Title: Maybe
Author: Simon
Pairing: Dick Grayson/Garth
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Garth's brooding about something
Warnings: none
Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.
Archive: Fine, but if you want it, please ask first.
Feedback: Hell, yes.
Maybe
It was a beautiful late afternoon heading into dusk and the two of them had spent the day on Garth's favorite boat out on the bay, sailing and enjoying the rare treat of free time alone with one another. They had gone below decks more than once to make love and had swum in the cold water, Garth's magic warming it to Dick's comfort level, dozing together afterwards, lulled by the slap of the waves and the rocking of the ship. It was probably the laziest day the two of them ever had together, and they had decided to extend it by spending the night on the boat out of sight of land, a rare treat Garth loved. He'd been quieter than usual this past week and while Dick wondered why, knew there was no point in asking; Garth would tell him in his own time or not at all. The time on the water seemed to be helping, though, so that was something. They were having a good day, one of their best in a long time—work and all the garbage shoved to a back burner for now. A good day.
Right now the boat was tied to a jetty on the small island, the two men sitting at a table on the deck of a dockside restaurant for an early dinner, enjoying the blaze of red clouds on the horizon. A couple of people, mostly yachties, had come over after recognizing—or rather not being able to recognize the lines or homeport of Garth's boat and had asked, politely, what it was and where on earth it was from. His answers, always gracious, were met with something close to awe and the few people who knew his name or face from all of the recent publicity, were complimentary. Dick was largely ignored, which was just fine with both of them. Declining several offers to share their meal with some of the others, they were finally left in peace, though they were only able to ignore the on going stares and scrutiny through years of practice.
They were sitting without touching—they almost never displayed affection in public, chatting some, but mostly just enjoying being together while they waited for their food. A candle protected by a hurricane chimney flickered on the table between then, casting it's small light as the sun disappeared. After several silent minutes Dick noticed that Garth was watching a young couple that were eating at a table about twenty feet away from theirs. He had no idea who they were or why Garth was watching them, but watching he was.
Finally his eyes shifted and he read the question in Dick's expression.
His answer was pitched so only they could hear. "Do you ever miss being with a woman?"
"…Garth?"
"Do you?"
Dick wasn't sure how the question was meant, whether it was serious or some kind of joke. He decided to go with the easy answer of his being teased. "You know I'm happy being with you." He smiled suggestively. "I'll even show you again later if you want."
"Dick…" No, he wasn't joking.
"Alright, I'm sorry…how do you mean—romantically?"
"Romantically, sexually." He turned to face Dick, sipping his wine. "It's not the same, we both know that." Another sip. "So do you? Miss it, I mean." He leaned back in his chair, watching to see how Dick would respond.
Dick was tempted to give an uncomplicated answer, say something glib to reassure Garth, if that was what he wanted but then realized from the expression on his face that Garth wanted to really know and had probably been thinking about this for days, if not weeks. They'd been together as a couple for almost four years now, and not all of them had been smooth ones. They had worked through the occasional rough patch and they were both quietly—and sometimes not so quietly—happy to be at the point in their relationship where they knew almost everything about one another, were comfortable with either talk or silence and trusted one another completely.
And Garth wouldn't ask a question if he didn't want to know.
"Sometimes I, I don't know, I think about being with a woman." Oh, God, what if Garth didn't want to hear that after all? What if he got up and told him to go find himself one, if that was what he wanted. "I haven't been looking for someone or anything—I swear I haven't. I just, you know, I think about it sometimes."
Garth took a calm breath, still looking at Dick, assessing him almost too coolly, detached. "I think about it, too." He turned as another boat pulled up, a gang of teenagers tying up and laughing as they came off the dock onto the sand and making comments about the 'bitchin boat' tied next to theirs. "Sometimes I dream about being with Tula, what it was like, how she felt when we made love, what it was like to be inside of her—and the others…does that bother you?"
Maybe a little. Their sex life together was better than anything Dick had with anyone before and he couldn't imagine it not being enough, but if Garth wasn't satisfied, if he wanted to be with a woman again… "Look, I know you loved her, I guess I'd be surprised if you didn't think about her." But what did he really want? Was this some kind of let down? Did he want to connect with someone? Was he tired of the whole thing they had together? Maybe he wanted to move on, get to another phase of his life or something.
God, don't let him want to leave.
Trying to not show how shaken he was by this; "Has something happened?"
Garth was watching the young couple at the nearby table again. They were holding hands and laughing, happy. "I'm not having an affair, if that's what you're asking, no. I just think sometimes that…" He trailed off then brought his attention back to his lover. "Sometimes I think that it would feel good, that's all. It's—it's softer with a woman, the kisses are gentler, more tender. There is more a feeling of actually fitting together, rather than making it fit." He saw the expression on Dick's face, the fear. "I'm not saying that I don't love you—in fact I do, but haven't you ever felt that?"
"Well, I…no, I haven't."
Garth quirked an eyebrow. "Never?"
The waitress appeared with their food, placing it in front of them. She looked about nineteen and was probably a student at the local university. "Is that boat over there yours? It's like the coolest thing I've ever seen." She gave Garth a smile that could melt your fillings. "God, you have the moist incredible eyes, has anyone ever told you that?"
Only everyone he'd ever met and not always as a compliment. "Thank you." Garth gave her a polite smile—this happened to him a lot.
"I haven't seen you around here before—you must be new, right?"
"I usually berth further down the coast."
Christ, couldn't this girl see she was interrupting? Dick shifted in his seat, picking up his utensils as a hint. She didn't get it.
"I'm usually pretty shy, but I was wondering—I get off in like half an hour and if you guys haven't got any plans, I have a friend and maybe we could catch a movie or something?" She looked like a puppy hoping for a handout—sweet and harmless and good-natured.
Garth gave her an almost real smile; she probably thought he meant it, but Dick knew better; it was the smile he used at a state dinner when all he wanted was to be home reading a book but was stuck talking with someone he'd rather have never met. "We're both" he looked over to include Dick, "really quite flattered and that sounds like it would be fun, but I'm afraid that we already have plans for later. Thank you, though."
She nodded, expecting no less. "You have the greatest accent, you're from Europe, aren't you? Exchange student?"
"Thank you and no; and I'm not a student."
Dick was starting to feel like he wasn't even there, the girl had barely glanced at him and, God, he was jealous of Garth. 'Stuff a sock in it, Grayson', was playing through his mind on a repeat loop. How could he be jealous of Garth, his best friend, his long-term lover, the man he lived with, and the man he was completely in love with? Garth was just being polite to the girl, he wasn't going to have sex with her or anything—he was trying to get rid of her. And this sort of thing happened almost every time Garth stepped outside. It was just…him.
"So where are you from? Your accent is so, I don't know, it's a really great accent. I don't think I've ever heard one quite like it."
"I'm Atlantean."
"…No way. Oh, that is just so cool—can you really breathe underwater and—oh, that is just so totally cool."
"Yes, thank you, we enjoy it."
She turned to Dick, finally. "Are you from there, too?"
"No, I'm just a local."
"...Oh." Her attention shifted back to Garth. "Are you sure you can't get away tonight? I know some really great places you've probably never seen and…"
"That's really very kind of you, but I'm afraid that we do have plans, so if we could just…" He looked at his food.
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, of course, you eat! But look, if you get free?" She wrote her number on her pad and handed the page to Garth and then with obvious reluctance, thankfully went back to work.
They began on their meals, Garth already forgetting the waitress and Dick probably going to take the memory to his grave. "You could have had her if you wanted, you know."
Garth was working on his omelet. "I know, but I don't want her. I want you."
"But what were you saying about missing being with a woman? Were you serious about that?"
Garth sighed, a sign he was about to explain something to Dick again because he'd failed to grasp the meaning the first time around. "I didn't say I was—how do you put it? Right. I'm not 'looking to get laid'. I said that sometimes I think about the differences between being with a man as opposed to being with a woman and asked if you ever feel the same."
Dick spoke around a mouthful of steak. "But you said it in a way that sounded like you missed it—missed the differences."
"I suppose that I do, but not enough to throw away what we have." He almost smiled. "I'm not dumping you, you know."
Dick finished chewing and swallowed. "You mean that given an offer like you just had, you'd turn it down, even if I wasn't here, even though you just admitted to missing being with a woman?" He looked a little confused. "Why?"
"Because I'm in love with you." Calm, rational, matter of fact—that was Garth. Until they were in bed when he was uninhibited, enthusiastic and insatiable. And creative. "And if I did accept an offer like that, though you might allow it and forgive the lapse in monogamy, you'd be hurt and would never really forget about it."
That was so completely Garth. "But if you had the chance and you knew I wouldn't find out—say underwater or on some assignment—would you?"
"You mean if there was no possibility of your finding out?"
"Right."
"No."
"Because?"
That sigh again. "Because I would know, even if you didn't and it would still violate things we've promised to one another." He put his hand on top of Dick's resting on the tablecloth, gently stroking the fingers.
"But you still miss it."
Garth's fingers laced with his, a rare display where they could be seen. "Yes, but it's not important."
But he'd brought it up. It was on his mind and that made it important.
"Do you guys want dessert? Coffee?" The waitress was back, her eyes fixed on their hands together on the table. They could almost smell her disappointment.
The two men exchanged a look. "No, we're done, thanks—just the check, please."
They managed to get away from the dock with just a few questions about the unusual design of their boat—Garth's boat—from some of the dinner people and were quiet on the sail out past the headland to open water and away from land for the night. They sat in silence that was slightly strained instead of companionable, at least from Dick's perspective and Garth seemed to have directed all of his attention to watching their wake, his mind obviously a hundred miles away. They didn't talk much, or rather, Dick got tired of non-answers and monosyllables. They weren't arguing and neither one of them was angry, but there was a distance that made Dick uncomfortable and nervous. This simply wasn't like them, or like Garth.
Dick had never seen him brood, but that was what he was doing now and nothing he could think of seemed to be helping to break his mood.
Finally, around midnight, Dick went below, settling into the double bed, leaving Garth to his thoughts. Sometime later the feel of a warm body sliding in next to his own, arms around him and a single kiss on his shoulder wakened him. "Forgive me for today. I'm sorry, I know I've upset you and that's not what I wanted."
"Can you tell me about it?"
A hesitation, then, "Today…the twelfth. It's been seven years to the day."
"Garth?"
"Since Tula was killed. She's been on my mind, it happens every year."
Oh, God. He knew that. He did. He knew and he'd forgotten. Dick turned in Garth's arms, facing him; his hand came up, brushing a long couple of curls off his lover's forehead, asking quietly, "Is there anything I can do?"
Garth shook his head slightly, turning to kiss the hand that had slipped down to his cheek. "You do it by being here."
Outside the hull, inches away, the waves slapped and the boat rocked in the waves.
12/10/04
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