A/N: So I've been away from my own computer for three months now. I'm finally back on, and here's some of what I was doing in my freetime.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all.
To Have Loved and Lost
The Blüdhaven apartment was quiet except for the near-silent creaking of the couch and the sound of passing cars outside the open windows. Autumn air leaked in, chilling the room, but neither of the two occupants minded much.
Dick Grayson sat on the worn couch in his civvies, a simple pair of black jeans with a v-neck t-shirt of whatever color had been recently washed. His eyes were ahead, intent on the wood paneling of an empty wall. A haze fogged his naturally bright blue eyes, dimming them to a shade of oceanic gray.
Lying perpendicular to Dick was Bart. The youngest speedster's head was in Grayson's lap, his eyes looking to the now-man's toned abdomen. Silence laced his lips, and he slowly pulled his feet up closer to his chest into the fetal position, as if cold.
It took a few moments, agonizingly long moments, but eventually, Dick reached down and began to gently, lovingly, ruffle Bart's hair. "It'll be alright, you know," he breathed reassuringly. His eyes had cleared of the fog as he now looked down to his companion with a hopeful, wishing gaze. "Things won't always be this bad."
"If you only knew," he wanted to say, but bit it back quickly. Instead, his mouth substituted in the words, "That doesn't stop it from hurting. It won't always be like this, but memories don't just go away. He can't take back what he said and pretend like it didn't happen." Bart reached out and held onto Dick's shirt like a child reaching for his mother. More than anything, he needed something stable, a rock to keep him tied to Earth; Dick could be that and so much more...
"Wally's a hothead." His reminder held a playful tone, which could just barely disguise other emotions in such a heavy statement. "You shouldn't worry about what he says. Really, what does he know? Besides, you know you're always welcome to stay here, Bart. My couch is available whenever you need it."
Almost a whimper came out as he tried to explain, "I want to make amends. I want him to love me." He sniffled, and Dick felt a wet spot on his thigh, where the speedster's face was located. Tears. "He's my family. I know I have Joan and Jay and Barry and Iris, but Wally... He's the one I relate to. I want him to care about me."
"It'll be fine," assured Dick in a murmur, fingers still toying with the brown locks atop the Allen boy's head. "It took a while for him to get used to Artemis, and I'm sure he'll love you too. It just takes time with Wa-"
"But it's taking too long for you, isn't it?" asked Bart sadly, now turning his head slightly to look up into Grayson's pitiful, longing eyes. He immediately felt the hand slow to a stop in his hair, and suddenly realized how much he missed the motion. "Eight years of waiting is too long. Even for you."
His lips pursed in silence, eyes never breaking contact with Bart's.
"I don't want to burst your bubble or anything," he continued, "but he also has a girlfriend. And I know, for a fact, he's straight." He forced his mouth into a frown as he added darkly, "Straight as an arrow."
Dick breathed deeply, and then pulled his hand away from Bart's head, retiring it to the outside of his leg. He moved the other to run it up through his ebony hair and let his gaze stray as a sigh escaped. "You don't get it," he breathed, tired and lost. "I would give anything in the world. Wally... I need him. Not having him isn't an option." Surrender wasn't a choice; he couldn't give up such love and dedication, not after so many years. "Don't make me give that up. It's the only hope I have left." A sick, sad smile perched on his lips, like that of a man who knew his death was approaching on fast feet. "Wally's all I have."
"We're both waiting on someone who'll never come around." Sincerity rang true in his slow, patient words. "And as much as I want to wait around and hope, I'm done." His eyes were soft, even sweet. Sad, too. Full of heartbreak. "You should be, too. Especially with the way he treats you sometimes."
His knowing smile wrenched Bart's heart in all sorts of painful directions. Dick Grayson merely said, "Wally's a hothead."
"He won't come around."
It's a heartbreaking truth, an earth-shattering reality. He knew it, but wouldn't accept it. In his mind, he thought that there would be a fight one day, and in that one day, Dick would find a way to sweep Wally off his fast little feet; until that day came, he was content with sitting on the bleachers in his stoic silence, waiting, watching.
But Bart's words sliced through him like a knife, sharp and even more painful. His face visibly winced, and many muscles clenched, tightening as if struck. Dick tried hard for many years to wrap his mind around it, and he still couldn't find it in himself to get over Wally. He was an addict, a man sucked into a drug and left with no escape, only a deeper chasm of suffering...
"I'm sorry," he said, voice broken as well. Because all the times he'd heard of Nightwing's legacy, he expected someone strong, fantastic, and nothing less than perfect; beneath the shell, under that mask, he was just another man. He could still be broken. He could still be wounded. Nightwing was no immortal. Bart now had to take in this fact, realizing that this past was far different than his future; everyone was young and had yet to be fully developed. "I just thought it'd be easier-"
"It's fine, Bart," he said. "It's fine." He moved his hand back to the young speedster's head and toyed, gently, slowly, with the ends of the brown locks. Still, Dick's eyes remained distant, lost. "It's not your fault."
In the revered silence, Bart wriggled forward and pressed his face into Dick's stomach, his nose meeting toned abs. The speedster, after a few long minutes of Dick's mindless petting, reached up and clasped Dick's hand, capturing it in his own. "You know we're gonna be alright, don't you?" asked the teen of the man.
Dick felt the teen's hot breath against him and was soothed in an incomprehensible way. "Wally will love you eventually," he murmured, voice like that of a mother to her child, "and I'll manage without him." He forced a smile, knowing that was what Bart needed to see right now. "Of course we'll be alright."
Bart's lips stretched ear-to-ear. "Good." He kept holding onto the raven-haired man's calloused hand, now giving it a squeeze. "Because Wally doesn't deserve you."
Quiet, but Bart could sense he was helping a little bit. So he continued, "Because he's not the nicest best friend. And he's too narrow-minded. Not to mention you're way too pretty for him. And-"
"Pretty?" Dick asked with a curious brow and the remnants of a smile. "It sounds like you're starting a list of things you like, Impulse."
"Maybe I am." He returned the grin, his own smirk about fifty times cockier.
Instead of responding to that, Grayson continued to play with the teen's hair, loving the feel of it. "If you want to stay here for the night, I can pull out the couch. Tim probably wouldn't mind if you stole his spot for tonight." Reluctance, he found, was his companion as he had to push Bart away in order to stand. "Not like he'll be here anyway."
"That's so crash," mumbled the speedster from his spot on the couch, head in the warm spot that Dick Grayson's body left behind.
He took it as a "thanks" and moved to grab his own pillow for the younger boy to have for the night. When he came back, the teen's eyes were shut and his body was completely still, slumber having stolen his consciousness. Yet a childish smile resided on his face. So Dick moved to find a blanket and covered him up before heading back to his own room, pillow left beside Bart; until morning, he'd have to cope quietly and contemplate the real meaning of love.
A/N: Okay, okay, this was going in a completely different direction until I mentioned Wally and then it just when off-kilter. But hey, nothing wrong with it, I don't think it's bad or anything. I just wish it had strayed more Bart/Dick. Oh well.
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~Sky