A/N: hi all, apologies for the long wait. very surprised and happy to see so many of you are following! i really appreciate all the reviews. this was a shorter update than i was hoping for, but thanks for reading and i hope you enjoy!

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Chapter 2

It had been close to thirty-five minutes before Dick appeared in the cave, wearing the same grey hoodie he had arrived in and athletic leggings. Turning from his computer only when he heard Dick's footsteps reach the sparring mat, Bruce acknowledged him with a small nod.

He was happier for the boy's presence and unspoken acceptance of his honesty than he could show, but still happy nonetheless. Dick walked around the outer perimeter of the mat with a casual gait, linking his hands behind his back and stretching his shoulders in small bounces.

"Figured I couldn't pass you up on the offer. 'Sides, wouldn't wanna fall too far behind just because of a few bruised ribs," he spoke with a fond teasing in his tone, the first genuine smile on his face since his arrival. It was small and guarded, but the warmth in his eyes couldn't be faked.

Now in the center of the mat, Bruce returned the smile, adjusting the tape on his hands. He allowed Dick the time to stretch before they began, neither exchanging a word more. When Dick finally rolled his head and lowered into a defensive state, a signal that he was ready to begin, it surprised Bruce that he did not make to take off his hoodie.

Normally he hated to have any unnecessary material on his person to hinder his movements (hence his cape-less attire as Nightwing). Not wanting to push his luck, though, he did not address it as he too fell into a prepared stance. They slowly began to circle each other, one trying to read the other, figure out who would make the first move. This time, it was Dick.

He thrust his right foot out, making to cut into Bruce's space in one fluid motion, but just as his hand followed through with the attack it was countered by a fall back. As they began their dance of push and pull, Bruce made note that most of the push was from Dick's end.

It was a refreshing change of pace; it meant Dick was eager, feeling more forward than he had been. These observations were affirmed when Bruce almost took a punch to the face while lost in his thoughts, eliciting a small smirk from the boy. Back on his toes, and glad for the change in mood, he decided to start pushing back more seriously.

The shift in intent did not go unnoticed by Dick as he was now in swift retreat from Bruce's offensive counters.

"Getting serious now?" he huffed out, the same smirk returning to his face as he hopped just out of reach.

In response, Bruce delivered an unexpected high-kick. Dick had just barely blocked it from making contact with his head using his forearm, and let out a laugh at just how off guard it had caught him.

"I suggest you do the same," Bruce returned the taunting tone.

By now they were sparring in earnest, pulling their punches less, reading the other's moves more sharply. Bruce could feel a few beads of sweat building on his brow, and one glance at Dick's face—his eyes giving away where his next strike was intended—told him the boy was already dripping. His clothing could not have been exactly "breathable" compared to what he usually wore.

Having anticipated which opening he would go for, Bruce caught Dick's arm just as he moved his torso to evade the strike. It was easy to find grip in the excessive fabric of the hoodie, and he was able to subvert the momentum of the punch to pull Dick in closer.

Deciding now was his best chance to gain the first "win," Bruce grasped the fabric of the collar and forcefully placed his own right foot just behind Dick's. Keeping his bruised ribs in mind, he was able to throw Dick down onto his back in a more controlled manner by keeping a firm grip on the garment.

Now laying face up, the collar of his hoodie still in Bruce's hand, Dick laughed again.

"Nice one…first point to you, big guy!"

Looking down at his slightly flushed face, Bruce felt himself smile as well. However, now pulling the actual hoodie loose, Bruce caught glimpse of Dick's neck.

Two bruises were present, just above his collar bone and to the left; one more of a speckled red, the other larger and a deeper almost purple color. His mind immediately registered the specificity of the markings, and in an instant they disappeared beneath the fabric again as he released it. Still smiling and with what seemed to be renewed energy, Dick rolled to his feet and rolled his head.

"Whew, been a while since you tossed me like that."

"Hm," Bruce merely hummed in agreement. He once again adjusted the tape on his hands as he paced a yard's distance from Dick. Glancing up, Bruce could see that he too was pacing the mat and readjusting.

"There's no way it's gonna happen again, though," Dick challenged as they locked eyes, both once again dropping into a readied stance.

—

They had gone three more rounds, each one more drawn out than the last. Dick was right in that Bruce was not able to toss him again, but he more or less had the upper hand for the majority of their session. Now replenishing themselves with water, the two men sat on one of the benches in the locker area.

Dick wiped his face with a towel, his bangs and the back of his hair dripping with sweat while his cheeks had taken on a more vibrant hue. Still, the outerwear remained on his person. Before Bruce could reflect on it being out of character, Dick broke the amicable silence that was previously only filled by their breathing.

"It's a good thing you offered to spar now. Another day and I might have lost 4-to-0 instead of 3-to-1," he chuckled, taking another swig from his bottle.

Doing the same, Bruce reflected on the opening he had left that only Dick was able to take advantage of with his acrobatic intuitions. The speed and agility to twist just bellow his strike and directly into close quarters was something he still managed to impress Bruce with, no matter how many times it had happened throughout the years.

He turned to face the boy again, who was now scrubbing his hair with the towel before letting it rest on his shoulder. Feeling the silence had slipped into a point where conversation was welcome, Bruce spoke up.

"I'm glad you came down to spar as well." The acknowledgment of accepting his offer to talk was understood, as Dick simply looked into his eyes now, a soft smile on his face. "Yeah."

Another moment passed before he continued "Thanks for that, by the way. It's really helped to clear my mind a bit. And I appreciate it, Bruce," he added on, now looking at the bottle in his hands as they rested between his knees.

The close physical contact of the sparring had spoken volumes of Dick's openness to communicate, the back and forth of their attacks a conversation in itself. For them, it had always been a more honest and readable way to communicate. But still, Bruce yearned to hear him voice his issues.

"And just what might it be that's been on your mind?" Bruce asked in a nonchalant manner, focusing on his own bottle, offering a small distance for Dick to answer. In his peripheral vision, he could see the hesitance of the last few days reappear on Dick's face.

"It's…nothing really. Well, it's nothing I can't handle on my own. I just needed to get out of the city—my city for a bit, is all. Out of my head, too," he replied with a shrug.

The conclusion of his answer sounded like it had been reached naturally enough that Bruce allowed himself a feeling of relief. It seemed that the sparring session really had helped a good deal if Dick's tone of voice and ability to communicate were any indicator.

"I just got a little," he paused, searching "skittish is all." Rubbing the back of his neck before shooting an apologetic look from under his bangs, he offered a small smile. "I feel pretty lame at being so spooked now that some time has passed."

Bruce processed the small confession he had just received. Still an evasive answer, but filled with a surprising amount of honesty. Especially considering what Bruce had now surmised since their sparring session had begun. He thought on it for a few moments more, before bringing the bottle back to his lips

"So I take it it is a 'personal' issue, then?"

Unexpectedly, the boy seemed to be caught off guard, and a blush even seemed to overtake his already flushed features.

"Uh…" there was a short pause followed by an awkward chuckle "yeah, you could say that." His response was shy, if not embarrassed, and now Bruce could hardly resist teasing his partner who suddenly looked so young again.

It was never like Dick to feel shyness or embarrassment in regard to his relationships. Most of them having been involved directly with his "night job," there was typically never too much secrecy surrounding them, his partners being close allies and friends. And even still it was never like him to evade or deny it upon inquiry. So taking it to have been an occurrence outside of his second-life, Bruce felt it all right to carry through.

"Just make sure to take care. I doubt you should want Alfred or myself to rehash the 'safety' conversation," he said into the open room, the smallest hint of a smile on his face.

He drew one last sip from his bottle when he felt it. A sudden tension was now coiled in Dick's frame, the boy having gone still. Looking at him now, Bruce could see that his eyes were staring fixedly at his bottle now and jaw set tight. This was not the reaction Bruce had anticipated.

However, before he could form a response or comment (or even a thought for that matter), Dick was already standing.

"Yeah, wouldn't want to go through that again," his voice was clipped, trying to be lighthearted but clearly bothered.

Every alarm that had been building up in Bruce's mind over the last few days was now blaring. Dick had turned and was already walking towards the staircase, hiding his face in the gesture of wiping it with his towel.

"Thanks again, Bruce. I'm heading up, I'll see you at dinner." He was already halfway across the open space when Bruce finally stood and called out "Dick."

He stiffened, but obediently waited, though he did not turn around.

"Dick," Bruce called again in a softer tone, but not any less stern. "What happened?"

Slowly, his shoulders relaxed once again. When Dick finally did turn to face him, his expression was perfectly crafted.

"It's just like you said, Bruce, a 'personal' issue. I'll figure it out."

Bruce's chest tightened at the strained, abashed expression meant to be read as a regretfully sheepish smile.

"Sorry to make you worry." Dick once again turned for the stairs, leaving his mentor feeling more at a loss than he had before.