Silence Speaks Louder than Words
A/N: So, this is my first actual fanfiction, although not my first fiction. First of all, I don't expect to get many readers because it's AU, and I personally don't like AU, so I don't know why I wrote this. Basically, I watched Batman Forever and remembered how much I love Chris O'Donnell and realized that I needed to write a semi-tragic angst-filled story of love. Because of that, it's set in the Batman Forever continuity. Dick is 20.
This is set a few months after Dick moves in to Wayne Manor, but he's not Robin. Robin is Sky Summers, who is the only character I own in this story. In this Universe, Dick becomes Nightwing when he finds out that Bruce is Batman and Sky is Robin. Sky is a little like Tim Drake, but more fun. This is rambly and poorly written, mainly because I worked on it for four days from 11 pm to 2 am while in bed. It's soppy and unrealistic and romantic, but I thought it was kind of cute so I figured I'd post it anyway.
Title: Silence Speaks Louder than Words
Author: Bing Monroe
Disclaimer: I own Sky Summers, Amber, and Jared. That's it. I don't own Batman, Robin, Nightwing, or any associated materials. Although if I could own Chris O'Donnell, I would in a second.
Summary: In a perfect world, Sky could tell Dick how he felt about him. In a perfect world, Dick would feel the same way. In a perfect world, Sky wouldn't have to spend every single day making himself hate Dick just so that he doesn't risk showing affection.
Warning: This is slash, which means it involves boylove. It's rated M for language and some sexual content.
Kingly unspoken, you show your emotion.
Silence speaks louder than words, yes.
As lucky and clever, if I didn't know better,
I'd believe only that which I'd heard.
"Watcha doin'?"
The voice—and the sudden realization that Dick was leaning over my left shoulder—made me jump out of my chair at the dining room table and fall to the floor where I laid and glared disapprovingly at the older man.
I recovered and stood up, sliding back into my seat and picking up my pencil again. "History," I said. "An essay."
"Hm," was all he said in response. I could feel him still there, face just inches from mine. He smelled like coffee and deodorant, a not altogether unpleasant combination. Because it was coming from him, it kind of made me think of sex.
Not that I really knew what sex smelled like. I had just heard things.
Without warning, his hand swooped down out of nowhere and plucked my essay out from under the scratching tip of my pencil. I let out what I hoped sounded like a frustrated noise and scooted my chair back, reaching for my paper. He had moved away though, and was thoughtfully chewing on a twizzler as he read what I had spent the better part of an hour writing on the fall of serfdom in 19th century Russia.
I rolled my eyes and waited for him to give the paper back, as I knew he would. Although he was 20 to my 16, I knew infinitely more about scholastic endeavors than he did. While I had been at prep school, he had been in the circus. Not that I thought that his childhood was wrong, it was just drastically different from mine. I wouldn't have him trade his acrobat skills for anything.
It was a few months since Dick had started functioning as Nightwing (since I was still Robin, and was thoroughly unwilling to give that position up for anyone) but he had already fallen into all of our lives that it was like he had been living in the manor since before I had, which I was glad wasn't true. One of the few things I had over him (because he was older, taller, hotter, stronger, and he had that insanely sexy smile) was that I had been doing what I did for three years to his three months.
When Bruce had brought him home after Dick's family had been killed, it had been hard to adjust. I was used to being the only kid in the house. Teasing Alfred was my job. So was giving Bruce hell. So was leaving a mess in the kitchen. Suddenly there was a new body living there—not to mention the fact that this body was pretty much as close to perfection as humanly possible, and he came with a leather jacket to boot—and it kind of rocked my world.
Not just because I started falling in love with Dick the moment we first met, but because it was no longer "Bruce and I." It was "Bruce, Dick, and I." Although the falling in love probably had something to do with it, I had to admit. That charm, that smile, that "I really don't want to be here" attitude that had eventually melted into feeling at home.
When Bruce introduced us, I think Dick had thought I was his son, which was kind of funny. Then, when he found out that Bruce had adopted me, he had made some joke about Bruce having a thing for hot younger guys, which had mortified me and pissed Bruce off to no end. Dick couldn't see it, but I knew Bruce's signs well enough to read the thin lips and hard eyes. It wasn't a very funny joke, especially since I'm gay.
That's the reason I was living with Bruce in the first place. My parents had been friends with him at some time in the past, and I had spent plenty of evenings being entertained by Alfred while my mom and dad had dinner with him. I guess my grandparents had been friends with his parents, too, so we went back a long time. When my dad beat me up and kicked me out after I came out to them, I went to Bruce's. I guess he had gotten everything taken care of with the law and the papers, because I was legally his charge.
Dick was legally an adult, so I didn't totally get why Bruce had brought him home in the first place, but I was glad that he had, in the end. Dick was a nuisance, childish, and (as he was currently demonstrating by keeping me from my homework) he caused me no end of grief. Plus, he tracked mud through the house one thing I never did. But despite all that, when I organized my face into an expression of cold indifference when he stumbled into the kitchen shirtless every morning, grumbling for coffee, my chest got all warm and my stomach did a weird sort of dancing thing. Dick complained about my being a tight-ass and a bore and a jerk to him (his exact term was "uber meanie") but I knew that that was how it had to be. If I were as nice to him as I wanted to be, I would risk showing my affection. That was something I could never do.
He knew I was gay (I guess someone must have mentioned it to him, because there's no way he was bright enough to figure it out on his own,) and I knew this because one time he had asked me why I had never brought a boyfriend home, which made me apologize a million times to Bruce after spitting out my iced tea all over him. I had mumbled something about not having or wanting a boyfriend, and Dick had only teased me about being single a couple of times before realizing that it was one of those things that he needed to put on a list of subjects not to be made light of.
He kept offering to take me to and from school on his motorcycle, claiming that it would probably impress all my friends. I was a terrible driver (I could fly the BatWing like nobody's business, but I failed driver's ed) so I had to rely on rides from Alfred or my friends, but I had told him that getting dropped off in a limo was more than enough to impress my friends. They had all seen the mansion anyway.
Dick seemed to be having some trouble understanding my essay, because he was making funny faces at it and mouthing certain words as if he didn't know what they meant, which he probably didn't. I stood from the table and snatched the paper out of his hands, causing him to say "Hey!" and try to get it back.
"Dick, go away. I'm trying to work."
I didn't look up, but I heard his defeated sigh, then the sound of his footsteps as he walked away and the creaking of the stairs as he went up them. A minute later and I heard his door shut.
I let out a sigh of my own and wondered how much longer I was going to be able to do this.
May angels lead you in.
Hear you, me, my friend.
On sleepless roads the sleepless go,
May angels lead you in.
I had told Dick repeatedly that I neither wanted nor needed him to ever give me a ride to or from school. With all of my friends (all of whom were much better drivers than I was) willing to take me places, I was pretty much set.
So when I heard the familiar rumble of a motorcycle as I walked down the steps of my high school at 3 one afternoon, I groaned audibly and smacked my face with my hand.
"What's wrong, Sky? Isn't that Dick?" my friend Amber asked, eyes lighting up. Of course she knew Dick. Every person who had ever set foot on the property knew Dick. The girls gravitated towards him, leaning over to expose cleavage and batting their eyelashes at him. The guys, although jealous of the girls' obvious interest in him, thought he was the coolest person ever. He wore leather jackets, fixed motorcycles, and always had that sort of "fuck-the-world" thing going on that made him the perfect idol.
There was a small crowd of my friends and classmates gathered around the bike when I approached, trying to contain my anger. Of course he had taken the '15 Harley, rather than his own bike.
Show-off.
He looked at me and beamed, clearly so proud of himself for coming up with the brilliant idea of surprising me. "Hey, bud. Hop on, I'll take you home." He offered me a helmet, but I ignored it.
They say looks can kill, and I hoped that I was conveying such a look to him. "I'll take Alfred and the car, thanks." I spat out the last word, causing my friends to all turn and look at me like I was crazy. How dare I be so rude to Dick-the-God?
An unsettlingly cocky expression took over Dick's face and I swear to god he was smirking as he said "Oh, Alfred's not coming. I told him I would pick you up. It's either me or hitching, kid."
That last word—"kid"—did it. I turned on my heel and walked away, shouting over my shoulder that I would walk. I would have to have a talk with that butler about putting my wellbeing in the hands of someone like Dick.
Nobody said it was easy.
It's such a shame for us to part.
Nobody said it was easy.
No one ever said it would be this hard.
Take me back to the start.
I was about five minutes from the school when the roar of the bike hit my ears. I had been hoping that he had taken the hint and gone away, hopefully in the other direction, but it seemed that he had only wanted time to bid farewell to his fan club before hunting me down again. I prayed—but didn't expect—for him to continue past me. That would be humiliating, but at least I wouldn't have to ride with him.
Of course he didn't, and I rolled my eyes as he pulled over in front of me and shut the engine off, pulling off his helmet. His earring glinted in the April sun, and for a moment I imagined myself with an earring like his. I would look ridiculous. Whereas he had the rugged, sexy looks of a badass I was blonde, green-eyed, and had a baby face. It wouldn't work.
Dick was smiling a little less than he had been before, and I saw what I interpreted as some sort of pleading in his eyes.
"Why don't you want to let me give you a ride? Is it about the bike? 'Cause I swear it's totally safe. I've been riding them forever, never been in an accident. Bruce said it was fine."
Apparently Alfred wasn't the only one I was going to have to have a talk with.
I was a fighter by nature, which tended to be a good trait when I was Robin, but I also knew when to concede a loss. With another death-glare at Dick I snatched the spare helmet from the back of the bike and snapped it on, sliding into place on the leather passenger seat. I grabbed hold of the sides to secure myself, refusing to touch Dick.
"You're gonna have to hold on to me, Sky. It's not safe if you don't."
With a sigh I gingerly wrapped my arms around his waist, locking my fingers in the front. He grabbed my jeans and tugged, pulling my body forward so that I was completely pressed up against his back. By the time he had started the engine and the entire motorcycle was vibrating, I was achingly hard in my Levi's. I prayed that he wouldn't notice the bulge pressing into his backside.
No such luck, of course. I could practically hear the laughter in his voice as he tossed over his shoulder "Don't worry, it happens to everybody." I couldn't tell if he meant because of bike, or because of him, but I was too petrified to care. With a roar the bike came to life and we zoomed off, and my terror caused me to temporarily disregard the fact that I made it a point to never touch Dick.
We crossed the deepest oceans, far go across the sea,
And if you don't believe me, just put your hands on me.
And all the constellations shined down for us to sea,
And if you don't believe me, just put your hands on me.
Despite the athleticism that my job as Robin required me to show, I didn't really go for school sports. Games and practices and all that was hard to do when you never knew when you were going to need to save Gotham.
I was on student council and in the debate club, because neither required tons of devotion. I could plan dances and bake sales during school hours or from home, and my debates only took a few minutes a day to write. I happened to be both opinionated and informed on what I argued about, which made me stand out from most of the other members of the club.
The one sport that I did play was soccer, and I did so with a ferocity that tended to scare my teammates. That was the other reason I didn't do many sports—I was viciously competitive. The only reasons I had chosen soccer, besides the fact that I was good at it, was that practices were held during the school day, not afterward, and games were only once a week.
When Dick had found out that I played soccer, about a month after he had moved in, he had asked when my next game was. I asked why, and he responded "Because I want to see you play, doofus."
I told him that I wasn't any good and that I never got played, which was a complete and utter lie. I was starting striker. He must have believed me because he dropped it, clearly thinking that I must be embarrassed by my lack of athletic prowess. As if.
So at one of our games a few weeks later when I was taking a quick water break and I let my eyes travel the crowd, I spit out my water at the sight of Dick in the very back of the bleachers. He looked both triumphant and annoyed.
I was fucked.
I put Dick out of my head for the rest of the game and played my usual best, causing us to win the game by more than 8 points. I dilly-dallied in the locker room and took my time walking with my friends to their cars. My friend Jared had offered me a ride home, and I was prepared to take it when I heard my name called from the other side of the parking lot. Not my nickname, oh no. Someone must have tipped him off to my full name because the entire team got hear Dick yell out "Skylark!" at the top of his lungs. Oh, I am a lucky boy. I apologized to Jared and told him to give me a minute, that I would be right back.
I hurried over to Dick, avoiding his eyes like I had been caught doing something I shouldn't. "I didn't know you were coming," I said. "I have a ride, so you can go."
Dick was having none of it. He called out to Jared "Go ahead, I can take him!" Jared left, clearly thinking that I was in trouble for something and not wanting to be there when the drama started. I looked up then, narrowing my eyes at Dick.
"Why'd you do that? Now I have to ride on that damn bike with you." I knew I was being rude, but I couldn't help it. I knew I had been caught in a lie and I didn't like the feeling.
"Not any good, huh? I could see that you were never played. That must have been why you were on the field about 95 of the time. You guys had what, 23 or something? How many of those goals were yours?" He didn't sound angry, exactly, just annoyed.
"17," I said, looking down. "Listen Dick, I really don't need this shit from you. Why does it even matter?" I moved towards that bike from hell, but I was stopped by Dick's hand tight around my bicep.
"It matters because you lied to me for no reason. Why didn't you want me to go to your game? You were awesome, Sky. I'd think you'd want to show it off. You've got talent."
I blushed magenta, and I was glad that I was in a position to turn away so he couldn't see me turn funny colors. "Whatever. Let's just go, kay?" I stayed turned away from him, but I heard him let out a breath and relax his grip on my arm. He mounted the bike and I got on after him. Despite my terror of the bike, I barely put my hands on his waist and he didn't say anything to make me do more.
Gotta have roots before branches,
To know who I am before I know who I wanna be.
And faith to take chances,
To live like I see, a place in this world for me.
I was in my room later that night, laying on my bed and flipping through magazines, when I felt eyes on me and looked up to find Dick leaning casually against the doorframe, muscular arms crossed in front of him.
We stared at each other for a few minutes before I found my head and glared, snapping shut my magazine. "Can I help you?"
Dick wasn't smiling, but he didn't look mad. He was staring at me curiously, as though he was trying to figure something out that he didn't understand. It was a lot like the expression he wore when he read my homework.
I felt uncomfortably naked. He was in jeans and a tee shirt (oh god, a tee shirt that showed off his ridiculously amazing chest and grapefruit-sized biceps so perfectly) and I was in nothing but my mesh gym shorts from school and a see-through white tank top. I pulled my legs up and wrapped my arms around them, well aware that I looked kind of ridiculous trying to cover myself and appear vicious at the same time.
Dick walked into the room, loping with that casual grace that defined all of his movements. He sat on the bed—without an invitation, might I add—and leaned in my direction, still looking at me with that creepily suspicious expression.
I swallowed thickly, and my frown faltered. "What do you want, Dick? Or did you just want to sit there and creep on me?"
Dick looked down for a moment before looking up again, and I was surprised to see what looked like sadness in his eyes.
"I want to know why you seem to hate me so much. I talked to Bruce and Alfred, and they both said that you were never as rude or moody as you are now that I'm living here, so it has to be about me. They said that you used to be fun, talkative, friendly, all these things that you aren't anymore. I'm thinking that you must have some reason for being such a little brat, and I'd really like to hear it."
Dick was leaning over on the bed so that he was pretty close to me, only about a foot away. I wasn't really aware of anything I was doing, because I think all the blood rushed to my head from what Dick had said. All I knew was that he looked absolutely gorgeous right then and there, and that I couldn't take it anymore.
I leaned forward on the bed, bridged the gap between our faces, and pressed my lips against his. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, and my mouth stayed firmly closed, but it was the most wondrous sensation I had ever felt. It was like I was exploding, being electrocuted, and orgasming at the same time, although I'm pretty sure I didn't actually orgasm.
When I pulled away Dick looked absolutely shocked, and that woke me up from my daze. With a sudden rush of terror I realized what I had done, and all that pleasure went right out the window. My hand flew to my mouth, where I could still feel the warmth of Dick's lips, and I jumped off the bed and ran out the door and down the hall, not stopping till I was in some far-off wing of the mansion.
Oh boy.
I was in some deep shit.
It must have been close to one in the morning by the time I slunk back to my room. Thank god it was spring, because walking around barefoot and in almost no clothes during the winter is basically suicide in the mansion. I was surprised that Bruce hadn't come and found me, he tends to always know when something is up in his house. It's pretty unnerving.
I peeked in through my door to make sure that Dick hadn't like passed out on the floor and stayed there for hours and hours, but I was glad to see the room empty.
I was tired beyond belief, but I knew I couldn't sleep. With a weight in my stomach, I dragged my big duffel bag out from underneath the bed and started filling it up with my clothes.
When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The giving up is the hardest part.
I left the letters I wrote for Bruce and Alfred on Bruce's desk, where I knew he would find them. I had decided what I had to do, and I was doing it. There was no way I could live with Dick anymore. It just wasn't happening.
I went to the garage and dragged the motorcycle I was taking out. As much as I hated them, as terrible as they were, if I took one of them Bruce wouldn't mind as much as if I had taken a car…or the BatWing. He might get pretty mad if I took the latter.
I had read about how to ride a motorcycle online, and it seemed simple enough. Sort of like riding a bike, except that this bike was going to go a lot faster and it would hurt a lot more if I crashed.
I stored my bag underneath the seat and mounted it, almost falling over from the weight itself. There was a significant chance that I was going to kill myself on this stupid getaway machine, but I was too tired and too angry and too delusional to care.
Stupid fucking Dick! All of this was his fault. If he hadn't been so goddamn hot and charming and perfect then I wouldn't have fallen in love with him and then I would have kissed him and now I wouldn't be running (well, riding) away at 2 a.m. It was all his fault.
I was trying to kick the stupid thing that was supposed to make the damn bike start when I felt his eyes on me again, and whirled around on the bike to glare at him.
"Go the fuck away."
I returned to trying to get the engine started, planning on ignoring him entirely. That didn't work so well when I felt a hang close around my jacket and lift me off the motorcycle and put me on the ground as if I was some little kid. How dare he!
"Sky, what the fuck do you think you're doing? Running away?" Dick looked mad, like really mad. Like actually pissed-off mad, rather than his normal "you're being mean to me and I'm gonna sulk like a three-year-old" mad.
"Yeah, actually, that's exactly what I'm doing. Now leave me alone, Dick. Just…fuck! Why can't you leave me alone?" I was furious to realize that tears were starting to well up in my eyes. No way was I going to cry in front of him.
Dick noticed the tears and his expression immediately softened. As mad as he was, he obviously didn't mean to make me cry. He put his hands on my shoulders and lowered himself down a little so that he was my height. "Hey, don't cry, come on. I'm sorry. Is this about before, in your room? Because it doesn't matter to me. It's cool, Sky. I'm not mad or upset or—" BAM!
I think the only reason that I managed to hit him was that he totally didn't expect it. I think the only reason that I managed to hit him so hard was that I had enough emotions pumping through me to put a menopausal woman to shame. He went down like a brick wall, and I knew that he was unconscious. I let myself sob quietly for a few seconds over what I had just done, and why I had done it, before getting on the bike again and kicking the stupid pedal right so that the engine started. I took off with a roar, and was out the gates before you could "heartbroken," which was what I was.
Dick was understanding, of course he was. He wasn't the kind of guy who'd avoid me or be disgusted or anything like that, he was way too good for that. Instead we would spend the rest of our time together in awkwardness. Me, wishing I was somewhere else, and him, feeling sadness and pity for the poor little gay boy who was in love with him. I could never take that.
Why do I reach for the stars,
When I don't have wings to carry me that far?
In my time working as Robin, I had learned a lot. I had learned about fighting, detective work, and maintaining a secret identity. I had learned about loneliness, family, and love.
You would think that, in all of my lessons, I would have learned never to run away with barely a quarter tank of gas.
Or maybe to not ride through the sketchiest, most dangerous neighborhood of Gotham toying with the big fat "E."
Alas, there I was. In one of the creepiest parts of a very dangerous city, out of gas, facing off against a gang of guys who, for some reason or another, really took offense to angel-faced teens roaming "their" streets at night.
I had landed the first kick easily, and he went down. I dropped two more before the element of surprise wore off and the gang realized that I was worth fighting. I took one or two punches and sent four or five back, but I was clearly outnumbered and I knew that I wouldn't last long. If I had my Robin suit and my birdarangs or my bo staff I might be able to get them, but I was in jeans and a hoodie. The most dangerous weapon I had was myself, and I was wearing out. I was functioning on zero sleep, and emotional turmoil tends to kind of take it out of you.
I flattened another goon before I heard a smash and felt white hot pain spread across my skull. I was down in a second, staring up into the face of one particularly large goon holding a crowbar, which was what I assumed I had felt connect with the back of my head. I saw him lift it into the air to deliver what would probably be the final blow, but something dark and lightning fast came at him from the side and delivered a superb kick to the face.
I was slipping in and out of darkness, but I could see whoever it was proceed to take out the rest of the gang. I saw the shape moving towards me, and the last thing I heard before I passed out was the words "Don't worry kid, it's gonna be fine."
He said "It's crazy how love stays with me.
You know, and it hurts me 'cause I don't want to fight this war."
And it's amazing to see me reading through this scene of love,
And feel an apology.
When I woke up, I was first aware of two things. One was that I felt like someone had dropped a boulder on me. The second was that I was being cradled in someone's arms, and as humiliating as the thought of being held like a baby was, I was really enjoying it.
It took a few seconds to figure out how to open my eyes, then a few more to actually manage it. Once I did, I could see that we were still in the alleyway that I had fought in. I could see the shape of the bike a few feet away. Next I turned my eyes upward and looked into Dick's face. My gut reaction was to glare, so I tried to rearrange my facial expression accordingly. It must have looked more like an expression of pain, because Dick's worry lines deepened and he made a relaxing "Shhh" sound and ran his hand though my hair, which felt so nice that I didn't even try to glare again.
The pain started to go away a little, so pushed myself up and saw that Dick was sitting up against the wall, and I had been in his lap. I felt myself blush and turned away from Dick, trying to get up and failing. I settled for crawling a few feet away and turning to face him.
"How…did you find me?" I looked at an ambiguous spot on the ground near Dick's knee, avoiding his eyes.
"I used the satellite computers in the BatCave. You'd be surprised by the lack of motorcycles driving the streets of Gotham at 2 a.m. You weren't hard to find. I took another bike and went after you." He paused for a moment, and I could feel him staring at me. "You okay?" he asked.
"I'll be fine. I don't think it's a concussion. Thanks for…" I jerked my head to the bike. "…you know. Helping." I wanted to say that I wouldn't have been in trouble in the first place if he hadn't come out and tried to stop me. I might have noticed that the tank was almost empty and filled it up. But I didn't want to sound like a total ingrate.
"No problem. I do have to ask though, will you punch me if I get near you again?" I glanced up for a second and wasn't surprised to see a smirk on his face.
"No…and I'm sorry about that. I just…you wouldn't let me go, and I needed to go, and I was trying to get away, and I got a little overwhelmed, and you wanted to talk about that kiss—" My voice broke and I started crying again, hating myself for looking weak in front of him. I pushed myself off the ground—ignoring the splitting pain in my head—and stumbled away from Dick, not seeing where I was going.
Of course, he was at my side in seconds, arms tight around me. I tried to pull out of them, but he only held me tighter, and I gave up quickly. I shook gently, quietly sobbing in his arms, dwarfed by his muscles.
Eventually, he loosened his grip on me and I moved away, wiping my tears. I considered trying to run again—always running, always trying to get away from my feelings—but I knew that Dick could catch up to me in a second.
"Sky…can we talk about that kiss from before? I…I think we should." I could tell that this wasn't something that Dick wanted to talk about so much as something he felt that it would be good for us to.
"As…emotionally healthy as that conversation might be, Dick, can we not? It's just…something that I fucked up with that I'd rather not discuss. I just need to find a gas station so I can fill up and go."
Dick seemed genuinely puzzled by this. "Go? What do you mean? You're not going anywhere except home. When Bruce and Alfred realize we're gone they're going to freak as it is, if they haven't already. Your escape wasn't very quiet."
I managed to summon a semi-withering look for Dick, just for old times' sake. "No, Dick. Why can't you get it? I can't live there anymore. I can't live with you, and I'm not going to make you move out. Don't you get it?" I don't know if it was the head injury, the fatigue, or that I just felt it was time, but I couldn't control the next thing that came out of my mouth. "I'm in love with you, Dick. I'm really, really in love with you."
I turned and started walking away, leaving my bike, my bag and my everything. I was done with this entire ordeal. I was prepared to let Dick have his own little freak out without me when I felt a strong hand grab my shoulder, spin me around, and suddenly I was being kissed. It took a few seconds, but then I realized that I was being kissed by Dick and all of my questions and concerns were overruled by the way his lips fit against mine and the way his hand in the small of my back pushed our chests together and how his was all rock hard and amazing and how his other hand was on the back of my neck and his lips were kneading against mine and I had the sense to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him back before he broke it off and just looked at me, aquamarine eyes meeting my hazel ones.
"Would you please stop doing that? Every time something that bothers you happens, you walk away, and it's really not cool. Now would you please stop running away and talk to me?"
I couldn't quite form words yet, so I just nodded and let my arms slip off of Dick's neck. He took one of my hands in both of his and smiled a little.
"I'm really, really happy that you told me that. I always thought that you hated me, probably because you acted like you did. I can't tell you that I love you too, but I do…have some feelings for you."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "But…you're straight. You've always been straight."
Dick grinned, and I felt myself melt a little. "You just took it for granted that because I rode a motorcycle acted all macho that I was straight? You should know better than to assume things like that." He winked.
"I'm not really gay, but I've dated a couple of guys before. And you're just…like the greatest one I've ever met. I mean you're 16 but you act like you're older than me sometimes, and you're so responsible and smart and…everything I wish I could be. I'm not in love with you, but I like you. A lot. And I think if we give it some time…you never know." He smiled at me again and I kissed him, hard and full on the lips. I felt his respond accordingly and I threw myself around him again. My arms were around his neck, one of my legs was wrapped around his, and I flattened my body against him.
He helped by lifting my other leg and holding me up so that he was fully supporting me and my legs were wrapped around his waist. He backed me into the wall and continued kissing me, his tongue reaching out to meet mine. I was hard as a rock, and I could feel that he was too. I thrust my hips against him, and I felt him shudder against me. I did it again, and he lowered me to the ground.
He kissed me one more time before whispering, "If we keep going, then I'll be finished off before we even get to the fun part. Let's go home and continue this…preferably in a bed."
I beamed and we got on the bike he had brought, leaving the empty one I had taken.
I fastened my arms around him and squeezed him tight, reassuring myself that he was real. He started the bike and the vibrations sent shivers up and down my spine, but that might just have been who I was with.
"You okay?" I heard Dick ask.
I murmured an assent, not realizing how true it was until after I had said it.
"Perfect."