If only we could have someone like Alfred to run all our hairbrained ideas past first . . . Alas, we must simply do our best and plod on!
Warning: Language (I think) . . .
There was something to be said about not having to get up and go to work each morning . . . At least when one had a supremely comfortable bedmate with which to cuddle with on cold, gray mornings. Dick stretched, noting a number of aches in his muscles brought on by patrolling for the first time in a few weeks. It could have been worse but Nightwing had managed to avoid any significant injuries this time out. Other than a new bruise here and there, he felt great. One of the benefits of being bonded to a Siren, he thought, smiling as he nuzzled the back of Elle's neck. She sighed contentedly and leaned back into him, acknowledging him despite not being awake yet.
She had been dozing when he had climbed into bed early this morning. Not once did she open her eyes as he had made love to her but she had been more than receptive despite her lack of visual stimulus. She had hummed for him, making the sweet sounds whenever he pleased her . . . It was a little quirk she had that he was growing inordinately fond of the more she did it. Although Arthur had assured Dick, that as Elle's bondmate, he was immune to the influence of her voice, he knew he was still affected by it. Every sound and note Elle made vocally would produce in him an emotional or physical reaction.
She spoke and he would feel his body tighten or relax in response. Singing or humming would release tension he never realized that he felt. The noises she made, however, while making love could send him over the edge in a manner he had never experienced before her. Nothing he had ever felt could compare.
The bond was developing . . . expanding in new ways. He was more conscious now of his connection to her when they were separated. He could feel her presence at a greater distance than before, not the enormous distances that her father had alluded to, but easily within a mile. He noticed, during the last day or two, that he could locate her in the manor by simply focusing his thoughts on her. He could be down in the cave and, with a thought, know Elle was in the kitchen with Alfred or walking in the gardens or taking a shower.
He grinned against her skin, earning another hum of approval. She wasn't even awake and yet she knew he was happy. It made him want to laugh. Despite the problems they were experiencing, Dick had never felt so content and at ease . . . Happy.
God, when was the last time he had felt this way?
Dick had numerous occasions when he could have described himself as happy or content but now? He was suddenly aware of the tension that had plagued even his best memories. He frowned a moment as he focused on what he was feeling right at this moment in time and he couldn't find anything to detract from his joy. Sure, he knew someone was out the get them. There was always some concern in Gotham or Bludhaven, some trouble with work or tension in one of his numerous other relationships with friends, co-workers, and family but listening to Elle breathe erased all of it from his mind.
Incredible . . .
Bruce was always so focused on the cons of the bond that he couldn't credit the benefits. Even if he could, Dick doubted the man would be able to understand them. So, he and Elle would die together . . . Honestly, Dick couldn't find a problem with that. He couldn't imagine how bleak life would be without Elle a part of it. He didn't want to find out. When she left this plane of existence, Dick felt comfortable with the knowledge that he would leave the world right alongside of her.
Part of him didn't like the idea that his activities could cut her life short one night but he knew without a doubt that she felt the same way as he did. Even if she could continue to exist after he passed, he knew for certain that she would want nothing more to do with this world if he weren't in it. Strangely enough, he found it comforting.
His hand traced a path up her hip, pushing up the flannel pajama top she wore. Elle wasn't as enamored with winter lately as she had been, he noticed. The novelty of the snow and the cold had worn out its welcome rather quickly. Testing his theory, Dick tugged the blankets down to her waist. Sure enough, after a few minutes, Elle tugged them right back up to her chin.
He chuckled and blew lightly over the shell of her ear, producing a shiver. She unconsciously rewarded his mischievousness by rolling into his arms and snuggling into his heat. His fingers traced the curve of her back causing an instant reaction as Elle dove beneath the covers completely with a whine.
"What's the matter, baby?" he murmured softly.
Elle gave a muffled harrumph, apparently unamused with his teasing.
"Aw, baby, don't be that way," he called down to her, only for her to scooch a little further from the light of day.
He laughed until she decided to exact a little revenge of her own. Dick gasped as Elle's wandering fingers delved past the drawstring top of his pajama bottoms. Seconds later he sighed as Elle strengthened their bond further. He wasn't relaxed now . . . Whew! But he thought he could luxuriate in this kind of tension all day.
Could he get a hurrah for spiritual bonding?
His eyes closed in ecstasy as Elle hummed lightly against his skin.
"We won't be at dinner," Miss Arabella told Alfred later.
"Indeed?" the family butler inquired.
"I'm taking Dick out to tonight," she confided in him.
Alfred stopped kneading his bread and looked over at her. She was rinsing the dishes from lunch and placing them in the dishwasher. He had quickly learned that Arabella wasn't as easily discouraged from assisting him in the kitchen as were the other members of the family. He also learned that she smudged the lines between employer and employee as to almost be nonexistent. He would be lying if he didn't admit to being pleased with the young woman's determination that Alfred was a part of the family. He wondered at her relationship with his counterpart in her own household and imagined it ran similar to what he was now experiencing.
"Have you discussed this with Master Dick?" he asked her, concerned. He knew that that dreadful villain, Deadshot, had made an attempt on her life already.
"Of course not," she smiled. "It's supposed to be a surprise."
"Perhaps, then, in that case, you should mention it to Master Bruce in the next hour or two so that he might make arrangements for your safety," he suggested.
Arabella frowned as she turned the water off and reached for a towel to dry her hands.
"My safety?" she asked, carefully.
"Yours and Master Dick's," Alfred clarified. He was well aware of the young woman's dislike of any suggestion that they were protective of her alone.
She sighed. "Might I ask your opinion about something, Alfred?"
"Certainly, Miss," he assured her. "Is this a subject of confidentiality?"
She bit her lip nervously, sparking the older man's curiosity. "Well, not exactly. It's just that I haven't told anyone yet and, while I plan to do so today, I'm a little concerned about their reactions."
Alfred's eyebrow lifted at this. "What sort of reactions are you expecting? Is this bad news?"
Arabella was silent as she carefully folded the hand towel, obviously buying herself a bit more time to keep the information to herself. She set the towel aside and looked at him worriedly.
"It isn't bad news . . ." she began.
"Then I cannot see how this should be cause for worry," he said.
Her shoulders slumped. "Dick's going to kill me," she whined rather piteously.
"I daresay you are exaggerating the matter," he told her. "I'm certain that once you get the news out of the way, you'll see this is so."
She took a deep breath and blurted it out. "I bribed my brother, Aiden, to find the assassin after Dick and I, and work out a deal to buy him off. Aiden called me yesterday evening, after everyone left for patrol, and told me he had succeeded. Deadshot has dropped the contract and, as far as we can tell, no one else is after us. I now have to sign over half of my father's inheritance to my step-brother as payment for his help."
Arabella twisted her hands together, wincing in anticipation, as she waited impatiently for Alfred's reaction.
The butler blinked and then blinked again.
"Are you speaking of the same brother that was suing you over competency in an effort to steal your company away from you with hopes of having you committed to a mental facility for the rest of your life?"
She bit her lip, nodding. "It sounds really bad when you put it that way."
"The same brother that had once made an attempt on your life when you were but a small child?"
She winced again and nodded.
"The very same brother that Master Dick is convinced is the man ultimately behind the assassination attempts?"
Arabella slumped, sighing. "I only have one brother, Alfred."
"Oh, dear . . ."
"Oh, dear?" she asked worriedly. "I was kind of hoping for something a little more reassuring than that."
Alfred picked up his own towel and wiped the flour from his hands, then laid the towel over the now resting dough. "I wish I had something a little more reassuring to give you. I'm afraid I might be inclined to agree with your initial verdict as to Master Dick's reaction."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Really?"
"Indeed, my dear," he sighed next. "He might, in fact, consider killing you. At least, at first."
Arabella crossed her arms on the counter and rested her head there in despair.
"Whatever induced you to make such a foolhardy decision?"
"I was tired of always having to look over my shoulder," she complained. "I worried that someone would try to kill Dick next time. It was taking too long for them to fix it." Arabella straightened and leaned against the counter.
Although she still looked worried over Master Dick's reaction, Alfred couldn't say that she appeared to regret her actions.
"I believe the reason behind the delay was the need to discover the originator of the contract," Alfred explained. "It isn't enough to merely deter the assassin but to find the person who placed the contract out on the two of you in the first place. Whoever wants you both dead could simply hire someone else to replace the assassin you paid off. Eventually, the danger will return but, next time I'm afraid, we will not know from whence the threat will come."
"You mean, there was a chance they could have discovered the guy behind it all because they knew Deadshot made the last attempt."
"They had hopes of using the assassin, yes," Alfred told her.
"Until I screwed up everything," she muttered.
"Not everything, my dear," he comforted her. "They might still be able to track Deadshot down and obtain the information they need. At least, he will not be actively trying to kill you in the meantime. I believe that they were seriously considering your brother as the one they were looking for. Ironic that he would be the one to call the assassin off. Are you certain that he did what he claimed?"
Arabella shrugged and walked to the table to sit down. "I know that Dick has real mad on for Aiden but I honestly don't believe my brother is behind it, Alfred. To kill me, he would lose all hope of ever gaining control of our father's companies."
"If your brother is behind it, then it would appear that he was indeed successful. Did you not agree to sign over half of your inheritance to him in an effort to stop the assassination attempts?" Alfred pointed out.
She frowned as she considered this new proposal. "I-I suppose, when you consider it like that. I never thought of it from that angle before. It's kind of convoluted, though, isn't it? I mean, what if Deadshot had been successful? Aiden wouldn't have gotten anything. I never pictured him as being that much of a risk-taker. My brother likes to control everything and I cannot see him leaving so much to chance."
"Unless he paid Deadshot to miss," Alfred murmured softly.
Arabella stared at him, stunned. Then she seemed to shake herself out of her daze. "No," she said. "No, I cannot believe that. This Deadshot's entire reputation would have been on the line. He wouldn't have missed on purpose. It's one thing when he believes the contract has been revoked but to have it get around that he couldn't complete a contract . . ."
She was getting worked up when Alfred patted her hand comfortingly. "I'm sure you are quite right," he said.
She looked at the butler suspiciously. "Are you agreeing with me just to make me feel better?"
Alfred smiled slightly. "Did it work?"
She returned his smile with a smirk. "Maybe a little . . . But Dick is still going to have a conniption fit when he hears about this. He doesn't like it when I deal with Aiden by myself."
"I must say that I would take Master Dick's side on that issue."
"Well, I'm not a total idiot," she said, defensively. "I had Hugh and Edward with me when I talked to him and last night we only talked on the phone."
"Of course, you are not, but I would be certain to make mention that your bodyguards were on hand when you confronted your brother when you finally speak with Master Dick, were I you," Alfred suggested. "The earlier in the conversation, the better, if I might suggest."
"I recognize good advice when I hear it, Alfred. Thank you," she said, standing up. "I guess it is time to beard the lion in his den."
"Perhaps it will not be so dire as all that," Alfred said, hopefully. "The young sir does love you, after all."
Arabella perked up at that. "That's true," she said, adding with a smile, "and he cannot kill me without killing himself in the process!"
"And there would be your silver lining . . ." Alfred chuckled lightly as she headed to the door leading to the manor proper. "Good luck bearding your lion, Miss."
"Look on the bright side," Elle said with false cheer, trying to distract Dick from his temper. "You can have fish tonight for dinner!"
Dick stared at her, incredulously. "Fish?" he yelled. "You think I care more about my stomach than I do you?"
"Of course not . . . I just . . . I was trying to find a bright side to all of this . . ." her voice faded away unhappily.
After talking with Alfred earlier, Elle felt her only hope lay in Dick's ability to forgive. It was no wonder he thought her incompetent. Her throat closed up and her eyes felt hot. All of her new-found self-confidence she had gained over the last few weeks, believing she had outsmarted her older brother, fled in a rush.
She turned away. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "No wonder Poppa thought I needed a keeper before he could leave me."
Dick slid his hands over her shoulders and squeezed gently.
"I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear. "I didn't mean to make you feel foolish."
"You didn't make me feel any such thing, Dick Grayson," she muttered. "I managed to do that all by myself."
"Sh," he hushed her criticism as he turned her in his arms. "You're not foolish. I just worry about you."
Elle sank into his embrace gratefully. "I just wanted it to end. Hamilton Industries doesn't mean as much to me as does our freedom. I'm so tired of everyone having to go out of their way to protect me. I can't even go for a walk in the garden without someone having to set aside their own business to go with me."
"I know, baby," he told her. "All of this has to be frustrating for you." He leaned back just enough to look down at her. "Will it make you feel any better knowing that I'm not allowed out alone either. Bruce or Tim, even Damian, have been taking turns following me about whenever I leave the manor."
"Even last night?" she asked curiously.
Dick shrugged. "Not so much last night but that was only because I was in costume. The chances that the assassin knows that I am also Nightwing is pretty much zilch. But I was never alone for long stretches without checking in with Batman or Oracle."
At the mention of Oracle, Elle stiffened but Dick misinterpreted the sign. He kissed her temple and then her nose. "I was completely safe. Only your average bad guys were out last night."
His lips settled over hers and, after the slightest hesitation, Elle relaxed and returned his kiss. As usual, passion was never far from the surface and things heated up quickly between them. Dick swept her up, grateful that no matter what the argument, they always managed to forgive and work things out. His relationships hadn't always sailed so smoothly. In fact, it was seldom that they had managed to avoid the rocks. Although he had been able to salvage most of the friendships with his exes, Dick had never actually been lucky in love until Elle had swept into his life like a hurricane.
Later, Dick rolled onto his side and smiled down at her. His fingers smoothed her hair from her face.
"So, we're having fish tonight?" He asked, teasingly.
She pursed her lips but their lovemaking had eased the clouds from her eyes. "Correction: you're having fish tonight," she told him, dryly. "I'm having cow."
"I'll take what I can get," he chuckled, dropping another kiss on her nose.
Elle glanced over at the clock. "We're not getting anything if we don't start getting ready right now. We'll miss our reservations."
"Can't have that," he agreed as he rolled away and came to his feet. "It's been too long since we've gone out, just the two of us."
Elle disappeared into the closet and reappeared a moment later with two outfits in her hands. One was an ombré, bandage dress with dark maroon stripes along the bottom that faded to white around the neck and shoulders; the other was a pair of dark jeans, a long-sleeved, russet t-shirt with a tan leather jacket and a matching print scarf.
"Which outfit do you like," she asked him.
Dick considered them both. While he preferred the easy, laid-back style of the jeans, he knew the dress would cling lovingly to Elle's generous curves. It was worth it to dress up a bit to enjoy the eye-candy.
"The dress," he decided.
Elle turned each outfit in her hands to look them over herself. She turned both back towards him and gave them a little shake. "So, which one is it?"
Dick smiled. "I told you. I like the dress."
Elle pursed her lips but didn't move. She tilted her head as she asked him again, "Come on, Dick. Choose!"
Annoyance dimmed his smile a hair. "I think you'd look fabulous in the dress," he told her firmly.
Elle stood there another moment. "We haven't got all night, you know."
Dick frowned. "Which one do you like?"
"I'm asking you," she told him.
"And I told you."
Elle sighed. "Waiting . . ."
Dick rolled his eyes, sighing. "Why don't we just be comfortable tonight," he said, finally. "Wear the blue jeans."
Elle beamed at him. "Oh, good! That's the outfit I like, too!" She turned and went back into the closet.
"Why do you bother asking me my opinion if you're just going to ignore it," he called after her.
"Because I love you," she called back at him.
He shook his head and laughed. That made absolutely no sense and, at the same time, perfect sense, a typical Elle answer. Apparently, even helping her choose an outfit was an adventure.
"Love you, too," he told her as he headed into the bathroom for a quick shower and to run a razor over his five o'clock shadow.
He whistled as he lathered up. He loved his seafood almost as much as he did his bondmate . . . Almost. Crabcakes had never made him laugh like Elle could, after all.
REACTIONS?
I don't know. I think she did a pretty good job in spite of everything. At least she got Deadshot off their backs for a while but I'll admit to wishing I had an Alfred around to run things past before I commit to doing things. ;D Now, let the fun begin . . .
Missed you all . . . But I'm settling into my new place and can now find some free time to sit down and write again. More coming very soon.