No Warnings . . .
Dick didn't know why he was stopping by Elle's place instead of his own. She wasn't home. She had left a message on his phone that she was going into the studio for rehearsals or a demo or something like that. He kind of stopped listening when she said she would be out for most of the day. Instead he felt bummed.
He was all but living with her. He was here most of the time when he wasn't working or patrolling; the rest of the time, Elle was at his place. To have a day when she wasn't waiting for him when he came home from work felt like the worst kind of loneliness. He wondered if it was the bond that caused it. Cedric said they could be away from each other for days at a time without hardship and even a few months if they kept in touch. Or maybe he just liked her company.
Dick dropped a couple of grasshoppers into Mook's terrarium, and watched the spider begin to stalk them. He shivered. What the hell was Elle thinking? She had told him later that the boy's mother was planning on getting rid of Mook, and that was why she chose that night to play her prank on him, because Mook would have been gone the next day anyway. Apparently the boy kept a lot of strange pets, including a boa constrictor named Turtle.
Dick had only wanted a dog. Okay, a dog and an elephant, but Bruce insisted that they had had no time for pets. Eventually he had gotten Ace, but that took a lot of begging and wheedling to accomplish. He couldn't help but wonder what Bruce's take on a tarantula would have been.
He moved into Elle's bedroom and started stripping. A shower and a change later, Dick was rubbing his hair dry with a towel when he walked into the kitchen to see what there was in the way of leftovers. He had to be careful. Elle was a fantastic cook; like Alfred-level type of cook. If didn't watch himself, he would have to design a roomier Nightwing costume that would fit the extra pounds he was bound to gain.
Was that a fresh salad? Elle must have tossed it together before she left today. Fresh minestrone soup and leftovers from the best lasagna he had ever tasted beckoned. Seriously, if Elle ever decided to stop singing, she would make a fortune opening an Italian restaurant. She had laughed when he had suggested it; telling him that her grandmother was the cook in the family. He couldn't imagine it, but since then he had played with the idea of going with Elle the next time she visited her grandmother.
The answering machine light was blinking Dick noticed as he settled on the couch, setting his meal on the coffee table. And now that he noticed, he found he couldn't ignore it. But this was Elle's answering machine, not his. Of course, most of the people they knew either as a couple or even individually were aware that they spent most of their time together, so if you couldn't find one of them in one location, everyone knew to try the other location.
Dick punched the button to listen to the messages. He would just make certain that Elle knew who called and when. He picked up the pad and paper sitting next to the answering machine on the table. He hit the wrong button and instead of starting with the new messages, Dick took the messages back to the beginning. Luckily, there were only two to get through before he got to the new one. He supposed he could skip them, but when the first message began playing, he pulled his finger back to listen.
"Buongiorno mia piccola Bella. Speravo di trovarti a casa, ma non sono stata fortunate," came a woman's musical voice over the speaker. "Tuo padre ci ha detto delle tue novità , mia cara. Hai finalmente trovato la tua anima gemella." ("Good morning, my little Bella. I was hoping to catch you t home, but unfortunately, this is not my luck today. Your father told us of your news, my dear. You've finally met your bondmate.")
Dick's eyebrows raised in surprise once he realized that the woman that left the message must be Elle's grandmother. He knew Italian, fortunately, but it didn't take a detective to figure it out.
"Rispondimi al più presto per comunicarci la data. Io e tuo nonno dobbiamo organizzarci per venire. Bellina, non mancheremmo al tuo matrimonio per niente al mondo!" ("You have to call us back with the date so that your grandfather and I can make arrangements. Sweet, little Bella, we would not miss your wedding for the world!")
W-wedding?
"Abbiamo sentito molto parlare di questo giovane, Richard n vediamo l'ora di conoscerlo. Baci. Ciao." ("We've heard a lot about this young man, this Richard Grayson. We look forward to meeting him. Love and kisses. Goodbye.")
Elle's grandmother knew about him, obviously, and now she appeared to be expecting a wedding invitation. The message ended and Dick discovered that it was from a week ago. Funny, that Elle never mentioned it before.
The second message came up. It was another from Mrs. Constanzo. This one was short, but not nearly so sweet. Dick's mouth dropped open in surprise. The pleasant sounding woman from the first message was gone, and Dick realized Elle's grandmother had a temper to rival the Roman Empire. This time the woman ripped her granddaughter up one side and down the other for not getting married; accusing Elle of prostituting herself and ruining her good reputation, saying that no man would buy a cow if he got the milk for free. The date for this one was four days ago.
Again, he had heard nothing about it. Why wouldn't Elle tell him about this?
Dick lost interest in the new message as he thought about it, he began to recognize key personality traits about his girlfriend that never occurred to him before. Like the fact that he had instigated everything with the exception of Elle's initial serenade. Curious, Dick went over to where Elle stored her videos and located the one she had told him about weeks ago; the one from which she had taken a frame in order to make the picture of the two of them dancing that first time.
He popped the tape in and settled back to reminisce of the night they had met over his meal. It was still warm, at least. Good food, good music, and a pretty girl . . . What more could he ask for, except for maybe the actual presence of that pretty girl?
Dick enjoyed himself; amazed again over the connection between them that was visible through that video. He also realized that Elle's emotional projections could be felt even through various media sources. It was no wonder they had received the applause that they did. Elle's happiness and excitement simply permeated every inch of the building.
His attention became riveted when he watched Elle making her way toward the camera. Here was something new; a part of the evening that Dick hadn't been aware was happening at the time. He watched amused and fascinated by Elle's conversation with the reporter, Maria Sanchez; even blushing at some of the comments thrown his way. But Elle was adorable. He had thought that maybe she had been interested in him at the time, but he had also considered that maybe she had chosen him because he had been one of the few unattached men present. This put an end to that idea.
She had wanted him . . . Dick's grin widened.
But there it was again, that old-fashioned idea that the male pursued the female. He had to admit he personally enjoyed the pursuit, so maybe she wasn't so wrong after all. Elle had stepped out of her comfort zone by serenading him. The idea that she might have put him off by embarrassing him was laughable. He had been well and truly struck by cupid's arrow, he remembered. But he was beginning to understand why she hadn't told him about her grandmother's phone calls. His beautiful Arabella was waiting on him to propose to her of his own free will and in his own time.
The bond made that free will kind of moot, but he had known even before the bond had permanently attached to him that he had wanted her in the worst way . . . And the best way, and in every way in between.
No pressure.
Elle had made clear time and again that she wanted his love and devotion, but only if he wanted to give it. Dick suddenly understood that no matter what it did to her relationship with her family, Elle would never bring up the subject of marriage first. She would never try to guilt him into proposing. In fact, Dick realized that they could live out their entire lives as they were now, and Elle would never even hint that she wanted more from him . . . Not unless the idea for it came from Dick himself. She might become unhappy with what it was doing to her other relationships, and even within their own, but Elle would make sure that Dick never knew of it. The bond might make him aware of her dissatisfaction eventually, but in this, Elle would never admit.
It was an eye-opening revelation. Something about her he had only vaguely guessed at.
Dick looked down and discovered he had at some point forgotten all about his meal. It had gone cold, but he wasn't as hungry now as he had been, despite how delicious everything had been. Not when another thought struck him.
Elle was going to make a wonderful wife someday . . .
Technically, he supposed she already was a wife. Not on paper; not according to government or society, at least not society on land.
The bond was supposed to be deeper than any marital vow. Cedric and Aquaman both assured him that traditional marriage made no difference, and yet Cedric had married Elle's mother; her grandfather had married her grandmother. Why bother? Except to maybe protect their bondmates from cultural stigma and to make certain any children were protected under hereditary laws . . .
Cultural stigmas weren't as much of an issue now. People lived together all the time, but maybe not so much in Elle's family circles which were pretty much Bruce's circles, but he no longer had to wonder what Elle's grandparents and other family and friends would think about their living arrangements. He suddenly wondered what Elle's thoughts on the subject were. He had only heard her grandmother's opinion on the subject. Did she want to marry him?
They loved each other; that he knew. They lived together, whether at his place or here at Elle's, they almost always spent their free time they had with the other; not because they had to, but because they wanted to. His thoughts strayed to her several times a day when they were apart, and even during his nightly patrols as Nightwing.
She thought of him, he knew. The fact that she had prepared him dinner before she had left today proved that. He knew that his spot in her closet would have a freshly laundered and pressed police uniform waiting for him. In fact, he doubt he would find any dirty clothes here or at his place that belonged to him.
Elle was his girlfriend, but she acted like his wife. He was pretty certain that this was just Elle and not the bond making her into 'Suzy Homemaker'. He had gotten used to her ways rather quickly, in fact. It was definitely convenient and most definitely pleasant. She didn't differentiate between their apartments other than his was in one location and hers was here. She had never once made him feel as if her apartment wasn't also his.
But Dick didn't want an 'Alfred, with benefits'. When he married, he wanted the whole she-bang! Everything that Babs had been unwilling to give him as well as all that she had been willing to give . . . Only he didn't want Babs any more. That ship had sailed and sunk somewhere beyond the horizon. He couldn't even say he missed it.
But the more he thought about Elle and marriage, the more it began to gleam like a shiny coin of infinite value. He looked around her apartment. It reflected her in every picture, every stick of furniture, even the combination of scents that told him that Arabella Hamilton resided here. It looked like home. It felt like home. It smelled like home.
Dick suddenly wanted it to be home; his home. Elle always made him feel welcome here; warm and invited. But he didn't want an invitation anymore . . . Dick wanted it to be a right. He would figure out the Nightwing aspect of it; even if it meant keeping the other apartment indefinitely. But he would live here because Elle was here.
And Elle was home.
He cleaned up behind himself and went to change. Torn jeans and a worn-out t-shirt was fine for home, but he wanted to go find Elle. He was reminded of Tim's observation that Elle appeared to be basement bargain shopping for a boyfriend and got scammed. She didn't deserve to be embarrassed by his comfortable, homeless hobo-look.
He pulled on a better pair of dark jeans, a turtleneck, and a casual blazer. He grabbed a heavier jacket for warmth, and went to find Elle. They were moving in together permanently, and he would start the search for the perfect engagement ring tomorrow. Elle would have an answer for her grandmother before the week was out.
REACTIONS?
Look where his thoughts have turned . . . How exciting!
Ooh! Let's all thank Nowlive (one of my Italian readers) for her Italian translation . . . MUCH BETTER than Google Translate! Grandma no longer sounds like a poorly educated tourist! YEAH!