A deep boom crashed into her ears, jolting her upright. Her senses peaked as she looked around the darkened room. Dawn was slowly breaking through the opened window, a blue hue coated the dim light outside. The air was damp and smelled of fresh rain. She paused, listening for another noise to follow the loud break of silence. She was alone.
Three quick raps against the door were muffled, but loud. Not her bedroom door, her front door. Barbara leapt up, slamming open her door and ran the few steps through her living room, opening the front door to the building's hallway. Leaning against the outer frame, Nightwing propped himself up with an elbow, his other arm wrapped around his midsection, hand grasping his right side. Quickly, Barbara lent her body for support, leading her injured partner to the couch without a word. A low groan escaped Grayson's clenched jaw as he hobbled the few steps before slumping down into the worn in leather.
She moved to the bathroom, flickering on the light to illuminate the porcelain sink. The cupboard underneath had her first aid kit. She grabbed the small box and ran a face cloth under the tap for a moment. Her movements were swift; she returned to Grayson's side in moments, kneeling down by his stomach. She left the bathroom light on, which provided enough visual for her to see the blackened blood coating his suit near a jagged tear.
His hand reached up to his face, removing the domino mask. He threw it on the floor out of frustration, clearly not happy with outcome of the last few hours.
"I'm going to have to take off..." Barbara's voice trailed off as Grayson was already trying to sit up, helping her get a better angle to lift off his armour. She curled her fingers under the hem of the shirt. Although a skin tight suit was good for mobility, removing said items provided an extra level of difficulty when one was stabbed. He had already taken off his gauntlets, which sat in the coffee table behind her. As she focussed on lifting the weaved cloth delicately over the cut, he had taken off his chest piece, letting it fall to the floor beside her knees. His arms lifted up, causing him to grimace at the pain of stretching his abdomen, so she moved hastily to slide the shirt over his head in one hurried motion.
She took a brief look at the incision before placing the face cloth against his skin, applying enough pressure to make him wince. She guided his left hand to replace hers, so she could focus her attention to the pharmacy grade first aid kit. He carefully lifted his legs on to the couch, leaning back against the armrest as she placed her kit on the table beside her, sighing heavily in her disappointment.
"Why did you come here? Why not go to Alfred?" She shot Grayson a small glare. Whenever one of them was injured, Alfred always made himself available to fix them up with accuracy and ease. She was no surgeon; had never even stitched up a stuffed animal when she was little. She would make a mess of him and probably make it worse.
"Too far," Grayson managed to get out. His voice was strained from pain. He was angry with himself. He made a stupid mistake, which forced him to come to a place where he had to admit he'd done wrong. And she would make him admit it.
"What happened?" Barbara used the question as a distraction tactic, while she cleaned out the cut. She didn't think the cut to be too severe. The protective weave did its job; stopping the blade from puncturing too deep.
"It was stupid. My contact in The Narrows, the one I was going to get you to meet tonight, got spooked. I didn't do anything to-" Grayson took a sharp intake of breath as she applied a light coating of iodine with a fresh compress. "Ow," he mumbled lowly while exhaling. Barbara couldn't help a small smile from slipping out.
"Anyway, it was closer to come here, then go back to the Manor."
"You let an informant get close enough to you to use a knife?" Barbara asked, genuinely shocked.
"I was distracted. I let my guard down. Normally I can trust this guy. He's reliable. He's worked with Crane in the past, but his wife had a kid a while back, so he's been trying to go straight. I've been helping him when I can."
The two fell silent as Barbara worked on mending him.
"I don't think you need stitches. At least not from me," Barbara looked up at Grayson. He was looking up at the ceiling, replaying the last few hours in his mind. "What spooked him?"
"I showed him the vial I stole from the lab last night."
"What vial?" Barbara has been focussed so intently on her search for evidence involving Crane's name, she missed a blatant clue right in front of her.
"I swiped a vial. Small, with green liquid. I figured it was just the next upgrade in Crane's fear toxin. Probably what they were adding to the drug. I was going to take it to get analyzed back at the Manor today."
"Perfect. We'll do that, and then have Alfred take a more thorough look at you." Barbara's spirits were lifting as she taped the last edge of the bandage across Grayson's oblique.
Grayson reached his hand out to grasp hers, forcing her to look at him as he broke the news: "I don't have it anymore. It's gone. Smashed."
She'd never seen his face more dejected. He felt like her hope lay dead in his hands. She had to cut him some slack.
"It's okay," she loosened his grasp on her hand, bringing her palm up to rest on his cheek. Her thumb caressed his skin gently.
"We can still find Crane. Try to get him to spill. The egotistical ones love telling us their plans."
He couldn't help the laugh from escaping his lips. He smiled down at her warmly, glad that she wasn't crushed by the events of the last two hours.
"Babs, I'm sorry. I took the last glimmer of hope in our lead and ruined it. I thought I could do this alone, but whatever Crane has up his sleeve is causing those around him to panic. Maybe that's why he started implementing middle men; not giving anyone more information than they needed to complete their individual step. We were getting close, but my actions tonight," Grayson paused, mentally preparing to admit something he hated to say out loud: "I screwed up. With Frankie involved, I wanted to get this done quickly. So you didn't have to worry. I just thought-"
Barbara leaned forward, placing her lips on his, silencing his explanations.
He had always pushed her to do better, challenged her to accomplish what she thought out of her grasp, whether physically or mentally. They both had the tendency to immerse themselves too far, dive too deep in a case. Her mind would constantly whir with information; suspects, crime scenes, motives. She wanted to stop worrying about Crane, about what would come next, and if she was being honest with herself, stop worrying about Frankie. At this moment, she wanted to stop thinking at all.
Her hand moved from Grayson's cheek slowly down to his neck. She felt his stubble coarse against her palm. She kept moving down his body. A shirtless Grayson was irregular for her to see. She had focussed so intently on his injury earlier, she didn't fully take in the acrobat's form lying on her couch. His Nightwing suit may be form fitting, but she could finally take a moment to appreciate his efforts over the years. Her hand trailed over his chest, solid and broad. His torso narrowed towards his pelvis; she ran her fingers over each abdominal indentation. She felt his breathing quicken as his hands grasped the back of her head, pulling her mouth closer to his. Their kiss became more intense, hungrier from the desire they'd shared. Every tease, flirtatious glance, playful sparing they'd exchanged all surged through this moment. His arm slid down to her waist, pulling her body closer to his. She shuffled awkwardly, trying not to break their kiss. He angled his body to sit up as she crawled on to the couch over his lap, her knees squeezing against his hips.
She still wore her batsuit's purple leggings, having passed out hours earlier without taking them off. He ran his hands up her thighs, feeling the soft leather like butter in his skin. He glided up further around her hips and landing on her lower back, pulling her body closer to his.
She let out a soft moan into his mouth. The sound rippled an uncontrollable urge throughout his body. He wanted her now, no more waiting. He grabbed her hips, turning his own from under her so as to pin her on the couch. They'd done moves similar to this in training, but this time he was far from their sparing ring in the batcave. He was engulfed in her scent, yearning to be closer to her.
Barbara took her legs, wrapping them around his hips. Her arms folded over his neck, fingers entwined in his tussled hair. Suddenly, he broke their kiss, pain cascading over his features. He pulled back, breaking the hold she had on him. He leaned back, sitting up against the arm rest opposite her. His hand instinctively went to the source of pain.
Barbara saw his bandage was tinted with red spots.
"Ow. Ow." Grayson grimaced. "Maybe I do need stitches." His mouth smirked in that typical smile he gave her when trying to lighten the mood.
"Yes. You do," she shot back. "You know I'm no good at this."
"I'll go see Alfred," Grayson looked up at her. Her hair was unkempt from her restless sleep and their early morning activity, but that made her all the more delightful to him. He thought for a moment if he could suffer through the pain and continue forward with their mutual desires. As he leaned forward slightly to test his limits, a searing pain cascaded through his side and he collapsed back against the armrest. She had a similar thought process, and upon seeing the grimace as he tried to fight through his pain, thought better of it.
"You need rest just as much as I do. A couple hours, then we'll get you patched up properly." Barbara reached over to carefully peel off the bandage, quickly replacing it with another from the opened first aid kit beside her. They both stood from the couch; closer then they normally would before. Grayson's hand ran down the side of her bare arm. He was only slightly taller than her, but still had to lean a bit to meet his lips to hers; this time his kiss was delicate. Her mouth was plump, full of blood from moments ago. Her hands kept pressure against his chest; not pushing, but feeling his muscles. He would give anything to have her right now, naked and on top of him. But with a quick break in the kiss, she turned abruptly, stepping over his gear still splayed out over the floor. She had traced further down his torso to grab his hand, leading him to her bedroom. Grayson followed close behind. The moment he saw the unmade bed, he wanted to lie down. The urge of sleep overcame every other desire. He placed his head down on a firm pillow and was immediately asleep. Barbara took an extra moment to change into an oversized t-shirt and crawled in beside him. It didn't take her long for sleep to find her as well.