SquidgeWorld Archive

A Quiet Place
by MonaR.

/'Lucky for me you're such a good conversationalist.'/

It had been a joke when Robin had said it, waiting on the rooftop for the bad guys du jour to show for their little game of 'sabotage the construction site'. At the time, it was nothing more than a tease on the fact that Bruce had never been known for his wordiness, especially when he was cloaked in the guise of the strong and silent Batman. Silence was safety; it was part of what made Batman such a successful crime fighter, one who used stealth as another of the many tools at his disposal, like the Batmobile or the utility belt. But it was also a defense mechanism, a means of protection, a safety net, and as far as Bruce was concerned, whatever his partner didn't know couldn't hurt him.

But *this* particular silence between them was becoming less and less comfortable, and more oppressive. Bruce had relinquished control of the Batmobile without question, knowing that even though he could have easily driven the car totally incapacitated, it was important to Dick to do this for him. Besides that, the pain of his injured knee was growing too great to ignore. It had been easy to subsume the pain when there were criminals on the loose in Gotham - especially Tony Zucco and his band of thugs - but without the distracting adrenaline rush that came from battling that type of scum, the searing edges of heat around the throbbing wound made even Bruce's back teeth ache. Although the leg was still swelling, he could move it, so it wasn't broken, but even a sprain or pulled muscle would lay him - and Batman - up for a few days.

Dick hadn't said a word since they left the pier, and seemed to concentrate solely on the road in front of him. Bruce knew that Dick wasn't still upset about his attempts to leave the younger man out of this night's activities, but he could almost hear the old wounds that had been reopened in his partner's mind - the never-ending pain of his parents' death, combined with the sudden re-appearance of the man responsible for the double murder. It was a special sort of agony that they had always shared, even though they almost never spoke of it; it bound them together in tragedy and in loss. It had been what brought them together in the first place as guardian and ward, and later as Batman and Robin, as partners and as friends. Bruce continued to tell himself that he had done the right thing, that Dick's anger and renewed desire for revenge would have put him in a dangerous position that neither one of them might have been able to protect him from. He repeated all of his arguments - to himself - and knew that he had acted the way that he should have.

And still they rode on in silence.

**********

/'You know the rules,' Bruce said, as he turned the car around. 'There are times when I can't explain - '

' - my actions, even to you,' Robin finished for him, disgusted. 'Hey, that line worked great in sixth grade, but in case you haven't noticed - '

'We'll discuss this later.'/

**********

Bruce watched Dick's profile out of the corner of his eye. The dark mask he wore made his blue eyes seem more bright than they normally were, and in Dick's case, his eyes really were the windows to his soul, always open and expressive. His lips were drawn in a thin line, and he gripped the wheel of the Batmobile tightly in his gloved hands, even though the specially-enhanced car could for all intents and purposes drive itself back to the Batcave. It startled Bruce to realize that Dick's assertion that he had been 'taught by the best' was no idle boast; under the tutelage of the Batman, Robin had learned strength, agility and the problem-solving techniques that it took to make a great hero - and a great man. But along with all the other attributes that Robin took on hungrily, he was also learning silence. Bruce could see it in him - the reticence, the muted exuberance, the secretiveness. Part of it was the new-found sense of maturity that living away at college was giving him, and the natural process of growing up, but part of it was a learned behavior, and it gave Bruce pause to think that *he* was the cause of this transformation.

"I have noticed."

Dick glanced at him, obviously startled that he had spoken. "What?"

"I have noticed," Bruce repeated, clearing his throat. He hadn't even consciously meant to speak out loud, but now that he had, was determined to keep going and break the silence between them. "That you're not in sixth grade anymore, I mean."

Eyes still on the road, Dick smiled a little. "Well, you *did* pay my college tuition, Bruce," he said, just faintly amused

"That's not what I meant."

The smile faded as Dick nodded his head. "I know."

"I should have told you what was going on tonight. I was wrong to shut you out of this."

Dick shrugged. "You were trying to protect me. I appreciate that. We look out for each other."

"I should have let you in on what was happening, and let you make your own decision about what to do about it." Bruce chuckled, ironically. "If nothing else, I should have known that you would figure everything out on your own anyway. But more than that, *I* should have trusted you enough to do the right thing." He stared out of the window. "How many times have I asked the same from you?"

Dick didn't say anything for a moment. "I understand," he said, finally. "You were scared for me."

"I was scared for *me*," Bruce said, quietly. He could feel the young man's eyes on him, but could not turn his head to meet those eyes. They lapsed once again into silence for the rest of the trip, but it was a thoughtful silence, infinitely more comfortable than it had been.

**********

Bruce didn't resist when Dick came to his side of the Batmobile and helped him up and out. Instead of taking the weight of his wounded leg on himself, he slumped gratefully over onto Dick's shoulder, letting the younger man help him to the well-used examination table in the Cave. He pulled off his cowl and sat there, wincing as Dick took off his gloves and gently manipulated his injured limb.

"It isn't broken," Dick said, and Bruce nodded. "I'll go get Alfred. I'm pretty sure you don't
want me to call the doctor, right?"

Bruce shook his head. "No need to get Leslie up at this hour."

Dick nodded. "Okay. Wait here."

Bruce watched as Dick headed up the stairs from the Cave into the main house. When he could no longer see his partner, he started to undress himself from the sweat-soaked Bat costume, rinsing his torso and face off in a basin of water. It was only a few moments before Alfred appeared with his ever-present first aid kit.

"Master Dick said that you would be needing this, sir," Alfred said, as he opened the case and removed bandages and salve. "This is getting to be a habit with you. Perhaps a refresher course on ducking would be in order?" he added, mildly.

Bruce smiled, and bit his lip as Alfred bound his knee and applied a cold pack to it. "Did he leave?" he asked with a sigh, after a moment.

"I don't know, sir," Alfred said, and secured the bandage. "Do you require my assistance?"

Bruce shook his head, and started to dress in the clean clothes Alfred handed to him. "No, Alfred. I'm fine. You can go to bed."

"There's cold chicken in the refrigerator, sir," Alfred said, and then took the discarded Batsuit to hang up in its proper place. Bruce knew that he'd do one or two other things before taking his leave of the Batcave and going to bed, and he also knew that nothing that he could say would dissuade Alfred from doing any of them. It was just a part of their relationship that he had long since reconciled himself to, and he didn't even mention it anymore.

His knee felt better now that it was bound, but Bruce didn't want to put too much weight on it on his way up into the main house, and as a result walked more slowly and carefully than normal. He wasn't really hungry, but he wasn't tired, either, so he decided to head into the kitchen and investigate Alfred's chicken. The sight of the light streaming into the hallway as he approached the kitchen made him quicken his steps; it was possible that Alfred had left the light on for him, knowing that he needed the time to unwind after the long night as Batman. But the hope that the light was on because of *another* possibility was the reason he hurried towards the kitchen.

Bruce saw the back of a dark head poke out of the refrigerator and smiled. Dick appeared, barefoot, dressed in sweats, with freshly-washed hair sticking up in half a dozen directions, the platter of chicken in one hand, and a carton of milk in the other. "A little late for a midnight snack, isn't it?"

Dick smiled at him. "I thought I'd stay here tonight," he said, kicking the refrigerator door closed with a foot. "It's pretty late, and I don't have classes in the morning."

Bruce nodded at him, then sat down at the table.

"Besides," Dick added with a grin, as he set the food down, "even Alfred's left-overs are better than dorm food."

"I know he'd be glad to send you over care packages - "

"He's *been* doing that," Dick said. "I just - have to do some things on my own, you know?"

Bruce nodded. "Yeah, I know. It's just a little hard for me to remember that, sometimes."

"You don't do bad, considering." Dick chuckled. "You know, you'd make someone a good father, Bruce. You should think about settling down one of these days and having a family of your own."

"And leave Gotham unprotected?" Bruce asked. "I don't know if I could find someone who'd be comfortable with the Batman *and* Bruce Wayne."

"You might be surprised," Dick said. "Besides, eventually Batman will have to retire." He put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "Step aside for some younger blood."

Bruce chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind."

Dick grinned at him. "Knowing you, you'll still be out patrolling the streets when you're ninety." His smile faded, a little. "I just don't want to see you end up alone, Bruce. Nobody should be alone their whole life."

Bruce frowned. "I'm not alone," he said.

"I don't mean Alfred," Dick said. "I know you love him like family, but I meant - "

"I didn't mean Alfred, either," Bruce replied. "I meant you."

Dick smiled. "No, you don't understand - "

"Dick," Bruce said, and then realized that demonstrating what he meant would be easier than trying to explain. He reached out for Dick, slid his hands around the back of the young man's neck and pulled him close. The last thing he saw before his eyes closed was Dick's startled reaction, and then they kissed.

It took a moment for Dick to kiss him back, and Bruce worried that he'd finally taken things too far between them, but after that first stunned moment, Dick gave himself over to the kiss, and they devoured each other's mouth hungrily. By the time they parted, Dick was half in Bruce's lap, hands pressed up against his chest.

"What was that?" Dick asked, still shocked.

Bruce smiled. "I admit that it's been a while, but I think it's called a kiss." He leaned closer. "Maybe we should try it again and make sure."

Dick grimaced at his attempt at humour. "Wait a minute - who are you, and what have you done with Bruce Wayne?" He shifted over a little more against Bruce, who made a small noise of pain at the added pressure against his bandaged knee. "Oh, wait, let me get off you - "

Bruce grabbed on to him, preventing him from going anywhere. "Don't leave," he said, snaking his hands across Dick's back. "My knee's just a little sore at the moment."

"Leave?" Dick said. "You're kidding me, right? You kiss me like that and you think I'm going to *leave*? I may never leave again."

"Works for me."

"But I *am* getting off of you. I don't fit on you anymore."

"That's a matter of opinion."

Dick shook his head, but grinned anyway and sat back down on his own chair, which he pulled so that it was within inches of Bruce's. "Are you going to tell me what happened to bring that on? Not that I'm complaining, but - you never said anything, or did anything. I feel like I came in in the middle of a movie, or something. I didn't think - I never expected - I mean - " Bruce grinned at him, and he narrowed his eyes and asked, "What?"

"I like this kind of speechlessness on you," Bruce shrugged.

"If you wanted me to shut up, you could have just asked me. But I prefer your method."

"I don't want you to shut up. Just the opposite, in fact - I'd like you to talk a lot, about everything. I miss that."

"Okay," Dick said. "Are you going to tell me what this is all about?"

"You don't mind, then?"

"Hmm," Dick pretended to think. "Do I mind having my best friend - who also just happens to be an incredibly hot guy - kiss me? No. Do I mind that I had no idea that he was going to do it? No. I just have to wonder where I've *been* all this time."

"You've been in college."

"So I went to college and you decided that you wanted me?"

"Something like that." Before Dick could open his mouth to ask for more details than that, Bruce added, "I think it took you going away before I realized that I *could* want you - that it was allowed. It took tonight for me to realize that you're not a kid anymore; only a grown man could have faced his parents' killer and stopped himself from extracting cold revenge."

"You stopped me," Dick said. "If you hadn't been there, I don't know what might have happened with Zucco."

"I do," Bruce said, and shook his head. "You would have done the same thing. It's a part of who you are; and, in any case, there's no way that I *wouldn't* have been there. After I realized that you don't need me to protect you anymore - " He shrugged.

"You decided to go for it?"

"Something like that. Maybe I just decided I didn't want to wonder what it would be like anymore." Bruce reached out a finger and traced it down Dick's jawline. "What about you? I didn't really mean to spring this on you."

Dick looked at him, incredulous. "You weren't planning on telling me any of this, were you? You were just going to sit there and let me pine - "

"Let *you* pine?" Bruce asked, surprised.

Dick squirmed a little. "Things changed," he admitted. "I went away and I missed you. I missed *this* - the house, Alfred, Robin - and you. Especially you - " He broke out into a grin that could best be described as filthy. "Getting on my back all the time."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "That was really bad, you know."

"I know. It was just one of those spontaneous things that you can't resist. You'd know all about that."

"So what do we do now?"

"Well," Dick said, "I can think of about fifty things, and forty-nine of them involve nudity."

"What have they been teaching you at college, exactly?"

Dick laughed out loud, stood up, and held out his hand for Bruce to lean on. "Come on, Bruce," he said. "I think you need help getting into bed."

"I'm perfectly capable - "

"I *said*, I think you need help getting into bed," Dick repeated. "If you're a bad patient, I'll have to call the doctor, and you know how much you *hate* seeing the doctor."

"Yes, Dick," Bruce said, as they made their way out of the kitchen. "Dick?" he asked, as they hit the stairs.

"Uh-huh?"

"Which of the fifty things that you were thinking of *doesn't* involve nudity?"

"You want to do that one?" Dick asked, disappointed.

"No," Bruce said. "But I'm dying of curiosity."


The End
MonaR.