Tied down.
Itchy… so itchy…
"Sir?"
It's so hard to breathe …. I think I'm choking….
"Sir?"
Why must it be so bloody warm in here?
"Excuse me, ."
First, it was my throat; now my shoulders are feeling weird too….
"Richard."
Richard Grayson looked up to meet at least a dozen eyes staring at him in the same empty, bored and disapproving look. He put his hands down and stopped fidgeting his shoulders.
"Um- sorry?"
"I just wanted to know your viewpoint on the building up on 24th street."
"Oh, its great! I like it very much. Why do you ask?"
"We were thinking of demolishing it."
"Oh.… Well… We need to do what we must." Richard let out in a falsely assured tone.
The members of Board, disgruntledly unsatisfied with him- as they always were- turned back, to the charts in front of them as the speaker went on about quotas and the tax fluctuation. Richard let out a groan and a heavy sigh.
This was not the first time he had embarrassed himself among the Board Members. Bruce just had to go play Batman again and made Richard sit in on the Board meeting in his place. Richard's eyes gazed around the room, landing on all the pretentious old windbags in the room. None of the old gits here actually cared for what he had to say. They thought he didn't belong in the room, let alone the company, for he was "too young and not nearly ready to handle responsibilities" or so they always liked to mention. What did they know about responsibilities? What did they know about him?
Richard Grayson, adopted son of philanthropist Bruce Wayne and heir to a billion dollar empire of Wayne Industry, was just an ex-partyboy who had turned the cheek from recent events, according to the press. The only thing the press and the board of windbags did not take account for was his heroic crime-fighting by night as Nightwing and his past as Robin, team leader of the much beloved Teen Titans. Even as a teen, he handle responsibilities far more dire than any of these idiots had with crunching a few numbers.
He was still a hero, but he wasn't that needed anymore, or at least as much as last time. There were plenty of heroes nowadays, leaving him plenty of time, enough time for more mundane, real life matters, like work. And let's just say he finds more comfort in his spandex costume then he does an office suit.
But it wasn't Bruce or his age that was the real problem. He gazed downwards to what really was the thorn in his side, his hands grasping its smooth texture firmly. It was the damn necktie.
Richard Grayson loathes ties. He detests everything about them wholeheartedly. Their restricting discomfort, their irritating length, their never-ending stuffiness, their consistent flapping around and swinging. The way they suspend themselves whenever he bent over. He absolutely despises their very existence. He hates the sight of them, he hates the touch of them and most importantly, he hates wearing them.
And the fact that he had to wear them everyday to work made his days almost unbearable.
It was a long day. Richard was on his way to his car in the employee carpark. He walked, briefcase in hand, jacket tossed over his back in the other with a frown on his face and a stained and irregularly cut tie on his chest. The end of the tie's fabric was torn off and few dark blue strands hung limply across his dirtied shirt.
It was one of the worst days possible. After his misspeak at the board meeting, his tie had a taste of the canteen's special chili, soiling his new shirt and part of his pants. Luckily, he got most of the red gooey colour out, leaving an unappealing brown patch on his shirt and least favourite tie. He remembered the smirks and snickers his coworkers gave him when he came out of the restroom with the middle his pants all wet. Then there was the whole shredder incident after that, which he was still trying to block out.
Letting out a big sigh, he cracked his neck and opened the door.
"I'm home." Richard called out
"I'm here!" A voice replied. "How was your day?"
"Bad. Really bad." Was all he said as he dumped his briefcase and jacket on the couch behind him.
"I am unhappy to hear that." A figure floated out then dropped in front of him.
"But it's okay. I'm fine now." He smiled as he found relief in her warming presence.
"I am happy to hear that." She looked down to his shirt and remains of his tie. "What happened to you?" She cried, her face overcoming with grief.
"Nothing. Just a little work incident." He comforted.
"Oh. That's good I guess." She slid a finger down his war-torn tie. "I never liked this tie anyways." She looked back to him, her eyes gleaming with a very different sentiment than before.
She moved her lips to the side of his face. "Actually," she purred into his ear, her heavy breath passing off as a sultry whisper, "you know how much I dislike you wearing any tie." Her hands snaked up his shirt, "I don't understand why you bother to wear them everyday." Her hands stopped around his neck.
"I don't know either Star. But," his arms found their way around her waist, "if you really feel that way," He moved his face closer to hers, lowering his lips to her neck, "maybe you should take it off."But before he could make contact with the soft skin in her neck...
Gently grasping a hold of his tie, she pulled him towards the couch and pushed him down, in a less than gentle manner. He fell back into the couch with a loud thump, the couch itself sliding back a bit. He was sure there'd be a bruise on his back in the morning, but he didn't mind. He watched in awe as she combed her long red hair to one side over her shoulder, a smirk pulling at her lips.
Even now, after a year of marriage, she could still take his breath away. He learnt that her beauty and glow did not fade, instead they just became even more radiant everyday. His lips pulled into a smile as she climbed onto him, her knees on either side of his hips. His eyes roamed her exquisite body that was just inches away from his face. She lowered her face so they shared the same eye level. Paralysed by her enticing beauty, his hands stayed at his side. Her face was so close and every one of her flawless features were giving him butterflies. His electric blue gazed into her shining green and fell to her full lips, pursed to perfection. She moved her hands up from the side of his waist and snaked her arms around his neck.
Edging his face upwards, he wanted so badly to capture her lips. Edging upwards.. slowly... And just as his lips were about to touch hers, he was pulled back by a tight grip on the back of his head. Another thing he had learnt, the hard way, was how much of a tease she was. With one hand toying with the ends of his hair, she used her other to grab ahold of his tie.
"Oh, do not worry," Richard moaned as she yanked his tie, bringing his face even closer to hers than it was before. He could feel her breath on his lips as she uttered the words, "I will."
Yes, Dick Grayson did not like ties the least bit. But if there was anything that trumped his hate for wearing a tie, it would be his love for them being taken off, because, much to his joy, he wasn't the only one that despised them. And that was enough motivation to keep wearing one every morning.
Last minute kind of thing. Hoped you liked it. :D