Title: Truth Be Told
Rating: T
Word Count: 4,600+
Characters: Dick/Artemis
Summary: "The magic's in the mystery," he tells her, and she laughs a little and thinks that maybe he's onto something.
Prompt: revelation, for the #traught takeover on tumblr (August 27-September 2)
Truth Be Told
She's turned it into a game of sorts, but only when they're alone and can speak out loud without the Team eavesdropping through the telepathic link. This left opportunities hard to find, but those are his conditions and she's learned that with Robin, might as well take what you can get, right?
"You're drifting a little to the left, Darren."
"I'm flying perfectly straight," Robin counters smoothly and then laughs. "And try again."
"Well can you let me fly the thing so you'll see for yourself that you, Daryl, are drifting a little to the left?" He smirks and shakes his head. "Dartmouth?"
Robin smirks. "The answer to both of your questions is still no."
She glares at him and receives a cackle of pure amusement in return, which makes her roll her eyes.
It's been a little over two weeks since she declared it her personal mission to figure out his secret identity, which was because things have been calm enough for the Team recently that she became bored enough to try.
She just finished the D's and when she gets home she'll have to Google a list of E's for the next time they're together. And she knows that there's a good chance she could've already guessed his name and he just denied it, or he will deny it if she guesses it later on. He never even gave his word or anything when she told him she was determined to find out, and it's not like she can make him tell the truth without some sort of serum or Megan searching his thoughts (which she wouldn't).
But somehow she just knows that he'll be honest with her about it, or anything, really. It's kind of crazy how trusting she is of people considering how suspicious she used to be.
Or maybe it's just because he's Robin.
"If you're going to hog the controls then can we at least stop for yogurt?"
"Why? Are you too pretentious for ice-cream or something?"
"Don't be such a dick."
He starts cackling, and she has a fleeting moment of panic because he's laughing really hard and they start falling to their left (she told him it was pulling) and she has to lean over and take the controls and pull the bioship back onto course. "Are you insane?" she demands. He's still laughing. "What did I say that was so funny?"
But he just flashes her that irritating I-know-something-you-don't smile of his. "You'll find out someday."
... ...
She has no idea why she's so restless tonight, but she ventures out into the kitchen after a few hours of drifting in and out of sleep, fills a kettle with some water and sits at the island while it boils. She pulls it off of the burner right before it whistles (she's making enough noise as it is and will definitely wake the rest of the Team if she lets it blow), pours some in a mug and dips the tea bag inside before opening the cupboards so she can find something to snack on.
"Got a case of the munchies?"
She flinches and turns her head towards the source of the voice, and she vaguely sees something move in the darkness before the stove hood light is being flicked on and illuminating Robin where he's seated, cross-legged, on the counter.
Somehow she's not surprised. Well, he obviously startled her, but she's not surprised that he's awake and with her in the kitchen in the middle of the night.
"I was awake," she says with a shrug. "Did you want me to make you some too?"
"Doesn't the caffeine keep you up?"
"No."
He looks at her. "Why not?"
She chews on her bottom lip and turns her head away, pulling a box of biscuits off of the shelf in front of her. "When my parents used to fight a lot and leave me and Jade home alone, Jade would always make tea," she tells him. "It happened so often and sort of became a habit, so now I can't tell if I'm worried or just thirsty."
A long pause follows, and when he says, "So," his voice so impossibly gentle that she kind of has to look at him. "Are you thirsty?"
And even though part of her thinks she should be, somehow she's not surprised by her honesty when she shakes her head.
... ...
"I don't think we should leave the way we came," Artemis says, lifting her head to glance through the thin space between the shutters and out the window. "I think they followed us."
"Seems like it," Robin exhales.
She sees him through the dark, slumped against the corner of this small office in the abandoned warehouse. His breathing is silent but struggling and she recognizes the look he has that tells her that he's fighting off the pain. She saw him take a particularly hard blow to his gut from those drug dealers right before the guns came out and the Team split up to find safety, and she hates seeing him like this. Somehow, even though he's the only other person on the Team besides herself that didn't possess any supernatural abilities, Robin seemed the most untouchable of them all. Maybe because she always knew he was too smart, too experienced to get hurt.
Her eyes glance around the room in hopes to find a vent or something so that they could get out of here without going back outside. And in the back of her mind, she remembers that this wouldn't be the first time that the two of them would use the air ducts as an escape.
"Artemis," he rasps, and she's careful to remain quiet as she crawls over to him.
"I think there's a vent in the far corner over there," she whispers, trying to squint through the darkness. "We can get up to it and try to follow it out, but…"
Her voice trails off as he pulls the arm he has draped over his chest away from him and she sort of just watches as he moves it closer to her. She's about to ask what he's doing, or better yet, what's wrong, but then his hand is sliding over hers and she shudders and yanks it away, and it's not even because he's trying to hold her hand.
It's because his glove is soaked.
She doesn't think they ever came across a drop of water in this place, even if they may be by the wharf, and suddenly she can smell copper and—
Oh, god.
She pushes his cape from his torso and slides it over his side, feeling something wet underneath her fingertips and smelling an even stronger scent of copper – no, blood. That's definitely blood she's smelling in the air and feeling against his skin and the shredded fabric of his costume, and oh, god.
"The guy had a switchblade," he chuckles breathily, except there's nothing funny about this situation at all.
She glares at him through watery eyes as she feels around his wound and discovers that everything's damp. Fuck, how long has he been bleeding? "Why didn't you tell me?" she hisses.
"We would've been caught if we stopped to dress the wound."
She mutters a curse in Vietnamese even though he probably still understood it.
Her hands are trembling and she can feel him staring at her as she fumbles around the pockets of his utility belt. She accidentally nicks herself when she finds one of his batarangs, but she ignores it and moves to straddle his legs, pulling his cape gently out from behind him and slicing a long strip of it off. She winds it around his torso as many times as the length allows and cinches it tightly, making him tense and suck in a breath through his clenched teeth as she knots it into place.
"That's what you get for not telling me," she tells him, but her voice is trembling as much as her hands are and she feels bad that she hurt him more, even though she knows there was no way around it because you're supposed to apply pressure to a wound.
"I deserved it," he mumbles, sounding sincere.
She can tell by the way his head drifts that he's feeling faint, and she pinches his arm to keep him awake. "Don't go to sleep on me now, Wonder Bread," she pleads.
He starts slowly removing the glove off of his clean hand and when she tries to get him to stop moving, he shakes his head, pulling the glove completely off. She's wondering what he's doing, but then he brings his hand to his face and even in the lack of lighting she can see his fingers tracing the edges of his mask and—
"No," she huffs, taking her all not to scream out as she grasps his hand and yanks it away, "Don't you dare."
"Artemis," he protests. She hates how weak his voice comes out, like she can hear his energy slipping away with every word. "You should know in case—"
"No," she hisses, "Absolutely not."
"But Artemis—"
"You are not going to show me your secret identity as some sort of last dying wish," she whispers fiercely, "because you are not going to die on me, Robin, do you understand? The Team's going to get us out of here on time and you're going to wake up in the hospital and already be recovering, and if you want to show me then, then fine. But you can't show me now. And if you… If you leave me, Robin, I swear to God that I will hate you forever. So just save your energy."
He swallows, hard, but doesn't say anything else, and she brushes the bangs away from his face to distract herself from crying like she wants to.
... ...
Of course she's in the room when he wakes up, but so is everyone else, so she sits away from everyone crowding around him and just focuses on how relieved she feels that he's alright. She stays in her spot even as people slowly start to leave, and she swears that Batman glances at her before promising to return shortly.
And then it's just the two of them.
She starts to pull her chair to his bedside, but he pats the empty spot beside him on the mattress and, after debating for a few seconds, she abandons the chair, knowing that Robin will just try to argue with her until she sits where he wants her to. She kicks off her shoes before gently lowering herself beside him, and when he moves one of his pillows out from between him and the headboard, she gives a small smile and leans her back against it.
"You're alive," she breathes, because of the dozens of things that happened within the last few hours, this one is the most important.
He shrugs on his good side.
"I couldn't stand the thought of you hating me forever."
She brings her hand up to tuck some of her stray hair behind her ear, but then he grasps her wrist and turns it over, and she looks away as he lays his eyes on the bandage over her palm for the first time.
"Batarangs are really sharp," she answers without having to be asked.
He nods, and she moves her other hand and places it against cheek, her thumb falling over the edge of his mask. She thinks that she could just pull it off before he can stop her if she tries, but she also knows that his offer to show his identity has expired (for now, she hopes), just like he seems to trust her not to try at all.
She pulls her hand away and he grins. "The magic's in the mystery," he tells her, and she laughs a little and thinks that maybe he's onto something.
... ...
Robin has always been her favorite sparring partner.
She tells herself it's because she feels the most evenly matched with him, which is true. She always feels overpowered against Kaldur and Conner, and she doesn't feel challenged enough against Megan, Zatanna, or Raquel. Not because they're weak, because they certainly aren't. But because they don't seem as comfortable with hand-to-hand combat since, naturally, their first instincts are to use their powers. And likewise, even though Wally fights on a similar level as her and Robin, it doesn't feel like he has the same grasp of it as they do because he has his speed and can get away with not knowing the techniques that intimately during fights.
But if she's being honest, it's mostly because being bested by him is the only way she knows she'll learn. Black Canary is an amazing teacher, of course, and helps her a lot. But no one knows how to push her buttons in just the right ways to motivate her into mastering anything and everything quite like Robin does.
And, okay, there are few things that are more satisfying than being able to beat Robin with his own tricks.
"Don't be so smug," he laughs, getting up from where she sent him on his back, "because it's still 12-14, my favor."
She rolls her eyes. "You can never let me have my victory, can you?"
"You wouldn't let me if our roles were reversed."
She laughs breathily and places her hands at her hips. "Shut up," she exhales, and she can feel her breathing starting to fall back to a more normal rate.
He shakes his head, brings the bottom of his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face, and her eyes fall onto his crazily toned abs. It's not like this is the first time she's seen them or anything. In fact, it's kind of impossible to miss how much he's changed. He's a few inches taller than her now, with broader shoulders and a muscular yet lean build, and he definitely grew into his ears. And his shaggy hair that was too long for him before suddenly looks perfectly disheveled no matter what he does.
Puberty did that boy a lot of wonders.
But he's staring at her – or rather, below her face – and her cheeks flush even more than they already are from all of their sparring.
She moves to fold her arms over herself and glare at him, but he shakes his head and closes the small distance between them, moving her arms aside. She follows his gaze to the skin just over her sports bra where there's a small V-shaped scar that's always reminded her of a bird. She wonders what the big deal is, because he knows she has scars, but then she realizes this is the first time she took off her tank-top in front of him so it's the first time he's seeing this scar.
"It happened a long time ago," she says, not wanting him to think she got it while she was on the Team or something. "I honestly don't remember how I got it."
He doesn't say anything, just moves his hand forward until his middle and index fingers press lightly against her skin. She sucks in a breath but doesn't tense or try to move away, and he seems to take that as the invitation it is to trace his fingers over the scar. He does this once, twice, and then lets them linger as he steps closer.
She thinks he's trying not to push, wondering how far she'll let him go with whatever this is.
To be honest, she doesn't quite know herself.
All she knows is that this wouldn't be the first time he's been this close to her and she didn't mind, and she thinks that's supposed to mean something.
So she exhales sharply, throwing away everything else with it as she slides her hand over the back of his neck and brings his lips to hers, kissing him in the middle of the gym with his fingers still hovering over the scar above her chest.
... ...
When he introduces himself as Nightwing, she can't help the way her eyes widen. And it's not just because his costume is full-body spandex (even though, holy crap, him in that suit), but she thinks that the blue bird on his chest looks way too familiar to her to be a coincidence.
She corners him when they're alone in the kitchen, fingers running over the outline of the bird on his chest and feeling the muscle beneath the material. "I like it," she tells him, and he smirks like he knew she was going to say this. She licks her lips and wonders how bad it would be if she just kissed him right now.
They've been making out behind closed doors for a while, and even though it's not exactly a secret, it's just one of those things that no one seems to try defining it. Neither of them brings it up and if the others know anything, they don't bother asking about it. And most of the time she likes it like this because it's easy and it works for them, but she also likes to think that she means something to him and that this isn't some sort of friends-with-benefits situation. She's never told him, of course, but it's him so he's probably known for a while now.
She thinks that this emblem is his way of telling her all of that.
Her thoughts are pretty much confirmed, too, when she whispers, "Thank you," and he just smiles and mumbles back, "You're welcome," before kissing her, hard.
... ...
The night following their induction into the League, she sits in the middle of her living room floor and tinkers with the arrows spread out in front of her.
The apartment is mostly empty now and has been since her mother moved out.
Paula's job was bought out and relocated a few hours from Gotham and she was one of the few members that were offered to take promoted positions in their new building. She'd be earning a lot more than she already did, and her closest friend offered for Paula to move in with her closer to their work if she decided to take it. Artemis remained, obviously, because she's taking classes at Gotham State, but of course she wouldn't let her mother turn down such a perfect opportunity.
There's nothing left for Paula in Gotham anymore other than bitter memories, and now that Artemis can live on her own, she wanted her mother to finally leave this place and start something new.
"You know," someone says, and she whips her head around to find Nightwing walking out of the hallway, "you should probably keep your window locked."
She laughs and shakes her head. "It was locked."
"Oh." He grins. "Then you should probably move out. It's not very safe here."
"Shut up."
She told him that she was thinking of moving out of the apartment because it's old and now that it's just her living here, it feels way too empty. Plus, it's kind of inconvenient for her to get to the campus from here and the rent is starting to become pricey for her to pay alone.
"I brought dinner," he announces, pulling off the black backpack from his shoulders. "I know how much you love clam chowder."
"Thanks," she says, and sets down the arrow in her hand with the others as he settles beside her on the floor. "Did you bring…" He hands her a bowl and a spoon before she can finish asking, and she laughs again. She insisted that her mother should take everything with her when she moved out because Artemis wanted to buy new dishes, anyway, but she's waiting until she moves before she gets everything, which is why Nightwing has been coming every night to bring her dinner.
"So," he says as he's pouring their chowder, and she switches off the TV and looks at him. "What would you say if I told you that I found you a new place?"
"Nightwing," she groans.
"Artemis."
She rolls her eyes. "Please tell me that you're joking. I told you I wasn't going to take any charity."
"Would I ever do anything that you told me not to do?"
She hits him with a throw pillow.
"Okay," he laughs. She glares and tries to hit him again, but he grasps her wrist before she can. "All I'm saying is that I moved into a new apartment this week and there's more than enough room for the both of us. It's in the city and within walking distance of Gotham State. It's what you said you wanted, right?"
"Yeah, but…" She trails off, and she can feel his stare through the whites of his mask. Okay, it's not the worst idea in the world and it would probably save her a lot of trouble. It's been over a month since her mother moved out, and between crime fighting and school and the two part-time jobs she has to keep up with the rent (because she refuses to take handouts), Artemis hasn't had the time to sit down and go apartment hunting for something that's closer to campus and more affordable.
He smiles at her like he can just feel her giving into it. "If I move in with you," she finally says, "then we're splitting all of the bills evenly."
"I kind of figured that would be your condition," he admits with a grin.
"And you know," she begins, leaning her side against the couch and propping her chin in her palm, "if I move in with you, then you're finally going to have to show me your secret identity. Even you can't hide something like that for very long if we live together."
He shrugs one shoulder. "Who said I wanted to?" he says in this soft voice, and she sits up a little straighter.
"How long have you been planning this?" she asks, because no, she doesn't think it's a coincidence that he happened to move into an apartment that meets her requirements. And if he's known for a while now that he was going to ask her, then there's obviously a lot more to the question than just her moving in with him.
"A while," he answers, and she lets out a breath.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he echoes.
She feels her heart thrumming in her chest as she reaches forward and places her hand against his cheek, her thumb falling over the edge of his mask, and in the back of her mind, she's reminded of sitting beside him on his hospital bed.
He might've ended up stopping her then, but as she's pushing her fingers underneath his mask, it's pretty clear he won't try to stop her now.
She places her other hand over his other cheek and feels herself holding a breath as she pulls the surprisingly flimsy material from his face. His bangs fall to his eyelashes as he lifts his eyelids up slowly, and her own eyes widen a little as she realizes that she actually recognizes the breathtaking shade of blue staring back at her.
She exhales this laugh, feeling a wide smile spread across her face as she wonders how she could've been so oblivious.
He chuckles.
"I told you that we'd laugh about this someday."
... ...
When they visit Paula, the three of them eat at this Thai restaurant that Paula's been mentioning to Artemis recently whenever they'd talk over the phone. The curry that Artemis tries tastes amazing, and she eats a little of Dick's barbecue, which is delicious, too.
"So, what is it that the two of you wanted to tell me?" Paula asks after taking another sip of her Thai iced tea. "Or better yet, just show me. I want to see it!"
Artemis laughs. Of course she already knows they're up to something.
And really, Artemis still isn't entirely over her surprise. She's excited, of course, and she's not in denial of anything. But the entire moment seemed so perfect when it'd happen that sometimes she still thinks it couldn't have been real. She really thought she'd been dreaming at first, because it was really bright and sunny in their room and she woke up and saw him smiling at her, playing with her fingers where her hand was lying on the pillow between them, and she really hadn't expected it to be like that.
So she sets her left hand in her mother's, the diamond around her fourth finger twinkling underneath the light of the glass chandelier.
... ...
They haven't told anyone yet because the wedding is a little over a month away and they figured that they should just make the announcement then.
Artemis is pregnant.
She's eight weeks along and the only ones that know are Paula (because she'd hate having to find out with everyone else), and Bruce, Dinah, Tim and Alfred (because Dick has been itching to tell anyone and everyone they know since they first found out, and telling his family was the only way he'd agree to not tell anyone else until the wedding). It seems like Paula calls to check up on them at least four times a day and they always seem to be at the Mansion because Bruce insists that they come over.
And while she hates the fact that her clothes are starting to feel tighter and the morning sickness leaves a disgusting taste in her mouth and her cravings are getting more potent, she's excited and terrified about her pregnancy.
They're going to be parents.
Even now it's still kind of impossible to wrap her head around, especially when she's on the phone with her mother and Paula is telling her to eat fruits because it's good for the baby, or when she's walking around the mall with Dinah and they pass by the sections with baby clothes and cribs and strollers.
And it's pretty needless to say that she wouldn't be able to survive this without Dick.
He holds her hair when she's clinging to the toilet and throwing up, leaves saltines and makes tea and buys lollipops for her to suck on to help with the nausea, gets up and drives to wherever he needs to go when she's craving things at odd hours of the day, holds her in his arms and tells her sweet things when she has headaches and starts getting bloated and just feels awful. He does everything without even having to ask, unless he's asking her what her latest cravings are so he can get them for her.
She tells him that she loves him.
Of course she always has, and it's not like they didn't tell each other before or anything. But with all of the trouble she's causing, she knows he deserves to hear it a lot more.
"I love you," she says, squeezing their joined hands as the doctor moves the instrument against her stomach, spreading the cool gel around.
Dick smiles at her and squeezes back tightly. "I love you, too."
The doctor smiles at them, and they watch the swirls of black and white and gray moving across the screen. It's probably the hormones or something, but Artemis feels her eyes stinging as they begin to water a little. She has a feeling that, between the upcoming wedding and her pregnancy, she's going to be doing a lot of crying soon.
And they're all watching the screen as the image begins to settle and two small lumps become clear on the monitor.
"Congratulations," the doctor says, and she feels Dick's finger moving across her engagement ring as she continues, "It looks like you're having twins."