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Dick paces in front of the window, debating on whether or not he should call.
On one hand, he and Tim are doing good. Great, even. And it would be totally normal to call and check on how his mission went. On the other, he might be… obvious and as much as Dick would love for Tim to know, it might actually kill him if he didn't feel the same. So. He'll wait until Bruce calls him and some of the others for debrief. It shouldn't take long, Tim normally heads for the Cave straight away.
He nods to himself and plops down on the couch, pulling his legs up with him.
Waiting. He can do that.
He taps his thighs keeping in time with some unheard song.
Tap. Dap. Tap tap dap.
He hums, lips pursing. His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth and the hum turns into a whistle.
He bites into his lip, picking at the skin.
Waiting. He can't do that.
He springs to his feet in a fluid movement, heading for the bedroom to get the keys to his civilian bike. He hears a thump in his living room and bangs his head on his bed frame, nearly wrenching his shoulder where it's stuck underneath it.
"Dick?"
The grin Dick feels growing on his face is so wide it hurts, "Bedroom!"
He listens to the near-silent footfalls while he tries to grab his keys. Boots appear on the other side of the bed from Dick and he watches him get to his knees. His grin grows when he catches sight of Tim's smile, "Hi."
Tim snorts, following Dicks arm with his eyes and finding the keys he's reaching for. His exasperated look is only doubled when he's able to pick up the keys without having to get down further. He hooks the key ring over his pointer finger, the black of his gloves only serving to highlight how slim his hands are, twirling it around, "Hi yourself, pretty boy."
Dick laughs and starts to contort himself back out from under the bed. He climbs onto his bed without standing, watching Tim as he slowly removes his cape, "You know me, all looks and no brain."
Tim gives him a look that says he's about to shove half his casework at him just to prove him wrong before he turns back to his task. Dick watches the pretty pale fingers of one hand remove his last glove.
"Why wasn't I called for debrief?" He asks curiously. Bruce likes to have a couple of people present for a returning family member, a tradition he started after they all got their collective heads out of their asses.
Tim settles on the bed, starting on his boots, "Haven't been by yet.”
Dick’s mind hyper-focuses on that statement.
Haven’t been by yet.
I stopped to see you before I checked in. Which I always do first.
He stopped to see me first.
It makes him practically giddy.
Tim grunts, unlatching a particularly difficult section of armor, "Wanted to see how you were healing up."
Dick props his head up with his palm, elbow notched into the crook of his knee and he just knows that if Tim looks back at him he’ll see an absolutely gone look on his face, "I'm good, no infection and it looks like no scarring."
Tim's domino twitches, his eyes probably glancing at the stab wound hidden under Dicks shirt. He nods, dropping his last boot to the ground and starting on his main suit. He releases a breath of relief when he gets the tightest strap released from his torso, "Good, I hated having to leave while you were out of it."
Dick shrugs, eyes narrowing at the slight tremor in Tim's hands, "It's alright, I was aware enough to keep time."
Tim's nod tries to hide a wince and Dick shuffles forward to still his hands. Tim huffs, head down, staring at the half-removed kevlar in his lap.
"Hey," Dick gently nudges Tim's forehead with his own, "What's wrong, are you hurt?"
Tim shakes his head, staying silent.
Dick frowns and reaches for a pouch in his bandoliers (and doesn't that just make him feel like he's on cloud 9 that he knows where Tim keeps all his gear), slipping the glue solvent from it and gently applying it to the edges of his mask, rubbing it in gently with his thumb. It takes a moment to set, but soon Dick peels the mask away, revealing Tim's pretty, downturned eyes.
"There you are," Dick whispers softly. Tim's eyes are sad when he looks up and Dick can barely resist from pressing a kiss to his cute little nose. "How was your month?"
Tim shrugs, "Rough, the Migalian king nearly decapitated Bart. Diana worked a miracle when she got him pardoned."
Dick hums, "Wanna talk about it?
"Not really."
"Okay," He climbs to his feet and tugs Tim up with him, "How do nachos sound?"
That gets him a proper smile and a nod, "Can I have mushrooms on my half?"
He makes an over-exaggerated groan and heads for the hallway door, "If you must, you disgusting human."
Tim doesn't laugh but his smile does widen and he lets himself be dragged along by their connected hands even though he’s nowhere near changed, so Dick counts it as a win.
–
"I'm surprised that you of all people prefer a franchise that passes off a dog in a unicorn costume as an alien over one that has an official timeline."
Tim shakes his head even though Dick can't see him, settling back on the couch after changing into a worn T-shirt and boxers, "It’s about the potential, not the lore."
He hears Dick open the oven and take out the nachos before he answers, "So you want a sandbox over a world build?”
He gives a mischievous smile when Dicks bright blue eyes peek around the corner of the kitchen to give him an incredulous look. "Harry Potter," he says.
Dick goes dead-eyed, conveying I know what you're doing without words, and ducks back inside to plate the nachos. When he comes out, he picks the conversation back up, "That doesn’t count."
Tim takes the offered plate and sets it on the coffee table, sliding off the couch and onto the floor, "Uh-huh and why not?"
Dick grunts when he lowers himself to the floor and not for the first time tonight, Tim wants to make him take off his shirt so he can see his now-healed wound. He settles next to Tim, "Because Rowling is shit at world-building. The wizarding world is barely a sandbox."
Tim is distracted momentarily by the line of heat from where they're pressed thigh to ankle because Dick has decided that personal space isn't a real thing, "It’s sand without the box,” he jokes.
Dick snorts, “Got all the shit you need for a world, but literally nothing to make it make sense.”
"Well I wouldn’t know, given that I haven’t read the books."
Dick plucks a nacho from the plate and pops it in his mouth, "Yeah," he wrinkles his nose and Tim has the fleeting and common thought that he wants to kiss it away, “Just watched the hack jobs that are the movies."
Tim shrugs, taking a nacho of his own, "I know, I’m simply so difficult to get along with.”
Dick laughs, readjusting himself so that he's sitting cross-legged, "You’re worth it.”
Tim hums, "Other than falling into a Star Wars vs. Star Trek debate with Wally, how was your month?" He grabs another nacho and adjusts so he's mimicking Dicks sitting position. He gets an annoyed groan and he laughs, “What? That bad?”
Dick lists to the side, head coming to rest on Tim’s shoulder, “Bruce hovered the entire time I was benched and I swear after I started going back out he started sending the others out to watch me. Any time I got into a fight one of the others would turn up and help. Ended up running to the Titans for a break.”
Tim threads his fingers through Dick’s hair. It’s longer than it was when he’d left, nearly to his shoulders rather than his usual close-cut style. He feels Dick shiver when his nails gently scratch his scalp, “Bet Damian was thrilled about that.”
Dick hums, his eyes slipping closed, “He got over it, wasn’t too happy when I had to drag him out of a rut, but I dipped before it could get bad.”
Tim tugs at the tips of his hair just to feel him shiver again, “Mh, well, now that I’m back we can go back to teaming up and Bruce won’t send anyone after you.”
Dick shifts, sitting up before pulling himself up from the floor and onto the couch, “C’mere,” he makes grabby hands at him. Tim laughs, letting himself be pulled up beside him and manhandled until Dick has his chest pressed to his own, their legs tangled at the other end of the couch. Tim sighs, relaxing into the hold (while simultaneously trying to will away his body’s reaction to it) as Dick buries his nose in his hair, “You took a shower before getting back at least.”
Tim grunts, “Didn’t want to be grimy on the trip back.”
“Good plan.”
They fall into silence, enjoying the feeling of having another person near them. Tim isn’t sure about Dick, but he doesn’t let very many people just… hold him.
They fall asleep like that, comfortable in the presence of one of the few people they fully trust.
–
When Dick wakes in the morning, Tim is still in his arms, enjoying the feeling of his breath against his neck, something he hadn’t noticed he’d missed until it was back. He smiles, turning to press a soft kiss against his forehead and sighs, resting his cheek against Tim’s hair, “I love you.”
He’s not sure when it happened and hasn’t really put much effort into figuring out when it did. Just that somewhere between quiet movie nights wrapped so tightly in each other that he doesn’t know where he ends and Tim begins and brutal fights that end with bad guys on the ground and the both of them bloodied and beaten to all hell, Dick had fallen in love with the deceitfully delicate person that was Timothy Drake.
“I love you too.”
Dick freezes, causing the apparently awake body on top of his own to tense. He tries to scramble back only to tip over the arm of the couch, legs stuck over the armrest. He stares up at the ceiling, his vision slowly being obscured by Tim’s face. He sighs and throws an arm over his eyes, “Well.”
He hears Tim snort, “Good morning to you too.”
Neither of them talk for a minute and Dick finds the unbelievable amount of strength to lower his arm slightly, revealing an eye. Tim’s beautiful and exasperatedly fond face stares back at him. He smiles a little, “Good morning.”
Tim raises an eyebrow, “Good morning.”
Dick’s smile turns into a giddy grin, “Good morning.”
Tim rolls his eyes, “We can’t go back and forth on this all day, at some point it’s going to be the afternoon.”
His grin widens, “You love me.”
Tim’s laugh is as beautiful as ever, “You said it first.”
“Yeah, but you said it back.”
He sighs, “Dick.”
“Tim.”
“Get up here.”
Dick twists into a handstand before getting to his feet properly, and if Tim turns to hide a fond smile, that’s just a plus. He dives onto the couch, making Tim bounce, getting a laugh this time, before deciding the best course of action is to simply lay on Tim. He does so and gets poked in the ribs for his trouble.
“Ugh, I didn’t mean on me, you dork.”
Dick ignores him and starts pressing light kisses to Tim’s nose, then cheeks, his temples, forehead, jaw, listening to the amused breaths of air he earns. He stops just before he reaches Tim’s mouth, raising up just enough to look him in the eyes. He grins, “Hi.”
Tim huffs, smile stuck in place, “Let’s not start that again.”
“Okay,” Dick sits back and pulls Tim up along with him, interlacing their fingers, “Let’s start something else then.”
He gets a raised brow and an amused tilt of the head, “What?”
“This,” Dick gestures between them, “Us. Go out with me.”
Tim leans forward to bump their noses together, “You don’t even know if I meant it romantically.”
It’s Dick’s turn to raise an eyebrow, giving a pointed glance at where Tim’s still holding his hand.
Tim shrugs, grinning, “Fair. But on one condition.”
Dick tilts his head, “Oh?”
“Admit that Star Trek is better than Star Wars.”
Dick tuts, “You drive a hard bargain.”
“I’m a high-class man,” Tim presses a playful kiss to Dick’s cheek before leaning to whisper in his ear, “I’ve heard I’m worth it.”
“I’m sure you are, but you’re not the only one with caveats.”
Tim pulls back, “I doubted it.” He takes on a teasing tone, but his eyes convey that he knows that Dick is genuinely serious, “What’s the catch?”
“Standing weekly date nights where we don’t go out and don’t do casework. No one else but us. We can do anything, just no night jobs.”
Tim lifts his hand, turning it over to press a kiss to the palm, “Done.”
Dick slips his hand from Tim’s, moving to cradle Tim’s cheek. He leans in just slightly, hoping Tim gets the message, and is wonderfully delighted when he not only receives it, but answers with enthusiasm. So much so that they end up on the floor, narrowly missing the coffee table.
Neither of them mind.
Tim tries to draw back and Dick slides a hand around the back of his neck, keeping him from going far, "We really should talk about this."
Dick hums, tilting his head just slightly so he can press a kiss to the corner of Tim's lips, "Why?"
Tim follows him back down, stealing a few more kisses before he answers, “One, I think both of us are idiots and two,” Dick can feel Tim’s lips brushing his own when he speaks, whisper-soft, “Boundaries, god knows I’ve been shit with that in my last few relationships and, Dick,” he hesitates just a moment, “I…”
“I don’t want to lose you either,” Dick surges up after his words, pulling Tim over with the hold on his neck and bridging with his hips, flipping their positions until he’s pressing Tim to the floor, “Tim, believe me when I say that I’m not going anywhere unless you make me.”
Tim takes advantage of their new position to do the same thing Dick did earlier, pulling him down by his nape into a kiss, “Good. I’m not either. Just…”
“Meet me halfway,” Dick whispers, “Meet me halfway and we can do this, Tim.” He smiles, enjoying the way Tim’s eyes dart down to his lips, “We’ve practically been doing that already.”
Dick didn’t really think about it until now, not in a romantic sense anyway. He knew that he spent more time with Tim than just about anyone else in his life at the moment, knew that it was by accident near the beginning and then on purpose after he figured out that the skipped beat of his heart every time Tim left wasn’t just worry, but disappointment–disappointment over the fact that he couldn’t hold him, talk with him, see him, for however long they were going to be apart–he knew that he was practically pseudo-dating Tim, living with him, spending nights with him, inviting him out to movies and restaurants and walks through the shopping districts of Gotham, finding random things to do together. And Tim’s been meeting him halfway for as long as they’ve begun repairing the relationship they built, planning weekend trips or actively making time for the two of them. Maybe Dick should’ve been picking up on the mutual attraction, but in his defense, he’d been a little blinded by his own.
Tim pulls him into another kiss, this one lasting long enough that when they pull apart, their breathing is heavy, “Then let’s keep doing that,” Tim glances away, playfully coy, “Well, maybe with a few,” he pauses here, pushing up on his elbows to nose under Dick’s jaw, “Additional perks.”
Dick's laugh turns into a choked moan when Tim starts mouthing at the skin behind his ear, “Yeah,” his voice is a bit breathier than he’d like, “Yeah, let’s do that,”