Author's Note: Here's a bonus chapter for those of you who read "Shatter Me." It's the date from Dick's POV. Please read chapter 18 first, though, or it will make no sense (or little sense) to you!
Gotham City
Saturday
Dick arrived at the parking garage at about nine-thirty, a full half-hour before he was due to meet Devon. He hadn't intended to be so early, but he definitely hadn't wanted to be late, so he had left plenty of time to drive from Blüdhaven to Gotham.
He whistled as he ran lightly down the stairs and out into the cold sunshine. The La Scala Theater was about a block from the garage, and he was there in less than five minutes, with time to spare.
He walked past the line of people at the box office to the displayed movie posters. The Lord of the Rings trilogy was among his favorites, and he had been thrilled when Devon had agreed to see it with him.
The La Scala was an historic theater that had fallen on hard times, and had recently undergone an extensive restoration, spearheaded by Bruce. Thanks to that connection, Dick had been able to get tickets the same day that he had asked Devon, even though the tickets were not otherwise available in advance.
He looked around for Devon, and, not seeing her, turned his attention to the posters. He leaned close to read the credits for no reason other than boredom, but, after only a few lines of scrutiny, the hair on the back of his neck stood up.
He turned to see Devon approaching him. Despite the ridiculous, pink, puffy jacket she wore, she looked – beautiful. Her cheeks were rosy and her hair was windblown, and the t-shirt he could glimpse beneath the unzippered jacket hugged her body in all the right places.
He smiled widely, and removed his sunglasses, slowly tucking them into a pocket in his jacket.
My God, she is gorgeous! He thought. I can't wait to touch her. Wait! No touching, remember? You're here as friends only! He remonstrated with himself.
Yeah, right.
"Hey, Devon." He leaned forward and gave her a soft, feathery kiss on her cheek, to which he hoped she would not object. He actually wanted to give her a kiss on the lips, but knew she would object to that.
"I'm early." She seemed uncomfortable, and pulled away.
His smile grew – it was going to be a game of cat and mouse today, it seemed. "So am I. That's great. We'll be able to get good seats."
The crowd at the box office had grown, and he led her past them with an offered arm, which she accepted.
"I got the tickets already, so we get to bypass the line." He smiled down at her. "Advanced ticket sales are the best."
"Good call." She murmured.
He looked at her sideways. "Thanks. Let's get loaded up with junk food."
He gave their tickets to the usher, who allowed them through to the snack bar, which, predictably, because of the closed box office, was deserted.
"Wow," Devon marveled, "no one else bought tickets in advance?"
Dick colored. "Well, uh, the tickets were not, generally, uh, exactly available in advance – you know, for the most part."
"Oh. Well. Lucky us, then." She looked around at the splendor of the theater. "Wow. This place is beautiful."
Dick smiled. "Yeah, it is." He agreed. "It just underwent a twenty million dollar renovation."
"Wow." She said again.
She seemed interested, so he gave her some of the building's history. "The theater was built in 1928, right before the stock market crash, and right as sound in movies was introduced."
She looked up at the soaring ceilings and architectural flourishes. "It's art deco, isn't it?"
He was proud of Bruce's role in the restoration. "One of the best examples in the city, and, now, thanks to the restoration, one of the most well-preserved."
"You sure do know a lot about it."
"Yeah." He tried to brush off the question. "So what do we want?" He stopped before the glass counter displaying candy.
"You pick. I'll eat anything."
He looked at her for a long moment, her face earnest and open and honest, and trusting. A blissful smile came over his face. "I think I love you."
What the hell did you just say? He asked himself.
Her jaw dropped, and he blushed again, and fumbled for an explanation. "I – love – concession food." He rushed on. Okay, good. Plausible. "I can't help it. It reminds me of when I was young."
She seemed to accept his explanation. "Oh, did you used to come to the movies a lot when you were a little kid?"
A pain gripped his heart, and he smiled sadly. "Not exactly. I grew up in a circus."
Had her reaction not been so important to him, the astonished look on her face would have been comical. "You did what now?"
Here we go. This will probably chase her away. Yes, he imagined himself saying. I was a circus freak – a carny – the lowest of the low. "I grew up in a circus. Until I was nine."
She was quiet for a long moment. "I did not – know that."
He shrugged. "I don't announce it or anything, when I meet someone. Everyone – close to me knows." His smile became lopsided. "I guess you're close to me now."
Her color flared, and she turned stiffly to the display case. "SnoCaps, didn't you say?"
It took him a moment to recover and he turned to the candy choices. She hadn't displayed any disgust when she found out about his past, just shocked silence. All in all, it could have been worse. "Yeah. They're my favorite." He smiled nostalgically. "I used to bite all the little sugar beads off each piece."
"It must have taken forever."
He remembered sitting in the stands, eating each separate piece of candy as the clowns performed, or as his parents flew overhead. "It kept me busy during the shows, that's for sure."
"Oh, wow." She looked at him again, her eyes wide. "Your parents were circus performers?"
A feeling of warmth filled him. Pride and love and remembrance. "Yeah. The Flying Graysons. The greatest trapeze and acrobatic act in the western hemisphere."
"Really?" She smiled. "You were a trapeze artist?"
He shrugged again – was it so hard to believe? "I still am, I guess. I mean, I try to keep my skills up. Just for fun." He hastened to add. Not to fly through the city fighting crime.
"So why did you guys leave the circus? Was it so that you could go to a regular school?"
The warmth turned to cold ice in his stomach. "No. They – my parents – died in an accident. They fell during a performance." He saw them again, for a split second, silhouetted against the lights of the big top.
"Dick!" She grabbed his arm. "No! That's horrible! I'm so sorry." Her reaction brought the warmth back to him. "Were – were you there when it happened?"
He nodded, still seeing their twisted bodies, still hearing the screams of the spectators. "Yeah. I was on the ground with some of the other circus people. They tried to shield me, but it –" He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering his friends – the clowns, the animal trainers, the strong man – trying to protect him. "Happened so suddenly."
There was sympathy on her face, and she ran her hand up and down his arm lightly, causing gooseflesh on his arm. "Wh – what happened then? Is that when you were adopted?"
The only good thing to come of the evening had been Bruce. "Yeah. Br – my dad – was in the audience and saw it happen. His parents were killed when he was really young, too, so he had – an idea what I was going through. And when he found out that I was going to go into the foster system, he decided to adopt me." He remembered the scared, helpless boy that he had been, and how Bruce had given him a second chance. "He saved my life."
She gave his hand a squeeze. "I think that your parents would be very proud of you."
He turned to her, enfolding her hand in his, glad to have shared the story with her. "Thanks."
He was almost overcome with desire to lean down and kiss her, but she turned back to the concession stand instead.
"Come on." She said. "Let's get our junk food and grab seats."
"Okay." Still hand in hand, they walked to the service counter and he squinted up at the menu board. "Uh, let me have two nachos, two jumbo diet drinks without a lot of ice, a box of SnoCaps, and a medium popcorn with extra butter." He smiled at the employee, and turned to Devon. "Nachos are the breakfast of champions." He rarely got a chance to eat like this, and he was going to go all the way today.
"Yes, I have heard that before." She nodded seriously.
"Really?" His eyes grew wide.
"No." She grinned at him, and he responded in kind.
"I'll eat yours if you don't want them." He assured her.
"Oh, no. I'm a champion."
He nodded. "Good." He pulled out his wallet and paid, and handed her the nachos while he took the drinks, candy, and popcorn.
"Are acrobats generally able to balance snack foods?"
And other things - like double lives. "Yes, generally speaking." They walked towards the auditorium. "Although this isn't a challenge. I didn't even order an extra-large popcorn." He looked at her confidentially. "Extra-large popcorn is reserved for The Return of the King."
They found seats in the back row, directly in the middle.
"I look forward to that. If I have enough room in my stomach." Devon shrugged off her coat and laid it on the seat next to her, along with her purse.
Dick stole a look at her breasts before turning to remove his own jacket. "Nachos digest quickly. Trust me." He tossed his coat on the seat next to him..
"Sure. Nachos digest quickly for someone who trains as an acrobat." They settled down and she handed him the chips.
Time for some subterfuge. "Not as much as I should." He patted his flat belly. "I think I'm getting a nacho gut."
She laughed. "I doubt that very much."
He felt mischievous. "Oh, yeah? Go ahead, touch it."
She looked at him through narrowed eyes, but did as he commanded, and reached to touch his abdomen. He deliberately sucked air in to make his stomach appear distended. A jolt of awareness went through him at her touch, and he wanted to grab her hand and guide it somewhere else.
"Oh, yeah," she said with a smile, "you're downright obese."
He laughed, and she took her hand away.
They munched on the nachos in companionable silence as the theater started to fill.
"I should save some nachos for the actual movie." Devon put the tray aside.
"I eat most of the snacks before the movie even begins. Especially when the nachos are this good." He looked at the paper tray in approval.
"As good as the circus?"
"Not quite." He smiled nostalgically. "But then, I seem to remember everything about the circus through rose-tinted lenses. I never remember the shabbiness of the trailers, or the mustiness of the tents, or the stench of the clown costumes that rarely got washed." He looked at her to gauge her response. Would she be turned off by his history?
If she was, she did not show it. "I think that's always the case with childhood. I always remember my mom and dad being happy, but the truth is that they weren't."
"Why? Were they having problems?" He knew so little about her, comparatively. All his former girlfriends had been companions of his childhood, or schoolmates. None of them were as an unknown a quantity as Devon. He liked that – it was thrilling, to learn about someone new.
She shook her head. "Not with their marriage, no. It was because of my sister, Ingrid. She was five years older than me." Devon took a deep breath. "She was – diagnosed with cancer when she was two, and," she shook her head. "It overshadowed everything in their lives."
"I'm sorry. How old were you when they – died?"
"Four."
"Wow. That's rough." At least he had had nine years with his parents – nine years of love and memories.
"Yeah. The anniversary of their death was about a week ago. It was – hard. It's always hard. On my grandmother especially. I mean – don't get me wrong, it's hard on me, really hard, but for her, she lost her only child. And one of her only two grandchildren."
Just then, the previews began, and they turned their attention to the screen.
Dick, however, did not have his mind on the upcoming movies. He was remembering that night, about a week before, when he had seen Devon crying in her room. It must have been the anniversary of her parents' death. It explained her tears.
When the first movie began, he stole a look at her; she seemed enthralled in the movie, and Dick smiled. He could never be with a woman who didn't like The Lord of the Rings, and he congratulated himself on choosing well. He just wished that she would recognize their compatibility.
Maybe he could convince her. He lifted the armrest between their seats and surreptitiously slid his arm around her shoulder. She leaned into him almost immediately, and he felt a stirring in his stomach. He wanted her so much; wanted so much more than to be friends – how could she not feel the same? Every minute he was with her his desire for her grew.
He felt her snuggle into him, and he gave a slight smile. It seemed that, even though she had said that she only wanted to be friends, her actions spoke differently. He idly began tracing patterns on her shoulder with his fingertips, and was rewarded with gooseflesh he could feel through the soft, thin material of her blouse.
Throughout the first movie they continued to sit close together and yet, even though he whispered a comment on the movie into her ear several times, even though their hands often collided in the popcorn tub, and and even though she hid her face in his shoulder during the scene in which Boromir was killed, their lips never met. He was tempted, more than once, to gently grasp her chin and turn it towards him, and kiss her, but he did not.
He did not think, even once, about how Nightwing would fit into any relationship with Devon. After all, he had had relationships with "civilians" before, including Bette Kane, and his alter-ego had never been a problem. Admittedly, overnight visits were rather limited, but he had always been able to use his "late shift at Wayne Tech" as an excuse to either escape or send a girl on her way home.
The first movie ended, and Dick reluctantly released her, already looking forward to settling back down with her for the second film. "Time for an intermission." He smiled, and stood.
"Right." She seemed dazed.
"Meet you back here?"
"Sounds great."
He used the men's room and, on his way back to his seat, checked his phone for messages. Tim had texted him about an hour prior.
Bored. Want to play CoD online?
Dick chuckled, and texted him back.
Can't. On a date.
The response was quick.
At 2 on a Saturday?
LotR marathon at La Scala
And you're there with a GIRL?
Is that so hard to believe?
It's hard to believe that a GIRL wants to see ALL three movies!
She's special.
Must be. Do I know her?
Dick chuckled. No.
Will I get to meet her at Thanksgiving?
Not likely. Don't want to scare her away.
Then keep Damian locked up.
Harsh.
Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
"Oh, you kids nowadays." Devon settled back in her seat. "Always with your gadgets." She was using an old lady voice, and Dick laughed and slid his phone into his pocket, hoping that she had not seen the texts.
"My brother."
"The one sleeping on your sofa?"
He smiled. "No. The brainy one."
"I thought you must be the brainy one."
"Me?" He was genuinely pleased. Ever since Tim's arrival in his life, everyone seemed to count Tim the smart one and Dick the athletic one. "No. Not me. The brainy one got into Princeton."
"How many brothers do you have again?"
"Three brothers. All younger."
"And you're all adopted?"
"No. The youngest is my father's biological son. And he never lets anyone forget it."
"Oh. Is that – hard for you?"
Everything's hard when your father is Bruce Wayne.
He shook his head. "No. Our father treats us all the same. We're all held to the same standards – impossibly high ones, of course. But he's very fair."
"That's good. It would be hard if he played favorites."
"No, trust me." There were no favorites with Bruce. "Our father is obsessed with doing everything right. Playing favorites is the last thing he would do."
"How old is your youngest brother?"
A picture of Damian popped into his mind, and he smiled. "He's ten. He's a little shit, but he's the greatest kid I've ever known."
She laughed. "Does he know that?"
"That he's a little shit? Yeah, he knows he is."
"No. I mean about how much you love him."
Dick smiled more widely. "He knows. He takes advantage of it sometimes, but he knows."
She smiled back at him, but was silent, and Dick, not sure how to continue, was saved by the start of the second film.
"Ready for round two?" He whispered in her ear, and she nodded, smiling at him.
He took her hand not long after the film began, and the three hours passed, for him, at least, quickly. He looked at her frequently throughout, and, although she appeared engrossed, he thought that her attention was only partially on the film, and he could guess what was occupying her mind.
He wondered what she would do if her kissed her, and his mind wandered to what he could do in a darkened, albeit crowded, theater. He didn't want to make out right there, but he would have been lying to himself if he didn't say that he wouldn't have minded kissing her – several times.
The second film ended, and, he smiled at her. "Be right back." He whispered, and, after a smiled nod from her, he left her to go to the crowded concession stand, where he bought the extra-large popcorn he had promised.
He returned just as the third movie was beginning, and settled down next to Devon. He had a vision, suddenly, of settling down on a sofa with her to watch a movie, and his mind conjured all the details: their home, their sofa, their child in her swollen belly.
Holy crap, Dick, are you imagining her having your baby? No, no! Too soon! And, for pity's sake, don't say anything to her! Friends do not typically have children together!
He pushed those thoughts away, and tried to concentrate on the movie. During one of the battle scenes, Devon grabbed hold of Dick's upper thigh in surprise, and his muscles tensed in surprise and alarm. He was alarmed because he knew that her hand so close to his groin would start to cause things to happen to him. As if sensing his discomfort, she tried to remove her hand, but he covered it with his own and gripped it tightly, imprisoning it between his leg and his hand. He had an intense desire to allow her to feel how aroused he was, but he knew that the middle of a movie theater during The Return of the King was neither the time nor the place to show her how she affected him. Maybe in his car later.
He really didn't want their first time to be in a car, but her place was obviously out of the question, and Jason was sure to be at his place, and he really didn't know, if she acquiesced to both their desires, that he could control himself much longer. They could always go to a hotel – there were plenty of nice hotels in downtown Gotham, including a new, luxurious suite hotel that Wayne Enterprises had a controlling stake in.
He could picture, in his mind's eye, making love to her in a massive bed there, and in the whirlpool tub, and in a few other spots that were not actually designed with lovemaking in mind.
He finally let her hand go to slide his arm around her shoulders. He pulled her against him until they were touching, torso to thighs. He knew that, as much as it was torturing him, it was torturing Devon just as much, and he wanted her to be in such a frenzy of desire that she would finally allow them to take the next step in their relationship.
He needed her to want to go to the next level, because he wanted nothing more than to turn her into him and slip his hands under her blouse and cup her breasts in his hands and kiss her until she was senseless. He resisted those impulses, however, but was relieved when the credits finally began to roll and the lights came up. He didn't know how much longer he would have lasted. He had never felt this much frustrated desire in his life – mainly because, whenever he had felt this way in the past, with Barbara or Raquel or even Zatanna, he had simply slept with them – they had never resisted him the way that Devon was.
Not that he was irresistible, or anything.
"Uh, good movie." She said, keeping her eyes averted from him. She grabbed her coat and put it on, and he tried not to notice how her breasts undulated as she shimmied into her coat.
"Was it better seeing it on the big screen?" He blinked at her, trying to remember what they had just seen.
"Oh, yeah! The battle scenes were astounding!" She sounded overenthusiastic, and he wondered if she was trying to keep the discussion on the movies.
He slid on his jacket and gathered their trash. "It's been such a long time since I've seen them all that I had forgotten how good they are."
They walked out of the auditorium and he threw the trash away. He had to sprint to catch up with her, and, as they made their way through the lobby, and out into the night, he looked at his phone. "Wow. It's after nine." Good time to go to bed - together.
She gave him a smile. "Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight?"
He looked at her, startled, wondering, for a second, if she knew his secret, but then dismissed the thought. "No. I just forgot that it would be an all-day thing. It's late. I'll drive you home." Get her into the car. Get her into the car and kiss her and drive her to a hotel and take her to a room and make love to her all night long. He noted that he was now thinking in run-on sentences.
"I'll be fine." She assured him. "Walking's good for me."
"You're right. It is. So walk with me to my car and I'll drive you home." He stepped closer, wanting to take her in his arms. "I'm not letting you walk home alone through Gotham in the dark, so, unless you want me to follow you at about five miles per hour, you'll let me drive you." She was only inches away, and when Devon tipped her head up to look at him, he wanted to drag her against him. He didn't.
"You're tall for an acrobat, aren't you?"
The incongruous question took him by surprise and he blinked at her, then smiled. "My mother's father was the circus sword swallower, and he was apparently six feet five."
"Is it helpful to be tall if you're a sword swallower?"
"It can't hurt. Longer throat, after all." He stepped back, and offered his arm, as he had that morning. "So, we walk to the car and I drive you home?"
Her smile was exasperated as she slipped her arm through his. "Fine. But if my grandmother catches us, she'll have a cow."
They began walking at a leisurely pace. "Why is your grandmother so opposed to you dating?"
"Because she thinks I'll slack off on my school if I have a boyfriend. That's what happened to her. She was in nursing school when she met my grandfather, and she dropped out to marry him. I think she always regretted not finishing, and she doesn't want that to happen to me."
He gave a nod. He understood her grandmother's concerns, although her fanatical opposition to Devon dating was a bit extreme. After all, Devon wasn't sixteen. She was twenty-one. "That makes sense, I guess." No need to criticize Devon's only relative, after all. He pointed forward. "My car's in that parking garage. Fourth floor. I hope you're not opposed to climbing stairs."
"I'm okay with it."
"Good." He looked forward to walking up the stairs behind her.
She zippered her jacket. "Wow. It got cold."
"It's November. Are you warm enough?" I can warm you. Wow, that sounded sleazy, even to me! Thank God I didn't actually say it!
"Oh, yeah. Except my ears." She touched them. "They'll probably be red by the time we get to the car."
He clapped his hands over her ears, grinning. "We can walk like this, if you like."
She smiled, and responded in an overloud voice. "I can't hear you! Some dude's got his hands on my ears!"
He chuckled and dropped his hands. "Point taken." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "So, did you really like the movies?" He asked, looking at her hopefully.
"Oh, yeah! I've only ever seen them on DVD, so seeing them on the big screen was great."
He smiled and looked down at his feet, slightly embarrassed that he was so pleased about her enjoyment of the movies. "They are pretty cool."
She laughed.
He looked at her, a grin on his face. "What's so funny?"
She shook her head. "It's just that you're such a..." She trailed off.
"Such a what?" He stopped and turned to face her, and thought again about how good she looked, just standing there, staring up at him with crinkles around her eyes and a smile on her face.
"A smooth talker. So to hear you say something is 'pretty cool,' well, it was just – funny."
He chuckled and slid his hand into hers and began walking again. "I guess you have me tongue tied." Among other things.
"I have to get out my calendar."
"What for?"
"To note the day that Dick Grayson was tongue-tied."
"It doesn't happen often, I admit."
There was an easy silence, but Dick wanted to talk to her rather than allow his dirty thoughts continue to rule his mind. "So, who was your favorite character?" He asked.
She seemed to consider it. "Hmm. Let's see. Well, I liked Eowyn. She kicked butt."
He smiled, picturing the pretty actress in the role, and how she killed the Witch King. "Yeah. She did. And she is very hot."
"Oh, ho! Now I know what impresses you!"
He blushed. He had not meant to say that. "Hey! I'm not just into looks."
"Says the man who looks like a male model."
She thinks I look like a male model? He tried to think of a similar compliment."Well, you're no ugly mug." Brilliant, Dick! Just brilliant!
"Thanks – I think."
"It was a compliment." There was another long silence as he fumbled to salvage the conversation. "I'm not interested in looks only, you know. I like the whole package."
She looked at him and began laughing.
"Now what is it?" He was puzzled.
"Dick, I don't know if you should be talking about the whole package."
He colored. Yeah. Do you listen to yourself before you speak?
She grabbed his arm, laughing louder this time.
His mind raced to justify his stupidity. "Don't tell me," he said, "that you didn't think that there were hot guys in those movies. How about Legolas?"
"Nah. Too girly for me." She waved her hand dismissively.
Okay, she didn't like pretty boys. "Aragorn, then?"
She smiled. "Maybe Aragorn."
"So you like the scruffy type?" He could be scruffy. He frequently looked scruffy by the end of a night patrolling.
They reached the garage, and he opened the door to the stairwell for her.
She scrunched up her face. "Not so much."
Hmm. Not scruffy. Maybe it was Aragorn's personality. "Is it the heroic thing, then?" They began climbing the stairs.
"Maybe. Yeah." It was her turn to blush.
He gave a slow grin. She liked heroes. Time to find out just how much. "So like that guy – that superhero who was at your diner a couple of weeks ago?" He was playing with fire, and he knew it.
"What about him?" She asked, too casual.
He caught her false nonchalance. "Did you think he was hot?"
She stopped and looked at him. "Really, Dick Grayson, you want to know what kind of guys I think are hot?"
Yes. God, yes. "No. I'm just – interested." Please say me.
"Well," She smiled mischievously and turned her back on him to climb the next few steps. "I happen to like black hair – "
"Which he has." Which I have. Because he's me.
"And blue eyes."
I have blue eyes. So does Nightwing. Wait, she wouldn't know that! "No idea what his eye color is." Good answer.
She shook her head. "Me neither. And muscular. But not too buff. Just – buff enough."
Wait? Am I too buff or buff enough? "Okay. Does that describe him?" Or me?
"I don't know. I didn't get that close. It does describe you, though."
Oh, she did mean me! Dick me! Or was it Nightwing me? Shit! I'm getting confused! He stopped and looked at her. "Shit. I wasn't trying to –."
She dragged him along by the hand. "My ass. You already know that I'm attracted to you, Dick. Believe me, if it weren't for the fact that I really can't get involved with anyone right now..." She trailed off.
He didn't know whether to be pleased by her admission or disappointed by her caveat. "I know. I know. I'm sorry." He groaned. "I said no pressure, and here I am..."
She rescued him by finishing his statement. "...Putting pressure on me. Don't worry about it. It's no worse than I put on myself." She let go of his hand and preceded him up the stairs.
Why won't you let this happen? He wanted to ask her. "I don't understand why we can't, you know, hang out – or something." He was following close behind her.
"We are hanging out." She pointed out, over her shoulder
"Maybe I should rephrase that –"
She stopped and turned to face him, and, a step above him, they were nearly on eye-level. "Hang out without our clothes on?"
He colored because he was thinking that exactly. "That's one way to phrase it, I suppose."
"A physical relationship with no strings, no involvement?"
"I didn't mean that. Wait – unless you want that." He put his hands on her waist, and enjoyed the way she almost jumped at the contact.
She laughed and settled her arms on his shoulders. "I don't think I want that from you, Dick."
"So you don't want me." Shit.
She let her head roll back. "No, I do. God, I do." She looked at him again. "I just don't want to be – your sex partner. I mean only your sex partner."
Why did she think he wanted only sex? He wanted all of it – every messy little detail of her life. "But you wouldn't be. Look, I want to be all in."
"You did not just say that." She stepped away from him and started up the stairs again.
"What did I say?" He followed her, confused.
"You want to be all in."
He hit his forehead with his palm. Damn it! "Shit. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that – I don't want to just have sex with you."
She stopped again and faced him. "And therein lies the problem."
He wanted to rip his hair out. "You're confusing me."
"I don't mean to. I guess it's confusing me, too."
Let's review. "But you're saying that a no-strings relationship sounds good?" He leaned his forehead against hers.
"What it sounds like is impossible." Her voice was becoming low and throaty.
He turned his head slightly, and laid a feathery kiss near her ear. God, she smells good.
"Dick..." She said softly, plaintively. "We can't."
"Why?" His voice was quiet, as well, and he placed his lips against her jaw. God, she tastes good.
She was quiet, and he took that as an assent, and kissed her beneath her ear, on her neck. Her skin was soft and fragrant, and he wanted to collect her in his arms and kiss every inch of her.
She gripped his wrists hard, and he changed sides, brushing his lips on her collarbone and then along the edge of her jawbone. "I – don't – think – that I – can – do this." She whispered.
She turned her face into him to drag her lips over his skin.
God, that feels good, he thought. "Do what?" He murmured, and, with her fingers still wrapped around his wrists, he slid his arms around her waist, and her hands gently twisted behind her back.
She let out a ragged breath when he bent his head to press a kiss to the notch of her collarbone, and she pulled her hands free to bury in his hair. His tongue came out to dip into the spot, but she shook her head.
"Dick, no." She whispered in his ear. "No."
No. Shit. Damn it. He heard the resoluteness in her voice, and he reluctantly stepped back.
"I'm sorry." She said, a note of regret in her voice. "I don't think that I could do that. You're not a friends-with-benefits kind of guy – not to me, anyway. You're more like a – forever guy. And I can't do that. Not right now." She put her hands on his cheeks. "I am really sorry."
He watched her for a moment. He could see that this was hard for her. He nodded. "Okay. I – I get it."
"If we'd met a year and a half from now, after I graduated..."
He felt an emptiness in his abdomen. "But we didn't." He lifted the hair off her shoulder.
She nodded. "I know. But I'm not asking you to wait."
"I know." Did he want to wait?
She touched his face briefly. "I think I need to walk home. I'll be safe. I promise."
All of Nightwing's alarms went off in his head. "I really –"
"I know self-defense. I'll be fine."
He looked at her. He couldn't let her walk home alone. He couldn't let her go – out of his sight, out of his life. She hasn't given you a choice, Dick! He watched her briefly.
I can check on her later. He looked away and gave a deep sigh. "Well – goodnight, then."
"We could still – try to be friends."
"Without benefits." He tried not to sound disappointed, but failed.
"Yeah." Her voice was rueful.
He didn't want to lose her completely. "I guess we could – try. I can't guarantee success."
She smiled. "I know." She touched his cheek again. "So, maybe I'll see you – around."
"Yeah. Maybe." He would definitely be seeing her – from outside her bedroom window.
"Goodnight, then. Thanks for the movie, and everything. I had a really good time."
"You're welcome. But be – careful." He stepped out of her way.
"I will." She started back down the stairs, and he turned to watch her go.
This wasn't over. Not by a long shot. She might have rejected Dick, but it wasn't over. It might, however, be time for Nightwing to step in. She had already admitted that Nightwing was attractive. She had also said that she didn't want a relationship with any strings attached – at least not to Dick Grayson. But she hadn't said anything about Nightwing.
He ran to his car and jumped in. He had to do something – he just wasn't sure what.
Author's Notes: 2/3/13 I hope you enjoyed the "Date with Dick!" See you in "Shatter Me." And don't forget to show your love of DC Nation by expressing yourself on Twitter, Facebook, tumblr, and Cartoon Network's website. Also, you can call 1 (877) 827-2671. Just remember to be polite and positive and don't trash other shows or the network!