Title: The Other Secret Identity
Author: Naimeria
Warnings: Rated T for tonsil hockey.
Summary: Robin's sent on a recon mission for Batman. Change of plans ensue, and he meets a girl while undercover. But why does she seem so familiar? Not OCs. Eew.
Author's Notes: None, other than I hope you like! Pairings will reveal themselves. ;D
This is a response to my own challenge: The Snarky Duo Challenge, aka the Rob/Arty Challenge! I had a lot of fun with it. This should wind up being two or three chapters long, we'll see.
Standard Disclaimer.
oOo
Dick ran a hand through his hair, his ears ringing with the deep base thrumming through the room. He picked at a lock of his hair, his peripherals catching the unusual yellow color. He had dyed it for this particular mission, needing to ensure complete anonymity. He had dyed his hair on numerous accounts, but he always hated bleaching it. He had to use conditioner for weeks to get it to not mirror the consistency of straw.
He was Keith Fisher, seventeen-year-old musical savant who was looking for a good time. And just so happened to be in the same club as two arms dealers.
He ran a hand over the tight leather jacket, used to the material but wishing he was in his hero garb. The tight dark denim jeans and converse made him feel like a tool and someone that wanted attention, which was just perfect because that's what Keith was. He ran a hand through his hair again and slid his hands into his pockets, letting himself get lost in the deep thud of the bass the speakers were pumping out.
After a time he threw back a shot glass, swallowing it and feigning a face that conveyed the non-existent burn of alcohol going down his throat. When the bartender wasn't looking he poured another shot of water and downed it as well. Water and vodka both conveniently looked the same, and all the onlookers stared openly as the clearly underage drinker threw back more shots over the course of ten minutes.
He stood up, pretending to stumble and adjust himself with a too-loud laugh. He grabbed an older guy's shoulder for balance, then grinned at him and smacked his butt. He strutted off to the bathroom, knowing the man's eyes were on him and his tight pants. Once in the bathroom and after making sure no one was in there with him, he pulled out his communicator.
"Robin," Bruce greeted. "Any information yet?"
Dick shook his head. "No, but I've started to get them familiar with me."
"Is Keith drunk yet?" Bruce asked, scowling. He had never approved of the methods that the persona Dick had created used. The youthful underage drinker that seduced men and women alike for favors and information was a bit too precarious for his adopted father's tastes.
Nevertheless, Dick grinned. "Yeah, he's pretty gone. It's been, what, eight shots? And with his small stature, eight is three too many."
Bruce's scowl twitched. "I'm not sure I'll ever get used to you being blonde. I know you've done it numerous times, but it's just…"
"Weird, I know," Dick said, picking at his hair. "I don't mind it, though. Better than a wig, since people sometimes grab it and-"
"I don't want to hear about people grabbing my twelve-year-old son's hair," Bruce growled, glaring at the monitor. Dick chuckled.
"Yessir, sorry sir," he chimed, sticking out a tongue. "I'll call you when I have information of actual importance."
"Appreciated. Stay safe," he said, clicking off the monitor before Dick could respond. Dick grinned at the black screen before tucking it back in his pockets. He turned and looked in the mirror, rumpling his blonde hair so it looked thoroughly mussed. He stared for a moment, taking in the dramatically different look before stepping back and leaving the backroom.
He stumbled back over to his little table in the corner, sitting seductively and looking delightfully drunk. He passed the guy he'd hit on, who just happened to be one of the two of the arms dealers he'd been investigating, and delighted when he followed him with his gaze. Dick fiddled with his napkin, looking lonely and put out, until the tall and bulky brunette of the duo, Victor, got up and meandered over to Dick's table. He was the one that Dick had stumbled over to, and he was now gazing at Dick as if he were a piece of meat. Perfect.
"Hey, sweetheart, aren't you a little young to be here drinkin'?" He asked, cocking a thick brow. Dick batted his lids and shook his head lethargically, leaning to the side a bit in his chair.
"Nah," he said, waving a hand dramatically in denial. "Never too young to drink. Aren't you too handsome for this crowd?" He asked with a grin.
Victor bared his teeth in a grin of his own. "Never, sweetheart."
Dick leaned forward and put his chin on the man's shoulder. "What does a beefy guy like you do for a living? I need a good working man to sweep me off my feet," he said, pawing at Victor's stomach. He personally loved Keith's drunk persona; it was so much fun acting severely intoxicated.
Victor ran a hand through Dick's hair, surprisingly gentle. "If I told ya babe," he said, "I'd have to kill you."
"Oh, I love a man of mystery," Dick said, with a grin. He leaned over and kissed Victor on the jaw. "But what if I don't believe you?"
"Well you're gonna have to," he said with another feral grin, running his hand through Dick's hair and down his jaw. Dick batted his lids again and nuzzled his neck, sighing into his stubble.
He slid his hand beneath Dick's jaw and brought their lips together. As they made out, Dick was reminded of how often this actually happened. It was all a part of the job in Gotham. Though this was one of the more pleasurable make-out sessions. His mouth didn't taste like cigarettes, and he was a surprisingly good kisser. It was when they started getting too touchy-feely that it became a problem. Some were fine with a good kiss, but others wanted more from the petite teen.
And when Victor began to reach his hand under Dick's shirt, he knew this wasn't going to work.
Dick broke the deep kiss and whipped the spit off of his shin with the back of his hand. "I may be drunk, but I'm not that easy," he slurred.
Victor merely leaned forward again for another kiss, and Dick leaned his head away. Pretending he'd been aiming for it the entire time, Victor kissed his neck. Dick batted at him feebly, but it was to no avail. He knew there would be a bruise there by morning.
"No, don't," Dick said, batting his lids and shoving feebly at his chest as the man tried to grab at his pants. He fiddled with the button of his tight jeans, and Dick was two seconds from actually hitting him. Before he could, however, a deep female voice interjected.
"It sounds like the boy don't want you," the voice said in a slight southern drawl. Dick and his subject both looked up, and both gaped.
She had short brown hair and almond shaped green eyes. Her skin was tanned and her arms and legs long and well muscled. Her hands were on her hips, which were very well-defined by her wardrobe. She had a tight tank top on and even tighter black pants, and it accentuated all of her curves. She was scowling at the man, looking cross.
Dick recovered first. He grinned at her, holding out a hand. She pulled him out of his chair and from the other man's grasp, who was still staring at her. As Dick recovered from what was supposed to be an inebriated stumble, he realized he knew her from somewhere. Her eyes and body shape were oddly familiar, though he couldn't pinpoint from where.
"Thanks for that," he said as she lead him away from the small table. Truth was, he wasn't quite grateful; he hadn't gotten any information that he hadn't overheard yet. He would need to either find his way back later after Victor was more drunk, or come back another night.
"No prob," she said easily, waving a hand. "I could tell you were wanting something, but not that much of something."
"That surprisingly makes a perfect amount of sense," Dick said with a giggle. The woman smiled at him and ran her deft fingers through his hair. Others seemed to like his blonde hair quite a bit, he noted.
"I'm Claire," she said, hands back on her flawless hips.
"Keith," he said quickly. "I'm Keith. And I'm a lot shorter than you," he said with another giggle.
"It's okay, I like shorter guys," she said with a smirk. "I actually work with one."
Dick laughed."Wanna dance?"
She nodded, almond eyes squinted as she grinned at him.
They moved to the dance floor. The hip hop remixes were making his ears throb, but the mood of the club made him immediately begin to dance with the girl. He didn't like the music at all, but he was intoxicated by it and its deep base. They were pressed on all sides by strangers, and he and Claire were even closer. They grinded, hands on one another, possessed by the rules of the dance floor. She slid her tank top off, revealing a black sports bra. She swayed her hips, and Dick wanted to jump her. He was instead grabbed by her, and he laughed loudly. She laughed with him and she picked him up. Though Dick was feeling quite humiliated, he knew Keith would love being the submissive one and instead wrapped his legs around her waist. She kissed him hard, and he kissed her back as they danced.
He wasn't quite sure how long they stayed like that, exploring one another's mouths on the dance floor. She never tried anything else, and neither did he, and it was all perfect. He almost regretted meeting her as Keith and not as Richard.
They made their way outside after a time, sitting on the curb and making out. Dick had never been one for such copious amounts of kissing when it wasn't necessary, but he was perfectly happy to stay and kiss her for hours. She was gentle yet forceful, and she let him be the same.
"Why haven't I seen you here before, Keith?" she asked as they broke apart, both panting. Dick grinned.
"I dunno, I was wondering the same thing," he said as he leaned forward and planted a kiss on her jaw. She chuckled, deep in her chest, and Dick was tempted to jump on her again.
As Dick sat, he realized a number of things. One, that his energy was slowly leaking away. And two, that he found he wanted to see this girl again. Hey sat side by side on the curb, listening to the muffled music from within the club and staring up at the sky.
"Claire?" Dick asked, looking over at her.
She turned to him, brown hair flicking over her shoulder. "Yes?"
"Can I see you again?"
She studied him for a moment, dark eyes narrowed. In the yellow incandescent street lights, they looked black. "You were never drunk, were you?" she asked.
Dick's eyebrows rose, blue eyes wide for a moment. Then he laughed. "I can't fool you for a second, can I?"
"Meet me next Friday and you'll find out," she said with a smirk.
Dick rolled his eyes. "Cliché much?"
"Only as cliché as some kid posing as an adult to get some action," she said with a shrug.
Dick returned the smirk. "I'll see you next Friday then. But until then," he said, leaning his head on her shoulder, "I'm okay with dozing off on some stranger's shoulder."
She chuckled that deep chuckled again and rested her cheek in his hair. They sat like that for an uncertain amount of time, both enjoying the company of someone they didn't know but hoped to get to know in the future.
oOo
Robin adjusted his mask and checked the mirror one more time, making sure he didn't miss any blonde streaks. That would be unfortunate, setting himself up for a thorough teasing session from both Wally and Artemis. When he was sure his hair was returned to its normal color, he headed downstairs to the cave. He found Bruce there, doing research, as per always.
He jogged to the desk, where he watched the screen over his father's shoulder. "That's rude, you know," Bruce said after a moment. He was in his Batman gear from the neck down; his cowl was off and hanging behind his head. His hair was mussed, so Dick presumed he hadn't changed since he'd gotten back from patrol that morning. He himself was heading to the mountain to get an hour or two of relaxation in before training.
"Me, rude?" Dick asked, putting his elbows on the back of Bruce's chair. "Never."
Bruce harrumphed and glared at the screen, trying to ignore his little nuisance. Dick was unperturbed.
"I'm heading to Mount Justice," Dick said, lifting his elbows from the back of the chair. He walked over beside the chair, then did a quick handstand, trying to read the screen upside down. "You look like you're about to go somewhere. Which I know isn't the case, since it's four in the afternoon. Have you been-"
"Yes," he answered. Dick grinned, shaking his head ruefully as he stared at his mentor's upside-down brusque expression.
"Alright, alright, I get the memo," Dick said, flipping back around so he was right-side-up. He put his hands on his hips and pouted at Bruce. "I'll see you tonight?"
"Maybe," Bruce said.
Dick's pout deepened.
After a moment, Bruce got tired of the feeling of Dick's pathetic gaze on the side of his face. "Alright, I'll be back in time for dinner. Alfred's cooking at one."
"Pretty early," Dick said. "The past few times I've eaten here it's been three am."
"I've been going out later," Bruce said, typing away at the keyboard.
"Don't work too hard," Dick said, shaking his head. "Like I need to even bother saying so. See you later!" He said with a wave, knowing Bruce had turned to see him off, even though he would never say he did.
He jogged to the teleporter, typed in the accurate sequence, then closed his eyes and waited to be brought to his second home.
He heard the low female voice parrot off his name and identity code as he stepped onto the threshold. He didn't see anyone, which was fine by him – more quiet time.
He went to the living room and flopped onto the sofa. Snatching the remote from the crack of the sofa, no doubt Wally's doing, he held it in a lose grip as he flicked to a random channel. A cheetah was chasing a gazelle, and losing. Dick stared at the program with a half-lidded gaze, interested but tired. He'd been up for half the night last night as Keith, not getting home until after dawn. He felt the tug of sleep, and didn't feel the need to fight it. He leaned to the side and fell asleep there, head resting on the crook of his arm as he pulled his knees to his chest.
When he awoke, it was to hushed chatter.
"It looks like Robin is napping. We'd best be quiet."
"Oh, lighten up, Kaldur. He can't hear us."
"I can always hear you, Wally," Dick said, eyes still closed. "You never shut up."
He heard the redhead hiss and step back from the back of the sofa, but Dick grinned. He hadn't heard him and Kaldur come in, but once they started talking there was no hope for him to be asleep anymore. He opened his eyes, however, to three faces instead of two. Artemis was standing in the background, arms crossed and scowling at Wally, arms crossed.
Wally stuck out his chin and gave Dick a mock glare. "Well fine, go back to being boring."
Dick adjusted his arm so it was over his eyes and rolled back over. He heard Wally huff and walk away, Kaldur following soon after. Artemis, however, walked over to the sofa and sat on the other end, about a foot away from Dick's feet. She grabbed the remote from where it had fallen near his face and flicked through the channels. Eventually Dick got tired of listening to only three second clips of random programming and moved his arm so he could look over at her.
She looked relaxed enough, which was something Artemis rarely looked, and his curiosity was piqued.
"I think this is one of the first times I've seen you not look on edge, you know," Dick said.
Artemis looked over at him, an eyebrow cocked. Dick tilted his head slightly. Why did that look so familiar?
"Oh?" She asked. "When have I ever looked on edge?"
Dick shrugged. "Almost every time I see you, I guess."
Artemis gave him a look he couldn't quite decipher. After a second, it was gone, and she shrugged, looking unphased. "Whatever."
She and Dick both turned back to the tv and watched a comedian prattle off mediocre jokes for a while, the silence bordering on awkward.
"So what did you do last night?" she asked out of the blue. He looked over at her.
"Stayed at the Cave. Batman needed my help with some research," he lied easily. He wasn't about to tell her he was on a secret reconnaissance mission. "You?"
"I was on recon for my uncle," she said.
Oh? Robin raised a brow of his own. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Stalking some thugs. Arms dealers."
No way. No way in hell. "How'd it go?"
"Eh, got interrupted. I met some kid." She shrugged.
Dick stared at her for a few seconds before nodding. He fought the urge to run a hand through his hair. His very black hair.
Perfect.