Title: Ask for less Fandom: DCU (post-War Games, pre-Crisis) Series: To be awakened (Story #5) Summary: It might be easier if Tim could actually stop having facial expressions. Pairing: Dick/Tim Rating: Adult Warning: An alien makes Tim and Dick do it. Well, he's ultimately responsible. Robin still isn't back to normal when Superman drops him off in Blüdhaven, but he's closer. He manages to be practically blank when Batgirl sees him, even though she most certainly understands him anyway. Nobody else is treating him as anything but a terrifying protector of justice. It's victory, of a sort. He's as unprepared for someone's hand on his shoulder in the darkness of his apartment as ever, but Dick manages not to fall on the computer with that physics-defying grace he always has. "I called," he says, when Robin flips on the light, "but you weren't here." There is no way in hell he's going to blush in front of Dick. It's too late. He turns the light off again, but not before he sees the surprise on Dick's face. "Tim," Dick says, and touches his shoulder. His hands aren't as heavy or warm as Clark's, but his voice has the same worried edge. The same note of looking for the person under Robin. It's easy to be Tim for Dick, even when that means he's blushing harder. "Hi," he says. Dick turns the light back on. He's in civvies, and he's staring at Tim's -- face. Just his face, because Clark is responsible enough not to leave any marks that will show. "Are you all right?" Dick asks. Robin wouldn't actually smile at him, but Tim can. "Yeah. What's up?" "You look --" Dick raises an eyebrow at him. "Relaxed." He's smiling a little more before he thinks to stop it. "I guess all that meditation has really paid off." "No, it's not that." Dick touches his cheek, and maybe it would be better if he were wearing gloves, but it's more warmth. "Did you get drugged? Ivy --" Tim laughs. "No." Dick is staring at him. "You're sure." It might be easier if Tim could actually stop having facial expressions, but at this point it's a little late to stop. He's still wearing a mask, but the way Dick is examining him -- he may as well be naked. "I'm fine," he says, and he makes it as firm as he can. "I don't think that's true." Dick folds his arms. "Maybe you're better than normal -- but this isn't normal." "Okay, maybe not," Tim admits, and he bites his lip to try to be Robin. For Dick. Being Robin for Dick was never about hiding his face. It falls apart again, and he's smiling. "Tim," Dick says, and he sounds worried. "I'm not leaving you alone if you're --" It's probably been a few years since he grinned at Dick. "I just flew in from Antarctica." Dick blinks. "And -- are your arms tired?" Tim's laughing. It makes him feel at least as alive as anything Clark's done. "No, I just --" "Take your mask off," Dick says, and Tim does it. "God," Dick says. "It's okay," Tim says, but by the time he gets through the first word, Dick's hugging him. "It's not drugs," Dick says, and he shakes his head. "God, how long did you spend there?" "A few hours," Tim says, and he'd shrug, except Dick isn't letting him go. Dick's laughing, but it sounds a little choked. "The last time I -- how long have you been seeing him?" "Not long." Tim pats Dick's shoulder. "Are you going to stop holding on to me sometime?" "Eventually," Dick says. "When you stop -- being like this." Tim calculates the amount of time it took for him to get conscious control the last time and winces. "About thirteen hours?" Dick tousles his hair. "Well. Thirteen hours. And it's not like -- god, did you patrol like this?" "Not quite. I --" Tim frees a hand and tries to not look at Dick's face, but it's kind of like trying to ignore Clark. "I was fine until I got home." "Then you admit you're not fine." Dick's touching his face again, as if he feels different just because he's relaxed. "Not for patrolling," Tim says. "For -- for being here, though --" Dick kisses him. After the arresting, overwhelming feeling that's Clark -- it should be less heart-stopping to have Dick's hand on his cheek and his lips -- so soft, so human -- against Tim's. There's really no parallel. This is a whole different way to lose his mind, and he's already exhausted, already feeling everything more strongly than he has in years. And moaning. Over a kiss. The only consolation is that Dick is, too. "Wait," Tim says, when he can. Dick stops kissing him and unfastens his belt. "Do we have to?" "Why are you here?" Dick's nibbling his ear and it's really -- "See how you were doing, little brother. Hang." He bites Tim's earlobe. "I brought 'Enter the Dragon.'" The worst part is that Tim can't figure out what's making him weak in the knees. "Is that all?" "You never needed a better reason." Dick kisses him again, and Tim should push him away, but he knows he looks hungry. It just gets worse when Dick pushes his tunic up. "Should we put the movie in?" "You weren't going to kiss me. Were you?" Dick puts his hand down Tim's tights and squeezes his ass. "Not originally. We're good, right?" He leans back a little and Tim gets it. If this is what Clark sees -- this openness, this hunger, this focus -- then, no, it would be terrible to make it fade into Robin. He can't ask Dick to stop looking like that, anymore than he can stop himself from looking the same way. "I -- yeah." This time he kisses Dick first, and he makes a soft, surprised sound and shivers. "What were we waiting for?" Dick asks, and he doesn't -- maybe can't -- wait for an answer before he's nuzzling Tim's ear again. It's much easier to take his cape off himself than to wait for Dick to get around to it, and Dick's civilian pants are simple to open, even if Tim's hands are shaking. It's easier for Tim to fall to his knees than try to balance right now, and it has the added bonus of making Dick groan when he does it. "I -- ask me later," he says, and when he smiles up at Dick, Dick pets his cheek. He looks like there's nothing more important in the world than this, right here, right now. Tim leans in and rubs his cheek against Dick's erection through his boxers, and Dick says, "Oh, god, Tim, you're so beautiful. You're still smiling -- you haven't --" "Should I stop?" Tim asks, and Dick groans and pets his hair. "Whatever you want. God, whatever you want." "This," Tim says, and -- he really doesn't have a lot of practice taking off other people's boxers, but Dick helps. And he's talking, again. "Don't ever stop looking like this, Tim. God -- what happened?" He shudders when Tim licks him, testing. "I -- I mean I can guess, but --" Tim takes his hand and squeezes it gently. "You know how Bruce always says Superman is dangerous?" Dick laughs a little breathlessly. "Yeah." "He's absolutely right." Tim sucks him -- just a little -- just enough so he can watch Dick watching him, and it's nothing like it could be with anyone else. Dick is memorizing him and laughing with him and shivering, just a little, with perfect balance. Perfectly Dick. "You feel amazing," Dick says, and it makes Tim shiver to hear the catch in his breathing. "God, your mouth -- your tongue -- I -- you're going to make me fall over -- god, little brother --" He's stroking Tim's cheek again and his eyes are so dark it's hard to remember they're blue. Tim wants to watch his face every second, but it's hard, the angles are wrong, and if he's going to make this good -- He can't do anything but make this as good as he can, not with Dick saying, "Tim, you're fucking beautiful" and groaning. The sheer humanity of the way he tastes is important, but that Tim can make his thighs tremble is monumental. "Don't stop --" Dick says, and his hands are shaking where he's touching Tim's face. "Don't ever stop -- you look so happy, Tim --" It would be embarrassing if it weren't true. It should be embarrassing, but if he could, he'd be grinning. "You're perfect, Tim," Dick says, and Tim would say the same. All he can do is open his throat a little more and go down a little farther -- not a conversation, but agreement, and Dick groans. Tim doesn't want anything more than this -- and maybe they'll watch the movie later, maybe it'll be just as good and relaxed as spending time with Dick is supposed to be -- but right now he needs Dick running his hands through his hair hard and gasping for breath. "You're so good, Tim -- so hot -- I -- I'm gonna come --" and Tim can feel him shuddering, making himself let go. He doesn't have to. This is easy, this is right, and when Dick comes Tim wants to see his face more than anything, but this important. The openmouthed grin he gets when Dick falls to his knees a moment later is just as good. "God, Tim." Dick kisses him, running his hands through Tim's hair again, licking his tongue and biting at his lips. "You're all flushed." "So are you." Dick laughs and tousles his hair again. "Whose fault is that, huh?" Tim shrugs and smiles at him. "You weren't complaining." "Of course I wasn't." Dick is back to touching his face. "Tim --" "I'm okay. I -- I can make it stop." Dick kisses him lightly. "Do you want it to stop?" Tim hasn't had an excuse to look at him for this long in quite a while, and he keeps getting stuck on thinking how beautiful Dick is, and exactly why. It keeps coming back to 'Because he's Dick' and 'because he really wants me,' but that doesn't seem to be enough to break the fascination. "Not yet." "How long before Clark misses you?" Tim can feel himself blushing. "I -- I don't know." He looks at the wall away from Dick. "He --" Dick strokes Tim's cheek again. "He wants you to be happy, right?" "Yes, but --" "Are you happy?" "Yes," Tim says, and then he yawns. "Yes." Dick catches himself yawning in response and laughs. "Then we'll talk to him." "When did you --" It makes Dick grin. "Every now and then. I -- we're old friends." "I knew that part." Tim raises an eyebrow at him and goes as deliberately Robin-blank as he can. "You know this makes everyone you've ever described as an 'old friend' immediately suspect, right?" Dick blinks at him for a moment before Tim lets himself smile, then pulls him into a hug. "Only to you, Boy Pervert." Tim kisses his cheek. "No, I --" he interrupts himself with another yawn. "I really, really need to sleep." Dick raises an eyebrow. "You're a teenager." "Take it up with Clark," Tim says, and gets up, ignoring Dick's laughter. "I might," Dick says, and puts an arm around him again. "In the morning. After I'm done with you." "I'm falling asleep," Tim protests. "You won't fall asleep on me in the morning." Dick pats his ass. "I promise." "Oh," Tim says. He lets himself lean on Dick a little. "You're spending the night?" "Didn't Clark teach you to cuddle yet?" Tim squeezes Dick. "I think that's part of the advanced lesson." "Well, we'd better get started, then."
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