Title: Jump (Then Fall Into Me)
Rating: mild T
Word Count: 1,800+
Characters: Dick/Artemis
Summary: She's stepped off of the beam exactly twice in the last three hours and she'll be damned if she leaves the gym without this routine mastered.
Prompt: balance, for the #traught takeover on tumblr (August 27-September 2)
Jump (Then Fall Into Me)
She's stepped off of the beam exactly twice in the last three hours – the first was for a water break and the second was because her mom called wondering where she was – since stepping on and she'll be damned if she leaves the gym without this routine mastered.
The twirl into the cartwheel right before her final flip onto the mat gets her every time, and she cannot for the life of her figure out why she's having so much trouble.
She's tried that combo dozens of times today alone and executed it perfectly, but as soon as she starts from the beginning of the routine and leads into it, she always loses her footing and has to flip too early to keep herself from falling off of the side. It's frustrating and she's torn between wanting her coaches to be here to help her and being thankful that they aren't because it's embarrassing how much she's struggling. She can count on one hand the number of times she's cried because she hates crying.
And maybe she wouldn't if it was Dinah, but if Bruce was watching her right now, she'd definitely be in tears.
God, why can't she get this?
Her stereo has her song on loop and when she hears it the end coming, she does a backwards flip to reach the edge of the beam so she'll be in position to restart with the music.
Her body flows through the steps she swears she does in her sleep. Tucks, cartwheels, back handsprings, flips, leaps, jumps, and turns in rhythm with each beat of the song, bending, straightening, and flexing into each move. Performing is as thoughtless to her as breathing and yet, she's entirely concentrated on the routine.
But when she gets to that twirl, she knows before she's even a second into it that her foot isn't balanced properly, and she shifts, feels herself leaning over the edge and plants both feet to catch herself.
"Fuck," she pants, bending over and bracing her hands against the beam so that she can straddle it (something that everyone on their team does to catch their breath). Her cheeks are flushed and she's sweaty and gross and a few strands of her hair that fell out of her bun are sticking to her face.
The song plays four times before she finally considers going home.
And she's about to dismount the beam when a, "Don't," echoes through the gym.
Her head snaps up and she squints to see who's moving in the dark. It's just her in here – the janitors are used to students staying for hours after school, so they leave it to the night janitors to lock up – and the only lights on are over the mats and everything else is shadowed. It'd probably be scary if this school didn't have the best security ever.
Then whoever it is finally steps out of the shadow and onto the mat.
It's Dick Grayson.
He's on the gymnastics team with her, too, but even if he wasn't, it's practically impossible to go to this school and not know who he was.
First of all, his adoptive father is an international billionaire who supplied the school with every machine it uses, and Wayne Tech is the reason behind their air-tight security. Second of all, Dick's insanely smart and most of the classes he's in are so much harder than hers, and he's almost two whole years younger. And third of all, everyone loves him, and most of the time it doesn't even have to do with his money. He's got all of these weird and nerdy quirks about him and yet it's impossible not to like him.
And she has the fortune of being his teammate and best friends with Bette and Barbara, who've been his best friends since childhood. And by fortune, she means that there are probably a million people who would kill to know him like she does.
Even though she honestly doesn't know him that well, or at least not as closely as you'd expect considering how often they hang out.
Anyway, Dick's wearing a workout top and basketball shorts, which means he was probably doing cardio or lifting weights or some easy stuff on the uneven bars.
"I didn't think there were still students around," she admits. She sounds as tired as she feels.
He ignores her comment. "Are you working on your routine?"
"I have been for the past three hours," she exhales, "and I've accepted the fact that I'm just not going to nail it today. So I'm done."
"Run it again," he orders her.
She scowls. "No."
"Artemis," he sighs. "Just run it again. Let me see."
She contemplates telling him to just leave her alone, but then she chews on her bottom lip and thinks that having Dick evaluate her is probably the next best thing to having Bruce or Dinah do it. He's probably the top member on their team, which is understandable since he supposedly began tumbling as soon as he could walk.
So she rolls her eyes, lifts herself onto her feet and stands at the edge of the beam again.
The song plays out, and there's two seconds of complete silence before it repeats and she starts moving. She breezes by the routine and then stumbles on the twirl as she's done a hundred times today. She blows out a frustrated breath as soon as she's steadied herself, puts her hands on her hips and shoots him a look.
Except, he's staring at her form (no, not like that; okay, well, she can't be entirely sure, but whatever) and probably replaying what she just did in his head about a dozen times.
She doesn't know how long both of them are standing there and not talking before he finally moves again.
"Bend your knee a little more."
"Huh?" She tucks some of her hair behind her ear, even though it'll just fall back in her face as soon as he makes her redo her routine. "I can't bend it any further."
"Yes, you can," he argues. "Your leg is too stiff when you twirl, which is why the move isn't fluid enough you to pull off."
She thinks she should be offended. She almost is.
"I can't bend it any further," she repeats, "or I'll really fall off, and then I'll get hurt."
"You're playing it too safe."
"Dick—"
"Just trust me, Artemis." She presses her lips together. "I'll spot you if you need it, but you won't, okay?"
She puts her hands over her face, exhales slowly. She can't believe she's going to…
"Alright," she breathes. "I'll go again. But you better catch me."
Instead of promising, he says, "You won't need me to," and she glares at him and moves to the edge of the beam.
As soon as the song repeats, she's moving again, breathing through her routine and flowing with the music. She should feel too exhausted to move after how long she's been at this, and while she doesn't feel as energized as she did when she first stepped into the gym, she's not nearly tired enough to let it affect her routine.
When it comes to the twirl, she doesn't close her eyes like she desperately wants to. She just relaxes her leg, bends into the turn…
And then she's coming out of the twirl, her instincts overriding her pure shock as she leans and executes the cartwheel perfectly, flips backwards and sticks her landing.
Holy. Crap.
Dick's clapping, looking like a smug prick while still looking sincerely happy for her (how he manages that, she has no idea), and, on an impulse, she squeals almost as loudly as Bette and runs up to him, throwing her arms around him and hugging tightly.
"I did it!" she exclaims needlessly.
"I told you so," he laughs, and she rolls her eyes, laughs along with him as she shoves his arm. "Go again."
She nods and mounts the beam again, and she goes through the routine three more times – once with him standing close and then two with him standing across the mats – and she executes everything perfectly. Well, she can't be the judge of that, but somehow she just knows that she did amazingly all three times.
She did it!
When she dismounts the beam and Dick's shutting off her stereo, she finally feels her muscles beginning to ache like they always do after a long workout. And when she reaches for her bag, her stomach lets out this loud growl that would be embarrassing if she didn't just work up an appetite. And, well, it's just Dick. She's comfortable enough around him to not really care, which probably explains why she doesn't mind standing so close to him while she's this sweaty and gross. Dick just grins at her and hooks his own bag over his shoulder.
"So where are we going out for dinner after we shower up?" he asks.
She arches an eyebrow. He's not even asking her if she wants to. Maybe it's the exhaustion, but she finds it way too amusing than she probably should.
And this will probably be the first time they get to hang out without Bette or Barbara, with just the two of them. Of course she's not going to miss it.
They both hit the showers, and twenty minutes later, she's twirling her wet, tangled hair and clipping it atop her head, pulling on her Gotham Academy sweats and gymnastics team jacket and swiping on a coat of mascara before leaving the locker room. Dick's waiting at the front door for her, talking to Gabe, one of the night janitors she's come to know after so many late stays here. Seeing him laugh with Dick makes her wonder how many other students are friendly with Gabe.
Gabe locks the doors behind them when they stop outside, and it's unseasonably warm out despite it probably being almost 7:00.
"What do you feel like eating?" he asks.
He puts his arm around her and she looks at him, the way his hair is a little puffy and falling into his eyes a bit – god, it always looks so much better like this than that stupid gelled look he had going on when she first met him – and thinks that even though he's put his arms around a lot of girls, the way he has his around her feels… different.
Part of her remembers what their coaches and teachers say about relationships and school and extra-curricular activities. She thinks she must've used that as an excuse for a while if she's only now feeling strangely more attracted to him than she's ever been since they met. And yeah, she knows that they have a lot coming up with gymnastics and testing and everything that they'll have to focus on, but he did just help her with her routine and right now, without the mats or equipment, they're just two teens ready to grab some dinner.
And she thinks if tonight is any indication, she might be into the two of them seeing each other a lot more often outside of practice and school.
So she lets herself lean against his side and asks, "Have you ever tried Greek?"