It's a busy night in Gotham, as busy as they come. With Damian training with Stephanie for the night, Dick isn't sure who to call for back up.
And, as always, by the time he -realizes- he needs to call in for back up it's a little too late. A fear toxin punch blows just aside a previously broken rib, and Dick tastes metal, feels a hard, sticky, blossoming of pain under the bat symbol, and grunts in the dark.
It's been too long since he's fought this many at once. His fingers fumble for his grapple, but an uninhibited victim screams and launches for his arms, knocking the gun right out of his hands. As arms and hands and bodies close around him, smother him, Dick can just see his grapple spinning across the dirty ground.
A foot stops it, and that's all the warning the throng gets before they're being wrenched effectively away. Blow after blow yanks arms and wrists off of Dick, and when he can breathe, he sees red on black, and a gentle hand presses a gass dampener to his lips.
Tim's eyes are blocked by white out lenses, but Dick can almost -taste- the tension of his body, the hard worry there, when he takes his hand.
Then it's gone, in a flash, melting away as Red Robin twists into a deadly kick that sends a man sprawling away from Batman's back. Their arms link, and their backs press together, and they fight until their knuckles are bruised and Tim's antidote gas spills out of it's timed container. The victims fall to the ground, bruised and battered, unconscious but -alive-, no matter the damage they'd done.
Standing and pulling away, Tim collapses his staff and wipes a soft streak of blood away from his lips. Dick can't help but reach out, to take his wrist and squeeze it, to part his own lips and try to whisper thanks even with the cowl and cape hanging heavy over his shoulders.
Seemingly from far away, Dick's comm crackles to life, and Stephanie asks him for his coordinates. Tim tenses, but Dick won't let him go, pulling him towards the batmobile as he instructs her about getting Damian to make his first ambulance pick up call.
"So you're not street pizza?" Steph asks, worriedly. "We were trying to make it to help in time, but there was a break out on our side too."
"I'm fine." He hears himself say it even as he smiles to Tim and squeezes his wrist, pulling him into the passenger seat. Tim smiles, pulls away his cowl- "Robin had my back."
And just like that, everything shatters. Stephanie sounds confused over the line, but Dick is too busy watching Tim's expression shift subtly in a thousand different ways, his fingers digging tightly around the material of his own cowl. Like he wants to put it back on, like he wants to hide everything in his eyes, and Dick breaks too. The comm connection snaps off as he surges across the seat, one hand dragging up to hold firmly at Tim's back, the other running into his hair as Dick presses their lips together.
Tim's shoulders shake, he tenses, and just when Dick thinks he's going to get pushed out of the car, Tim kisses back. They work their lips together, soft sounds of need and apology mingled with parted lips and quiet rasps of Kevlar. When the kiss ends, Dick threads his fingers through Tim's hair over and over again, feeling him shiver with every breath, and he speaks the words he should have ages ago.
"I'm sorry. Little brother, I'm so sorry."
Tim stills, and then he brushes their lips together again, quiet under the rumble of the batmobile's motor.
"I know."
--
Eta: Sorry for Any blaring typoes, I wrote this on my iPod. ;w; <3
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"Misnomer" Batman/Red Robin, PG.
Date: 2011-04-01 03:52 pm (UTC)And, as always, by the time he -realizes- he needs to call in for back up it's a little too late. A fear toxin punch blows just aside a previously broken rib, and Dick tastes metal, feels a hard, sticky, blossoming of pain under the bat symbol, and grunts in the dark.
It's been too long since he's fought this many at once. His fingers fumble for his grapple, but an uninhibited victim screams and launches for his arms, knocking the gun right out of his hands. As arms and hands and bodies close around him, smother him, Dick can just see his grapple spinning across the dirty ground.
A foot stops it, and that's all the warning the throng gets before they're being wrenched effectively away. Blow after blow yanks arms and wrists off of Dick, and when he can breathe, he sees red on black, and a gentle hand presses a gass dampener to his lips.
Tim's eyes are blocked by white out lenses, but Dick can almost -taste- the tension of his body, the hard worry there, when he takes his hand.
Then it's gone, in a flash, melting away as Red Robin twists into a deadly kick that sends a man sprawling away from Batman's back. Their arms link, and their backs press together, and they fight until their knuckles are bruised and Tim's antidote gas spills out of it's timed container. The victims fall to the ground, bruised and battered, unconscious but -alive-, no matter the damage they'd done.
Standing and pulling away, Tim collapses his staff and wipes a soft streak of blood away from his lips. Dick can't help but reach out, to take his wrist and squeeze it, to part his own lips and try to whisper thanks even with the cowl and cape hanging heavy over his shoulders.
Seemingly from far away, Dick's comm crackles to life, and Stephanie asks him for his coordinates. Tim tenses, but Dick won't let him go, pulling him towards the batmobile as he instructs her about getting Damian to make his first ambulance pick up call.
"So you're not street pizza?" Steph asks, worriedly. "We were trying to make it to help in time, but there was a break out on our side too."
"I'm fine." He hears himself say it even as he smiles to Tim and squeezes his wrist, pulling him into the passenger seat. Tim smiles, pulls away his cowl- "Robin had my back."
And just like that, everything shatters. Stephanie sounds confused over the line, but Dick is too busy watching Tim's expression shift subtly in a thousand different ways, his fingers digging tightly around the material of his own cowl. Like he wants to put it back on, like he wants to hide everything in his eyes, and Dick breaks too. The comm connection snaps off as he surges across the seat, one hand dragging up to hold firmly at Tim's back, the other running into his hair as Dick presses their lips together.
Tim's shoulders shake, he tenses, and just when Dick thinks he's going to get pushed out of the car, Tim kisses back. They work their lips together, soft sounds of need and apology mingled with parted lips and quiet rasps of Kevlar. When the kiss ends, Dick threads his fingers through Tim's hair over and over again, feeling him shiver with every breath, and he speaks the words he should have ages ago.
"I'm sorry. Little brother, I'm so sorry."
Tim stills, and then he brushes their lips together again, quiet under the rumble of the batmobile's motor.
"I know."
--
Eta: Sorry for Any blaring typoes, I wrote this on my iPod. ;w; <3