Knows how to choose them
by Te
July 25, 2008

Disclaimers: No one and nothing here is mine.

Spoilers/Timeline: Vague references to older storylines. Takes place several months after the events of NIGHTWING: YEAR ONE.

Summary: They both get lonely.

Ratings Note/Warnings: Sexual content.

Author's Note: Jack wanted Dick in thigh-high stockings. How could I ever say no to that?

Acknowledgments: To Mildred for audiencing and encouragement, and to Jack for that awful, wonderful title.

Dick *really* thought he was done with this. *Years* ago, even --

Well, okay, about *one* year, because Bruce had always been pretty damned *ruthless* about undercover work --

("You can't *always* be 'Robbie Malone,' Dick.")

Which he *got* -- the first time, even. It's just that -- then *and* now -- he'd never really gotten why that meant he *had* to be some *woman*.

Some woman currently in a blonde -- bleached, carefully inexpertly -- wig, a blue dress, and thigh-high stockings --

"S to N. You in yet, 'mano?"

"Yes," Dick whispers, and curls his toes into the thick -- downright luxurious, really -- carpeting of Max Reich's bedroom. Going by Victor's records, Reich has been bankrolling some of the Titans' enemies just lately, but *proof* has been hard to find.

Hence -- this. The horrible shoes are dangling from his fingers, and that's kind of on the inconvenient side, but technically -- *technically* -- he can move better without them. He can --

("There is no end to the skills you will need to perform as my partner, Dick. Again.")

All right, so he can move just *fine* in heels, but -- but.

If he has to do this -- and yes, *all* the girls are on other assignments, and yes, this party *had* specified that everyone had to bring a date, and --

"I'm not your partner anymore, Bruce," Dick whispers, and moves to the safe.

He tries Reich's birthday, his sister's birthday, his mother's birthday, his illegitimate son's by a low level hitter birthday -- open.

Roy laughs in his ear. "Max, Max, I don't *need* a tour. Everything fun to look at is right *here* -- if you know what I mean."

A warning, and an important one. Dick *can* get out of here by the window, but a climb down the trellis in clothes like this -- he'd look pretty damned suspicious walking back into the party with torn stockings and rose petals coming out of his *damned* bodice. The only other way back down is via the stairs Roy is staking out, and -- no time.

Dick takes the small sheaf of papers and leaves the few jewels and the stacks of bills. Then he opens the dress -- zip down the front, *very* classy -- and tucks the papers into the small pouch taped to his chest.

Gar says it makes Dick look 'chunky.'

Gar is damned well going to get some *body* paint the next time one of them has to do this. He *is* an actor --

"You know, I *think* Rache went to the ladies'," Roy says. "She was *convinced* her makeup wasn't right -- yeah, I know, right? Women."

"I'm done and moving. Bathroom first," Dick says --

Roy sighs in a relief Dick hopes wasn't *too* obvious, and after Dick flushes the toilet and runs a little water in the sink -- *and* checks his makeup -- he heads back downstairs.

After that, it's just a matter of plastering a profoundly *dippy* smile on his face and moving through the party like he *doesn't* want to call the cops on seventy percent of the guests. The dancing, humiliating as it is, actually makes things a little easier.

Bruce had taught him how to be led, and Roy moves like he doesn't see anything wrong with his date being tall, muscular, and equipped with certain non-standard accessories for the average woman.

For the slow dance, Roy pulls him close and makes complicated conversation with his eyebrows and his expression in general. It's a little --

If it were Bruce, this would be a warning that trouble was about to happen in *spades*, but it's Roy, and Dick's had a few years to get used to him. He just wants to know if Dick's all right, and maybe also commiserate with him about the heels. Roy -- Roy is a good friend.

Dick smiles ruefully. "I'm fine."

"*Yeah* you are -- 'mana --"

Dick winces --

Roy purses his mouth in obvious apology. "You *do* look good, you know."

"There's a gesture I'm not making that you should think about *very* deeply."

Roy snorts and spins them slowly around the floor, and as soon as a few more people go up and down the stairs, they make their exit. Reich claps Roy on the shoulder and promises to find business for 'a well-known professional' like himself.

*Roy* had gotten to pretend to be a hitter out of Star City -- but Dick's not bitter, and it's over.

He manages to wait until they're out of the excessively long driveway before ripping the wig off, but he'd already had the shoes shoved under the seat and the stupid, necessary, *stupid* choker off his throat --

"Easy, *easy*. You gonna strip right here?"

"I'm flexible, Roy. People are *always* telling me that I should use it for more fun things," Dick says, arching off the seat and yanking the dress up over his hips --

"Uh -- well, *yeah*, but -- um?"

"What is it? I got all the papers -- and. Your hand is on my thigh, why?"

"Well, I thought we could...?" Roy's watching the road in a way that pretty much screams -- loudly -- that he's *really* watching Dick, and --

And. The last time was in the Tower, after a long night with movies and a lot of cuddling in the rec room. Pile o' Titans -- Dick's favorite, really...

At least since the dim, dead days when Bruce would let Dick curl up on his lap and --

And he really doesn't need to make any of those associations any more than he already has. The *point* is that the last time had been fueled with the good, strong beer Ollie is always giving Roy to bring with him to the Tower, just as if Roy had never had -- a problem.

The time before *that* had been a spar, and a whole lot of adrenaline.

The time before *that* --


"Somehow, that name and these stockings just don't -- um." Dick covers the hand Roy has on his thigh and squeezes --

Roy sighs and starts to *stroke* --

"Roy --"

"Hey, I'd understand if you didn't *want* to, but -- we've got a lot of time before the rest of the team can get together to go over those papers you got, and..."

And Roy guides their hands to Dick's *inner* thigh and strokes lightly over -- and over -- the top of the stocking. "You... really want." Dick shakes his head and laughs --

Roy winces and stops stroking --

"Just -- okay. Is it the dress? Because I'm *allowed* to laugh at you if it's the damned dress, *Speedy*."

Red light, and Roy finally -- it's definitely a finally, though Dick doesn't really know *why* -- looks over at him. He licks his lips, and his eyes are...

Actually kind of *wide*. "Roy...?"

"It's not -- it's not the dress," Roy says, and he's being serious. It's the kind of serious that seems to fill the whole car, choking off everything Dick can say, or...

Maybe not that. "Then what -- I'm not really feeling --"

"It's *you*, Dick. It's always --" Roy growls and shakes his head, tugging his hand back --

Dick grabs it without thinking about it --

"Jesus, 'mano. You can just -- tell me what you want anytime you feel like it."

Always... always? Dick bites the inside of his cheek and squeezes Roy's hand again. "I just -- was kind of surprised. I'm wearing a *gaff*, Roy. That has to be the worst possible -- didn't Ollie ever make *you* dress up like a woman?"

"Uh -- *no*. I'm pretty sure that's *just* Bruce's kink --"

"It's not a *kink*. He always had some -- some *reason* --"

Green light, and Roy takes off -- a little fast.

"Anyway, I... we're not... we're not dating or anything."

Roy snorts. "Yeah, you noticed that, too?"

"Roy --"

"It's okay, 'mano. *I'm* okay. You don't want to, we can just head back to the Tower, grab some chow, and spar until you feel like you've got your dick back."

"I always..." Dick smiles a little ruefully. "I always did have to hit people a little harder than usual after wandering around in heels for a night."

And Roy's smile is just right, broad and lazy and the kind of mean that has everything to do with all the people they get to *punish*. "I hear that. We *could* just suit up and do the town, a little."

Nightwing and Arsenal, now and -- probably not forever. Nothing lasts forever.

"Hey, what just happened to you?"

Dick lets go of Roy's hand and waves his own between them. "It's nothing. I'm not -- it's nothing."

"Meaning it's *Bruce*. *Have* you talked to him since he fired you?"

Acid in his mouth every time he hears that, every time he thinks it, *still*. "A little. When I met the new guy." The new *kid*, who has a lot more mouth than muscle. Dick knows that won't last.

"So... what do you think of him? What's his *name*?"

"Jason Todd. I think I want to hit him, to be honest. It's just that sometimes I also want to... steal him away. Make him a Titan so Bruce can't ever toss him out of his life and make him feel like -- like. Hell, Roy, go back to talking about sex? Sports? *Something*?"

Roy's silent for a few moments -- just long enough for Dick to get a little stuck in his head, to get a little lost in the image of Jason Todd wearing *his* uniform, flying next to *his* partner...

Not sleeping in his bed, but who knows? Maybe Bruce had wanted *that*, too. To just erase every sign of Dick with something better, tougher -- more obedient? Really? Dick snorts to himself and pushes a hand back through his hair --

"Okay, so it kind of is the dress."

"God, *Roy* --"

"No, no, hear me out on this one," he says, and makes the stand-down gesture before turning onto the exit that'll take them -- close -- to their part of the city.

"I'm -- fine, I'm listening."

"Okay, so -- we've known each other for years, right? Right. I *know* what your body looks like."

Feels like, too. Dick nods.

"But you're in that dress, all covered up and padded *out*, so I kind of have to guess at where the real you *is*. So I'm paying more *attention* to your body than I normally would, and... well, that's about it," Roy says, turning to face Dick briefly and raising an eyebrow.

Daring Dick to believe him -- or maybe to fight him on it. It's *always* a dare with Roy, in one way or another --

Right now it's a dare to keep looking, even though Roy has turned back to the road, and has an absent little frown on his face for the traffic.

"So... you're saying that the dress kind of *focuses* your attention."

"*Demands* it, Dickie. Look, I'm not saying you fooled everyone at that party -- I was getting *way* too many dirty looks for *that* -- but you're lean, and you know how to *move* like a woman, and when we were dancing..."

"You were... did I make you hard?"

Roy grins, just when they pass under a streetlight. The gleam is impressively *timely*.

"I mean -- you know I wasn't -- hell, Roy. I'm *not* used to thinking of myself as a sex object."

"You'll get there in time, 'mano. Trust me, I'm older."

"And I'm more *experienced* --"

"Not," Roy says, and brings his hand back to Dick's thigh, "in everything."

"Roy -- I." The words that come after that are kind of gone, really, because a large part of Dick's brain is a little stuck on the question of experience. He *knows* Ollie took Roy to a brothel when he was fourteen -- Roy had still been in *shock* over it the next time he'd been at the Tower, and he'd told Dick all about it while they'd sat in the dark and. Held hands.

But there are other things, and other ways of *getting* to be sexually experienced, and somehow...

Somehow, a part of Dick had gotten stuck on the fact that Donna never let Roy do more than kiss her a little bit, and had used it to build a picture of Roy as all talk. Even though every time they *had* gotten together --

The way Roy *kisses* --

"Hey, where'd you go?"

"I --" He's blushing, and that's not exactly uncommon when he's around Roy, but it had gotten *less* common, and -- he kind of has to hate the timing.

"We *still* don't have to. Even though you've hiked that dress up and that gaff has to be *killing* you..."

He also has to hate the fact that the pain of the gaff is *familiar*. Dammit, *Bruce* --

"I just want to *help*, Dickie."

And Roy -- is being Roy. With the volume turned *way* up, because Dick had... kind of asked for just that. If he meant everything he was saying, that hand on Dick's thigh would be moving, and the leer in Roy's voice would be so -- obvious.

"You know I *like* helping --"

"I haven't -- I haven't done anything. Since the last time with you."

"I." Roy takes a deep breath and *squeezes* Dick's thigh. "I kinda knew that."

Dick nods and crosses his arms over his chest -- gives up and unzips the dress, then twists himself around enough to unhook the bra --

"If you make us get in a crash, I will *beat* you, Dick --"

"Just focus on the *road*," Dick says, and breathes distinctly easier once the bra -- with falsies -- is a tangled bundle on the floor between Dick's feet.

"I really want --" Roy cuts himself off with a hiss and -- squeezes the steering wheel. Hard. Which means he was about to say something *really* true, even though his other hand is so *still* on Dick's thigh.

Does he *want* it to be moving? He's -- he's getting hard, and some of it's the talk, and some of it's just Roy being there, being warm and willing and so much *easier* in his head about sex than Dick will ever be.

Growing up with Ollie had to have *some* good points -- and, as always, Dick really has no room to talk.

Dammit, *Bruce* --

"Anyway," Roy says, and pulls into the garage, parking expertly next to Vic's van. They have a lot of space down here, but they mostly keep the vehicles together.

They have a lot of space in the Tower itself, too, and -- and.

Roy gets out of the car without looking at Dick, and -- yeah, he can deal. He gathers together all the damned accessories, slipping back into the shoes so he doesn't have to carry them, and steps out of the car --

And Roy is right there, pushing Dick back against the car with his body, looking *up* at Dick through his lashes, because the heels are high, because Roy is *crouching* a little, because --

Roy's hands are on Dick's hips, and his expression --

"Do you want it, Dick?"

"I --" And maybe kissing Roy isn't the best possible way to answer that question. What he wants and doesn't want -- Dick had kind of stopped thinking about that after Bruce had fired him, because the questions just *hurt* too much, and he couldn't --

Roy's mouth is warm and wet, mobile and sweet with the liqueur he was knocking back to stay in character --

"*Dick*," Roy says, and it sounds like more and it sounds like pay *attention*, but mostly it *feels* like being yanked forward by the hips until he's *leaning* against the car, and the gaff is doing a wonderful, terrible job of protecting him from Roy's thrusts.

"*Jesus*, Roy, you could at least -- oh. Oh, God, that feels --"

"We could get you a little more naked," Roy says, and his voice is low and sounds almost angry, almost like this is *hurting* him in some way -- he's not really *looking* at Dick.

"Roy, I -- I want --" Dick growls to himself and cups Roy's shoulders, squeezes them and thinks about pushing, thinks about the way Roy *looks* at Dick's left hand, like he's *waiting* for the push --

Roy still has him by the *hips*.

"Okay, I -- please?"

Roy thrusts *hard* and shudders, all over --

"Oh, you didn't just --"

"*Really* not, Dickie, I -- fuck, I'm just fucking *molesting* you --"

"Not -- really -- complaining, but...?"

And *that* makes Roy look at him, and his eyes are wild and full, almost panicked-looking -- "Let me?"


Roy squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and squeezes Dick's *hips* --

"Um -- ow?"

"Say yes. Say you want this, Robbie, I need. Please," Roy says, and opens his eyes again, looks *through* Dick --

And there are memories for this, both every time he's been with Roy, and --

And just a *few* times with Bruce. A few otherwise innocent moments --

*That* look, the one that always made Dick feel too small for his skin, too big to hide, too old to *want* --

"*God* --" And Roy steps back, pushing a hand through his hair and *gritting* his teeth, because Dick had taken exactly too long to think, to make up his mind that he wants --

What he wants doesn't *last* --

"Dick, I'm sorry, I -- look, I'll just -- fuck, I don't know," Roy says, and his laugh is awful, harsh --

"Roy, you don't..." And he's a little clumsier than he should be --

Bruce --

He's *clumsy* in the heels, and the dress is still hiked up and gapping over Dick's chest -- he's *used* to cold breezes there, even if the fluorescents down here are making him feel exposed, even if the sound of his heels on the cement is making him feel --

("One foot in front of the other, Dick. You *don't* have anything between your legs to make that uncomfortable.")

And probably it's the awful, high-pitched noise Dick makes that catches Roy's attention, the sound more than the way Dick is gripping Roy's arms --

"You really should let me --"

"I don't. Want to be alone," Dick says, and tries and fails at smiling, which is at least a little okay, because Roy is trying and failing right back at him.

"Sometimes it's like I get stuck in my own head, Dick, I -- used to have a way of dealing with that."

Dick bites back the wince and nods.

"There are other ways, though," and Roy cups Dick's hip with one hand, and the other --

Two fingers under the waistband of the normal-*looking* panties that are currently killing him. Dick -- tries to breathe, and it's not a surprise that it comes out gasped. Not even close.


"Please," Dick says, closing his eyes and leaning in --

And he doesn't know if the kiss comes before or after the feel of the panties sliding down over his hips, and he doesn't know which one is more important to the feel of this, clothes everywhere and they're in the *garage*, they're --

Anyone could walk -- drive -- in, see this, see *them* --

The other Titans know about this, though, and maybe think it happens a lot more often than it does, maybe --

Dick moans into Roy's mouth -- and does it again when Roy wraps his hand around Dick and starts to stroke, slow and hard and so perfect, so *good* --

"You like it this way. I -- I remember --"

"*Roy* --"

"Yeah, I -- just a little. Like this. Like --" Roy shakes his head and leans in again, nuzzling Dick's mouth until they're breathing each other's breath --

("Many people experience a kind of euphoria in the early to middle stages of oxygen deprivation --")

Dick *bites* Roy's lip and Roy moans, squeezes Dick hard enough that Dick's knees feel weak and a little irrelevant, or at least untrustworthy --

And this kiss is *hard*, and comes with Roy's hand in Dick's hair, tugging and gripping, holding Dick *still* --

The first time Roy had kissed him, he'd pulled too hard, it had hurt and Dick had *yelped* into Roy's mouth, and Roy had jerked back, eyes wide --

And Dick had pushed in, just like this, slipping his tongue into Roy's mouth and moaning, wanting, *taking* --

And they're moaning together now, and Roy's hand is so wrong and so perfect, calluses in all the wrong places, scars a little too -- he's never *felt* Bruce's hand, not like this, and he never, ever will, and if Dick whimpers --

If Roy bites the line of Dick's jaw --

If Dick gets squeezed and stroked and *taken*, just like this --

And then Roy lets *go*, making Dick stagger --

And get steadied by Roy's hands on his hips. Roy's on his *knees*, looking up and almost begging, *pleading* --

The only thing Dick can do is nod, or -- he can push his hands into Roy's hair and watch him close his eyes, watch him open his *mouth* --

And the last time Roy had done this, it had lasted maybe a minute, and it won't be that much longer now. It --

It feels like Roy's tongue is all over him at *once*, making him slick and that much needier, making him *harder* --

"Roy. *Roy*, you -- please suck me, just like -- like before --"

Roy *nods*, and it feels like it's going to shake Dick apart, and then --

Tight. So --

Roy's pulling Dick in *deep*, swallowing him into his throat, and experience -- experience means Roy can *do* this to him, means he can make Dick shudder and tug on Roy's hair, moan and need and --

"Please. Please, *Roy* --"

Just him right now, just -- it's okay, isn't it? It has to be *okay*, because they're friends, and --

"God -- I'm. *Close*, Roy, so if you want to pull off -- oh, *God* --"

Roy's hands on his *ass*, squeezing and pulling Dick in, doing it -- Roy is *working* his head on Dick, up and down and up again, down again, so slick and hot, so --

Tight --

And then it's just the feel of Roy swallowing around him, the way it seems to last forever even though he's pretty sure he's begging Roy not to *stop*, please, God, don't *stop* --

And the orgasm *hits* him, making Dick shout and jerk, thrust helplessly over and *over* --

Roy's moans keep getting choked *off* --

And finally it's too much, but Roy won't let him pull *back* --

"Roy, *please*, it's -- hurts, I can't --"

Another moan, and it just gets louder when Roy *does* let Dick pull back. It echoes in the garage and makes Dick shiver again, makes him --

Roy's wearing a suit, not his uniform, and that means --

Dick drops to his knees in front of Roy and fumbles at the fly of his pants. Roy's gasping and his eyes are squeezed shut, and his hands are on Dick's, guiding them expertly, so *gently* -- "Roy...?"

Roy snaps his eyes open and pants, looks through Dick again, and Dick only wants to tell Roy that he's here, that he's just himself, that they *are* friends and everything's okay, just please don't *look* at him like that --

"Roy, I -- please. Do you want my mouth?"


The kiss is hard and almost clumsy -- right up until it isn't and Roy is making *love* to Dick's mouth, just like the kind of kisses Dick used to imagine when he looked at Clark, the kind of --

It's so slow and so *hard*, and it feels almost like Roy could kiss him this way for hours, that this is the way Roy's *wanted* to kiss him, and he could only manage it here, with them both on their knees and the taste of Dick's own lipstick in his mouth. Both their mouths --

Dick moans and keeps fumbling with Roy's pants, stopping and starting again every time Roy slides his tongue between Dick's lips, every time Roy licks him and moans again --

Again --

Dick barely knows what to *do* when he finally gets Roy's pants open. He doesn't want the kiss to *end*, and maybe some of that gets through in the whimper, because Roy grabs Dick's hand and wraps it around his dick, squeezes --

Roy --

*Roy*, and this isn't the first time Dick's wondered how he's going to give this up, but it's always new, always strange and scary and just --

He's so *lonely*, sometimes, and he *knows* Roy is the same way, that Ollie pushed him aside once, too --

Dick starts to stroke and Roy pants into his mouth, opens his eyes and makes Dick realize that *his* were open the whole time --

Roy closes his eyes again and *pumps* into Dick's fist, slurs something low and incomprehensible, and Dick has to --

He pushes his other hand into Roy's pants and cups his sac through Roy's boxer briefs, and Roy makes a sound like he's *hurt*, shakes his head and kisses Dick harder. And --

There's no *choice*. Dick *has* to stroke faster, squeeze Roy's sac until Roy's the one whimpering, until --

"Dick, *please* --"

"I -- I've got you --"

Another whimper, and Roy pushes his hands into Dick's hair, but he doesn't kiss Dick again. He just rests his forehead against Dick's own and pants, harsh and so good, so *hot* --

"Oh, Roy. Roy, like -- like this?"

"Please. Don't stop --"

"I won't. I -- you feel so *good*, Roy --"

And the sound Roy makes is more of a *keen* than anything else, and he's shaking his head against Dick's own, and Dick is stuck, *stabbed* by the fact that this won't last, either, that Roy will come and then put on 'Roy Harper, professional slut' like this is nothing, or --

("It's *you*, Dick. It's always --")

Or maybe he won't, and maybe that will be -- worse. Because Dick doesn't have --

He's not --

"Dick -- Dickie, I'm gonna come, I need -- please don't *stop* --"

If they could just have this, *be* this with each other for more than a few moments --

If they could hold hands in the dark, again --

And Roy shouts and stiffens all over -- comes in four hot spurts all over Dick's fist while he shudders --

Shudders *harder* and pulls Dick's hair --

"Roy," Dick says, and after a moment Roy nods, and --

Lets go of Dick's hair. Pulls *back* --

And Dick knows he's not supposed to, that it's not ever what anyone *wants* --

He wraps his arms around Roy and pulls him close, letting himself ignore Roy's tension and bracing himself against whatever Roy will say, or do, or -- *say*.

He holds *on* --

And, after a moment that lasts too long, Roy wraps one arm around Dick's waist and pushes his face against Dick's neck. It's --

Dick can *feel* his heart rate speeding, and it's hard to *breathe*, but -- "Okay?"

"Yeah, I..." Roy's voice is muffled, his lips pressed against Dick's neck -- "Yeah."

Dick closes his eyes. And shivers.