Bruce/Dick ficlet

[icarus_chained]

Title:  Need You
Rating:  PG
Characters/Pairings:  could be Bruce/Dick, or Bruce&Dick, depending on how you want to take it. I like them either way
Summary:  Sometimes, Dick just needs a little something.
Wordcount:  635

Need You

It had been a thing they did, in the early days. Dick had been strong, even before Robin, and he'd seen terrible things, but sometimes, out there, in the Gotham night with all her evil ... sometimes he'd needed. Just something. Because he'd always been strong, and no more innocent, but still, he'd been a child. A young boy. And some things they'd seen had hurt him, chilled him, made him feel cold to the bone and all alone.

Bruce ... he was an idiot, really, when it came to understanding people near him. He always had been, and even as a child Dick had understood that, in a strange way. So he hadn't expected Bruce to see. To understand. How cold he'd been. How the laughter had curled away inside him, unable to reveal itself, doing its fragile best to warm him despite it all. He hadn't expected Bruce to see. But Bruce had.

Sometimes, when he sees people hurting, now, when he sees them cold and in despair, even if he's already doing all he can to help them ... sometimes the thought slips into his head, just a whisper at the back of his mind. If only they had a Batcape to curl into, and Bruce to hold onto, and a warm silence to ease away the chill. Just that. Only ever that. Bruce was never any good with words. But it was enough. It was ... more than enough.

There was ... safety, in that embrace. Warmth. Love. Protection. The Batcape would slide around his shoulders, arms coming up to wrap around him, hold him close, sheltered in the arms of the one man who would turn aside the world to protect him, if only he could. Bruce would never say anything, never mention the lack of a smile that let him know Dick needed him, never admonish Dick for his lack of calm. Just the arms, and the warm chest, and white eyes shining with sad love. Just that.

It was a thing they'd done, in the early days. Batman and Robin, before Nightwing, before Jason, Tim, Stephanie, Cass ... A long time ago. But Dick remembered. Maybe he would never forget. Maybe he never wanted to. Because Bruce was an idiot, really, and didn't see things, but sometimes, just sometimes ... he did. Even now.

He was chilled, now. Worn to the bone. Nightwing, Officer Grayson, Dick, whoever you wanted. All of him. Just too much. All too much. Just tired, and cold, and hurting in all the places the laughter couldn't reach anymore. Hurting. And there was Bruce, and the League, and the Titans, and everyone would see, and Bruce wouldn't see, and he didn't care because just for that second he wanted. Needed. Just something.

And then Bruce turned. Batman. Turned away from Superman, away from his team, looked over to Dick. Saw him. Saw. And there was the cape, and there were the arms, and the white eyes, oh, so sad. Safety. Warmth. Protection.

Bruce.

Dick didn't know how he moved, didn't care at the murmurs, didn't care for what would be said after. He was just there, all at once, and Bruce reached out, and the cape slid around his shoulders, and arms wrapped around him, and his nose was buried in a dark-clad shoulder, where it had never been before, but he was taller now, and older, and colder, and oh, how he needed this. Just this. And Bruce rested his cheek against Dick's, held him close, warm and tired and there. Just there. Right where he needed to be. Where he had always needed to be.

"Sorry," Dick whispered, strange, muffled. "Needed you. Need you." And Bruce spoke. For the first time ever. Nothing much. He was bad with words. Not much. But perfect.

"I know," he rumbled. "Me too."