Title: The earth's sweet being (5440 words) Series: The arms I love the best Fandom: DCU (nebulously Silver Age) Summary: "We're presenting a façade of normality. That's all." Characters: Dick, Barbara, Bruce Rating: Adult Notes: Mael and LC asked for an epilogue to the second story in this series. I wrote a brief version, then found myself further inspired. Thanks to those who were patient with me, and to Jamjar for a beta in which she told me where my kinks showed. "You probably ought to sleep somewhere else tonight," Bruce says, and Dick pulls the covers up and frowns. "I'm not going to bed until after we've patrolled." "It's the principle of the thing. Your birthday party -- and --" Bruce waves a hand. "It would be best for you to put forth a somewhat more, ah, socially acceptable face." Dick raises his eyebrows at Bruce. "Oh, so we're not patrolling. Ever again. Is that it?" Bruce stares at him a moment, then kisses him until he leans back against the headboard and sighs. "No, clever boy," Bruce says, chuckling. "We're presenting a façade of normality. That's all." Dick gets it together enough that he doesn't pout or even sulk. "Fine. But I'm taking my pillow." "Be my guest." Bruce nuzzles his ear, drowning Dick's response of "I'd much rather do that." When he drops the pillow off in his room after breakfast, it doesn't look weird. That has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that when he goes back in between the party and being allowed to patrol, his bed has disappeared and been replaced by a king-size, and that Babs is lying on it reading a big thick Russian novel. In lingerie. "Hey, Boy Wonder, I didn't think you were ever going to pack it in." "He can be difficult about that sometimes," Bruce says from right behind him. Dick hadn't even heard him come in. "Oh," Dick says, staring at her and turning to glance at Bruce. "I guess this is my present?" Babs snickers. "It's mine, really -- you haven't come to visit in weeks." He blushes. "Sorry." She gives Bruce an irritated look. "Not that I don't know why, but --" and she shrugs. "C'mere," she says, and puts the novel away. Dick joins her on the bed and kisses her. It's weird how quickly he's forgotten how soft she feels -- her lips, her breasts, her hips -- and how completely addictive that feeling is. "God, I missed you," he says against her neck. She pets his hair and nips at his ear. "Yeah, you too, honey." Dick shivers and runs his fingers over her breast, feeling her nipple harden through the ridiculously flimsy fabric. "You smell so good." He buries his face in her hair for a few seconds, just feeling the silkiness of it and the slipperiness of the teddy. "Dick --" Babs wriggles a little and the bed settles. Dick looks up -- he's not used to the new mattress yet -- and Bruce is next to them, putting a hand on Dick's shoulder and giving Babs a tight smile. "You have great ideas," Dick says, and Babs tangles her fingers in his hair and pulls him into another kiss, laughing. "This was entirely my idea, sweetie," she says when she lets him go. "Not -- entirely," Bruce says, mildly. "No, all right," Babs says, "so you bankrolled the actual bed." She rolls her eyes at Dick. "Is he always this --" "Yes," Dick says, tucking his hands under the soft fabric and running his fingertips over even softer skin. "Constantly." "Jesus," Babs says, and she pulls away enough so she can take off the filmy bit of stuff. It's not the first time Dick's been totally unable to look at anything but her breasts, and he's pretty sure it's not going to be the last. At least she's not snickering at him right now. "You're so beautiful," he says, and that's the last thing he's got the patience to think of. It's much more effective to lick her nipple and make it stand up in his mouth while he's stroking the other one with his fingers. Babs says, "Oh, oh, god," and leans backward onto the bed, slow enough that Dick can follow her down. She strokes his hair again. "Harder --" and when he pinches, she hisses. "Yes, like that." Bruce makes a soft noise that Dick can hear because it's just that low, and because he's used to listening for Bruce. "Aren't you going to let him get undressed, Barbara?" She groans. "If you're going to complain, kiss me or go away." Dick looks up to watch them kissing for a few seconds before Babs gets her hand on the back of his head again and pushes him down. He switches nipples and she pets his hair and stops pushing so hard, so he can get a good look between licks. They look like they're fighting as much as kissing, biting at each other and pulling each other's hair a little. It looks strange because neither of them usually kisses him that hard -- but it looks like fun, too. There's got to be a way to get it to happen. Right now, though, he goes with the pressure Babs has on the back of his head and moves down the bed farther. He can smell her even more, now, and it makes him shiver. She spreads her legs for him and he just looks at her for a few breaths, remembering all the anatomy lessons she made him do before she let him touch her and how to do it right. It doesn't hurt that she's muscular and beautiful. That this is possibly the best birthday present ever, up to and including any vehicles he's ever received, because those were partially for Robin and practical reasons, too. The way Babs lifts her hips when he licks her and draws a little circle around her clitoris is just for Dick. He reaches up with one hand and pets her breasts some more -- that particular level of soft and perfect is never going to get boring -- and strokes her lightly with his other hand. She fights her way out of the kiss and looks up at him, lipstick smudged, to say, "God, when'd you become a perfectionist?" "I suspect that's my influence," Bruce says, and he shouldn't sound so smug about it. "Not really," Dick says, in between licks. "I -- you know I haven't changed that much, Babs." Her thighs shake and she pushes against his hand. "Still good at that, anyhow," she says, and he crooks his fingers just right to make her moan. "Damn, honey." "I'd better be." Dick runs his tongue over the soft folds of her again and she hooks one of her legs over his shoulder. "But -- practice makes perfect." He's admittedly out of practice, but he can still find a decent rhythm against the way her hips arch. "Oh, god," Babs says again, and she's tensing her leg and shaking -- he knows that breathing pattern, and he'd smile, but he's too busy keeping his tongue coordinated with his fingers and not losing the pattern of either. "Jesus, Dick -- don't stop." If he was going to stop -- which he's not -- it would only be to say, "Of course not!" and then keep going. He knows Babs, and he did miss her -- and the way her breath catches when she's about to come again, and that if he speeds up and adds another finger, it'll be a little easier for her. He doesn't have sharp fingernails, so instead of scratching, he gives her another pinch, and she arches off the bed, whimpering. Her hands are both on his head again now, holding him there like there's anywhere else he'd rather be. He's getting lost in the way she tastes and he's losing track of her breathing enough that he's not sure how tired she is -- or how tired she will be when she finally comes down. "Impressive," Bruce says, and Babs growls at him. When Dick reaches up to play with her nipples again, he finds Bruce's hand already there. It makes it easier on him -- one less thing to try to coordinate and not forget. Dick feels smug, too, because the last time he did this he's pretty sure his jaw would've hurt at this point. That's something Bruce can take credit for, but Dick's not going to say that when the other option is making Babs wail. "Fuck," Babs says, "you're gonna -- oh fuck, fuck, yes -- kill me, Jesus, Dick --" She moans against the pillow and he grins, completely unable to do anything else. Every noise is another little victory. Listening to her pant for breath is just too much fun. "You're certainly charming this way," Bruce says to Babs. The thump that follows has to be her smacking him. "Go to hell -- oh Dick, god, yes -- just --" She screams this time and gasps for breath and loses it again, dragging her fingers through his hair over and over. "God, I won't be -- oh, god -- able to stand up --" "Is that what it takes?" Bruce asks. There's another thump. "Gonna be so tired," Babs says, "god, and you -- it's --" she gives Dick a push away. "It's your -- oh, fuck -- it's your damn birthday. Stoppit." He doesn't want to, but whatever the count ended up at, it can't be too bad, so he lets her go with one last lick. "Thought you said this was my present." Babs lets herself slump back on the bed, but she's pulling him into a kiss. "God, you're all sticky." "Are you terribly surprised?" Bruce asks. This time Dick swats him in the shoulder. Dick grins at Babs. "It was your idea for me to stop." "Before I went right from that to passing out?" Babs kisses him again. "So I want you to get off on your birthday. Is that a big surprise?" Dick shrugs and nuzzles her breasts. "It's not a big deal," he says. She pulls herself upright and puts her hand on Bruce's knee. "What have you been doing to him?" "Nothing to encourage this sort of behavior," Bruce says dryly. He pats Dick's shoulder and says, "You really ought to get undressed." Dick starts unbuttoning his shirt. "I -- I like doing that for you," he says, "and -- it's --" the shirt's off, and he starts on his pants. "Well, it's not like I think you'd leave without getting me off." "I see," Babs says, folding her arms. "So you're just going to milk that noble sexual martyr vibe because you know you're not going to be one." He's almost over the "have to look at Babs' breasts at every possible instant" thing. Almost. It does give him a second before he grins at her. "Well, that's part of it." She shakes her head. "If it wasn't your birthday --" "Then you'd still want me," he says, beaming, and she grabs him and tackles him down onto the bed. "I'd still owe you eleven or so, cheeky," she says, nibbling at his ear again. "That might take some time," Bruce says, tousling Dick's hair. "A few days, anyhow," Dick says, and they both look so flushed and happy he can't help smiling at them some more. "Or a few nights." "Fortunately," Babs says, kneeling up, "your irritating smugness means I don't feel like I owe you much of anything." "All that work for nothing?" Dick says, pretending he's crestfallen. She shakes her head, looking away from him. "That's what happens when you get too cocky, sweetheart." "Good thing it's my birthday." He wants to say something else, but Bruce kisses him instead. It's a reasonable tradeoff for a goofy comeback. Babs is running her fingernails down his chest and making him hiss, and silly remarks aside, he's pretty much aching for her. She runs her hand over his dick, too, and he can't help pressing into the touch. "But it is your birthday," she says. Another stroke and he groans, and Bruce lets him go. "Lucky me," Dick says, believing it absolutely. He believes it even more when Babs straddles him, smooth and beautiful and controlled. "Damn right you are," she says, grinning at him, and sinks down onto him so slowly he feels like he's going to die. He wants to watch and feel this. She's drenched, really, and he knows every second of why, but the thought and the feeling make his eyes roll back in his head. "Oh -- Babs --" "Hey," she says, using her fingernails again to make him jerk and look at her. "Stay with me, here, Boy Wonder. I'm not in the mood for a quickie." He reaches for her breast, hoping that will help him focus, but Bruce catches his wrist and pulls it over his head, then grabs the other one and puts it together. He looks up at Bruce and says, "What -- was that a bad idea?" "Not as such," Bruce says, "but you needed a different focal point." "Possibly," Babs says, rolling her hips slowly and making Dick groan. He doesn't want to come, yet, but it's going to be rough not to. If he had his hand on her breast -- well, then it might be impossible. So Bruce has a point. Dick curls his hands into fists and rocks up to meet her. "Feels so good," he says, pretty much stuck for any other words in any language except variations on the theme of 'fuck' and 'yes.' He wants Babs to go faster, faster, but she's slowing down, and that shocks a gasp out of him. "Relax," she says, her voice soft and low enough that she doesn't sound like she's about to laugh. "Just -- keep breathing." Dick laughs and says, "If I could --" because that's the real answer. The way she feels around him is melting every piece of his brain including his autonomic nervous system. Bruce squeezes his wrists and kisses him. It doesn't help at all with the breathing issue, and it doesn't make him feel any less likely to come before he's supposed to. "Comfortable?" Bruce asks. Dick groans and thrusts up, and for once Babs actually responds the way he wants -- needs her to. "Oh, god, yeah." "You're awfully impatient," Babs says, but he can hear her grin even before he opens his eyes and sees it, smudged and beautiful. "You were lying about being okay without an orgasm, weren't you?" He can't watch her and not lose it. He can hardly stand listening to her. "Yes," he admits, and then says it again when it makes her go faster. "Yes, please, Babs -- oh fuck, fuck me, that's --" She laughs and Bruce tweaks his nipple. "You're so easy, Dick." He shakes his head, but if he tries to talk -- to say, "I love you, and that doesn't mean I'm easy," he just moans and whimpers. There aren't any words left in his head. "It's all right," Bruce says softly, and Dick can't figure out why it wouldn't be, why he would need permission, but something in him maybe did because that's all he needs to make him come. He's not even sure what he says -- saying their names, swearing -- something he can't even remember where he heard it first, gutturals and harsh sounds that go with the wet noises bodies make and the way it's perfect. It doesn't matter because Bruce is lacing their hands together and Babs is squeezing, just -- right -- and he's never going to be able to deny either of them anything, ever. "Oh, Dick," Babs says somewhere very far away, and he feels kind of embarrassed -- she didn't have an orgasm, he's sure of it, and that was rude of him. "Falling asleep already?" Bruce says from another very distant place. "It's too early for that," Babs says, and she's kissing him a second later, pressing her breasts against his chest and nuzzling his mouth until he's gasping for breath and hugging her tightly. "There. Much better." "Oh, man," Dick says, burying his face in her shoulder. "That was --" She kisses his cheek and says, "I could tell, honey." He lets her go, grinning. "How d'you know I wasn't going to say 'Awful'?" Babs snorts and pokes him in the stomach. "Sweetie, I know you better than that. You wouldn't say it was awful even if it was." Dick rolls sideways and sits up. "I might." "Unlikely," Bruce says. "Listen to the man, Robin." Babs winks at him. "Unlike you, Bruce knows how to tell someone they're terrible in bed." He doesn't believe that, either. "I'm not sure I know what bad sex is like," Dick says, and Babs gives him the most indulgent grin ever. "Poor you." She reaches over and squeezes Bruce's thigh. "I think we should show him." Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Come now, Barbara, on his birthday?" Babs shrugs, which does wonderfully interesting things to her breasts, and says, "So I'll demonstrate on you." "Will you," Bruce says, looking totally unfrightened by the concept. Dick laughs. "I don't think you're going to be any good at bad sex, Babs." She makes a fake scary face. "You doubt me? Just watch." She takes one of Bruce's hands and licks his thumb messily. "The key is really imprecise technique," she explains to Dick, making wet noises with her lips. Dick glances at Bruce, whose eyes are narrowing slightly. "He's not bored yet," he tells Babs, who pauses -- okay, maybe too long -- and switches to nibbling two of Bruce's fingers. "I fail to see how this would be ineffectual," Bruce says, propping himself up on one elbow. Babs huffs out her breath and lets his hand go. "You guys are too hard to please." "To displease, you mean," Dick says. She waggles her finger at him. "You're picking up bad habits, Boy Pedant." She pats Bruce's thigh and says, "Stop being a bad influence on him." "He's not," Dick insists, edging up the bed to hug Bruce. He doesn't think Bruce needs reassurance, or even defense from Babs. It's just a good time to hug him. "Hmph," Babs says, pushing her hair back from her face and tucking it behind her ears. "I don't think you're a good judge of it." Bruce shrugs slightly. "No more than you seem to be of what constitutes bad sex." She narrows her eyes at him and leans forward. "You're wrong there." She licks his dick, slowly, showing off or just teasing, then grins up at him. "And I'll prove it." "Hm," Bruce says. "As long as you make your point without teeth." Dick shudders. "There've got to be kinds of bad sex that don't hurt." Babs licks her palm and inexplicably runs it down Bruce's thigh. "No, no teeth." It's pretty unlikely that anybody who hadn't had a lot of practice snuggling up to Bruce and figuring out what he was feeling without words would be able to feel him relax, but Dick can. Babs is making an incredibly loud and goofy slurping noise around the head of his dick, and it's hard not to laugh at her. "Barbara," Bruce says, and there's a rumble under his voice that might be laughter. She looks up with another wet noise. "Yeah?" "There are very few ways to perform truly bad fellatio." She raises an eyebrow at Bruce. "You're just making this more of a challenge, you know." Dick shakes his head and reaches up to pet her hair. "It'd be more fun if you just did it right." "How boring," Babs says, grinning at him. Bruce chuckles. "If it's boring when you're trying to make it not be, Barbara --" "Bastard," she says, laughing, and licks him again. "I'm not boring." There are important parts of Dick's brain that he needs for talking, but they're going on vacation just from watching. How Bruce keeps it together enough to say, "We'll see," is past Dick's comprehension. Babs makes a growly sound and hollows her cheeks out, without the horrible noises this time. Bruce strokes her cheek with gentle fingers and Dick shivers in sympathy with both of them. Babs opens her eyes and looks up at Bruce for a second, then goes down far enough that it's got to hurt. Dick says, "Wow," without quite meaning to, because they're both being so quiet and focused. He feels silly for being the only one making any noise, but he can't help it. Bruce squeezes him gently and pulls him into a kiss. "Everything all right?" "Yeah." He watches Bruce's eyes half-close as Babs does something that would probably make Dick claw at the sheets, screaming. "I just -- yeah." "You just what?" Bruce asks, a catch in his breathing. Dick licks his fingertips and plays with Bruce's nipple. "I don't know how you do it. Or, um, why, really." "What?" Bruce asks, shifting a little -- not rocking off the bed like anybody else would, but -- moving. Dick shakes his head. "I don't get the whole -- control thing. I want to see you lose it." Babs lets Bruce go and laughs. "Good luck," she says, her voice hoarse. "I guess," Dick says. "I -- do you want me to be that quiet, because I --" He loses the rest of the sentence because Bruce is on top of him, pinning him to the mattress. "No," he says against Dick's ear, "never." Dick had been doing all right, not getting too worked up even though it was really pretty to watch, but now he's gasping for breath and so horny it's embarrassing. Or it would be if Bruce wasn't pressing against him, hot and slick. There's no real way to get too embarrassed there. "Jeez, Dick," Babs says, "if you even tried I wouldn't recognize you." "You liked it when he did it," Dick protests, and then Bruce licks his nipple and he whimpers. "The last person I want you to be is Bruce," Babs says, and she's close enough to kiss him now. He muffles a moan against her mouth. When she lets him breathe again, he says, "Yeah, but --" and every coherent thought he sort of had turns into "Oh, god --" because Bruce is licking him again. "You're too cute," Babs says, running her finger along his lower lip and grinning when he nibbles the tip. "If you were quiet, you wouldn't be." "But you --" Bruce runs his hand up the inside of Dick's thigh. "This is not an arena in which control is necessary." "Then why do you do it?" Dick manages to get out, rushing before he loses his breath again. "Habit," Bruce says. "Barbara, hand me the lube under the pillow." She blinks at him and sticks her hand under the pillow, then hands it over with a quizzical look. "What kind of a place to keep it is that, Dick? Ever the optimist." "I didn't," Dick protests. "It's a new bed, remember?" "Right," she says. "So it's not your fault." Bruce admits, "It was entirely my idea," and puts some of the lube on his fingers. "You're usually much neater than that," Babs says, and Dick can hear her grin without even looking. "This was convenient," Bruce says, and he teases Dick lightly -- it's cool, but not too cold -- before pushing a finger inside him, just a little, and far too slowly. "I -- um --" Dick gasps as quietly as he can manage and bites his lip. He knows they don't want him to be quiet, but it's hard not to try when he's been watching them be completely stoic. "'Um'?" Babs echoes, teasing at his nipples with her fingers. "I guess you do know what bad sex is after all." "Does that hurt?" Bruce asks. Dick shakes his head and braces one foot against the mattress so he can move better. "Keep going. Please." "You're so quiet," Babs says, pinching him to get him to gasp again. He bites his lip harder. "Only if you're going to be." Bruce strokes him gently, making a soft thinking sound. "That sounds like quite the challenge." Dick arches into it, willing himself not to moan. "For you." Babs laughs and takes one of his hands, nibbling at his thumb. "If you're waiting for him to scream first, it'll be a long night." "N-- no, I --" He's pretty sure Bruce wouldn't writhe like that, either, but he can only manage one challenge at a time. He looks up at Bruce, who's got an expression of careful concentration. "I trust you." Bruce sighs and presses another finger inside him. "Good to know." Dick decides that the best possible victory dance is pressing back against his hand and making the same kind of a humming sigh. "And that's -- really -- really nice." Babs shakes her head and kisses him again. "You get the strangest ideas, Boy Wonder." He blinks at her and can't quite focus. "What?" "Out-silenting the silent type." She licks his lower lip slowly and he can't entirely keep another sigh back. "You're just not good at it." "Not the point," Dick says, fisting one hand in the sheets to give himself something to focus on other than wet friction. "Then what is?" Babs asks. "Coercion," Bruce says. When Dick looks at him, he's smiling, mostly in his eyes. "Put your leg over my shoulder." The tone of his voice isn't quite training-perfect -- there's a burr there that doesn't show up in the field. Dick does it, then uses the leverage to push himself farther down on Bruce's fingers. He chokes on a groan and makes it into words. "Better?" "Yes," Bruce says, his voice still entirely too level. He moves his dry hand to Dick's hip and leans into the next push of his fingers with enough force that Dick knows he'd normally groan, maybe even scream. He compensates by covering his mouth with his hand and making it a sigh. "Please --" Babs pulls his hand away and holds it to the mattress by his head. "No cheating." "Please what?" Bruce asks. Dick shakes his head. "I can't -- I can't be quiet." He shudders. Babbling is against the rules, too, but once he starts talking it's too hard to stop. "Not -- not when you're doing that, god -- please don't tease me --" "Then don't be quiet," Bruce says, and pulls his fingers out of Dick slowly, but not so slowly that he can manage to suppress a groan. "He's at an unfair disadvantage," Babs says, and kisses Dick lightly. "After all, two against one." Bruce says, "Hmm," and lifts Dick's hips a little more. "True -- and yet." Dick frowns at him and tries to pull his hand free from Babs'. "God, why -- why do you have to pretend you don't feel anything?" Babs whistles at that like she does when he scores a really good punch. Being angry clears his head just enough that he can see how glazed Bruce's look of confusion actually is. "That's -- not accurate. Do you want me to stop?" "No," Dick says, trying to figure out how to shake him, "I want you to like it." "Dick --" Babs says, but Bruce is petting his stomach and laughing -- just not out loud. "I do." "Then stop being so --" Dick shakes his head "-- so dignified, and fuck me like you mean it." Babs nibbles his ear, mostly so she can whisper into it, "You're so screwed," and laugh. Bruce shakes his head and runs his hand up the length of Dick's leg, his touch firm. "I'm surprised you don't think I've meant it before." Dick shivers. "Sometimes. But -- I --" Bruce squeezes his butt. "We'll have to work on that." He moves one hand to Dick's hip and presses into him with an honest to god moan. "Oh --" Dick whimpers from the feeling, but he doesn't dare make any louder noise in case it's actually him moaning -- not that his voice is that low -- but -- "Oh, god, Bruce." "That all you've got?" Babs asks, grinning like anything. "Hardly," Bruce says, and the sound of his voice makes Dick whimper again. The next thrust makes him wrap his free leg around Bruce's waist and swear, but he can still hear how ragged Bruce's breathing is. "Oh, fuck," Dick says, and he wants to say something else, but he can't get a deep enough breath to do it. It'd be easier to take, more normal, if Bruce said something, but he grunts, and that's enough to make Dick babble instead. "Oh Jesus, Bruce, don't stop --" Bruce's hand tightens on his hip and he's laughing, low and short. "Of course not." He speeds up instead. "God," Babs says. She leans over more and her breasts brush against Dick's face. Dick's got just enough air to writhe and moan, now, but he can't not arch back to lick her nipple. It makes her laugh, too, and she squeezes his wrists. "You should see yourself, Dick," she says, "but you'd lose it." "Bad enough --" Dick says, gasping, "just listening --" and he knows he's groaning loud enough to hurt her ears. He's still not as loud as Bruce is, or it doesn't seem that way -- he's panting for breath, now, and making little desperate sounds in his chest. "Dick," he says, rough and quiet, but he may as well be shouting. Dick can hear him perfectly. "So damn sexy," Babs says, "and I think you won, Dick." She reaches for his dick and strokes it, finding the rhythm. He wants to tell her to stop because it's going to kill him, but there's no way to think over the roaring in his ears that's half Bruce, moaning, and half his own pulse. "Oh, god, oh, god," doesn't mean no, and he doesn't want it to mean no. "Love you so much," doesn't either, and when he hears himself say it, he's glad he's got her breasts in his face, and he's gasping for every breath anyway, and maybe neither of them heard him. "Oh, honey," Babs says, squeezing him faster until he can only wail, so maybe she did. Bruce's hand tightens on his hip and there will be bruises tomorrow and it hurts just right and fits with the growl he's making. Dick wants to hug him and just hang on forever, but Babs is holding him, too, and it's even better than losing himself in the way Bruce feels. He can listen, like this, to his own breathing and his incoherent, "God, please, yes, please -- oh yes --" and then he can't hear what words he's saying because he's coming and if there's any luck left in the world, he's not saying what he thinks he's saying, which is "God, Bruce, I love you." It's not the only thing he wants to say, but it's the only thing in his head. His vision has gone narrow and there's nothing to see but Babs' breasts, but he can feel everything there is worth feeling -- Bruce's ragged thrusts -- and hear him groan in a way that feels like it ought to shake the bed. Babs gets off him first because that's easiest. She kisses him again first and gives him a smile that, even upside down, lets him know what stupid things came out of his mouth, that she despairs of him, and that she loves him anyway. "You should have birthdays more often," she says. Dick knows he's blushing, and what he wants to say is, "I love you, too," but he can't. "You should come visit more often. Spend the night." She raises an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, we'll see." Bruce disentangles himself and makes Dick hiss softly, but it's not actual pain. Bruce  squeezes his thigh. "Are you all right?" Dick sits up, stretching his legs, and can't quite look at him yet. "I'm fine." "Good." Bruce touches his cheek lightly and then pulls him into a hug when he looks up. Dick takes his first deep breath in what feels like hours and lets himself relax, leaning on Bruce. "You okay?" Bruce chuckles. "Despite the noises -- yes." "They were impressive," Babs says, and she gets up, stretching her arms. "One of us should go patrol, anyway." Dick has a horrible sinking feeling and says, "Oh, god, right." He knows he's exhausted and he won't be able to focus. Bruce shakes his head. "It's all right -- there's someone taking care of it." She blinks. "What, you called the JLA?" Bruce tousles Dick's hair. "Clark said to tell you to have a happy birthday." "Oh," Dick says. "Well, that was nice of him." Bruce offers his hand to Babs. "Come back to bed, Barbara." "Not 'til I've taken a shower." Dick squeezes Bruce, then gets up. If he has to say dumb things when he doesn't mean to, he can at least compensate by doing smart things when he can think. "Can I come with you?" "Sure," she says, starting for the bathroom. "Even though I know you just want to stare at my chest." He puts his arm around her waist and leans on her. "No. That's not it at all."
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