergo...?"

"He sets the rules," Skylark says, frowning and --

"Is that a pout, little sister...?"

"I'm not -- wait, is there some kinda rule against pouting?"

Dick's smile becomes much broader, and, actually, somewhat wetter --

"Oh, Jesus -- okay, okay, I'm not pouting. However, I can still call you a gaywad, because I have *heard* Starling use that term and not get punished even a little."

Dick's laugh is soft and warm as he cups Skylark's shoulder. "Gay -- and all variations of gay -- are acceptable. As is queer. 'Sissy' will make Tink do something horribly mean to you -- probably because his father was known to use that term from time to time --"

"Oh, ew, *seriously*? His parents were *bigots*?"

That reaction is -- surprising. Bruce isn't sure if it *should* be --

No, Dick is blinking and coughing a little, too --

"*What*? It's not like I'm fucking *ignorant*. I'm allowed to bitch about everybody getting hot vigilante-on-vigilante action but *me* without it being a whole queerbashing *thing*, damn it."

"Yes, you --" Dick coughs again. "Of course you are, and you're totally right, and I take back at least seventeen different assumptions about you and what I'd have to train you to say and do. Okay?"

Skylark puts her fists on her hips again --

She turns to glare at *him* --

Bruce raises his hands. "I knew very little of teenagers when I was one, Skylark. I feel comfortable saying that I know even less now."

"But you *were* making assumptions."

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Yes."

"God, you *guys*. Okay, first off? Tink is my *favorite*. He's hotter than the rest of you put together, and *part* of that is how fucking queer he is, and I *know* that's bass-fucking-ackwards, but there you go. I *know* I'm never getting any, but *that's* fine, because the last time I got some I also got fucking *pregnant*, and I'm so not doing that again. *Tink* was there for me in the delivery room. *Tink* is the only one who knows whether I had a boy or a girl. *Tink* is the best friend I've ever had, even though I didn't get to know his actual name until *yesterday*. So, you know, *make* your assumptions or whatever -- I'm always gonna have his back."

Dick squeezes Skylark's shoulders. "That's why he was off the grid that night -- God, I can't believe I didn't put two and two together --" Dick laughs again and pulls Skylark in for a hug which seems equal parts bruising and affectionate --

"*Gah* -- *Robin* --"

"Little sister -- yes, I said it again -- please feel free to tell me off whenever the mood strikes you --"

"I -- I *will* --"

"Also, please remind Tink that he doesn't have to have secret friends -- just in case there are any other magnificently-more-attractive-by-the-second vigilantes running around I don't know about --"

Skylark snorts again --

"*Also*... tell me how much he's talked to you about his parents...?" And Dick pulls back to look at her -- and into her.

Skylark frowns. "He -- uh. I know they were kinda really fucking *absent*. I know they didn't give him rules or, you know, *anything*. I know that... I know that he's still a little fucked-up about them."

Dick nods. "Starling knows more about it than any of us -- though I've spied on those conversations as much as I could stand to. They were terrible people and worse parents. Bigotry is the least of it. Get Tink to talk to you about it as much as *he* can stand, because it's gotta come out somehow. But just to prepare you?"

"I'm. I'm listening, Robin."

"I'm glad I never had a chance to save them, Lark. Because I might've hesitated."

Bruce doesn't rear back. He doesn't --

He watches Skylark for *her* reactions, and finds a thoughtful frown in place of anything like shock or dismay. She reacted more strongly to the idea of performing a *pedicure*, and --

Bruce can't --

"Robin."

Dick closes his eyes for a moment before smiling. "Yeah, boss. I know you couldn't let that stand. I -- heh. I *would* have tried to save them, you know. I just wouldn't have jumped to do it as quickly as I would've for any other civilian. You look at Tink -- at *Cardinal* -- and see a confident, secure, brilliant vigilante. Maybe he's a bit too young --"

"Clark. Clark explained the place of younger vigilantes. I'm -- coming to learn --"

"All right, but you see all the other stuff, right?"

Bruce frowns. He knows what's coming -- "Yes. You're saying that he was abused by his parents."

"*Only* emotionally, but -- heh. It was pretty relentless, Bruce. When they were *there*, I mean. He didn't measure up as the son his father wanted, or the child his mother wanted. When they weren't trying to pound a square peg into a round hole, they were berating him for not doing the pounding himself. And it took its toll. When Starling brought him home for the first time, he was so jittery and nervous and convinced of his own basic unworthiness that I didn't think I *could* use him. Now, *some* of that was the fact that I was one of his childhood idols, but not all. Not by a long road. And that was *after* Starling had begun his program of fixing Tink's self-esteem by main force."

Bruce nods. He's seen children like that. *Families* like that. Families that -- truly -- didn't deserve the term. Still -- "We do not have permission to judge those who don't commit crimes --"

"Don't we? Because we didn't *just* call DYFS for the physical abusers way back when. We always found *some* reason to try to get help for the kids in situations like Tink's. Or hadn't you begun doing that?"

"That -- I didn't leave the parents in harm's *way*, Robin. Who could say what they could become with support and counseling?"

Dick laughs sharply and shakes his head. "The -- Tink's parents had *every* opportunity, Bruce. They took *none* of them. You did notice what kind of accent and diction Tink has, right?"

"There are certain similarities to Starling's accent... but those are artificial. Yes, I see. But there are no more chances when someone is dead, Dick. You know that. There are no chances to help, to heal, to even *alleviate*. Cardinal will never know who his parents could have come to be if he'd stood up to them."

Dick smiles again and massages Skylark's shoulders with rough efficiency before turning to face Bruce more fully. "Cardinal will also never be kicked out of his home for being queer, for loving someone of a decidedly different social class, for being more interested in the health and welfare of strangers than in whatever Ivy League college they chose for him... Bruce. You have to understand -- I have video of his mother *sneering* at him for getting a bruise from a game of pick-up basketball. His father was cheerful about it... until he began asking questions about whether or not Tim enjoyed the company of the other boys too much. They were hateful people, and I have no guilt whatsoever about their deaths. And -- I'm sorry, Bruce, but you can't talk me *into* having any."

"Seriously, Spooky, don't even try. I didn't know *half* this stuff, but I already knew they were useless."

Bruce blinks and turns to Skylark. "'Spooky?'"

"Robin still has *all* your stuff. One? The cars are seriously overcompensating for something. Two? The uniforms are *painfully* overcompensating for something. Three? The *trophies* --"

Dick coughs. "The trophies were *mostly* mine. Bruce would only keep the interesting weaponry and stuff to study them."

"Well, okay then. Still Spooky. Or, you know, Spoooooky," she says, and wiggles her fingers like the sort of monstrous creature which only comes out on Halloween.

Bruce nods and smiles cautiously. "Thank you."

She frowns at him. "For *what*?"

"The nickname," Bruce says, and raises an eyebrow. "Though I begin to wonder what Cardinal will call me."

"Oh -- Bruce," and Dick claps a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Points for the deft change of subject, and yes, I *do* think it's best that we agree to disagree, but -- ah. You shouldn't wish Tink on yourself that way. He's just going to come up with something terrible, and we're all going to side with him on it because he needs the validation."

Bruce hums. "I'll take the warning in the spirit in which it was given. Skylark asked me to teach her something. Do you have any suggestions?"

Dick raises an eyebrow at Skylark --

"Oh, what, is learning from Spooky against the rules, too?"

Dick purses his lips -- and laughs. "No, because I'm being a jealous *ass*, little sister --"

"Are you just gonna beat that into me until I accept it?"

Dick *beams* -- "Yes. Also... also, you should be moving in with us."

"*My* mother is still alive --"

"And could use some time off. Away. All-expenses-paid cruise...?"

Skylark jabs for Dick's abdomen --

Dick lets the punch graze him. "All right, I see that that's a 'no,' but still -- you *are* part of the family."

"*Owl* never lived with you guys."

"*Owl* thinks teenaged boys smell funny."

"She's *right*! Except for Tink. Tink always smells good."

There had been a certain scent to him this morning. Not quite flowery, but more flowery than musky --

"*Tink* owns more cologne than *Bruce* did."

Skylark gives him a look which speaks -- eloquently -- of disgust.

"You... don't care for cologne?"

"I don't *care* for grown men who are more vain than brainwashed teenaged girls."

"Are there... many? Of those?"

"*Yes*!"

Dick strokes Skylark's hair. "*Most* of those were for the Mission, Lark. He *pretended* to be vain and shallow and all of those other things so that people wouldn't take one look at how huge he was and how many injuries he had on a regular basis and come up with Batman."

"Oh." She bites her lip and nods once. "That's okay, then. *Some* cologne is okay. Just, you know, I start feeling *insecure* when a guy spends way more time on being beautiful than I do."

"Unless it's Tink," Dick says.

"Unless it's Tink, yeah," and she jerks her chin at him. "*Teach* me."

Bruce looks to Dick --

And Dick smiles, steps back, and gestures like a ringmaster at the expanse of the mats.

Bruce nods and steps back, as well. "Show me all of your kicks, please."

She nods once and spins into one which may as well have been designed to stave in ribs --

Another which will at least dislocate the average man's jaw --

A knee-kick which will make anyone not wearing an armored jock pay dearly --

A side-kick that's -- wobbly.

"Stop," Bruce says, and considers -- "Again, slowly."

She does so, and it's immediately clear --

"You've injured your left ankle."

"Uh. Yeah. I broke it when I was eleven. It doesn't hurt or anything --"

"You've learned to favor it."

"Hey, no, I always stick my dismounts and my balance is --"

"Wobbly -- for that kick," Bruce says, and "Again, and hold your right leg in the kick position."

"Oh -- man, okay," she says, and does just that.

Bruce crouches on her left side -- yes, this close he can see that she's turning her foot over slightly. Not enough to make him worry about the integrity of the ankle, but... "Flatten your foot."

"Crap. I get more support --"

"You surrender necessary balance. I --" He looks up to meet her eyes. "I assure you, this is the best way for you to do this kick effectively."

She bites her lip again and flattens her foot, wobbling more --

Bruce stands to steady her --

"Oh -- Jesus, I feel *weak* --"

"You've been unconsciously allowing your calf muscles to atrophy, but your youth and health will stand you in good stead when you begin strengthening it again --"

"Starting *right* now, little sister. Now I know why you don't show me your right-kicks too often," Dick says, and sounds like he's berating himself  --

"Aw, Robin, no, it's just -- um. Yeah. I'll just -- what should I do?"

"Come with me," and Dick moves in quickly to cup her shoulder and guide her away.

He --

Bruce wasn't *finished* -- oh.

Had it truly been that easy? That --

*Could* it have seemed that natural to teach a thirteen-year-old boy? A *grieving* boy, one who had to be searching for both purpose and meaning in the absence of... his parents?

*Who* --

Perhaps Dick would've been even more eager and willing than Skylark.

That would've *moved* him, urged him forward with more lessons, more *plans* for lessons which could only be taught when that muscle group strengthened, or that bone lengthened.

Skylark has almost certainly achieved much of her growth already, and so can be taught nearly everything she has the physical strength for -- and it's clear that her strength could *become* tremendous, given the rounded and faintly heavy musculature of her arms and legs.

Right now, Dick is guiding her in basic conditioning, making her stand on her toes and then her heels in order to teach her how not to let her ankle bend to the side unless it's strictly necessary. It's one of the things he would've done, and he has no doubt that Dick knows the rest just as well.

Perhaps... perhaps he'll be allowed to spot her, or --

Movement, and Harvey is walking toward him. He's still wearing the suit Alfred had found for him --

Had the Bruce from this universe taken his Harvey's things from Gilda when she'd divorced him? They would've had to go somewhere --

And Harvey's smile is slipping -- almost certainly because he'd noticed Bruce's expression. Bruce raises his hands and tries a soothing gesture --

"*I'm* all right, big guy, but I'm a little worried about you."

"I was... thinking about the Harvey from this universe."

Harvey winces and nods. "Yeah, that'd do it. Did you finally check out the file while J'onn was fixing me up?"

"No, not yet --"

"Aw, Bruce --"

"I'll look; I promise," Bruce says, and takes Harvey's hand.

Harvey squeezes firmly. "You were teaching the girl? Larkin? Loon?"

"Skylark --"

"*That's* right. She at least looks legal in a *few* places."

"She's sixteen. And -- I wasn't thinking of making *love* to her, Harv."

"Uh, huh, I believe you. I really do. *Robin's* the one thinking of putting it to her."

"I --" Bruce pauses and considers. The touches, the looks, the... claiming. The *relentless* claiming which, while ostensibly filial in nature --

"Yeah, you see it now. He's kinda... well, no, you're the one who's spending time with him. What's he like?" And the shadows under Harvey's voice are deep, frightening things --

"Harv..."

"What? Oh -- fuck. Don't mind me, big guy. J'onn helped me build something like a wall with a funnel in it between me and all the fucked-up shit from my childhood. There's this -- steady, slow trickle of... anyway --"

"Harv, that's not --"

"And also? I'm jealous," Harvey says, and grins at him, slipping his hands into his pockets and rocking on his heels. "I've never gotten to see you with anyone I could imagine you *liking*."

That's... entirely true. Bruce nods slowly. "I don't want you to be jealous --"

"Yeah, well, that kinda thing happens, big guy. Nothing you can do about it --"

"I'd like. I'd like to make love with you."

Harvey takes in a quick breath and stops rocking. "I know that. I mean -- I knew that."

Bruce nods and tries to will Harvey to meet his eyes, to talk to him openly and plainly about *this* --

Harvey blushes -- and laughs. "I actually don't believe you even a little about Skylark. You know -- she's part of this. This whole --" Harvey's gesture takes in the Cave in its entirety. "This is your world, yeah?"

"Not -- not all of it. They aren't my students, or my -- family --"

"But you want them to be, and at least part of that is that they *fit* down here. Masks and sweatpants. God fucking help us -- okay, no, not that. But they fit, and *you* fit, and -- maybe you thought there wouldn't be anyone who *did* fit?"

Perhaps it was his turn to look away. "I thought of you, Harv. I thought -- I thought of telling you."

Harvey touches his face, presses until Bruce turns back to face him -- he's searching Bruce, and that's more than fair. It's -- "You mean that."

"Yes. I -- I've never wanted to lie to you. About anything."

"Including..." Harvey frowns. "Did you want this life for *me*?"

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Yes. Though I knew you would never want it for yourself."

Harvey nods, but frowns more deeply. "Did you want it for *your*self? I mean -- some of the things we were talking about before --"

"I didn't want it, but I needed it."

"Needed it or *thought* you --"

"I needed it. I -- all the struggle, all the doubt, all the pain and fear and *hurt*... it all led to... to a kind of *culmination* the first time I went out into the night as the Batman. I felt as though I finally belonged."

Harvey looks troubled, but he nods -- and grips Bruce's shoulder. "I was grateful to the Batman for helping me and Jim clean up Gotham, make it right for people, but I always kinda pitied him, too. And -- and there was a moment when I hated you."

Bruce nods.

"You -- Jesus, I knew you forgave me for that --"

"Lies... I've always known that lies hurt a relationship --"

"We don't *have* -- heh. But we do, yeah?" Harvey smiles and pats Bruce's shoulder. "You were the only friend I had back when we were teenagers. It was you, and that handful of pretty girls I hooked up with who could actually carry their half of a conversation. And then there was Gilda, and I -- God, I need her so *badly* --"

"I know, Harv --"

"And it's so fucking wrong that I've wanted that for you and wanted nothing of the *kind*. You were all mine for a good long while. Even *after* you started pretending to be an idiot --"

"Yes. You always --"

"*You* always missed your cues, slipped your tether -- something like that. I could see your *eyes*, big guy, and I --" Harvey shakes his head and moves to stand in front of him, cupping both of his shoulders and squeezing hard. "I wanted you to keep lying to me, keep pretending you were this, this shallow fucking *waste*."

"Harv?"

"See, if you were lying -- only not doing a good job -- I could come see you whenever I had time, could spend time with you day or *night*, and no one would ever think the wrong thing."

"The right thing."

Harvey sighs. "Yeah, that, too. But *I* didn't have to think it, either. Christ, big guy, if you'd ever been this open with me when we shared a room --"

"Don't --" But Bruce has to stop himself, because -- he's never wanted to *deny* Harvey --

And Harvey is searching him again, licking his lips -- "It's too much?"

"I want. I want to make love with you," Bruce says, again, because it's the most honesty he has available to him --

Harvey nods slowly, never taking his gaze away --

"Oh. Harv --"

"He doesn't want us to have this, yeah?"

Bruce blinks. "What?"

"Robin, I mean. He -- I did terrible things to him. *Fucked*-up things, because -- I think, maybe, the Harvey from this universe knew you were Batman, too. I think he knew, and he took it out on your partner whenever he could. Whether or not he could see that Robin was *more* than just your partner. I don't -- I don't blame him for not being able to look at me. And I didn't blame him for *claiming* you this morning, either. And -- I don't know anything, Bruce. I don't know anything, at all."

Bruce swallows and reaches up to grip Harvey's hands, to hold them, pull them down, pull Harvey close --

"*Bruce* --"

"I've learned -- so much that I don't have any idea what to do with. I've learned that my sexuality is *frightening*, Harv. But it doesn't have to be that way --"

"So you're saying you're *not* gonna drill your way through this family? Even though they *want* you to?"

"They -- no. Skylark finds me contemptible in many ways --"

"But then there's Robin. And *Cardinal*. And -- the other guy. Starling. And you want *all* of them."

Bruce frowns. "Is it -- I've thought about... limiting myself. It should be no hardship to not make love to *teenagers* --"

"No, big guy, it *shouldn't*. But..." Harvey's smile is rueful, forgiving, *hurt* --

"Please, Harv --"

"Tell me what he's like. Tell me -- you know I can't even wrap my *mind* around you and *Superman*, but you and Robin? That's -- that's a whole different thing, yeah?" And Harvey squeezes Bruce's hands *hard* --

It's a request Bruce can't ignore. "Superman -- he would prefer to be known as simply a man --"

"Can *you* do that?"

Bruce smiles ruefully again. "No, I can't. Not for any appreciable length of time... but I believe Robin can, and so can the rest of his family. I don't believe he's 'Superman' to any of them. I -- he and Robin have had a long, loving relationship."

"Yeah? Since the Bruce from here died?"

"Before then. *Well* before --"

"So you're saying that everyone in this family is a freaky pervert?"

Bruce frowns --

"Strike that from the record. It's normal for *them*, and I'm guessing -- no huge dramas? No break-ups that end with everybody beating each other bloody on these handy-dandy mats?"

"I can't be sure, yet, but that's the impression I was given."

"You know... the uniforms *alone* are just --" Harvey shakes his head again and twists his hands free, walking a few steps away -- "Aw, I didn't mean to do that. I -- heh. Nobody *here* is gonna care that the 'golden boy' DA is a giant queer. They just wanna keep the psycho away from anything --" Harvey cuts himself off and rubs his temples.

"Harv...?"

"Just... just thinking. My old man... he was always real fucking clear that I was never gonna amount to anything. Sometimes I wish he'd lived long enough to see me married and a bona fide law-and-order *star*, see the papers calling me *Apollo*..."

Bruce moves closer cautiously --

Harvey sighs out most of his air and *slumps* --

Bruce cups Harvey's shoulders from the back and -- he massages them more gently than Dick had massaged Skylark's shoulders --

"Of *course* you'd be good at that -- Jesus. If you ever wanna convince somebody to put out for you? Do this."

"I -- to be honest, Harv, I believe a part of me would welcome a return to the status quo of absolutely no one desiring me for who I am --"

"*Me*, Bruce. I've always -- God, even when you *were* a kid. You were so fucking *sweet*, and innocent, and *grateful* to me -- and all I was thinking about was pushing down your pants and sucking you right into my *throat* -- heh."

What -- oh. He'd tightened his grip. He -- "I'm sorry, Harv --"

"You -- I changed the subject. I was gonna... tell you something about my childhood."

"Anything. I've always -- I never knew how to broach the subject --"

"Because I shut you down every time you asked about the bruises, yeah?"

Bruce nods -- but Harvey is still facing away. "Yes. I -- I was ignorant, Harv. Shamefully so --"

"*You* -- you actually had *good* parents, big guy," and Harvey reaches up to cover one of Bruce's hands. "You had no reason to know --" Harvey cuts himself off, teeth clicking together --

"Harv?"

He spins around and *grips* Bruce's face. "Did they hurt you, Bruce?"

"What? My -- are you asking about my *parents*?"

Harvey's expression is hard, *dark* --

"Harv, no, they never abused me --"

"It might not have *felt* like abuse, Bruce. C'mon, work with me. You know what I'm talking about."

He *doesn't*. He won't --

He doesn't *want* to --

And just thinking about it is enough to darken and -- and *pervert*, because his mind is bringing up moments of pure happiness, like his father tickling Bruce's abdomen with his mustache, or teaching him all about anatomy so he could surprise his mother with all the strange and interesting words he learned, or --

Or *other* things, and it was never --

"Ah -- God, Bruce, I'm so sorry," and Harvey is hugging him, and that's always wonderful, but --

"No, Harv, he never -- they never *hurt* me --"

"Bruce --"

Bruce pulls back and grips Harvey's arms. "I'm *all right*. There was -- there was never anything *sexual*."

Harvey frowns, and his suspicion is deep, *palpable* -- "Was it educational?"

Bruce blinks. "What -- what do you mean?"

"Your Dad..." Harvey licks his lips and then frowns *thunderously*, staring down at the floor between them.

"Harv, I promise you, I'm all *right* --"

Harvey shudders and continues to glare at the floor for a long moment --

"Please, I -- I want to help *you* --"

"Just like you wanna teach these kids, yeah? Help them."

Bruce steps back and drops his hands. "I know. I know my feelings are inappropriate at *best*. I'd like -- I'll be actively *working* to focus my attentions on suitable adults --"

"Like me?" And Harvey looks up and smiles lightly, ruefully --

"You -- you could never be a *replacement* --"

"But a focus. Someone who could pull you away from all the --" Harvey takes a deep breath. "You know something, big guy?"

"What?"

"I wanna go outside. In the air. Is it -- what *is* it like out there now? I know it was sunny this morning --"

"We... could check?"

Harvey smiles. "Yeah. Why don't we? And we could go out some other exit so I don't see any faces I don't need to see, yeah?"

Bruce nods. "I remember... there was a spot on the grounds you seemed to like --"

"Aw, yeah, that great little stone bench right by the -- birches? Is that what they were?"

"Yes. It's actually quite close to one of the Cave entrances --"

"Then let's hit it. Get a little sunshine, a little time away from the cold, dark hole in the ground -- and there's *nothing* even a little bit wrong with the fact that this place has started to feel more like your home than the *manor* --"

"Harv --"

"Please?" And there's more in his eyes than just a plea, but it's the plea which gets Bruce moving. As if there's anything he would deny --

A part of him *does* feel he should tell Dick where he's going, if only not to worry him --

But Dick looks up from where he's crouched next to Skylark -- who is leaping in place -- and when Bruce gestures 'outside,' Dick only nods.

Harvey smiles at him. "Be honest -- it weirds you out a little that he knows everything about your sign language."

"Yes, it does. He's also added to it over the years..." Bruce shakes his head. "If you had asked me a week ago why I developed the hand signals in the first place, I'm not sure what I would've said."

"But you used them with people like Superman before."

"Yes. But I developed them long before I had any thoughts of working with *anyone*, even on a strictly part-time basis. I developed them when I was still convinced that I would always be alone."

Harvey frowns -- but then shakes his head and laughs. "I think maybe *part* of you already knew that you'd find *some* partner. And I think it was the part of you which makes Robin rock-hard and ready for you."

"Hm."

"'Hm'?"

Bruce smiles and reaches up to push the turf-covered block out of the way, then leaps up and pulls himself out onto the grounds --

"Man, my suit's gonna hate this. Ah, well," and Harvey jumps and takes Bruce's hands. He manages to get up and out with only some scuffing on his shoes, but he dusts himself off, anyway -- "Ever hear of *ladders*, big guy?"

Bruce pulls on his most dim expression. "Is that something to do with young boys, Harv? I don't think I *should* be doing anything like that."

Harvey's jaw drops -- and then he snorts and punches Bruce's arm. "Okay, I'm not sure how I feel about the fact that you can *joke* about that already, but that's a lie, because I *always* want you smiling about something," he says, and turns in a slow circle -- "Hah. Stand of white birches at three o' clock. That's what they're called, right?"

"Some call them colonies, but that's not strictly correct --"

"Just walk with me, big guy."

"Yes."

"What was the 'hm' about, anyway?"

Bruce smiles and lets himself blush -- not that he has any choice in the matter.

"Oh, *really*."

"Harv --"

"'cause maybe you were thinking that I get rock-hard and ready for that part of you, too...?"

Oh, now he's blushing *harder* --

Harvey laughs, bright and moderately loud. It's more than the situation is worth --

"Harv?"

"Ah, Bruce, I was so scared I was *crying* in that Cave of yours. The *empty* Cave, that is. I thought I was gonna die without ever seeing *anyone* I cared about again. I thought -- that's part of why I was pointing that gun at you. Sometimes when people get scared --"

"There's nothing they can do but offer violence."

Harvey laughs again, more quietly this time. "Look at me, forgetting that we aren't kids. You don't need my little lessons, anymore."

"I..." Bruce shakes his head and walks into the birches. The bench gets far more shade than it used to... he'll just put Harvey on the side. He should have as much sun as he wants. Bruce dusts the seat off with his hands --

And when he looks up, Harvey's expression for him is deep and a little unreadable -- until he smiles and sits on the sun-warmed part of the bench. "Me Apollo, you... well, it's not like you could ever be Dionysos."

"I suppose I could murder a lion and wear its skin."

"Yeah, but you'd also have to get *hammered*, big guy," and Harvey throws his head back and breathes deep. "God, I forgot how easy it was to forget that we *aren't* in the damned countryside. I hope those kids actually run around and play out here a *little*."

"Me, too."

"*You* didn't."

Bruce smiles ruefully. "I'm a hypocrite, among other things."

"You're -- Bruce, listen to me carefully, all right?"

"Always, Harv --"

"No, more than always. *Better* than always, because this -- these superheroes are gonna find a way to send us wherever we need to go, and you..." Harvey swallows and stares out at nothing. The tension in him is palpable, but Bruce doesn't think he would appreciate touch --

Would he? Bruce covers his hand. Just his hand --

"Oh, Bruce... I don't think we're going to the same places. I don't think there's anything left of where we come from. I don't think -- I think maybe I'm going and you're *not*."

"Harv --"

"No, don't argue this with me, okay? Just -- I'm gonna say this once, and you're gonna listen."

"Yes, Harv --"

"Be happy, big guy. That -- that's the only real thing. The only important thing. Maybe I should be worried about these kids you wanna bone like there's no tomorrow, but those kids have all probably seen things that'd turn my hair white -- and that's not it, either. They're not *you*. That's it. I care about you -- God, the thought of losing you scares me so much --"

"Harv, no, you don't have to --"

"Easy, easy. We're not talking about that. We're talking about how you can't let yourself be alone anymore, and how you have to -- have to be *happy*. *Somehow*. Maybe with this family that's had a space for you forever, maybe with some guy or a girl who'll actually make a *blood* family with you --"

"I don't --"

"*Please*, Bruce," and Harvey *grips* Bruce's hand.

Bruce takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm listening."

"I --" Harvey laughs again and scrubs his free hand over his face. "I don't know what I'm saying. I don't know -- there's not any more. I just need, almost more than anything else, to know that you're gonna be happy *somewhere*. That you won't be *alone*, because, God, big guy -- I've known you weren't supposed to be alone since I was *fourteen*."

"You're not, *either*, Harv --"

"No, I know, and it's not like I ever managed to get too many friends..." Harvey frowns and squeezes Bruce's hand. "Not like you. Never... never anyone." Harvey takes another deep breath and turns to face Bruce. He cups Bruce's cheek --

He *strokes* Bruce's cheek, and then the spot on Bruce's jaw where the stubble always grows fastest --

"I remember. I remember when this was just a little spot. Like a bruise."

Bruce nods, careful not to dislodge Harvey's hand --

"I wanted to kiss it then. To just -- rub my mouth against it until it got swollen and red..."

"Harv..."

"Superman... his stubble's gotta be kinda ridiculous, hunh?"

"He uses his heat vision and a mirror to burn out the follicles."

"... oh." Harvey laughs quietly, breathlessly -- and then he kisses Bruce's jaw, nuzzles it and kisses again, again --

Bruce breathes out shakily and reaches to cup the back of Harvey's head. If -- if they can have this --

"Bruce..."

"Yes. I -- yes, Harv --"

"I love you," Harvey says, and kisses Bruce's lips, sucking the upper and then the lower --

Sucking *hard* --

Bruce pulls back enough that he can make the kiss deep, as heavy as he feels --

Harvey groans and licks his way into Bruce's mouth, tilting his head just so and reaching to stroke Bruce's chest through the t-shirt. And --

Harvey's hands are larger than Dick's, but smaller than Clark's. Harvey's mouth is nearly as broad as Jason's --

Harvey groans again, and Bruce realizes that he's pushed Harvey's tongue out of his mouth, that he's taking *Harvey's* mouth, that he's being aggressive. Too aggressive? He starts to pull back again --

And Harvey bites Bruce's lower lip and *claws* down Bruce's chest and abdomen, making Bruce jerk and gasp --

"You like that, big guy?" And Harvey's so close, so --

They're breathing each other's breaths -- "Harv..."

"C'mon, tell me. I need to know --"

"I liked it. I want -- I want to feel your hands on my body. I've always --"

"I don't have those baseball calluses, anymore. Softball once a year against the forty-eighth precinct really doesn't cut it, you know?"

"You have --" Bruce kisses Harvey quick and hard -- "Your writing calluses --"

"Yeah. Yeah. Maybe I..." Harvey sighs and kisses him more gently, letting it linger as he pushes his hand under Bruce's t-shirt and begins to stroke, to pet and scratch --

Bruce pants and tries to focus on the kiss, on more than the feel --

Harvey is *using* his calluses, and it's what Bruce has wanted, so much of what he's *wanted* --

"Harv --"

"I hear you, God, I -- the sound of your *voice* --"

"You make me *hungry*, Harv --"

"*Fuck*, this -- uh. Yeah, fast. Fast is -- what we're gonna --" Harvey shakes his head and kisses Bruce again, kisses almost viciously hard as he pushes his hand into Bruce's shorts --

"*Harv* --"

"No, let me -- please let me --"

"Oh -- I won't say *no*. I've always wanted you to touch me --"

"I know, fuck, I know -- help me get this jock out of the way --"

Bruce stands and pushes it down with his shorts --

"Oh, look at you --"

"Harv --"

Harvey wraps his fist around the base of Bruce's penis and groans, *stares* -- "So hot for me, so hard -- how were you hiding this behind that damned *jock*?"

"Painfully. Harv --"

"I love you, and I need you -- I need you to remember that," he says, then mutters something low and incomprehensible in the moments before he takes Bruce's penis *in* --

"Oh -- oh, *Harv* --"

Harvey nods rapidly, cupping Bruce's scrotum with his other hand and sucking so --

So *hard* --

And there's a part of Bruce which only wants to know how many times Harvey has done this, with *whom* he's done this so he can look into their eyes and demand they show how much they appreciated, how much they *loved* --

Harvey should always be *loved* --

Bruce strokes Harvey's hair, losing himself to the thick wave of it, to the pleasure --

The heat and *force* of the pleasure Harvey's giving and taking --

"Harv -- Harv, this -- you don't *have* to --"

Harvey *growls* around him and it's all Bruce can do not to *thrust* --

Bruce pants -- "You -- I know you desire me. I know you love me. I can't -- I can't *stop* you. I need you so badly, I don't -- but you're a married man --"

Harvey pulls back --

Bruce groans and drops to his knees to keep himself from weaving and *swaying* for the loss -- "I'm all right --"

"Bruce -- I have to believe I can have this."

"Harv...?"

Harvey tilts Bruce's face up, and his eyes are wide and full. He's letting his own need show, and his own hunger -- and his guilt and worry.

"Harv, no, I'm sorry I've been so -- I shouldn't let myself be so *needy* --"

"Shut up -- don't. Don't. Just --"

"I'll leave you alone --"

"Don't even *think* --" Harvey shakes his head and growls. "It's not you who has to worry about this, big guy. It's not -- this is just for us, okay? We -- I'll confess this to Gilda while crawling over broken *glass*, but I need you too much not to *try* for this. Okay?"

"I don't want you *hurt* --"

"I know, Bruce. I know -- and I always knew you'd try to take care of me --" Harvey squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, but when he opens them, they're only determined.

"Oh, Harv. I wanted -- I thought of focusing my desires on you --"

"To keep yourself away from the kids. I know. I forgive you -- God, you've never done anything *wrong* --"

"I've lied to you --"

"Shut *up*," and Harvey's laugh is breathless, but entirely real. "Come back up here. We -- we'll take it a little easy at first, yeah?"

Bruce is nodding before he can think about it, moving to sit back on the bench --

"Get. Touch me?"

Bruce groans and strokes Harvey's chest, seeking and finding his nipple and pinching it through the shirt --

"Ah -- harder, do it --"

Bruce pinches *hard* --

Harvey winces, but -- it doesn't look like a pained wince, at all. It looks --

"Harv... Harv, do you like --"

"Want it. Want *you*. God, your big fucking -- everything," and Harvey laughs again, lifts his hips -- "I can't wait. I can't -- touch my dick?"

"I'd like --"

"Anything, Bruce. *Do* it --"

And Bruce kisses Harvey again, making it as aggressive as he can --

Harvey grunts and scrabbles for Bruce's hand, gripping it and pushing it down --

Oh, yes. Oh -- Bruce groans into Harvey's mouth and opens his pants one-handed, grateful for everything he's learned about dexterity when one's focus is elsewhere due to pain or... other things.

Bruce feels himself *wanting* to laugh, but it seems too likely to distract from this moment, this chance to have what he's *wanted* --

He loves, he *loves*, and Harvey's boxer shorts are easy to push aside --

Oh, the *heat* of him --

Harvey pulls back and cries out, just for the touch of Bruce's hand --

"Harv --"

"Do it, just do it, make me come --"

Bruce leans in to kiss again, squeezes and starts to stroke, but Harvey cries out and shakes his head --

"I can't. Just --" Harvey shakes his head again and leans back, jerks for Bruce's squeeze and reaches up to grip Bruce's shoulder -- "Oh -- I feel you --"

"Yes. Yes, you're -- so strong in my hand --"

"Always wanted to be strong for you --"

"You are, you *were* --"

"Not -- not as *much* -- oh, *fuck* me --"

Bruce grunts and squeezes again --

"*Bruce* --"

"That's what I want, Harv. That's -- I want you inside me --"

"*Hnh* -- *Jesus*, big guy --"

Bruce pants and pushes closer, turning enough that he can touch Harvey with both hands, so that he can *hold* Harvey's shoulder still, hold him in place --

"God, so -- you can -- can push me *around* --"

"Do you *want* that --"

"*Yes*. Thought about -- you just taking what you wanted --"

The grass isn't as soft here as it is on other parts of the grounds --

Harvey *and* Alfred will berate him for the damage to Harvey's suit, but --

Like this, with Harvey below him and staring up with wide eyes --

Like this, rising above and opening Harvey's clothes, his shirt --

"I'm a child with you --"

"You -- oh, God, Bruce, do what you *want* --"

Bruce nods and leans in, licking Harvey's throat and pushing his abdomen against Harvey's penis --

"Oh, yeah, yeah, all that *hair* --"

Bruce *rubs* his abdomen against Harvey's penis, sucks and bites --

"Bruce, Bruce I'm gonna -- *please* --"

He wants *more*, but he knows Harvey is close. He's had no jock compressing him, forcing him to both pain and patience -- but. "Harv, tell me --"

"You can fuck *me*. I've wanted --"

"You -- you've never wanted --"

"No -- *yes*. Everything, Bruce, everything -- God, right *now* --"

They can't *have* everything right now, but --

Bruce bites Harvey's throat again --

"*Bruce* --"

Bruce moves down Harvey's body, pausing to suck and bite his nipples, the shallow dip between his pectoral muscles. Bruce had watched Harvey rub himself there countless times just before he masturbated, before Harvey knew he *needed* to masturbate --

"Oh -- God, *yeah*, take me, *do* me --"

Bruce groans and grabs Harvey's shoulders, shoves at them --

"Not -- not goin' anywhere --"

"*Harv* --"

Harvey moans again and shoves his hands in Bruce's hair, grips it and holds Bruce's head against his navel --

"Harv?"

"You -- I need you --"

"Let me take you in my mouth --"

Harvey *whines*, taking his hands out of Bruce's hair and gripping the grass, instead -- "Like -- felt like taking *advantage* --"

"No, Harv --"

"Never thought -- never let myself think too hard -- ah, fuck, sometimes it happened *anyway* --"

"*Everything*, Harv --"

Harvey whines again and *tears* the grass, and it's not a yes, but it's *also* not a no. Harvey --

Harvey is strong. He can *stop* Bruce if he needs to --

And Harvey's *scent* is strong in the late spring air, thick and gamy from his workout earlier --

Bruce is already *salivating*, and -- he doesn't have to wait. He licks the underside of Harvey's penis from root to tip --

"*Bruce* --"

He sucks at Harvey's circumcision scar and Harvey beats at the *ground* --

"I'm not -- I'm not very experienced --"

"*Please* --"

Bruce squeezes the base of Harvey's penis *firmly* and takes the rest of it in, shuddering for the taste, the *strength* of the taste, the simple, human --

Harvey *sobs* and arches, lost so quickly --

Fast, he'd said, and Bruce knows what would bring *him* to orgasm quickly. Bruce sucks hard and works his head up and down on the shaft, and that --

It's so --

He's using Harvey to take himself, he's filling himself with his friend, his beautiful *friend* --

And this, perhaps, is something close to what the Clark of this universe has felt about him, this love and need which spans *years* of being convinced that nothing of the kind can be had --

*Culmination* --

Bruce groans and takes himself faster, closing his eyes --

"Bruce -- oh, *Bruce* --" And Harvey is moving, shifting --

He has to look. When he does, he can see that Harvey is sitting up on his elbow and reaching with his other hand, *staring* wide-eyed and *dazed* --

"Can't -- can't believe --"

Bruce hums and tries to make Harvey understand that it's need, that it's profound, that it's *need* --

Harvey whimpers and lets himself fall back down, reaching to cup the back of Bruce's head with both hands and pulling his knees up, planting his *feet*. "Gonna -- can't hold still --"

Bruce nods and hums again --

"Ah -- God -- can you take -- no, I *need* --" And Harvey holds Bruce's head still, keeps him -- "Oh, just that -- just that --"

Bruce shakes his head and tries to urge Harvey to take more, *use* more --

"*Bruce*, I need you --"

Bruce growls, hums *again* --

Harvey gasps, sobs -- and starts to thrust, pushing into Bruce's hand, into Bruce's mouth --

Yes, Bruce wants to say, yes and yes, and if Harvey would let him move, he'd say it that way -- except that Harvey *quickly* loses his rhythm. He's thrusting randomly, jaggedly --

Three thrusts fast and two slow and long, slow and *reaching*, almost --

Bruce uncurls one finger so that Harvey can slip deeper, press against the back of Bruce's throat --

"*Huh* -- oh -- oh, yeah --" And now it's *fast* and ragged, rough and *dark* --

And Bruce knows how he could make it darker, make it *more*. He's read, he's studied, he's *interviewed* -- and he's watched Clark and Dick. Bruce moves his hand and gulps --

Harvey *shouts* --

Grinds --

Bruce's throat feels tender, *shocked* -- no, that's his mind, his heart --

Harvey wants him, wants to *enter* him, *is* entering him --

Bruce doesn't have the *air* to groan and his penis is twitching against the thin grass, waiting and hungry, *starved* --

But the rest of him isn't, and that only becomes more true when Harvey cries out and begins to ejaculate, spilling down Bruce's throat --

And on his tongue -- the *taste* --

Back into his throat -- and Bruce grips Harvey's hips and forces him to stay deep within, holding him there while Harvey twitches and spasms, shouts and arches --

Bruce holds him until Harvey slumps and begins to whimper, and then pulls off as slowly and carefully as he can. His body is telling him to *climb* on Harvey, to hold him down again as he takes his own pleasure --

He doesn't know what that would feel like --

His body wants him to find out --

Harvey groans -- and laughs, soft and tired.

"Harv." Oh -- he didn't mean that to come out so harshly --

Harvey sucks in a sharp breath and sits up immediately, blinking his eyes open and gripping Bruce's shoulders --

Bruce *pushes* against Harvey's grip --

"Oh, big guy... I meant to get you off *first*, maybe... maybe walk *away* before you could return the favor --"

"No."

"Bruce --"

"It would've. It would've been too painful without your pleasure."

Harvey winces -- and nods. "Okay, yeah. You're right. This -- I guess this could never be easy -- I can't live like you --"

"I know, Harv --"

"What do you want, big guy? My mouth? My hand? My --"

"*Harv*."

Harvey grunts and reaches down to squeeze his own penis -- "No choices. Okay, I get you. I *hear* you, and I -- one good push deserves another?" And Harvey pushes on Bruce's shoulders --

It *hurts* to back away from Harvey, even just to lie down. It -- the pain of it is almost blinding, *tragic* -- "Harv --"

"I'm here. I'm right here. It's just that you're so big and *gorgeous*, big guy. I -- heh. I don't know where to *start*."

"You. It was always --" The words are trite, meaningless things. The words keep him away from this feeling, this knowledge that he may reach -- like so -- and touch Harvey's beautiful face, stroke his broad, Native cheekbones, the jut of his nose -- "Please." That word, at least, makes sense for this moment --

Harvey's eyes are so dark and *warm* --

"Please --"

"Ah, Bruce -- I. Just gotta --" And Harvey lowers himself down and kisses him, sucks hard on Bruce's lips until they feel even more swollen and raw, potentially as beautiful as Harvey's own --

Bruce cups Harvey's face and tries to urge Harvey to make it an even deeper kiss, a rougher, more dangerous one --

Harvey bites him, bites all over Bruce's mouth and jawline --

"*Harv* --"

"So big. So *fucking* big. I mean -- I'm not *small*," and Harvey laughs, breathless and much *higher* than usual. "Oh, Bruce --" Harvey kisses him again, shifts until he's lying on his side next to Bruce with his hand around Bruce's penis --

"Harv, *yes* --"

"I'm glad, Bruce. I'm so glad for this. You don't know --"

"I feel the *same* --"

"Ah -- fuck, maybe you do," and Harvey laughs again and starts to stroke, hard and fast -- "Won't last long --"

"No, no, I *won't* --"

"No, *I* won't, because I need -- you're gonna come in my mouth. You're gonna let me taste you --"

Bruce's body arches entirely on its own --

Bruce falls back down to the ground --

"Oh, fuck, don't *come* --"

"Now, Harv, it has to be -- *hnh* --"

"Oh -- God, I know that squeeze was too hard --"

"Good. Everything. I *need* you --"

"And I want -- wanna give you always --"

Bruce groans helplessly, aware that he's tossing his head but with no comprehension of how to *stop*. Harvey is moving, and a part of him panics atavistically. He can't leave *now* --

But Harvey is only settling himself down by Bruce's hip, only leaning in, *breathing* in --

"Do you like --"

"You smell so good. Even better than you did when we were roomies. I wanted -- sometimes I'd sniff your fucking *sheets* --"

Bruce groans again -- why didn't he think of doing that? He'd only sniffed Harvey's *pillow* --

And Harvey is nuzzling him, licking out to taste here and there --

Darting in to *nip* the head, and Bruce thinks that sound was more *animal* than anything else --

"I'm sorry. I'm not sorry. I'm -- no waiting," Harvey says, and takes him in three gulps. His eyes roll back in his head almost immediately and he's shaking, shaking as much as *Bruce* is shaking --

"Harv, your *mouth* --"

Harvey hums and nods, obviously trying to focus once more and *failing*. This -- he feels the same. He --

"It -- the *profundity* --"

But when Harvey sucks, Bruce runs out of language. Of -- of things he can say aloud other than 'please' punctuated with *grunts*.

He tries to look at the sky, but the branches of the birches wind and twine together --

He wants to be held, encompassed --

He wants more of *this*, and it's the greatest effort he's ever felt not to simply lay back --

He sits up and strokes Harvey's thick, perfect hair, he cups Harvey's cheek --

Harvey is focusing again, studying him and looking for --

Bruce doesn't know. He feels *stupid* with pleasure, dim and shocked and lost to the heat and pleasure of Harvey's mouth, to the coil around his spine and the tightness -- "Harv..."

Harvey hums and nods and Bruce shudders, *pants* --

"My -- my scrotum -- *oh* --"

Harvey pulls off and *sucks* Bruce's scrotum, kisses and nibbles even as he strokes Bruce's penis *roughly*. It's almost enough to make him fall onto his back again, but he has to sit up more, has to *see* Harvey almost *presenting* Bruce's scrotum to himself, see his eyes closed and brow wrinkled in concentration --

"I want --" Bruce laughs again --

Jerks and moans for the ways the laugh moves his body --

"Oh, *Harvey* --"

"*Mine*, Bruce. Right now, just a little --"

"*Always* --"

"You'll *remember* me --"

"*Always*, Harv --"

"Remember -- it fucking hurts how much I love you --" And Harvey cuts himself off by swallowing Bruce again, and this time he works his head *and* gestures for thrusts --

There's no way Harvey *could* be as practiced as Dick, but -- it's what he wants.

And it's what Bruce's *body* wants, too. He doesn't thrust so much as he *allows* himself to thrust, and it almost seems a part of him is opening, relaxing everything including *control* --

He's managing not to thrust hard, but he's thrusting quickly, choking off Harvey's moan, Harvey's *pleasured* moan -- "*Harv* --"

Harvey nods and pushes his fingers back behind Bruce's scrotum, pushing into his cleft--

Every touch there is dangerous, dark and *needful*, and Bruce can't spread his legs properly because Harvey is in the *way*. He fans out his other leg and tries to find some way to urge that doesn't involve stopping -- or even slowing -- the thrusts which feel like the only thing which can save him from a lifetime of *pained* arousal.

The light scrape of Harvey's teeth makes him scream, makes him shudder his *relief*. Yes, pain for pain, need for --

For --

Harvey is stroking Bruce's *anus*. He's almost seeming to test it, to measure and study --

"*Please*, Harv --"

Harvey cuts Bruce off with a look -- he's so determined he looks almost *enraged* --

"In. Push *in* --"

Harvey squeezes his eyes shut and does it. It's only one finger, but it burns, it *aches* --

It highlights everywhere Bruce is still raw and swollen from Clark --

But then Harvey starts to thrust, and everything is heat, bright light, *heat* of the kind that makes Bruce sweat and toss, thrust *raggedly* into Harvey's mouth, his tight *throat* --

They are lover and loved, both. They are taking and *taken*. They --

Bruce never *knew* beyond the most shallow fantasies, the most *mindless* hungers. This is what he's *wanted*, and he'd denied that --

He'd *tried* to deny it for much too long. This may only happen once -- no. He won't think about that, and he'll derail any conversations which would lead to that -- that *obscenity*. How could they be separated *now*? How could anything so fine, so heated and --

Perfect. That --

Harvey is *rubbing* his prostate --

Harvey -- his hand is so strong, so --

His eyes are almost steely in their focus, and all Bruce can do is make increasingly terrible sounds -- could bass *ever* sound anything but desperate and weak at *this* point?

Harvey is looking straight at him, eyes even darker than before, even more --

More *adamant*, stronger and more brutal than his unlubricated finger -- "More -- Harv, *more* --"

And Harvey urges a faster rhythm, a *steeper* one, somehow, because this time it feels as though he's being pulled up a great hill of his own arousal and hunger, that at the end there'd be exhaustion and perhaps things more --

More dangerous --

And metaphors fail him utterly when Harvey begins to suck in rhythm with his thrusts, when --

Bruce is grunting for every *push*, every *pulse* --

Bruce feels himself *spasm* in Harvey's mouth, and that --

Orgasm leaves him in an endless white -- no, it's punctuated with his own cries, with Harvey's strength and *ruthless* sucking and thrusting --

Bruce's cries turn to shouts, to *yells* when a scrape of teeth makes him flex and spurt what feels like a significant portion of his *spinal* fluid --

It shouldn't feel this good to lose everything, to give -- no, he's supposed to give, always to share with his beautiful friend, his only --

*Not* his only, but right now, perhaps, Harvey needs Bruce to belong to him. Bruce opens his eyes and waits patiently to focus. When he does, he sees that Harvey is holding him in his mouth and that, at some point, he'd allowed some of Bruce's semen to leak down to Bruce's groin.

Bruce shudders and can't stop himself from reaching down to swipe some onto his fingers--

Harvey pulls off and sucks Bruce's fingers into his mouth, shuddering and narrowing his eyes --

"Oh... Harv. Would you let me kiss you?"

Harvey nods and pulls back again, licking and nibbling at Bruce's fingers -- "Always wondered what the hell you *did* to get your hands to feel as hard as they did -- heh. I had these vague images of you yachting or something. Now I know you were working to keep them *soft*, you dog."

"Hm. Woof?"

Harvey bites down hard on Bruce's fingers and growls, shaking his head --

And Bruce can't help smiling. Just --

"Aw, big guy... yeah, that was good. *Incredible* -- but also just good."

"I always thought it could be with you."

"Heh. I'll do you one better -- I always knew it *would* be with you, and also -- I'm an idiot. Or -- I don't know. I had to be *careful* -- "

"Yes."

"I couldn't just -- if anyone ever found out -- hell, there were rumors about us here and there and we hadn't even *done* anything. If Gilda hadn't agreed to start campaigning and PDA-ing with me..." Harvey sighs and pushes a hand back through his hair. "It's not fair. It's not right."

Bruce sits up and takes Harvey's hands in his own, massaging them gently -- "I am in your hands."

Harvey smiles ruefully. "Is that what it takes, big guy? A universe where one of us is dead and the other took a permanent trip to Cloud Cuckoo Land?"

Bruce reaches up to touch Harvey's cheek -- no, he leans in and kisses him, tasting himself even as Harvey must be tasting *him*self. It's a slow kiss, and an easy one -- almost as though it's the exact kiss Harvey wanted to take for himself. The thought makes Bruce shiver and move closer, close enough that he can get his hands on Harvey's rangy chest and stroke, massage --

Harvey sighs and cups Bruce's face, making the kiss briefly deeper before pulling back -- "You're the smart one --"

"Harv --"

"You figure out a way to make this work, hunh? I don't -- God, I never wanna give you up --"

"I love you --"

"Love me later, big guy. *Think* now," Harvey says, and his eyes are bright, the brown of them paler in a moment's sunlight --

"It's only... I'll never be able to say no to you, Harv. I'm not -- I don't think I can be *helpful*, even though I know it could ruin your career and your -- your marriage."

Harvey winces. "That -- that bad? I mean, I knew that --"

Bruce nods and strokes down to Harvey's waist. "I shouldn't ask you to have control for both of us. I know that --"

"You -- you've always needed people who could hold you, who could *take* your kind of love. You -- what the hell do you think you did when Robin was in danger?"

Bruce smiles ruefully again. "I imagine I hurt certain criminals very badly... but, in truth, I don't know. He's covered in scars, and some of them are quite terrible --"

"Like on his bare-ass arms and *legs*? I saw that damned uniform --"

"Apparently, Robin chose it for himself --"

"Don't let the kid *do* that in -- whichever universe you wind up in --"

"Harv, there's still hope for *our* universe --"

"Bruce. Great big chunks of everywhere wound up getting *swallowed* --"

"I have to believe --"

Harvey puts pressure on Bruce's face. "I have to be real. I might -- I might not ever get a chance to see my Gilda again. I might not make it *anywhere* when all the big scientists here send me away. I might --" Harvey blows out a breath. "It's all gonna be up in the air, one way or another, Bruce. It -- we have to take what we can, I think."

"Is that... is that what let you make love to me?"

Harvey smiles softly. "Yeah, a little. Mostly it was the jealousy and the fact that I finally know... well, not all of you. I don't think anyone in *any* world knows all of you, big guy. You -- you're big all over. Big-bodied, big-brained, big-hearted. You've got room for all this *stuff* -- including faith. I'm just a guy, Bruce. I don't have room for all that much, at all."

"Harv... Harv, what if I traveled *with* you?"

"Then I'd get to have you for just a little while longer. Or maybe a *long* while longer. I don't know. We *can't* know, Bruce," and Harvey strokes down to Bruce's shoulders again. "What I do know? Robin doesn't get to have you. *Starling* doesn't get to have you. *Cardinal and Skylark* don't get to have you --"

"I -- you think -- you don't approve --"

"It's not up to me to approve or disapprove. I -- hell, depending on how old Cardinal is, that might not even be statutory rape --"

"Harv --"

And Harvey cuts him off by *gripping* Bruce's jaw. "How many people have you let talk you into this so far, hunh? Superman, Robin... don't push me into telling you to fuck kids. Please."

Bruce rears back. "Harv, no --"

"We all -- everybody's gotta want you to be happy, and I -- I was your first real friend, yeah? The first stranger to really... really care about you?"

"Yes, Harv --"

"So you gotta listen to me, okay?"

"*Always* --"

"Yeah, like that. Just like that. You're good. You're so -- you've always *been* good, even though you've also always been a little fucked-up. I..." Harvey's smile is pained, and he loosens his grip on Bruce's jaw. "I don't know how deep it goes. I'm not a shrink *or* a damned Martian. Maybe... maybe you should get *him* to check you out, to find all the places in you which go for teenagers and... okay, so he said he couldn't just erase all the bad stuff, but fuck, Bruce, you know what I'm saying, don't you?"

"That I... should have more control?"

"Ah -- God. Maybe?" Harvey laughs again. "Look, I'm not gonna talk you into fucking kids even if it *is* making love to them --"

"Of course not --"

"It's just that I'm also not -- I'm not your conscience. I'm not *our* conscience. You say you can't say no to me? That's -- well, that's on both of us for the kind of relationship we built between us. It's just that I'm *not your conscience*. It's not my job to talk you *out* of fucking kids, either --"

"I wouldn't --"

"Wouldn't you? Think about it, big guy. You've *always* let me call the shots. You didn't stop until you were the goddamned *Batman*, and even then you always asked me. Even if you *knew* your way was the best."

Bruce breathes deeply and closes his eyes --

"Yeah, you're hearing me. You -- I'm not giving you up, okay? I'm *always* gonna be your friend -- and you're always gonna be the first person I ever fell in love with --"

"You -- you, *too*, Harv," and Bruce knows his voice is pleading, but he can't stop --

"Aw -- fuck, big guy, I don't even know. I don't know a damned thing. I just -- make your own choices. Do what you *know* is right, and good, *and* what's gonna make you happy -- and the other person, too."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "And when the other person is Cardinal?"

Harvey smiles wryly and sits back on his heels, raising his hands between them. "We're not kids anymore. We don't get to wrap our whole lives up together. Make a choice. Just remember -- just remember that I love you, okay?"

"It -- it feels as though you're saying goodbye --"

"Never, big guy. I'm just -- laying a few ground rules, okay?"

Bruce takes Harvey's hands in his own. "I will not make you direct my life. I will not ask that of you ever again."

"Ah -- *that* feels like goodbye, even though I asked for it --"

"Oh -- *no*, Harv --"

"Easy, easy, no, it's okay," and Harvey pushes his fingers between Bruce's own. "I know -- we both know what we're saying, yeah?"

Please don't leave -- Bruce beats the thought back and nods --

Harvey searches him *warily* --

"It's all right, Harv. I -- it's an old thought. I've always wanted to 'wrap my life up' with yours."

"Yeah? It's not -- something else?"

"I won't lie to you again," Bruce says, as solemnly and solidly as possible.

Harvey searches him again and then nods. "That's -- this is as good as it gets then, I think. The two of us, a sunny day, the taste of come -- heh. Okay, so I'm not much of a romantic. Gilda's always getting on me about that, even though the one time I brought her flowers she hit me with 'em."

"I -- hm. Maybe... maybe candy?"

"Yeah, that's always a winner with her. But it can't be chocolate all the time. She likes those fruity candies, too. The kind that taste like a chemical factory threw up on a lime."

"I. That's... pleasurable?"

Harvey laughs. "Not to *me*, big guy, but who am I to judge? I still eat hot dogs from street vendors and I'm a grown man."

"I've heard terrible things about those, Harv --"

"Oh, they're awful. Packed with organ meat and chemicals -- heh. They taste *fantastic*."

"They sure as fuck do," Jason says as he levers himself out of the hole -- "Aw, goddamnit, I did *not* need to see you people naked," and he braces himself with one hand and covers his eyes with the other. "Robin wants you, B. It's time for you to teach him absolutely every fucking thing he doesn't already know."

"Oh. I believe I'll enjoy that --"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you're *big* into showing pretty guys how to work it for you -- aw, man, that has way too many images attached to it now -- fuck," and Jason drops down into the Cave again.

If Bruce concentrates, he can hear him walking away. However, judging by the large amount of scuffing -- yes, Jason is making sure they *can* hear him, whereas before... "Hm."

Harvey tugs his hands free and stands, beginning to gather his clothes. "'Hm'?"

"I believe Starling *chose* to approach us stealthily."

"You're not thinking that that's just how he works, big guy?"

Bruce stands and begins to dress, as well. "Robin suggested that stealth didn't come naturally to Starling, and he wasn't very... quiet last night."

"Yeah, okay, I'm thinking a guy like that maybe needs to be a little loud. Got a real mouth on him."

And when he uses it to kiss -- no. "Yes."

"Meaning you don't like it, or is it just that your brain's already running through crazy kung fu moves?"

Bruce shakes his head -- but. "Yes, I'm sorry. I've never been in the position of sensei, save for those few minutes with Skylark."

Harvey cocks his head to the side as he buttons his shirt. "You like it for itself. Not just for the pretty kids."

"The opportunity to share what I've learned..." Bruce shakes his head. "I know I'm being ridiculous --"

"Only if every good teacher in the world's ridiculous. Heh -- not that we saw too many of those at Exeter. Trust me, though, they're out there."

Bruce nods and adjusts his jock. "You told me your eighth grade English teacher was instrumental in helping you come to Exeter once."

"Heh, yeah. Ms. -- not Miss, not Mrs. -- McGrath was incredible. She not only gave us all the best books to read, she actually taught us all *how* to read."

"But --"

"Not the basics, big guy -- the *fundamentals*. How to look at a story from multiple angles, how to get in the author's head a little, how to pull multiple stories out of one big story... all that good stuff that *you* didn't *need* anyone to teach you."

"I -- I had my mother."

Harvey looks up and searches him -- "Yeah? Okay, then. You always said your Mom was big on reading to you and making sure you read on your own, too. I can see it."

Bruce pulls on his shorts and gives himself permission to watch Harvey's fingers as he deftly ties his tie, as he buckles his belt, as he pats his hair in place --

"-- not listening to anything right now, are you? Still shadow-teaching?"

Bruce blinks and -- realizes that he's already finished dressing. "Hm. I was mainly focused on your hands, Harv --"

"Horndog. *Such* a horndog," and Harvey is grinning at him happily, proudly --

"I *was* also listening. You were saying that you've kept in contact with her?"

"Heh. Because you're *you*, right, don't know how I forgot. Anyway -- yeah. First just thank-you letters, and then, you know, she would ask about what I was learning... she always made me feel guilty that I didn't take more Lit classes, but Sharpe turned me off *so* bad --"

"And you were far more interested in other things, Harv."

"Yeah, that's true," and Harvey shrugs on his jacket -- which does, in fact, have a few small grass stains. "Still, part of me always wanted to give her *you*. She could've turned you into the kind of professor they make sappy movies about."

"Hm. Assuming I didn't molest my more interesting students, Harv...?"

Harvey coughs and smacks the side of Bruce's head. "Stop that. Or -- hell, if it *works* for you to trip me with your own cock? Go with it."

That -- "That's a fascinating image."

"It's what you were *doing*, big guy. Of course, your sense of humor... well, anything that took that long to develop was pretty much *doomed* to be messed-up. Okay, you're going down the hole first, *then* you're helping me down so I don't break my damned leg. And we're going to find ourselves a ladder the next time the world's most terrifying teenagers give you a break."

"All right, Harv --"

"And --" Harvey grabs Bruce's t-shirt and pulls him close. "You're just gonna let me keep calling the shots? Even after all of that?"

Bruce -- blushes --

"Aw, Jesus, not --" Harvey kisses him, hard and quick and affectionate. And then he does it again --

Again --

He mutters something about one or both of them being crazy --

He kisses Bruce *again*, and bites Bruce's lip, and nuzzles Bruce's mouth and cheek -- ah, the place where the stubble grows quickest and most thickly, again. Harvey cups Bruce's other cheek and nuzzles there --

"I love you, big guy."

"A part of me will always belong to you --"

"Yeah, ditto. So many times I laid up in bed wondering what you were doing, where you *were* on that big world tour of yours. Maybe. Maybe you should stay somewhere I can always find you, hunh?"

"Gotham. I could never leave -- ow."

Harvey growls jokingly against Bruce's cheek. And then he laughs. "Sorry. Really. Uh. Right," he says, and kisses Bruce's cheek. "We'll see what happens when you *pick* a Gotham, yeah?"

And -- it's not the time to point out that he has every intention of returning to their own universe. That much is abundantly clear in Harvey's eyes. "All right, Harv."

Harvey points at the hole in the ground --

Bruce drops.

*

"So what does he look like?" And Steph's giving him the laser-eye treatment -- which is bad enough -- but Tink is doing the thing where he's sitting on the console with his legs crossed at the knee and his hands folded on *top* of his knee --

"Tink, stop killing your sac. It's done *nothing* to you --"

Steph punches his fucking *funny* bone --

"*Jesus*, Lark --"

"Stop worrying about Tink and tell me what he *looks* like," she says, and she's actually moving into a *boxing* stance --

"Inquiring minds... ellipsis," Tink says, and smiles *wetly* -- because he's damned well wearing his sluttiest lip gloss. The one that had led to a family meeting with the goddamned vice principal where Dick talked a lot of shit about 'encouraging teenaged self-expression' which actually translated to 'I could sue you people into the Stone Age.'

*After* that meeting, Tim only wore *that* lip gloss to school on pep rally days, and they all called it a good compromise, and --

"You know something, Lark? If you hold your face like that for much longer, you're *guaranteeing* wrinkles."

"What the fuck do *you* know about it?"

Jason points at Tink.

Tink smiles sweetly and swings his legs a little. "Don't worry, Skylark. I give *excellent* facials."

Steph chokes and punches Tink's knee --

"*What*?"

"You *know* what, you damned perv!"

Great, now maybe he can just *ease* away a little. If he makes it all the way to the weights, then they'll *have* to leave him --

Movement --

Jason dodges right --

Too late. He hits the stone *hard*, because *one* of them had used the goddamned *heavy*-weighted bolo --

"Ooh, that was *mean*, Skylark."

"Effective, though," she says, and straddles Jason's waist --

"You know, *normally*? I'd be fine with this. *Great* with this, even --"

"Fuck you, Star, this *is* normal for you people."

"'You people,' Skylark? That's not very sensitive," Tink says, and that's the sound of him coming closer --

Closer --

Steph snickers and leans down to pin Jason's arms before he can get revenge. She can't *hold* him like this, but --

Tink crouches and lifts a lock of Jason's hair out of his face. "Were you going to do something mean to *me*, Starling?"

"*Yes*."

Tink gives out that long-suffering sigh he does so fucking well. "This is why we *have* to restrain you, Starling. You -- you have *terribly* wrongheaded ideas."

"Like trying to get away before you give us the *goods*," Steph says, and digs her knees in against Jason's sides --

"Hey, ow --"

"*Take* it, bitch. And tell us what he *looks* like."

"Jesus fucking -- *Tink* can tell you. *He* saw them naked in the shower --"

"But he'll use the icky *clinical* terms!"

Tink hums... and shakes himself loose until he's more Tim than Tink. "She's absolutely correct. I'll make them sound like diagrams in an anatomy textbook."

"Fuckin' A -- that's what they *should* sound like and Lark, if you smack me again, I will flip us, wrestle you down, and spank you."

"Assuming I don't help her wrestle you."

"Heh." Steph drums her fingers against Jason's wrists. "When's the last time *you've* had a spanking, Star?"

Jason tries and fails to blow hair out of his face --

"If you give us an honest answer, I'll keep your hair out of the way," Tim says, offering openly, *happily* --

And *Steph* is happy --

Why is he putting up a fight, exactly? Jason laughs a little and flips Steph *gently* so he can sit up, spread his legs, and plant Tim on his left thigh. He gestures to his right thigh for Steph's benefit --

She *blushes*, and that's fucking *hot* --

He's fucking *trained* --

"Do it, Skylark," Tim says, and smiles *gently* up at her -- "You haven't lived if you haven't ridden one of Starling's thighs at least a little."

"I --" Steph looks over to the spot on the mats where Dick and Bruce and fucking *Dent* are shooting the shit --

"C'mon, Lark. They'll be over there for a while, yeah?"

Steph bites her lip -- and then gives him one of her *adult* smiles. "You're not taking anything the wrong way?"

"Tell you what -- you don't like what I say or do? Find *creative* ways to let me -- and my junk -- know." And also tell me when I can get another *kiss* --

She sighs and drops to her knees, not quite riding his thigh, but not really holding herself apart, either. Good deal. And --

"You good?"

Another blush -- and she reaches to cup his shoulder with one hand. Tim snuggles up nice and close and puts his head on Jason's other shoulder --

"Fuck, I love this," and Jason cups their sides a little, checks on 'em one more time --

Steph's got the adult smile back. "Robin totally taught you to love the constant cuddling, didn't he?"

"Au contraire, ma soeur --"

"You can't use it if it doesn't rhyme," Tim says, and jabs Jason's pec a little --

"How is that a rule?"

"Because I *said* so."

Jason blows out a breath and turns to Steph. "Do I gotta take that?"

"Are you gonna talk like you have *no* education?"

"Yeah, maybe. Got a problem with that, Lark?"

She raises her eyebrows. "With you sounding like the guy who got me pregnant and then dumped me?"

Oh... damn. That.

Tim snorts. "I believe you just made his scrotum try to retract."

Steph smiles meanly and taps the tip of Jason's nose. "Good to know... but I don't actually have a problem with the way you talk, since you damned well shape up when you should."

"Hn. Not when he talks to the Commissioner."

"Hey, c'mon, Jim *expects* me to be a little punk."

"You're not *little*, Star," and she *flicks* his nose. "He's maybe thinking that Robin hasn't *trained* you right."

"I almost *never* curse more than three or four times in front of him --"

"Because Robin doesn't let you *talk* that much," Tim says, and shows his teeth --

"Aw -- *Star*!"

"Did I mention how much I like that nickname? 'cause I really fucking do."

"I -- *good*, but --"

"*But*, it gives Tink more time to perform, Lark. And *everybody* loves that."

Tim hums and tosses his hair *almost* like Tink. It's a little faster and *brusquer* than he would do it. "Not every artist is appreciated in his own time."

Steph snorts. "Okay, okay. Fine. I will totally smack you if you act up when *I* show up on Central, though."

"Works for me, babe," and maybe it *is* pointless to wink at most people from behind a mask --

But he can *see* Steph seeing it. *Good* deal.

"*Anyway*," she says, and gives him a stern look. "Robin didn't teach you how to cuddle?"

"*Robin* taught me how to cuddle like a grabby *asshole*. My cuddle is always... uh... respectful!"

Tim snorts again --

And Steph stares at him with her eyebrows up.

"Hey, I totally give people room to object, room to get closer, the right to decide how *firm* a given hug should be --"

"You pick Tink up by the scruff of the neck and *carry* him places --"

"It's really only objectionable when we're in public."

Jason shakes Tim a little --

"Starling. *Never shake the baby*."

Jason snorts so fucking hard he *hurts* himself, and Steph makes a sound like what would happen if one crow flew head first into another crow's chest.

Tim, for his part, looks happy and smug, so Jason only smacks him *lightly*.

"If you don't wanna be carried, bro, then *stop making me do it*."

Steph giggles. "*How* does he make you do it?"

"Usually by talking shit -- in a *real* posh and educated way -- about the big, douchey rich boys standing *well within earshot*. Tink gets in more fights than *I* did."

"They're much less *serious*, though --"

"Baby? One day they're *all* coming after you, and then you either make like you're a lot more hardcore than the incredibly gay Grayson kid *should* be... or you get your ass beat *badly*."

And it's not like Tim doesn't *know* this, but he still puts on the pouty face --

Steph shoves him a little. "They're that bad? I would've thought they were all too busy doing lines and date-raping the private school girls."

Tim coughs into his fist. "Well... there is a good amount of that --"

"It's mostly what he makes fun of them for. When he's not just finding ways to call them gay."

Steph shoves Tim a little *more* --

"Skylark --"

"You *know* you're totally making it worse for other gay kids who have to deal with those guys, right?"

"I --"

"*Seriously*. You're the gayest guy they know, and they all sound stupid enough to judge *other* gay people based on *you*."

Tim blinks... a lot. Which --

"Okay, so I never thought about that angle."

Steph laughs and shakes her head. "You never had to, Star. By the time you met those people, you could kick everyone's ass *once* and be done with it. Plus..." She eyes him a little shrewdly. "*Did* you hook up with anyone in school before Tink was right there?"

"Uh -- some of the chicks from the sister schools. You know, the ones who wanted the *dangerous* boy."

Steph nods once. "So there you go. You could probably come out to those guys and they'd still think of *you* as mostly okay. See, that's -- *you* kicked their asses, and they totally know you don't like queerbashing, but you don't *torture* them."

Tim winces. "Whereas I... live to torture them. Kind of... a lot. I do see what you're saying, Skylark --"

"No, I know, it's fucked. You *should* torture them. I *like* thinking of them as being tortured even more than I like the image of Star picking you up and carrying you away from red-faced goons full of impotent rage --"

"Oh, the -- the impotent rage is extremely entertaining --"

Steph sighs. "Yeah, I *bet*. I -- anyway. You should just pick out the worst ones, kick their asses once, and have done with that. They'll think twice about picking on skinny little gay guys, and you won't have made anything worse. You know?"

Tim nods and smiles ruefully, reaching over to hold Steph's hand. "I'll listen to you."

Jason frowns at their hands a little. "Okay, wait, Robin wasn't just talking shit about you two having a little thing?"

Steph grins *meanly*. "Jealous...?"

And Jason has to snort for that a *little* -- but not all that much, because the shadow in Tim's eyes --

Well, it's there.

Jason cups Tim's face and kisses his forehead --

"Starling -- "

"You're totally not ready to be completely married to me, Tink, and that's cool. Just, you know, remember that the whole *family* needs Skylark."

He can see her blushing out of the corner of his eye --

He can see *Tim* blushing -- "I -- yes, Starling."

"Hey, no, this isn't -- well, okay, it is a *little* official, but it's also not. *You* saw how happy Robin was when we came down here."

Tim looks up kind of shyly -- "Skylark... always makes me happy."

"Aw, you --" Steph shakes her head and smacks Tim's arm before pulling them all in for a three-way hug. She smells like sweat and feels *fantastic* --

Jason squeezes a little harder --

And Steph giggles some more. "Robin said we had to keep this stuff to a minimum when he's not here."

Dick *also* called her 'little sister,' which probably means... yeah. "Uh -- he totally wants a piece."

"What?" Steph pushes back and stares at him. "He *wants* to train me up. I mean, he even interrupted Bruce from doing it."

Tim blinks and bites his lip.

Jason raises his eyebrows --

"Oh, Jesus, *seriously*? Is that why he wants me to be part of the family or something? That's *fucked* --"

"Oh -- no, Skylark, it's just -- ah." Tim smiles ruefully. "It would be a lot more accurate to say that he already thinks of you as a part of the family, and so he wants to find every possible way to make you need to stay forever --"

"And ever. Definitely ever --"

"And ever, yes. And -- well. He can be somewhat shockingly possessive."

Steph narrows her eyes. "*No* one owns my ass."

Jason raises his hands and totally doesn't grope her tits. "No, totally not. I'm pretty sure Tink and I can keep Robin occupied for that end of things. Just, you know -- he's fucking great in the sack."

Tim coughs. "Or in the minivan. As the case may be."

"Are you guys *pimping* him?"

Jason raises his eyebrows again. "Is he still way over there where he can't hear us?"

Steph and Tim look --

"Ah, yes. They appear to be working on nerve strikes we don't know on one of the dummies."

"Dent's still over there, too, though he looks kinda nervous."

Tim hums. "Perhaps... out of place?"

Jason sighs and rubs Tim's and Steph's sides. "Two of Bruce's first three loves *right* there. And Dent made Robin fucking *suffer* --"

"The same could be said for *you*, Starling."

"Eh, it's like I told Robin -- a) *he* didn't do it, and b) he accidentally gave me *this* life."

Tim gives him a long look for that, mostly unreadable -- or it would be if Jason didn't *know* his baby brother. It's a look all about wondering where they draw the line, because there's the *Oath* they both took, and then there's the fact that Joker is scattered ashes -- Dick so wasn't risking anyone getting hold of him -- and that some of their enemies spend longer getting better than others.

Some of them never *do* get completely better, and that's totally okay.

This --

This is maybe the other side of things, because Harvey Dent over there is a bona fide good guy who's barely ever slipped -- only once, and not even for as long as Jason hated Dick for being better for him than the mother Jason had discovered a couple of years ago could've *possibly* been -- charity work and all.

He'd even hated Dick a little *more* when it came out that the charity -- and his biological mother -- were as crooked as any relative of his *should've* been --

He --

"I don't know, Tink."

Tim nods --

"Hey, wait, what?" Steph looks back and forth between them.

Tim looks at him --

"You tell her, Tink. You're better at explaining stuff like this."

"All right," he says, and rests his palm on Jason's pec. "It's -- we've made a tentative decision to accept Dent. He *isn't* Two-Face, and, judging by the reports J'onn left, he'll never *be* Two-Face --"

"No, you can't make a call like that one," Steph says, shaking her head. "You don't know. Maybe it won't be a flask full of acid to the face. Maybe it'll be somebody hurting his wife, or throwing acid in *her* face, or killing her --"

"J'onn seems to think that the 'release valve' he programmed into Dent's mind won't allow him to build up that much emotional pressure, Skylark."

Steph frowns and squeezes Tim's hand. "If I say something about 'once a crook, always a crook,' then you guys are just gonna try to be supportive about my fucking *father*, aren't you?"

Tim winces --

Jason squeezes her waist. "I can absolutely be fucking terrible at it."

Steph snorts. "At being *supportive*?"

"Oh, fuck, yeah. Tink, tell her about all the times I drove you into a little ball of a anxiety and neuroses back in the day."

Tim flips him off.

"You can see how totally embittered he is, Lark. I mean, he'll never be the same."

She bites her lip -- and then snorts again *anyway*, which --

Okay, maybe that *doesn't* mean that it's time to bounce her and Tim on his thighs, but his body is a little too fast for his brain --

She giggles.

She -- oh, yeah, that's so *sweet* --

Just as sweet in some ways as the way Tim latches on to Jason's t-shirt with his hands and *locks* his long, lean thighs around Jason's own thigh --

The way he shows his teeth again --

The way Steph *snorts* again and hits him --

Maybe he can turn this into all of them rolling around a little -- wait, no, gotta get to the mats for that --

Maybe he can *scoot* --

"*Star*! Where are you *going*?"

"Uh... not far?"

"Hn. Starling *never* likes to get exciting on the stone."

Steph blinks --

Slaps him --

"That's a no?"

"That's a *maybe*! A punch is a no. Tell me more about D-- Robin!"

"Well -- he can get obsessive," Jason says, and pushes back a lock of Steph's pretty blonde hair that had escaped her ponytail --

Steph tucks it better. "Obsessive *how*?"

"Ah... it turns out that he was obsessing about us... for a very long time."

"And kind of using Superman -- and Superman's dream-making machine -- to blow off steam."

"He has... he obviously has a number of fantasies --"

"And I'm thinking he's gonna want to try *all* of them before he's done --"

"And -- at least a part of him wants us all to belong to him --"

Steph growls. "If he tries something --"

Jason makes what he hopes is a soothing gesture. "He totally knows punch-means-no."

"Yes. I don't think he would ever... well, he knows he's not going to ever come between Starling and me, and I'm reasonably sure he knows he's not going to ever come between *you* and me... well. He knows how to blow off steam."

"Exactly," Jason says, "and here's the thing -- he's *good* at it. Like, we were all convinced until last fucking night that he was either oblivious, not attracted to us, or a mix of both."

Steph frowns. "You -- you didn't know even a little?" She turns to him -- "*You*, Star?"

Tim gives one of his little nothing laughs. "I'm allowed to be ignorant?"

She shoves Tim a little. "Fucking *yes*. You don't think anyone really wants you until they sit you on their dick."

Tim opens his mouth -- and closes it again before nodding to Jason.

"I didn't know, Lark. Not even a little. He will *never* put anything on you if he doesn't think he should, or even if you just don't want him to."

"Except for the 'little sister' thing."

Jason smiles ruefully. "Well... he *does* want you to be family. Clothes-wearing family, too --"

"He -- he said he wanted me to move *in*. I was going with the idea that he was mostly kidding --"

"He totally wasn't. Tink?"

"It was... ah. Somewhat unseemly how quickly he ingratiated himself with my parents so that I would have an excuse to spend as much time here as possible, even when they were alive."

"Exactly," Jason says. "You -- you said once that you thought your Mom knew what you were doing as Skylark?"

Steph smiles that adult smile again. "It's not 'think.' She knows. She -- she doesn't really know what to do with me, I don't think."

Jason rubs her waist again. "What does that mean?"

"She doesn't really -- she's clean now, and she's been going to a therapist who charges on a sliding scale to deal with at least a few of her issues, but there were a lot of damned years when she was more my quietly drug-addicted roommate than my *mother*, you know?"

Tim nods solemnly and squeezes her hand again.

And that's -- yeah. "My mom -- my *real* mom -- drank too much on top of hooking --"

"Are you *serious*?"

"Yeah, I come by this diction *honest*, babe. Anyway. She never stopped trying to be my mom, but she failed a bunch of times, too. I hear you. Anyway... I just meant that maybe your mother can deal with the fact that you're here some of the time, you know?"

"Yes, Skylark. I... didn't you say there was a nurse's convention coming up?"

"Heh. I'm supposed to tell her I'm hanging out with *Dick Grayson*?"

"Well," and Tim smiles brightly. "You can always introduce me as your incredibly gay best friend...?"

Steph snorts again. "You *are*. I -- I can't just desert my mom, guys."

"No one's asking you to." Much. "It's just -- think of this place as your *other* home. That's what Robin wants, and that's what we want, *too*."

"I... ah." Tim squeezes her hand again. "I saw Alfred bringing fresh linens down from the attic. Linens that don't go with any of our duvets."

"Heh. *I* missed that, but maybe those linens had some purple-ish accents?"

"Actually, I'd say the accents were closer to eggplant, but -- yes."

Steph blinks. "I -- um. Wow. Okay, so this is moving kinda really *fast*, guys."

Jason smiles ruefully. "Big Bird's turnaround time can be kind of insane, yeah. You can *always* tell him to slow his ass down. Punch him while you say it, too. It won't hurt."

Tim gives him the prissy look. "Punching is not the solution to everything, Starling."

Heh. "*Punching* has made me the fine vigilante man I am *today*. Which means it's made your ass what *it* is today."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "You've had some help."

"So you *do* want me to be jealous...?"

No shadow at *all* this time, good --

"Heh. I always know you'll come home to where the good stuff's at, baby. Those metas and aliens will *never* do you the way I will."

The eyebrow goes up higher. "They will if I provide them footage to study --"

Steph slaps him --

"*Ow* --"

"Tink! Don't do that!"

Tim rubs his head. "I -- they've all expressed a desire to know how to improve their performances --"

Jason coughs and lets himself fall back on his elbows. "That's right, baby. *Spread* the trauma."

"*What*?" 

"Nothin' at all, baby. Except for my newfound pity for Kuh-Superboy."

"I don't -- he knows perfectly well how I feel about him!"

"And that you like him *just* fine, and you definitely don't want him to be more like some other 'dude' --"

"He's never said anything about feeling insecure!"

"Lark, this is totally a good time to hit him again, by the way."

Which is how Steph and Tim wind up speed-blocking each other through a slap-fight.

Hey, it's *kind* of like training, especially since, like this, he can *see* all the little tricks he's taught her. Jason sits up and presses on *that* spot at the base of Tim's spine --

Tim grunts and closes his eyes for *just* long enough for Steph to backhand the hell out of him. That might actually bruise --

"Oh! Damn, I didn't mean to hit that hard!"

Tim stretches his jaw and glares at Jason.

"Your fault for not teaching her how to *spar*, Mr. I Have Secret Friends."

Tim sighs. "Point to Starling. Though I think we effectively changed the subject...?"

Steph sighs and rubs Tim's cheek. "Yeah, totally -- *wait*," she says and punches Jason in the gut --

"Hnh -- yeah?"

"*Naked*!"

"Right now? *Hell*, yes," and Jason starts tugging on his shirt --

"Not *you*, asshole! *Them*," and she points to Dick, Bruce, and -- hell, where *is* Dent --

Jason looks around --

"He's studying the giant penny," Tim says, and gives him the you've-been-slacking look, which --

"Okay, baby bro. I *will* talk to Kuh-Superboy about your issues if you fuck with me *too* much."

Tim blanches for him --

"Uh, huh, I knew you were making him guess. Poor bastard. He's not even a *toddler* --"

"You don't *like* him --"

"I don't have to like him to want you not to turn him into a lovesick *supervillain*, *Tink*."

Tim firms his mouth into a hard little line. "I always make sure that he's happy. *I* was the one who talked Superman into spending more time with him and *looking him in the *eye* --"

"And you're his *boyfriend*. His only boyfriend?"

"He has *many* lovers --"

Jason looks at Tim.

Tim glares at him.

Steph makes a fist and raises her eyebrows at Jason in question.

Jason shakes his head and keeps looking --

And Tim starts looking queasy. "I'm a bad boyfriend."

"Not to *me*, but, you know, I'm *fluent* in freakboy," Jason says, and pats his cheek. "Fix it, yeah."

"It would be easier if you liked him," Tim says quietly.

"My opinion doesn't --"

"It does. It -- it always will."

Jason frowns, opens his mouth, closes it again -- he turns to Steph. "Okay, I know you're about to kill my ass, so here: Bruce looks even fucking bigger when he's naked, and he's *covered* in hair. Just -- there's so much hair that when a scar cuts through it? It's *loud*. And there are a lot of scars. His *hands* look bigger when he's naked. His *feet* look bigger. His *shoulders* look bigger. And the cock on him -- look, I only saw it when it was soft, but it's huge. Huge like I'm thinking of stealing Robin's supply of Superlube --"

"You want him to *fuck* you?"

"Yes, yes, I do, and only part of that is because of how Big Bird said he would fucking *direct* him --"

"He'd probably direct you, too, Starling. Just -- that should be considered, as well," Tim says, and re-snuggles.

"Oh -- Jesus, yeah. I'm considering, all right. He just -- he has this *thing*, Lark. He's obviously smart, but he's also kind of an *idiot* in some ways. And you already know what that does to me from Tink."

Tim bites his nipple through the t-shirt, but it's friendly.

Steph bites her lip and nods. "Does he have the kind of skin where it's good that he looks that pale or what?"

"Hunh? I -- I guess? Fuck, you know it's been like a year and a half since I've had anything like a tan, Lark."

She sighs. "Okay. And Dent?"

"Aw, man, can't I start blocking that out?"

"*You* said you were accepting him --"

"*Tink* said that --"

"But you meant it," Tim says, and pats Jason's abs.

Jason sighs. "Okay, fine. The quicker we take him in, the quicker Big Bird calms the fuck down, so -- no more protocol. We don't say *Robin's* name, but we damned well use ours. Got it?"

"Got it," Steph says --

And Tim grins up at him. "Hi, Jay."

"Hi yourself, baby. Do I really have to tell Steph what Dent looks like naked?"

"Wait, what's Bruce's *bush* like?"

Jason coughs. "Girls care about that?"

"*This* girl does. I wanna know if I'm gonna have to wax or something to look normal around here."

Because naked. As in, she's gonna *be*. As in -- Jason licks his lips --

"*Talk*!"

"Uh. Tink waxes."

"I thought we weren't using code-names anymore?"

"We're *not*," Jason says, and *looks* at Tim. "It's just that Tim is totally Tink when he's making his bush into a perfect triangle around his junk. He also shaves his sac sometimes," and he turns back to Steph --

Who looks a little stricken. "Seriously?"

"*You* don't have to wax anything. I don't and *Robin* doesn't --"

"I would like to point out that Robin used to shave his legs twice a week," Tim says, and smiles fucking *serenely* --

"How. How long ago?"

"He *stopped* when he changed uniforms. Well, a little before. When he was on his world tour. *Anyway*, every girl I've talked to says waxing is of the fucking devil, and you're gonna have *enough* pain in your life. Like, *daily* pain."

"Heh, okay, yeah. My calves still feel like jell-o from what Robin was having me do," and she looks at Tim --

Who is, thankfully, smiling a lot more gently. "The women who wear more revealing uniforms tend to shave. The women on my team... don't. At all."

Steph nods gratefully. "There are... a whole damned lot of reasons I stay covered up at school."

Including the ones which were all about hiding your pregnancy for as long as fucking *possible* -- and he can just leave that aside. "So, yeah. He's pretty neat-looking down below. He's -- well, he's not cut, either, but he's still *neat*. But not Tink-neat."

"Okay. *Now* tell me about Dent."

"Well, for one thing," Tim says, "he's heading this way."

"Oh -- damn it --"

"One, he's pretty athletic-looking. There's some definition around his abs and arms. Two, he actually *looks* like he's got some Native blood in him, which means he's had some sun at some point. Or just that his bones are sticking out a little more. I don't know. He's got almost no body hair -- not even much of a bush. And I'd say he's got about seven inches," Jason says, and raises his eyebrows.

Steph gives him a kind of *quirked* look --

"No...?"

"Now I'm going to be *thinking* of that -- anyway," she says, standing up and dusting off her knees.

Tim gives Jason a goodbye-squeeze and then stands up, *too* --

And no, there's totally no excuse for Jason to stay down. Right. He gets up, he turns --

And Dent slows his walk down and raises his hands. "Anybody ever tell you guys how belligerent you look?"

"Comes with the territory," Steph says, and plants her fists on her hips --

The hips Jason forgot to feel *up* --

"How crazy *are* you?" And she's totally raising her eyebrows behind the mask -- wait.

"Lenses up, guys, we're doing this right," Jason says, putting up his own lenses and listening for the soft little clicks of Tim's and Steph's.

Dent blinks. "Uh... okay. I don't know what I can give you guys for that --"

"Treat us with the same respect you'd give anyone else and we'll call it even," Tim says. "Please answer Stephanie's question."

Dent blinks a little and nods slowly. "Stephanie. Okay. You -- all of you -- can call me Harvey. And... I'd say I'm still pretty crazy as these things go. I can feel how easy it would be for me to get the dangerous kind of angry..." Dent grits his teeth a little -- and then laughs. "That's just it, though. I can feel it -- and I can see it, hear it, smell it, and taste it, too. I don't think I'm ever gonna be able to just... fall apart. Not without being aware of every pathetic little second of the process. Also, J'onn's set up a steady trickle of some of my worst hidden -- and mostly hidden -- memories. It won't be long before I can't repress a damned thing."

Jason frowns. "Nothing? Ever?"

Dent raises his eyebrows. "That's not a good thing? You guys look so healthy I figured you talk everything out. Yes? No?"

Tim's smile is a little *twist* of a thing. "Certainly, we try to. It's the protocol. But... ah. In practice, it doesn't always work that way, Harvey. And I'm Tim."

Oh -- great. He *wasn't* about to use Dent's first name --

"Tim, thank you. You don't think -- all right, look, I'm obviously the last one who gets to have an opinion about this stuff --"

"You're not," Jason says, and -- fuck it. "Everybody knows that people who've had the J'onn treatment aren't like the other psychos."

Dent frowns. "I thought he'd only done this a few times?"

"As serious as he's doing with you? Yeah, you're only the fourth. But he's done minor tweaks on people here and there just to get the job done. And I'm Jason."

"'The job.' I -- right," and Dent shakes himself like a dog. "You people are a whole new world for me. Forgive me for fucking up?"

Steph looks him up and down. "We'll think about it. Aren't you married?"

Dent smiles. "To the best and most beautiful woman in the world --"

"Why the hell were you screwing Bruce? Have you cheated on your wife before? Do you think it's 'okay' just because he's a guy?"

Dent *blinks* -- "Uh. Stephanie..."

Steph raises her eyebrows behind the mask -- "Wait, I hate this," she says, reaching out --

Tim slaps solvent on her palm --

And she spritzes it on and takes off her mask -- and *then* raises her eyebrows at him --

"Hey, do you guys only go for people with blue eyes or something?"

She narrows her eyes at him.

"Okay, not getting away with anything, that's fine," and Dent shoves his hands in his pockets and cocks his head to the side. "You gotta give me a minute to deal with *you* guys being sexually conservative about something --"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Are you calling me a slut?"

Dent's eyes go wide and he takes a step back, taking his hands out of his pockets and making a pushing gesture. "I'm not, I'm not. I don't use that kind of -- uh. Anyway. It's just that you guys seemed really *open* about things. Like -- *hippie* open --"

"You take that back!"

Dent licks his lips. "You... don't like hippies, Stephanie?" He looks around for help --

Tim's smile is *razor* sharp. "She doesn't like the way they dress, the foods they eat, or the politics they espouse. In a lot of ways, Stephanie is a very traditional young woman."

"Fuck yeah, I am --"

Jason coughs --

Stephanie jabs him in the gut -- "You shut up!"

"I'm shut, I'm totally shut --"

"It's not like I'm some kind of bigot --"

"Except about hippies," Tim says, and turns that smile on her --

"*Everyone* should hate -- okay, no, not that. It's just -- I think a lot of people who call themselves liberals don't actually fucking *think* about what they're talking about --"

"And you think most self-identified conservatives do, Stephanie...?" Dent's smile is back --

"I *know* they don't, but none of them live around *here*."

Dent wags his head back and forth. "That's fair. Think of it this way, though -- most of the people I went to school with who weren't *Bruce* were good, old-fashioned, blue-blooded conservatives with a *whole* lot to say about people who tanned as brown as I did over the summer. I think, in the end, *most* people wind up hating the people who did stupid things when they were just waking up to political awareness --"

"Hey, I've been politically aware for a *long* damned time," Steph says, and she's actually chesting up a little, which is the kind of thing Jason can watch all fucking *day* --

"I'm not saying you haven't been, Stephanie. Someone like you -- I bet you were politically aware at an age when I was still running around playing stickball and street hockey --"

"And you don't get to butter me up --"

"Easy, okay? I'm not about to get on your case for *anything*," Dent says, calm and easy and rueful --

Steph glares for a little while longer -- and then she blinks it off and steps back, raising her own hands. "Say what you have to say."

"Thank you. It's just this: one of the worst things I've seen good, smart, idealistic young people like you do is swallow the party line. *Whichever* party line it is. You get to thinking that most things a given party or political group or whatever is saying is good and smart and right, and then you start thinking that *everything* they say must be right -- or even that everything their opposite numbers say is wrong. You do *that* -- and one day you *will* trip over your own beliefs and fall flat on your face."

Steph frowns. "And?"

"*And* -- then you either wind up a cynical hack selling everything you are for more money and more influence and more *power* -- or you drop out of the game and can't help anyone anymore. And it *is* a game, Stephanie. It's a game where people's lives are at stake, but that doesn't make the players -- the big guns -- any more inclined to take it serious. I'm telling you -- the state capitals, and every other city, too, are *littered* with people who *used* to be young and passionate like you but got their hearts -- and asses -- handed to them one too many times. I... okay, I know I'm preaching here --"

"No," Tim says, "Keep going."

Dent raises his eyebrows again. "You sure about that?"

Tim shows his teeth. "Some of us are *deeply* invested in discovering why you were -- and are -- so important to... assorted Bruces."

Dent laughs for that. "Okay, that's fair, Tim. I -- are you *sure* he's not too old for you?"

"Are you sure you're not just jealous...?"

"Fuck no," Dent says, and grins. "In fact, I'm sure I *am* jealous, little guy. But you wanna know where I'm coming from --"

"You should also be sure to answer Steph's original question," and Tim crosses his arms over his chest. It *isn't* really belligerent or anything, but it makes Dent look back and forth between Steph and Tim --

And nod to himself. "Okay. One thing at a time. You always have to look at a problem -- or a *solution* -- from more than one angle. You always have to figure out what's going on in the other guy's head. You always have to stop and *check* to make sure that you agree with something because it's smart and makes sense to you -- not just because you like the guy -- or girl -- who's saying it. And -- I think that's about all I have for that --"

That makes a lot of damned sense --

"Wait," Steph says, and stares at him. "Did *you* run as an independent?"

"Heh. No. Not even for a few weeks at the beginning of my campaign, Stephanie. I sucked up to the party bosses so they wouldn't throw me under the bus, and when they *still* supported my opponent more than they supported me... well, I had Bruce. And I used the hell out of him. I might not have had to if I'd waited to run until I was older, but I had an agenda --"

"And Gotham needed you?" Jason raises his own eyebrows.

Dent grins again. "I think you people know a *lot* about that feeling, yeah?"

Jason can see Tim nodding thoughtfully out of the corner of his eye. He turns to Steph --

"You *work* as an independent," she says.

Dent nods. "I try, anyway. Once I build up a little more political capital of my own... *then* I can -- heh -- come out. And tell everyone who doesn't like it to kiss my ass."

Tim tilts his head to the side. "You think you can win the game."

"No. I think I can *survive* the game. I don't wanna be governor or even mayor. I have *just* the position I want, and I'm gonna keep it. You know -- that's one of the things that's making all this brain-fiddling tolerable. I can't fucking *believe* your Harvey let the D.A.'s office slip through his fingers after everything he had to do to get there. Of course, I can *absolutely* believe it, considering what J'onn's digging up, but -- you guys know what I mean, right?"

"We know," Jason says, frowning and trying -- well, right now he's trying to map *this* guy onto the Two-Face he knows and wishes Dick would find an excuse to finally kill.

It's not working.

It's not --

Hell, even when he turns to the fucking *side*, it's not working, because the eyes are different. The eyes are brown and warm and *clear*, just like this guy is someone anyone good could like.

Love, even.

He turns to check out Bruce and Dick --

Bruce is doing a kata slowly, hitting the marks and showing the kind of control --

Yeah, Dick has it, too, but it's different on a guy Bruce's size. Just like it's *completely* different when Dick gestures for Bruce to speed up and Bruce just fucking *explodes* into action --

Dent sighs. "If I'd known he could do that... I have no idea," he says, and sighs more. "Sometimes the Batman would kind of... tickle something in my brain. The way he'd stand, or hold his head. The way he'd come *just* this close and no closer. I didn't *know* I was fantasizing about Bruce in the back of my mind, but I was," and he turns back to Steph. "That's it, you know. I don't have some big justification sitting around in my head waiting for just the right vigilante to ask the question. I remember being fourteen and watching Bruce fall in love with me. I remember *panicking*, because *I* knew the gay thing would get my ass in trouble, even if I hadn't really thought it all through yet. I just also remember..." Dent shakes his head. "I remember feeling warm as hell, and... I guess a little like I belonged." He frowns and stares down at the floor -- he looks up again. "No. A *lot* like I belonged, because I'd never had a friend like Bruce and I knew I'd never have another one. I promised myself that I'd always take care of him as much as I could, and that I'd *protect* him from himself if I had to...

"Ah, there's a lot there. What it boils down to is that the thing that made me panic wasn't anything more than the fact that I realized I was falling for him, too. I didn't admit it to myself for a good long while, but I also didn't have to. It was *there*. You guys know how that goes. Ah -- don't you?"

Jason looks at Tim -- who's looking at Steph. *Steph's* looking at Bruce. Harvey's looking at *him*, and Jason is, abruptly, *very* happy that J'onn's not due to show up for another few hours. It's not that he doesn't want to know what everyone else is thinking -- it's that he doesn't want to know what *he's* thinking. Just --

Okay, then.

"Let's just say that we get it. For the most part. Kind of," Jason says, giving up and pushing a hand back through his hair.

Dent smiles wryly. "Okay, that's fair," and he turns back to Steph. "Is that a good enough answer?"

"You plan on telling your wife about it?"

"I could say something here about how she knows exactly how deep my feelings go for Bruce -- and that would even be true --"

"But you like not being thought of as a douche?"

Dent laughs, showing off some serious smile lines --

And Steph narrows her eyes a little in the way that means she's checking him out. Jesus --

And yeah, *Dent* can read people, because now he's looking surprised and raising his hands again --

Steph *blushes* -- "I wasn't --"

"No, I -- uh. Yeah. I know you weren't," Dent lies --

And Steph lets him get away with it.

Dent takes a deep breath and smiles ruefully. "Anyway -- I'm telling Gilda about all of this. Every last bit. If she tells me to shut the hell up, I will, but only after I let her know how much I've *needed* to talk to her about it. Bruce is my first love and best friend. Gilda is the love of my life... and my other best friend. That make sense?"

Steph nods and does that thing where she tries to hide a blush by looking pissy. It's obvious -- to him, anyway -- that she's *not* pissy, but --

Jason can deal. "Tink, show Steph how you beat your left-side weakness like the little bitch it was."

Tim and Steph snort together, and then Tim coughs. "Let's hit the stairs, Steph. It'll be easier for some of this."

"Sure," she says, and gives Jason a quick smile that's rueful, grateful, thrilled, horny --

Jason doesn't have to follow that ass, but he *does* have to look as it jogs away --

"You take care of them."

Jason blinks and turns back to Dent. "I try, yeah. Tink has gotten to take care of Steph more than I have, though, and Robin tries to take care of all of us."

Dent raises his eyebrows. "Tries? Not succeeds?"

"Look, if you're looking for me to say something bad about Robin --"

"Not at all. Not -- I'm jealous, yeah, but I'm old enough to know that you don't shit all over things for anyone you care about, and Bruce -- God, a part of me wants him to *stay* here, Jason."

"Uh. Seriously?"

Dent smiles ruefully. "You'll make him happy. You -- there's a *bunch* of you, so he'll never be alone..." He sighs. "Look, that's Bruce all over. Before his parents died, he had no friends, because all the other kids thought he was too weird because he took his damned anatomy doll with him everywhere he went. *After* his parents died, he had no friends because he couldn't figure out how to be happy anymore, or how to care about things other than the future. He told me -- he told me once that he wanted to make sure no other kid ever had to watch their parents die. And then we grew up and he started doing things for the charities in between traveling all over the world, and I thought that was it. That was how he planned to help people."

"And now you know that was only a part of it."

"Yeah, I -- yeah. I was so scared for him when I figured it out. I was scared for me, *too*, but there he'd been all along, running through the most dangerous parts of Gotham with a little body armor, a mask, and a damned boomerang." Dent frowns at the floor for a long moment, nods, and then looks up again. "He's never been any good at *people*, Jason. You -- you've seen it, haven't you?"

Well... "Heh. Smart and stupid at once."

"Exactly. *Exactly*. He needs people who'll take care of him, and I love Alfred, but he never could cut it. Alfred turned him into the most polite and *correct* guy in the world, but it's not like Alfred has all that many buddies, *either*."

"He has Leslie and... us."

"And none of you are exactly *friends*, yeah?"

Jason smiles ruefully and crosses his arms over his chest. "You know we're not."

"Heh, I do at that," Dent says, and pushes his hands back in his pockets. "He needs people around him so that he *remembers* that he doesn't have to do everything by himself, that he's allowed to eat with people, and talk with them, and *play* with them. I -- *no one* has needed a playmate more than Bruce fucking Wayne, you know?"

Jason snorts and nods toward the stairs. "I could tell you a few stories about Tim -- not Tink."

Dent raises his eyebrows. "Yeah? He seems so... uh. Happy?"

"Yeah, he's happy all right. And he even used to get happy when he was *alone*. Which is good, because he didn't even have parents who liked him -- which is something I know you know about."

A wince. "Yeah, I -- damn. I hate to think of that happening -- ah, you know that already. But he didn't have -- okay, I can't exactly see him playing street hockey or anything --"

"He's actually a damned good point guard for basketball, but getting him to play is like pulling fucking teeth."

Dent snorts. "Yeah, that. I -- uh. He calms down a little, though, yeah? I saw you guys snuggling up."

Jason nods. "He... he needs to be a couple of different people. They're all *him*, but sometimes one of them is more him than the others are. It switches around."

"Is he... okay?"

"Heh. He's good. And I'm waiting patiently for him to get better than that. I -- It took me pretty much no time to want him, and then need him, and then love him. Even though he's two years younger and we met when I was *fourteen*."

Dent winces. "He... probably wasn't big for his age."

Jason snorts. "I thought I'd woken up and turned into one of the perverts who used to buy my ass before Robin brought me home."

"But you got over that."

"I... heh." Jason smiles ruefully. "Robin made me deal with my feelings for him sooner rather than later. Robin pointed out that I was *hurting* Tim by keeping him on the hook while I spent my time beating the shit out of myself. Robin had a whole separate *agenda*... but he was also right." Jason smiles up at Dent. "No regrets."

Dent nods slowly. "Okay, I hear you. This life doesn't actually leave you guys room to be kids, but how do you *pick* a new kid for it?"

"Some of them pick themselves, like Steph. She got a job, saved her money, and bought the materials for a pretty sweet uniform which she stitched up herself. We're *getting* her better materials, but hers is more than good enough for her to keep going out with us. Tink... okay, I don't think Tink *existed* as more than a joke *deep* in Tim's brain until I talked a little too much smack, but he's been running around rooftops since he was *nine years old*."

"*What*?"

"Yeah. He figured out Robin's identity, used that to lead him to *Bruce's* identity... and then stalked Bruce, Robin, and *me* with a camera and a notebook until I got lucky and caught him one night when I was feeling extra paranoid about being watched. He'd taken some karate and judo classes, read some of the books Robin had me read -- and Bruce had had Robin read before me -- yeah. I kept him a secret until I couldn't anymore, and then Robin had me bring him home."

"But his parents --"

"Were gone all the time anyway. They didn't *notice* how much time Tim was spending here until just before they were killed, and then they apologized to Robin for Tim being a 'nuisance.'"

"Shit."

"Yeah," Jason says, and pushes a hand back through his hair. "There are kids who *want* this life, Dent, and if they want it bad enough? Nothing will stop them."

"What happens when they're not cut out for it?"

"Then hopefully something happens to wise them up before it's too late. I -- in some ways? It's too late for this kind of thinking. The Justice Society started this whole thing *up*, and it maybe would've gone away after they retired, but then *Bruce* started it all *again*. And, hell, even the guys on the JSA who retired are back now -- older than dirt and twice as fucking *cranky* --"

"Hey, now, me and Bruce used to be pretty big fans of Green Lantern."

Jason snorts and shakes his head. "Yeah, and if you ever drop an f-bomb in front of him? He'll threaten to *spank* you."

Dent coughs. "I -- hunh. Are you sure that was a *threat*?"

Oh -- God, that -- Jason stares at Dent with what he thinks is probably a look of *betrayal* --

And Dent snickers at him, pushing with his hands a little. "Kidding, kidding. Hasn't he been married for most of a century?"

Jason blows out a breath. "Yeah, and let's just hope he stays that way. I mean, he doesn't *look* all that old, but he's *old*."

"You don't think you'll be that old someday...?"

Heh. Jason nods toward Bruce, who is currently fighting Dick back and back and *back*. He's taking hits, but... "He didn't make it to forty in this life. None of *us* have any powers."

Dent shudders. "I don't like thinking of that. I want -- the *good* part of me wants Bruce to marry a nice girl -- someone who likes big, thick books and chess -- and have a *stack* of kids who he'll teach to be as sweet and good and loving as he is... shit, I don't know. I'm still getting used to the fact that that's not gonna happen."

Well... fuck. Jason reaches out and claps Dent's shoulder because he pretty much has to --

And Dent smiles wryly at him and squeezes his hand. "You don't have to comfort me, Jason. I know... this is a mess. And I'm *starting* to know that it doesn't have to be. You people are on the edge every damned *night*. That makes the downtimes kinda serious, yeah?"

"You gotta take what you can *when* you can, because it might not be there tomorrow, yeah."

Dent nods and squeezes Jason's hand one more time before dropping his own. "The me from a week ago wants to tell you to get over yourself and calm the fuck down before you sprain something. That guy didn't watch the suburb he lived in drop into a black fucking hole in the middle of existence on the nightly news, though, so... I'm not judging."

"Is that hard for you? Not judging, I mean."

"Heh. Judging people *does* get to be a way of life, now that you mention it, but I... there are a lot of things I'm not gonna forget, and even more things I *can't* forget, Jason. I don't know what's gonna happen to me when I start looking through the damned multiverse for Gilda. I don't even know if your scientists will figure out a way to send me after her. All of that, and I'm still dealing with the fact that I have the potential to be a damned mass murderer... nah. I'm just gonna try to live and let live over here, so long as I don't see anyone getting hurt."

Jason squeezes Dent's shoulder and drops his own hand. "You're all right."

Dent laughs, but gives him a pretty serious nod. "So are you -- but you already knew that."

"I know who I try to be. Robin made me better, then Tim made me better than that. I'm looking forward to Steph making me even better than that -- whether or not she ever thinks I'm as hot as she thinks *you* are."

"Whoa, hey, no --"

"Heh. You made her blush. I? Have nearly fucked up a stakeout with her because she let one rip that was so loud it woke up a bunch of pigeons we were sharing space with. Did she blush then? No. She *snickered*. For *ten minutes*."

Dent chokes. "I -- she's gonna kill you for telling that story."

Jason sighs. "Yeah. I mean, I probably shouldn't get off so much on hot women brutalizing me, but -- I do. I *really* do."

"Then I guess you're in the right line of work...?"

"No, no, it's no good when they're evil and crazy."

"Gotta be *good* and crazy...?"

Jason grins. "Damn right. It's -- uh. Camaraderie? You used to play sports, didn't you?"

"I didn't get off on the pitcher slapping my ass for making a good catch, Jason."

"Well, was he *hot*?"

"He was a brain-dead trust fund kid who liked making racist jokes, actually --"

"Well, there you fucking go. Jesus. It's no fun if the person beating on you is no good."

And Dent looks *exactly* like he's working his ass off not to crack up. Good deal.

"*Anyway* -- you gotta let women fucking own you a little."

"*Do* you have any -- heh. You call them 'civilians,' don't you?"

Jason rubs at his upper lip a little --

Realizes that it makes him look like fucking *Clark* -- he stops.

"Civilian girls stopped working for me even a little not long after I met Tim. And, yeah, maybe that was wrong, but also -- well, no, that's his secret to tell."

Dent raises his hands again. "I'm not asking. I'm just -- you have the other superheroines? Female heroes? What word *should* I use?"

"Heh. Depends on the woman. Seriously. And I don't really -- I have friends in the community because Robin wouldn't have it *any* other way, and some of them are closer friends than others."

"You saying you wouldn't have too many friends *without* Robin?"

Well... Jason frowns and thinks about it a little, scratching a mild itch on his right thigh. But he's doing more procrastinating than thinking --

"Hey, you don't have to answer me --"

"No, it's okay. I just -- heh." Jason shakes his head and grins at Dent. "I'm betting you know this one real fucking well: I didn't have a lot of friends growing up, mainly because people took one look at who my parents were and kept their kids away from me -- assuming the kids even wanted to do more than spit on me from a distance."

Dent winces. "Yeah, as a matter of fact... heh. Once you get past all *that* bullshit --"

"Assuming you *do* get past it --"

"And that's a big fucking assumption, but there ya go. Once you're past, it gets hard to figure out -- you don't even know *how* you'd go about making friends."

"*Exactly*. And that's when you hope you have someone like Robin in your life who will *totally* kick your ass up to NYC so you can spend the occasional weekend with the team in this community *most* likely to be able to make friends with a damned supervillain. As a matter of fact? They've *done* that. Kinda."

Dent frowns. "A superhero team? In New York?"

Oh -- right. Jason shakes himself like a dog. "There'll be one there, yeah. Mostly made up of the kid sidekicks of the older heroes -- the ones Bruce's age or a little younger."

"Wait, wait, you're saying -- uh. Okay, of course you're saying that, because I already knew how insanely fucking *influential* Bruce could be if he put his mind to it."

"You still wish he'd done that as a civilian, yeah?"

Dent sighs. "Yeah. But the law isn't for him, and he'd never be able to put up with the stupid fucking *bureaucracy* cops have to deal with, and it's even worse for the federal types -- don't mind me. I just don't have the kind of imagination you people do."

"Heh. We *do* think outside the box, now that you mention it," and Jason buffs his nails on his t-shirt.

"Uh, huh. Was Robin on that kiddie team?"

"He started it and led it -- even though his heart was here in Gotham."

Dent nods slowly. "And... they took you in?"

"I'm technically an auxiliary member, but they all know I'm never leaving Gotham for any length of time. When Tim's old enough -- or just feels like it -- he'll join them for real."

"He's not old enough now?"

"Eh, it's more like the team *he's* leading now isn't old enough. They've all got the kind of maturity issues that mostly missed Robin's Titans -- that's the name of the team, by the way -- and *that's* mostly due to the fact that none of them other than Tim are getting what they need from their mentors."

Dent winces. "And they're... metahumans? Powerful ones?"

"Scarily powerful in some ways. Tim's got 'em under control, though. Sometimes I don't like to think about *how* he controls them, but he does, and that's the important thing."

"All right, now I'm just wondering how many friends Stephanie has."

Jason shakes his head. "As far as I know? She has Tim and me. She'll have Robin, too, and he'll be kicking her up to New York soon enough. Robin *believes* in making sure we all have as many people as possible."

Dent nods again and turns to look --

Jason does the same, and Dick's doing a kata Jason hasn't seen before. Apparently, Dick hasn't, either, because he's doing it the kind of slowly which speaks of memorization rather than control.

Bruce is gesturing things like 'higher' and 'to the right' and other stuff --

And they're just as close as they *can* be while still being safe. Jason nods to himself --

"He's a good man," Dent says, and lets out about *half* a sigh.

"I believe you, you know. I could... there's something about him --"

"I meant -- I meant Robin."

"Oh -- yeah, he really is. He's the kind of man... I don't know if anyone else could've done something with me. By the time he found me, I was a fucking wreck, scared all the time and just as likely to slash a john's face as I was to suck him off... he took care of me. He *made* himself my family, and I could only resent it for about a week before I was sucking it up like chili dogs with extra onions."

"Ah, that's the good stuff right there. Gilda gives me the hatchet-face if she smells it on my breath, but she knows."

Jason grins. "You know -- I never thought of you as the kind of guy who could really love someone."

Dent turns to smile wryly at him. "The Harvey from this universe didn't give you much of a chance for that."

"Nah, just Tink. He told Tink *all* about loving Bruce, missing Bruce, *wanting* Bruce..."

"Jesus. Was he locked up at the time?"

"Tight as Arkham ever gets. Plus, he was *full* of psych drugs."

Dent frowns and shakes his head. "I don't --" He stops and blinks. "All right, no, apparently I *do* like psych drugs. The *hell*?"

"Heh. Do you *like* them, or are you just reserving judgment?"

Dent frowns a little harder, obviously searching himself a little -- "I'm... reserving judgment. Is this -- did J'onn do *that*?"

"*J'onn* knows that he might not always be able to be *around* if things go south for one of his -- heh -- patients. The fact is? Those things work for a whole lot of different people. They freak *me* out, but I'd like to think I could man up enough to pop a pill if I ever needed one."

"'Man up'... by popping a pill. Okay, Jason, I gotta say, that's a new one on me."

"Eh, that's just 'cause you're a little fucking primitive, One-Face --"

Dent chokes and coughs --

"Heh. Had to be done."

"If you say so, tough guy. So I'm primitive, now?"

"Big guy, little guy, tough guy --"

"Oh, Jesus, did I really -- heh. I really did do that, didn't I?" And his smile is deep, warm, rueful --

Still -- "If you call Steph 'lady guy' or something, we're pretty much duty-bound to kick your ass."

"Nah, nah, you let the *lady* guy do the ass-kicking on her own. That's in the rules and everything."

"We *rewrote* those rules, One-Face --"

He snorts -- and then shakes his head. "Yeah, I bet you guys -- yeah, I did it again -- did a lot of rewriting over the years, hunh?"

Jason crosses his arms over his chest and lifts his thumb to his mouth, chewing on it a little like Dick -- "I... yeah, you're primitive. The world's changed a lot -- *will* change a lot -- fuck it, you know what I'm saying."

"You're *not* saying that how you live will suddenly become normal."

"Nah, not like that, but -- fuck, Harvey, queer is in *fashion* in some places now. Not so much for politicians, but for other celebrities? And you -- I went back and read all about you after Robin told me that you were the guy who'd popped my father. They called you fucking *Apollo*. You could've gotten away with -- heh."

"'Murder?'"

"I'll tell you something, man -- if you'd just stuck to the guy who'd thrown acid in your face, or maybe the people who sent death-threats to your *wife*... the *people* of the city would've stood by you."

"I'll tell *you* something, Jason -- I wouldn't have stood by *myself*. And -- hell, maybe that's what happened. There's a right way and a wrong way of doing things. There's also the *vigilante* way -- and Batman did a damned good job of making sure I saw it -- but there are still limits. Murder is murder. You have to be better than the bad guys, or you just wind up making Gotham that much darker and dirtier." Harvey -- he's giving the fuck up here -- frowns a little again and looks at him. "Bruce knows that. Do you?"

Well, about that... heh. Jason nods toward Dick. "He killed the Joker after Joker killed Bruce."

"I -- shit."

"Yeah. That's a tough call, isn't it?"

"It shouldn't be --"

"Maybe not," Jason says, and jabs Harvey's chest lightly, "but should doesn't mean a damned thing, sometimes."

Harvey looks down at Jason's finger -- and then back up into Jason's eyes. "What about you? How many bodies are on you?"

"None. But then... I didn't need Robin to tell me that he brought me on, in part, to be a *check* on him. We all keep each other honest, Harvey -- as honest as we can manage. But we're not giving up on each other if some shit-stain winds up dead."

"People like me can't help you if the bodies start showing up, Jason --"

"Maybe not. But we can still help *you*... and that's why Bruce started this in the first place. I'm willing to bet my own damned money that Bruce didn't spend too much time thinking of making friends with the Commissioner -- or you, for that matter."

"He... he was pretty stiff, at first. Ah -- you gotta give me a little time here, Jason. This stuff goes against everything --"

"Everything you believe in? Or everything you wanna believe in?"

Harvey squeezes his eyes shut for a second, smiles sharply, and opens them again. He's exactly as pretty as all the idiot reporters used to say he was, and he's smart and funny and actually a good guy.

A *great* guy, if Jason's being honest --

Jason sighs. "I can see why he went for you."

"You're not so bad yourself, tough guy. And -- call it everything I *need* to believe in. And I know you're hearing all of that, yeah?"

"You're building yourself on it. *Rebuilding* yourself."

"Got it in one. And I'm not doing it on some abstract theory, or even on some kind of universal morality. This is me -- the kid I was when I watched my old man beat a 'buddy' into a coma and get away with it scot-free, the teenager I was the first time I hit the asshole back, and the man I was when Bruce handed me my wedding rings and smiled into my eyes like nothing meant more to him than my happiness... and the way Gilda looked just the same. It's me, and that's what I'm gonna go with, so... maybe keep the other stuff quiet *enough*? I'm not gonna try to tell you people how to live -- I can't even wrap my *head* around what you do most of the time -- but I am gonna tell you what I can live *with* --" Harvey cuts himself off with a choked noise that *becomes* a laugh.

"What's up?"

"Me. *This*. Jesus, I was talking like I was gonna stick *around*. Jesus, you're too damned easy to talk to, tough guy."

"Heh. Same goes for you, since it didn't sound even a little weird."

Harvey gives him a wondering look. "No?"

Jason smiles ruefully and shrugs. "Like we *don't* need someone like you in the D.A.'s office? In the years since you went clown-shit, we've had to help Gordon bust *two* of your successors."

"Jesus fucking -- I knew that office was still bad, but I thought I'd gotten *rid* of the worst ones --"

"One of them we trucked in from out of state, if that helps."

"Too many Gothams -- or. No, not that. All I wanna do right now is walk into those offices and start kicking ass and taking names. I haven't been back to work since those black holes started popping off, and I think it's killing me a little."

"Yeah, that'd fuck with me, too. Hardcore. I -- hunh. What if we fill Gordon in on you and have you working -- *quietly* -- with him while all the big-brain types work on the problem?"

Harvey blinks. "You're serious? I could do something other than be a useless lump who occasionally gets alien fingers stuck in his brain?"

"I can run it past Robin, at least. And there's totally nothing wrong with those alien fingers. Heh."

Harvey snorts for that and gives Jason a playful little shove... so Jason shoves back and dances his way into the boxing stance Dick had bribed Ted Grant into showing him --

He still doesn't know what Dick had bribed the guy *with* --

And Harvey gets in his own stance, and it's *exactly* as perfect as Jason's own. He waggles his eyebrows a little --

*Jason* snorts -- and tags out, testing a little --

Harvey dodges neatly and tags for him --

And then it's not just time, it's *fucking* time, so Jason quick-steps Harvey back onto the mats --

His balance is *fantastic* --

And, all right, so it *is* the rule to tape your knuckles whenever you're doing *anything* with your fists --

Jason still remembers those blood stains *high* up on the heavy bag, higher than Dick could comfortably punch --

And they're not punching to *hit*, exactly, and Harvey's got a light in his eyes like he's fucking loving this --

And Jason is, too. Especially once he starts using some of his *real* speed, and Harvey pulls out the stops, too -- just like he *isn't* in a damned suit and tie --

That was a fucking *trip* Jason leaped over --

Harvey *winks* at him --

"Oh, yeah, One-Face?" So Jason is perfectly *justified* in pulling out just a little aikido, nothing *too* serious --

And that's fucking *judo* Harvey's showing him, and it's not practiced or anything, but --

"The *fuck*?"

"The city paid for a bunch of us to learn some unarmed self-defense after one of my ADAs took a bullet to the jaw from his own gun. Heh. You can handle it."

"Fuck yeah, I can," and so Jason works a few strikes in with his punches --

And Harvey's trying to lure Jason in just like he thinks he can *throw* him. And --

Why not take a look? Jason quick-steps in, throwing one of his nicest flurries -- just with the *force* turned way down -- bobbing and weaving --

Harvey comes for him with a flurry of his own, looking to distract, fighting for some of Jason's *serious* blocks --

The hard *slap* of Harvey's hand against his forearm --

The little rush that means Harvey's spinning away from another strike, jacket flying out behind him --

The *shift* in his eyes -- yeah, Jason's leaping over a sweep --

And Harvey uses the *height* of Jason's leap to throw a shoulder into Jason's fucking midsection --

"Oh, *nice*," Jason says, twisting *away* --

"*Thank* you, tough guy. Next time stay still so I can throw you *properly* --"

Jason snickers and does a little boxer's dance. "Too slow is too slow, One-Face --"

And *that* is the unmistakable sound of Dick snorting so hard --

"*Ow* --"

He hurts himself. Heh. Jason stands down and throws up a hand. "Can I help you with somethin', Big Bird?"

And Dick's eyes are just *blazing* at him for a moment --

*Jesus*, yeah, and it's gotta be fine that he's stalking up to the guy, following his damned *cock* --

It *is* fine, because Dick pushes a hand into Jason's hair --

Dick *holds* him there and looks him *over* --

Dick licks his lips and pulls Jason in, tilting his head just a little, just enough to make the kiss *perfectly* deep right away, deep and fucking *hard* --

But Jason can take it. He feels like he can take *anything*, and it doesn't matter that his ass is lying a little --

Maybe a lot --

It's lying the *hot* way, the *clenching* way that's making Jason groan into Dick's mouth and try to open wider, *take* more of that slick-sweet tongue pushing and *shoving* its way in --

Jesus fucking *Christ*, Big Bird --

And there's that other hand -- not just on his hip but just *under* the waistband of Jason's shorts, rubbing back and forth almost like he's *looking* for something --

Bruises, maybe?

Jason doesn't know, because Dick pulls back just enough for Jason to be able to get his own back, kiss-wise. So he gives Dick one of Tim's favorite kisses -- the kind that should maybe be in a bed while *one* person is leaking come and both of you are rank with sweat --

The kind of kiss that just says more, and *more*, because Jason can't *get* deep enough into Dick's mouth this way --

Dick groans --

Yanks Jason *back* -- "Fuck, Rob --"

And laughs. "Some little wing came out at least a little."

"What? Oh. Uh. Yeah, it was time, Robin --"

"You didn't give *my* name?"

Jason frowns. "Fuck, no. I figured if you decided not to, there'd still be some time for Bruce to shore up secrecy a little if Harvey does go crazy."

Dick turns to look at Bruce --

Who really is *right* there looking at Harvey's throat --

At Jason's thighs --

At Dick's hands --

At Harvey's *hair* --

And into Jason's eyes. "Yes," he says, and the *way* he says it --

Like he's answering every question that *matters* --

"*Jesus*, big guy --"

Bruce winces, blinks, and looks more like Batman than anyone else, eyes hard and a little cold, posture ruler-straight and *also* hard --

Dick flicks Bruce's arm with his fingers. "Not that, boss."

"I -- there is a need for professionalism --"

"Yes, yes there *is*, but not for you to go all *Bat* on us all," and Dick's expression shows off about three-quarters of his smile lines, because he's feeling rueful and a little nostalgic --

"You totally beat that out of him, didn't you?"

"It took the better part of two *years*, but I managed," Dick says, sighing and rubbing the spot he'd flicked. "He *is* phenomenally beautiful, isn't he?"

Bruce frowns. "I'm trying -- I'm trying to --"

"Do something stupid like *repress* everything you're feeling for all of us, maybe?"

"Hey, now, Robin, are you sure you should be *encouraging* him to go after teenagers?" And Harvey sounds *exactly* like he's making a last-ditch stand for sanity --

Which is probably why Dick's smile is as gentle as it is. It's not *very* gentle, but there's still --

A little softness.

A little *care* -- "You won Jason over."

Harvey smiles ruefully at him -- "I think so, yeah. I can be a good guy --"

"You *are* good, Harv --"

Harvey holds up a hand. "Right now and for as long as I can manage it, big guy. And I'll expect you -- whichever you I wind up with -- to jump on me feet-first if I ever slip up."

Bruce frowns a little for that, but he nods --

And Dick walks up to Harvey with his hand outstretched. "Harvey Dent. I'm Dick, and I promise to *help* Bruce stomp you if you ever fuck up."

Harvey grins ruefully. "Dick, hunh? You've heard all the jokes."

"And made up a few myself," Dick says, smiling back at Harvey. "I'm not going to make friends with you instantly, Dent. I've had too many years to hate you and everything you did to hurt Bruce. However, I respect Jason's opinions too much not to take notice of this -- all of this -- and you."

Harvey looks at him, smiles a little wider, then turns back to Dick. "And I respect Bruce's opinions too much not to think you're something special... Mr....?"

"Heh. I guess I did ask for that. Dick's fine. And we have to find something to do with you when you're not getting your J'onn treatments."

"Uh -- well..." Jason raises his hand.

"What is it, little wing?"

"Gordon could use the help putting together cases for those assholes in the D.A.'s office now."

"God, they don't even do *half* of their jobs --" Dick sucks in a breath and nods. "Yeah, we out you to Gordon. The question is whether or not we out Bruce, too."

"You think he's not gonna *notice* a huge, familiar guy in a Batsuit?"

Dick smiles wryly. "So you did figure out that I was sending him out tonight."

"Heh, you pretty much have to. Have a Batman, *use* a Batman."

"My thoughts exactly. Tink's leading him through his territory tonight. Because...?"

Test time, because, no, training *never* ends. "Because his is the territory which has changed the most, and because his style is the one most different from anything Bruce knows. Uh -- shouldn't we have them working together right now?"

"Mm-hmm. In fact..." Dick prods Bruce's arm.

"Should I find him now?"

"Absolutely, boss. Remember not to throw him around *too* much tonight -- it tends to make him try to put heels on his boots."

Jason snorts. "Big Bird, *air* makes him do that."

Dick frowns a little. "Is he...? Ah... no, I'll ask you later."

And the thing is, Jason *knows* what that conversation is going to be about, but he has no idea what his side of it will be. *He* has to talk to Tim about that *and* about this thing where Jason's opinion of Superboy is fucking things for him. It can't stand --

And that's Dick's hand on his shoulder, and Dick's eyebrow up. His *lenses* are up -- "Where'd you go?"

"A conversation I have to have with Tim. I -- don't know if it's a big deal or not."

Dick bites his lip and nods -- and then visibly pushes it aside. "Teach Steph some of your meaner punches, but don't wear her out -- I want her on short patrol tonight."

"Got it, Big Bird."

Dick smiles at him, leans in, and bites Jason's fucking *ear* --

"Uh. Does that have an order attached to it?"

"That *is* an order, little wing," Dick *breathes* against his ear -- "Go play."

Fucking -- right.

Jason leaves Dick standing with Harvey -- no, they're headed to the console. Gordon's been working third-shift for at least as long as Jason's been doing this, and he just *happens* to have a videophone in his house for calls like this one. That, at least, was all Dick's idea -- Jason remembers the trip they'd taken to Gordon's house to set it up for him in the part of the attic right above his bedroom, and how fucking *surreal* it was to break into a cop's house, into the house where Babs was *raised* --

He'd dealt, and Dick had dealt better, and that's pretty much that. They don't do the calls all that often, but the *option* is there, and that's the most important thing.

He watches Tim pull on Tink, and then he watches Tink pull on *Bruce* until they've got a nice big *expanse* of mats surrounding them. Dick, Jason knows, will be joining Bruce and Tink and acting like a mean-spirited criminal -- or possibly several -- to help teach them how to work together...

But Jason's pretty sure they're not going to need much help. Bruce may not have planned for Tink -- no one *does* -- but Bruce is Batman, and that means some part of him has been dying to work with them, train them, shape them --

*Touch* them --

("Yes.")

Fuck. He's -- not gonna think about it.

Especially since Steph is paying more attention to her stance and gait on the steps than to *him*, and that means she doesn't know what he's thinking about. He gives her a nice whistle --

She flips him off and *then* turns to grin at him. "Whatcha got for me?"

"Heh. You really wanna know...?"

She looks him over with a *sweet* kind of hunger.

"Is this what working with Tim does to you?"

"Heh. Since you asked...?"

Jason raises his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"Mostly it makes me wanna fall over and fucking *nap* --"

Jason snorts --

"But it's not like my pussy *doesn't* start making noises at me when he goes all focused and grim."

Oh, man... "Yeah, fuck. *I* don't get to see that guy too often, but I know for a fact that his *team* does."

Steph sighs. "That's -- God, if he wasn't so gay, I'd have to be *jealous*. There's no *way* the girls on his team aren't completely and totally hot for him."

"Heh. He almost looks manly when he does that or something?"

Steph plants her hands on her hips and raises her eyebrows. "He *looks* *heroic* when he does that. Manly is something people like me can do *without* sometimes, thank you very much."

"Okay, okay, my bad, you don't have to kill me."

She glares at him for a long moment, but it's pretty damned clear that she's doing it mainly because she *can* --

So Jason waggles his own eyebrows and does about one-twentieth of a strip tease, showing off his abs, his treasure trail, his belly button, just a hint of under-pec, and he doesn't even know if that's actually a *thing* --

But it makes Steph laugh at him -- a nice little giggle-snort that gets her to cover her mouth, too.

He switches his hips like Tink and gets a full-on snort --

"Oh, God! Don't do that!"

"C'mon, babe, you gotta let me... uh... express myself?"

"*One* of you has to be a little bit straight! It's -- a *rule*."

Jason raises his eyebrows at her and waggles them *once* --

And then dodges away from her pounce, spinning to catch her with a light kick --

That she blocks pretty damned perfectly, actually. "Nice one. Put more of your body into it and you can kill the other guy's balance."

"Oh -- *yeah*. Wait, show me again --"

"Back on the steps."

She goes, hesitating a little -- no, she's leading with her left to strengthen it. Good deal.

She pounces, Jason dodges and spins --

Jason *kicks* --

And she fucking well *kills* his shin. "Okay, yeah, I can't improve that."

"You didn't go *down*."

"I was braced for you, babe -- and I'm tougher than you are, right now."

She glares -- and stops. "Okay, show me how to take you down from there --"

"Harder strike for the shin, followed *immediately* by a shot to the knee. Here, kick up for a second," Jason says, and sketches a little arc around her kneecap --

"God, I *love* hitting people there --"

"I know, so sweet *every* time. The thing is, it's easier to do serious damage with your feet, but that doesn't mean you can't *stop* someone with a good strike," and Jason pulls back. "Up on the steps."

"Got it --"

"Lead *left* --"

"*Shit*, okay, fine, I'm listening," and she actually steps back and goes over her own steps again.

Jason nods in helpless approval, braces *loosely* --

And this time she *fakes* the pounce and comes in with some *beautiful* kicks Tim killed his nuts to teach her, so Jason lets her do it, watching for weakness, for strain --

Nada, but --

"How tired are you?"

"A little? Just in my left leg --"

"Then stop. We still need you out there tonight --"

"You do *not* --"

Jason looks at her.

"You're gonna have *Batman*!"

"Yeah, but he? Has spent less time on the street than *I* have, and he hasn't spent *any* time in *this* Gotham."

Steph gets a little queasy-looking -- "Fuck, okay, what *am* I doing?"

"Perfecting your knee strikes and then eating dinner with us."

"Fuck, I gotta call my mom --"

"No way Alfred won't be bringing a phone --"

"Okay, okay. Knee strikes. Back on the steps?"

Jason nods. It's the best thing they have for uneven terrain that *won't* tempt her to start favoring her left side again.

Jason moves back into position --

Steph pounces, *tucks* when she misses him, lands lightly enough to dodge easily when he kicks, manages the strike to his shin perfectly, but barely grazes his knee. Hunh.

"Is that because you were trying to keep from hurting me, or...?"

"Uh. I was trying to keep from hurting *me*, I think. I froze up a little," she says, and stares at her right hand, which is still folded into position for a strike. "Isn't it really easy to break your *fingers* this way?"

"Nah, you're in more danger of that with the shin -- wow, I can't believe we didn't teach you this already. *Tink* should've had you ready to batter my kneecap to *powder*."

"Well, he mainly focused on how to kick people there really meanly and how to also be mean with my nightstick."

"Okay, that's fair, but *still*. Look, even if you break a finger doing this? Which you won't? You'll just splint it so stiff that you can throw strikes *easier*."

Steph blinks --

Looks thoughtful --

"Also? Tim would love to do your nails."

"He would not. He wants to make *you* do my nails," she says, and gets back up on the steps. "He says you're *good* at it."

"Oh, I'm *fabulous*, girlfriend --"

"Oh -- fuck *you*," she says, pouncing --

*Tumbling* over his kick --

Kicking out before she's down and only missing Jason's knee because she *pulled* the kick --

And no strike for his knee because Jason was diving back. "Okay, yeah, do *that*."

She giggles. "Yeah?"

"Fuck, yeah. Now show me some punches."

"I thought you didn't *want* to wear me out?"

And there goes his... yeah.

She snorts at him again. "Fucking *finally*," she says, and throws her arms around his neck. "Kiss me, you jerk!"

"Are you sure? I mean, I can say something else *really* gay if that'll turn you on --"

"Jason. Peter. Todd."

"Aw, man, he told you my *middle* name?"

"He said I could get *his* middle name out of you --"

"Jackson. Seriously. His Dad was *that* much of a douche."

"*Eugh*!"

"Yeah, seriously. Uh -- wait, wasn't I about to --"

She kisses him, pushing up on her toes even though she's only a little bit shorter --

She licks his lips, his tongue, his teeth --

Jason *sucks* her tongue, and does it hard enough to sting a little --

"*Mm* --"

Jason hums and grabs her ponytail with one hand and one sweet, *sweet* hip with the other. He tugs and squeezes, squeezes *hard*, because Jesus, there's so much fucking *meat* --

He pulls back. "Okay, the next time we're out there together --"

"I wasn't *finished* --"

"Neither was I, but I *need* this, okay?"

She frown-glares at him -- "*What*?"

"Hip-check somebody. Just -- fucking send some skel flying with one of these, okay?" He squeezes again for emphasis.

"Jason. Are you fetishizing my child-bearing hips?"

Jason hears himself make a sound like a nauseous otter --

Steph smiles *meanly* -- and rubs her inner thigh against Jason's outer one. "Again?"

Jason kisses her hard, hoping for another noise and getting a stiffening followed by a sigh that loosens her up all over so well that it's a surprise that her hair-tie hasn't fallen out. He wraps the ponytail around his fist as far as it'll go and tugs, tilting her head back slowly enough that she could stop him at any time --

And there's her neck right there. Thicker than Tim's, but that's not saying much. Her pulse is beating nice and fast, nice and hard --

And maybe a little harder when he flicks his tongue there --

"F-*fuck* --"

"Can I suck?"

"No hickey --"

"*Done*," Jason says, because he knows exactly how easily she *doesn't* bruise. All the times she's been tossed around out there and has just gotten right back *up* --

But he's *careful* on top of good, so he starts with a suck rather than a bite. Right on that pulse. Right where she's a little salty but *already* slick with his spit. Marked a little --

And a part of him is right back in Tim's *old* bedroom, because --

("Would you. I. I mean..."

"It's okay, we can do whatever you want --"

"Oh -- God. If you keep saying things like that --"

"I *want* you --"

"Ohn -- *Jay* --"

"*Tell* me..."

"Ma-- Jerk off. On me? Please?")

And that had been good. *Weird* but good, like that time *all* he'd done with Roy was jerk off because they'd both been too drunk and exhausted to *move* --

("Ohhh, Jaybird. Can you fly that over here? No? Then send the beer. I need something to do with my other hand before it starts bitching me out for not taking it over *there*.")

So maybe he's grinning and making the suck a little messy, a little dirtier than it *has* to be, but Roy would fucking *cream* himself for a taste of Steph, and one day Steph's gonna plant at least *one* on Tim, and maybe --

God, if it was the *three* of them --

Okay, so growling makes her *hump*. It's just *one* hump -- it was more of a *slam* -- but --

"Fuck -- *Jay* --"

Jason growls more *purposefully* and bites down slow and hard, pushing just a little closer, close enough that she can feel his jock and maybe -- *maybe* -- get a few ideas --

She grabs his ass and digs her *nails* in, and now he's the one humping. He can keep himself from slamming -- the jock wouldn't be comfortable for *either* of them, but --

God, that actually *stings* --

"*Unh* -- nails -- fuck, I didn't mean to stop *kissing*," he says, and *shoves* his tongue in her mouth as she drags her nails back *down* over his cheeks --

She gurgles a little for him, pushes her hands under his t-shirt --

He strokes up to the side of her breast --

And her shove is a perfectly comprehensible message.

"Too much?"

"Uh, sort of --"

"Ah, Miss Stephanie. What a pleasure to find you have joined us once again. Perhaps you will choose to remain with us for a somewhat longer visit than your last," Alfred says from right the hell *there* --

Jason's sac is used to it, though -- it only creeps a little. *Steph* is looking kinda *green* --

"Um. Um. It's nice to see you. Too. Alfred."

But she's good. Now it's his turn to deal. "Yeah, it's really uh. Is that dinner?"

Alfred gives him the *evil* twinkle, and lifts the cover off the *massive* tray to reveal the *phone*... and also dinner, which is two roast ducks and a bunch of sides.

"And you're totally not letting me help with that, are you."

Alfred narrows his eyes -- and then hands Steph the phone. "You may, if you wish, gather the others for your repast."

Right. One day, Alfred's not going to be *able* to do this, and that'll break *everyone's* heart, and --

Alfred himself would point out that that day isn't today, so Jason damned well goes with it. Dick's already leading Harvey to the big table, so Jason catches Steph's eye and points in that direction. She gives him the thumbs-up, and Jason goes hunting for Bruce and Tim.

They aren't on the mats, or over by the trophies, or anywhere near the gymnastics equipment, or the *weights* --

Oh, damn.

Jason jogs over to the medical area --

"-- really have to let me apologize, Bruce --"

"I think not," Bruce says, and holds his arm out for Tim, who is swabbing an *impressive* slash with peroxide -- presumably after the standard alcohol and iodine washes.

"It's just -- oh. Hi, Jay," Tim says, rueful and quiet. He's doing that thing where he's trying to hold on to his good humor but also working his way into a *serious* funk --

"You tagged him a good one, baby...?"

"I -- "

"I suggested a spar," Bruce says, obviously trying to keep his voice low and soothing. "I believed it would give me a better sense of Tim's skills, and of how he chooses to use them."

"And maybe also you wanted to see it?"

Bruce turns back to Tim, searching his face and lingering on his down-turned eyes like maybe he's *willing* Tim to look up again -- "Yes."

Tim *jumps* a little -- probably because that voice has a way of wrapping a fist around your cock and *squeezing* --

Jason shakes his head and pets Tim's hair a little before gripping the back of his neck and doing his own squeezing.

Tim sighs out most of his air, fixes his posture, and examines the wound. It's oozing more than bleeding -- "No stitches?"

"Nah, he's good. Just bandage him."

"Yes, Jay," and Tim works on doing just that. He has Bruce's attention again -- in a *big* way.

"Bruce."

"Yes, Jason."

"I -- heh. You weren't expecting Tim to get a little subby like this?"

Bruce frowns. "No. Perhaps I should have...?"

"Maybe," Jason says, and squeezes the back of Tim's neck again. "Baby's complicated. Lots of... heh. Facets."

Bruce nods slowly. "Yes. I see your point. I -- Tim, I do not feel that you have anything to apologize for. You may not have slipped into this... mode of being because of what happened in our spar, but you seemed... happier before then. Please. I'd like to see that again, in whatever manner you choose."

Tim licks his lips and tilts his head back just enough that he can see Jason's eyes. There's a question in Tim's and --

"The answer's always yes for you, baby. You know that."

Tim pushes back against him and turns back to bandaging, and that's an answer, *too*, but --

"You had your knife when you were sparring."

"Yes, Jay."

"Maybe... a lot of knives?"

"Three."

"And you were expecting Bruce to dodge or take it away from you?"

"Yes, Jay."

Jason eyes Bruce a little --

And Bruce smiles wryly. "I honestly didn't expect him to use it, nor did I expect him to use it well. My instincts were to deflect, then to disarm. For a moment -- just long enough -- I forgot that I wasn't wearing the Batman, or the Batman's armor."

Which... heh. Jason smiles back. "There are a lot more kids with knives in Gotham proper than there are in your Cave back home."

Bruce nods and glances at the hand Jason has on the back of Tim's neck -- and then it's much, much more than a glance. It --

"You want some of this?"

Bruce blinks once. "Yes. And there are many ways to interpret your question."

"So there are," Jason says, and maybe he can blame the day for making him into a walking, talking *hormone* --

Or maybe he can just reach past Tim to hold the gauze in place while Tim tapes it down. He can feel Bruce's heat through the gauze, and even though it means that he's feeling the heat of Bruce's *wound* --

Maybe *because* of that --

He's breathing a little harder.

And Tim's breathing a little harder.

And Bruce's eyes are narrowed in fucking *concentration* as he reaches for Tim's face with his other hand. He does it carefully and *slowly* --

But Tim still gasps for the feel of Bruce's fingertips on his cheek --

"Oh. So..." Bruce takes a deep breath and strokes Tim's cheekbones. "I must have known just this sensation when I was a boy, but I have no memory of anything this... beautiful."

Tim shudders, tenses --

Bruce pulls his hand back immediately. "I'm sorry --"

"*No*. You -- I --" Tim licks his lips and dips his head in *just* the way that means he's looking at Bruce from under his lashes. "You have nothing to apologize for," he says, and sounds *increasingly* like Tink throughout. And *that* --

Jason moves his hand to Tink's shoulder, instead --

Tink shoots him a *hot* look, a promising-as-*hell*-look --

"*Dinner*," Jason grits, and he wasn't expecting to get a coherent, non-fucking-related word out, at all, so he's pretty proud of himself.

"*Oh* -- ah." Tink licks his lips and finishes the bandaging perfectly. "We'll discuss this later, Bruce," he says, pushing up on his toes and pecking -- not kissing -- Bruce's cheek before jogging to the table.

Bruce looks... confused. A lot. He --

Jason doesn't *snicker*, but --

"Hm. I find I'm glad for your amusement, Jason. Even when it's at my own expense."

"Yeah, well. Uh. Nobody's ready for Tink the first time. Nobody's ready for *Tim* the first *fifteen* times. It's kind of a fact *and* the law around here."

The light in Bruce's eyes is bright and kind of *hard* -- but still warm. "As you say," and he stands and flexes his arm before nodding in approval. "Will you tell me what changed your mind about the protocol?"

"Easy answer," Jason says, and starts walking. "Dick needs things to be as calm as possible right now. All of this is driving him a little crazy, because his past, present, and *future* family is right here. *Plus* there's Harvey looking like pain and terror and *acting* like anything but -- there's gotta be some simple rules. Like the Cave being the safe space it's always *been*. We can't go around acting like we're in siege positions in our own damned home."

Bruce nods slowly. "And Harvey proved himself to you."

Jason snorts. "*That* fucking guy could prove himself to -- I don't know. Some kind of god who actually *cares* about virtue. He's maybe a little too old-fashioned... eh, I don't know. He's a good guy."

"Yes," and Bruce smiles, tiny and bright. "He brought light into my world with effortless generosity."

"You ever think maybe you were never supposed to be dark in the first place, B?"

"Yes. Very, very recently," Bruce says, and shows his *teeth* at Jason, which --

That's another promise right there.

Jason's not actually capable of thinking that's a bad thing.

*



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