Title: Shortpants Fandom: DCU (Comics Batverse) Rating: Not child-friendly Pairing: Nightwing/Robin Summary: There's a shiver in the air, and Gotham changes. Lightens. Darkens. Shifts. Nightwing lands on the next roof and catches a glimpse of redyellowgreen out of the corner of his eye. In a few buildings, he catches up to Robin. Notes:  I blame Prop for this. They're not mine. I make no profit. I have no excuse. There's a shiver in the air, and Gotham changes. Lightens. Darkens. Shifts. Nightwing lands on the next roof and catches a glimpse of redyellowgreen out of the corner of his eye. In a few buildings, he catches up to Robin. The first thing that registers is Bare. Not Tim, unless Tim has lost the tights. Not Jason, with that haircut. Oh. Shit. The kid -- definitely, definitely not Jason -- gives him a curious look. "Who are you supposed to be? Batman?" When did he ever sound that young? "Not exactly." Did this ever happen? What timeline is he messing up, here? He can't remember any random guy in black and blue and a dark mask, but he saw so many nutcases. And grinned at them, obviously, with his hands on his hips. The damn shortpants -- how did Bruce ever let him out of the house in those things? "Well, that's good, 'cause you'd need a cape, and the blue -- no." Robin tilts his head to one side. "You're not trying for Batgirl, are you?" There's a question for the ages. "Not trying to be her, anyway, no," Nightwing says, shrugging. Robin backs up a step, his bright, oh so bright yellow cape flapping. "Okay. When are you gonna attack me?" Nightwing puts his hands up, even though he knows -- and knew then -- that that doesn't make him much less dangerous. "I'm not." "Right." It's a performing smile. It has to be. He was never that happy. "I don't know if Batman's hiring." That's an interview process he can absolutely skip. "I --" He shouldn't be talking to himself at all, really. "That's okay. I'm not really planning on staying around Gotham long." At least there's no one he ever was, hanging around the 'haven. If he jumps off the roof -- -- right, there's no reason Robin can't keep up. Robin pulls a move he doesn't use much anymore, and he makes a mental note to try it again. "Hey!" Robin calls, between swoops. "I wasn't done talking to you." "I'm not gonna break any laws," Nightwing calls back. They pause on a fire escape. "You'd better not!" What a fierce little brat he thought he was, posturing in that not very dangerous stance. "I'll call Batman. And Superman!" And Robin peers at him. "If you're not Batman, and you're not Batgirl, what do you call yourself, anyway?" Nightwing's head starts to hurt. Clark would get the reference, and it's not the weirdest thing that's ever happened, but it's really pretty far up there. Maybe it's better to just come clean. If this isn't his Gotham, no one will care that he has the mask off. He shrugs and says, "I'll show you. Just -- not out in the open like this." Robin thinks he's doing some secret sign, tapping his finger with his nose. He somersaults off -- nice form -- and Nightwing knows exactly where he's going, and by which route. It's not the fastest, because then he'd lose someone who didn't know the way. Easy enough to cut over a block when Robin's not looking, and beat him into the apartment Bruce has rented since whenever it was. Matches Malone's pad, usually. Through the window -- not quite as easy as it was as Robin -- and he's leaning against the wall by the time Robin shows up. "How'd you do that?" Robin asks, and now he's got a batarang out. "I'll take you down, whoever you are!" Nightwing takes his mask off. "That would be a bad idea, Dick." "What?" It's the first moment of fear he's seen in Robin, and it's ugly. He covers very, very badly. Another thing to practice. "That's, um, not my name." "Nice try, Grayson." "Who the hell are you?" Robin stares at him. "You look like my -- my father." Nightwing wonders about timelines, and alternate pasts, and various possibilities. "You know that first time you tangled with Two Face?" Robin nods, staring at him. "That scar on your shoulder. The one that wouldn't go away, even though Alfred put all sorts of stuff on it." Robin's fingering his shoulder through his uniform. Maybe he can even feel it. Maybe the scar's still fresh. "Yeah." He pulls his hand away and falls back into a fighting stance. "What about it?" Nightwing pulls his tunic off. Sure, there are a lot of other scars on his chest, but the one from Two Face is still there, jagged and unique. "Um." There's no good way to say this. "Wow!" is what Robin comes up with, which is better than Nightwing's response. He reaches out and touches Nightwing's scar with a cool green gauntlet, then frowns at him. "Are you really me? Why aren't you Robin? How come you're not taller?" It's too weird and too normal. Nightwing laughs. "It's a really long story. I probably shouldn't tell you. And -- and I think Alfred's still mad at me for stunting my growth by not getting enough sleep. Or your growth." "Why shouldn't you tell me?" Robin's tracing a scar down his side. It tickles like crazy. "Where'd this one come from?" "Blockbuster," Nightwing says before he thinks about it. "Who?" "You'll find out." Robin sticks his tongue out at Nightwing. "You're really boring, Dick. Don't you have anything interesting to say? 'I won't have to tell you when you're older, 'cause you'll be me' is lame." Nightwing bites his lip. "Yeah, but if I tell you something and it messes up the universe, we'll both be in trouble." Robin shakes his head. "No, 'cause you'd already have told me. Or someone would already have told you. Or. Something." He frowns. "I don't know." "Let's not risk it." Nightwing backs away, holding his hands up. "I'm not telling you anything else." "Well -- " Robin rocks from foot to foot. "Um -- no -- no wait!" Nightwing hesitates. "What?" And he has an armful of Robin, and Robin is kissing him with all of that hungry teenagerness. He tastes like peppermint and home and everything Nightwing never really gets anymore. It's probably some kind of sin to kiss him back -- self-pollution if nothing else -- but it feels so good, and Robin's whimpering. Nightwing's pretty damn sure he can't remember ever doing that. Robin's confident enough that he's got his legs around Nightwing's waist. Which -- how old is he? was he? "Dick," Nightwing says, and his voice is so much deeper, rougher than Robin's. "Have you ever done this before?" Robin laughs, bright and natural and young. It makes Nightwing think of Tim who never laughs like that, and of Jason, who was never like this. Tim. Jason. It's like reaching for a picture and finding out that the glass is broken in the frame. But Robin's still laughing. "Only with myself," he says, "and not like this, either. But you're me, aren't you?" He -- yes, that was definitely a giggle. "So this is still -- you know. Except a lot more interesting." "Yeah, but --" Robin sighs in his ear. "Aw, c'mon -- Dick. I've never done this before. And -- you're not gonna hurt me, are you?" Nightwing shivers, and his scars ache. "No." "Great." Robin hugs him with that mix of trust and lust that's making his head swim even worse than before. "Then I can find out what it's like, and I don't even have to ask you on a date or anything." There weren't any safe chances for him to do anything like this, that's definitely true. And Robin, wherever he learned to kiss like that, is making a pretty persuasive case for not running away, even though Nightwing definitely should. Instead of dropping the kid and heading for the streets, he leans on the wall again, "Stand up, okay?" Not that he couldn't hold Robin up for a while longer, but it's not necessary. It's a little more disturbing to bend down to kiss -- himself. Robin tugs his leggings down and pulls away enough to grin at him. "Hey, that's pretty cool." Nightwing should definitely not blush. "I guess so." "No, really --" Damn, it's been a long time since he felt that particular texture of gauntlet on him. It brings back a hundred alleyways when the fight got his heart pounding, or patrol went on way too long. For a second, he's that young and eager again. With some self-control, he manages to push Robin's hand away. "There are better things to do, you know. You're not exactly alone." "Right." Somehow the blush works better on Robin. Maybe it's the tunic. "Um. I don't really know how, exactly." Nightwing tousles his hair. It has a different effect than it does on Tim, but Robin still splutters. "Well -- I do." He's not blushing. Really. Robin grins at him. "Getting old is good for me, huh?" Nightwing pokes him in the shoulder. "You want to live long enough to find out? Don't start with the 'old' stuff. Take your shorts off, Dick." Robin swallows hard and does it. God, teenage enthusiasm. Not that Nightwing's that far past it, but Robin's knees are shaking. "What are you gonna do?" "Lean on the wall?" Nightwing says. His voice is going gruff again. "Um." Robin's fidgeting with his belt. "How?" Nightwing puts his hands on Robin's shoulders. "Look, I'm not gonna hurt you. Right?" Robin says, "Right," and bites his lower lip. "Lean back on the wall. There. Like that." Nightwing takes a deep breath. It's been a while, but he's got pretty finely tuned muscle memory. "Okay." He kneels. "Put your hands on my shoulders." "Oh." Robin may be shaking, but at least he's not slow on the uptake. "Wow." He tastes so damn familiar it makes Nightwing want to laugh again, even with the unfamiliar high whimpering in his ears. Robin's hands tighten on his shoulders almost immediately, which is gratifying, and he starts bucking -- which makes things harder to deal with. At least he's just clenching his hands where they are instead of grabbing Nightwing's head. It gives him a minute to remember how to relax the muscles in his throat, and -- there. That catch in Robin's breathing is strange to hear from the outside, and it's all the warning he manages to give. Too much practice being as silent as he can, and it's nothing but a normal, everyday, sane taste in his mouth and throat, making him choke. Robin pushes him away. "Sorry. Sorry." Now it's harder to laugh, but Robin needs to hear it. It's a little forced, but he might not pick up on that. "It's okay." Nightwing gets up and, what the hell, hugs him. He's done worse than this, already. Robin buries his face in Nightwing's shoulder and shivers. "I didn't mean to." "Don't worry about it." It's too tempting to mess up his hair again, even though it makes Robin give him a resentful look. His cheeks are still red. "Seriously." Robin shrugs and wriggles away from him. "I'm going to have to learn to do that." "In a few years." "No, to myself." Nightwing blinks. The possibilities are attractive, to say the least. "Oh. You could do that." Robin's grin is lopsided, but still bright. "Maybe I'll start with the easy way." "If you want to, sure." Robin hugs him again, then reaches up to pull him down into a kiss. "Mm. You taste like me, Dick." "Isn't that kind of redundant?" Nightwing asks. The room shivers. No Robin. No shirt. No mask. "Oh, shit." Matches hasn't been in his apartment for a while, but Nightwing has been there often enough to have an almost up to date uniform hidden under the floorboards. When he pulls it on, Oracle hails him. "Hey, Man Wonder. What are you doing in town?" "I was on my way to see you, but I got sidetracked by an old friend," Nightwing says. "An old friend, huh? Did you have fun, wink-wink?" "Not enough." Oracle laughs in his ear. "So you're still coming to see me?" "I'll be there as soon as I can."
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