Why Heroes Can't Sip Champagne and Apples Are a Girl's Best Friend
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Chapter 6: I'm not Super – Human Anymore
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Richard John Grayson.
Hero.
Leader.
Fighter
But…
A TERRIBLE LOVER.
Sure, he could perform in bed like a gymnast, but as an adult courting another??
Wooing??
He sucked at it.
Royally.
He'd been perfect with Babs up until she called him a puppy dog looking for an excuse to stay inside, instead of out with the dog house.
Damn.
Or, what about Tarantula?? She'd helped him put away crooks, but…she was a widow spider at heart.
Man - eater and manipulative -until he'd been gripped by the balls and ran crying to Bruce about it.
A perfect excuse of a gentleman however, he was not.
He'd swept Kori and a few others off their feet. He'd even pissed off Roy as Speedy for accidentally sounding like a flirt around his girl, Cheshire, who actually thought he was hitting on her too…
As if! She'd strike him dead any chance she got!
Kori…Kori was, unique, in a way he could never describe.
Pure?
Genuine?
Lovely?...
He was drooling if he thought that. She didn't want to stay so close, but…
What had that day even meant?
He got up and decided to patrol. Put himself in better spirits. This was his town, his rules. Who didn't want to catch a shot of Peter P in place of Dick G?
God, that sounded horrible…
He threw a hand to his face and groaned. The food in the fridge would be there, he might even make a sandwich to pack if his stomach demanded it.
No need to drop by Bat – Burger without the spandex.
His mask in place, Dick took to his own sort of way to burn off the excess stress of the day…
And then, he had an idea about where he wanted to go.
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Escrima sticks.
Check.
Wing – dings…Right? Was that a joke of his from the station or something?
Rangs, whatever.
Umm…Oh, and what else….
Staff. Always had it just in case.
Since Slade…. was not the only crime lord loitering around this city.
His pack granted, he made sure to carry light, as Dick's stomach had an idea of what he wanted before the –
~ In pursuit, we've got a hit and run ve –
~ On our way. ~
He had intercepted their communications, and heck! He worked for the police to know them better than Bruce knew the GCPD.
He was good to go, and swung off with…Ah! Grappler. That's what he'd packed but didn't check off his Wing – nut of a list.
Figures…
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A few screws? Those were packed too, yet Dick intestinally went along the same back streets – above them, to head to the –
They were mobile??
"Guess I can stop a few tires tonight." Dick leaped down and fell right onto the driver's hood of his gettaway car, making the crook shout and yeah. Turn straight into an alley way –
"Then down the trash…. ow! Can…Can! OWW! Driving lesson's over!" He dragged out his sticks and stopped the engine with a ram into the hood, metal to metal as the shock only shorted the car's motor to a crawl.
"Fuck you, Wing! I ain't got time to leave the world with a deat-
"I'm not a killer, sir. You need to come quietly for disturbing the peace in Bloodhaven. Not that you are from my home, nope." The airbag deployed late, making the man gasp as he was startled to fall back and open the door, hands in the air.
~ We've just apprehended the suspect –
"What?" There are two of you?? What did you steal, nuclear war heads??" He reprimanded the crook.
"Heh…" The man felt less threatening by the sirens coming into the picture. "Better luck next time, Nightwing"
~There once was a crooked man who walked a crooked mile. ~ Dick did not like the man sassing him. Heck, he was so used to it that he secretly fantasized about an uprising at his doorstep and an alien invasion – all of the bums having to get real jobs through the galactic federation's road to employment program.
Dear god…. he was a regular Clash of the Planets closet - case!
Yeah, no. Not Gar's level of nutty just yet.
Dick grunted and got out his makeshift "lasso," had the guy at his mercy for the vigilante to easily and hog tied the dope for the police to find, while he went after runaway car numero dos.
This was the kind of thrill he missed dearly since leveling with his old team. He didn't get this kind of rush very often, but when he did. It lasted, and he wished it would never die.
Rooftops became his playground again. This was his city, he had a right to protect and thrive in it, so he did.
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The sirens got louder, so Wing had his photo up on the police's dash, the crowd as pumped at seeing a cape in such great form, maybe?
He winked at the photographer as she nearly fainted.
Fans. He could get used to being the center of attention once more.
Yet, as the night waned, he was able to wake up with a bright-eyed perspective.
And later, he'd find out why that was so important to cling to.
………..
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Rrrrrrrinng!!
Land line….
He didn't have one at his place….
A…..soft…
Dick groaned and slipped onto the side of the bed, shuffling on feet as he rummaged nearby for his –
Was that…. fluffy?
Where was his dresser?
He blinked, wanting to let go of the thing, that had no even…
Was it moving??
Hair, she ….
She.
He…. What??
Dick grabbed his pants and shut the door to the bathroom, cell in hand.
Babs. Why was he in….
Think think….
Still nothing –
" Dick?"
She was there, but what about –
"Dick! Open up, I need to look at that gash from last night. You stained my sheets with them…!" Dick!"
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From the time he'd single handedly gotten things under control, that control spun from him hands and back to the rooftops.
Who did he hit?
What hit him??
" Dick…. I can explain –
He opened the door to see Babs there in her wheelchair with a first aid kid on her pajama clad lap.
"You need help with the bleeding, and no. I just needed the bed back. We didn't do anything, idiot." She frowned, hoping her words would matter; that he wouldn't cry like a baby and whine at her to fix things between them first.
"I…. got it…that. Barbie… what got at me last night after I caught up with the police?" He asked the red headed techie.
"A new guy, called himself Midnighter." She spoke. "You're lucky to not be sick from blood loss. By the time I had gotten someone to you –
"Who?" Dick gripped her shoulders as he tried to stay calmer than the last few times.
He was too paranoid. Like daddy bats.
" Who brought me back to your apartment?"
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"Red Hood was in town; he wanted to see if he could grab a job but I told him that it was a dry month, even for you."
As in bigger bait to snap back at.
Dick frowned and let Babs continue, the story unraveling as she patched up his cuts all over again.
"Midnighter was, not a fan of vigilantes, but he knew killing blows that you evaded and…You just, fell. As if you didn't have enough to face, the police almost got pushed around by this guy. It wasn't until you went that he ran off. As if a warning that we should pay attention to him from now on." She thought back to the reports. The shouting and battle cries. "If you feel like shit tomorrow, call out sick. Have a printed notice or I'll do-
"I should be fine, Ow…." Dick winced at the ache in his torso where the graze from a fire escape had banged him up like a twisted pretzel.
He'd lived. Fuck that! He'd been saved, by Red…?
"Shit…" He grumbled, while Babs just cut the last piece of tape to the gauze she'd finally re-dressed.
Another reason why Kori had dumped him, was because of his determination being a problem when he had her around, even on their days off.
Work, work work.
Like Bruce had taught him.
Working till you were dead. More like, until you wanted to end it all…
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He came to work, in a cast for a single fracture. She'd only gotten what she could to create a sling but his job was in the office until he got better at moving it.
Till then, Dick called Al to ask for a special ointment from Bruce's company that Batman used for his injuries.
He had one jar left and it was almost finished up.
He laid out a stack of papers and got to work. Finding this job to be…
Relaxing? Maybe too quiet than what he was used to?
Dick tapped his foot, until the phone rang. He grabbed it with the wrong arm -eliciting a yelp as the papers fell onto his desk. "Damn!" He groaned and picked up the phone, hearing the person loud and clear. Then, he just did the bosses' work and got up, papers still on the floor to report a missing teenager who'd run away from home.
A bomb threat at a bus station that was only a false lead.
A drunken sex worker causing a ruckus out side the corner store down town.
And lastly? A cat stuck up in a tree.
But, did he get to go out and talk at least once?
No. So, he waited and waited, and by week three, the gloves – cast, was well on its way to being removed.
"You're good to go, Mr. Grayson." His primary doctor nodded at how the wound was faring. "You must have some secret for having gone this long without calling the office for pain medication."
"My dad was tough on not using drugs often to heal unless you were, well, dying." Dick chuckled at the reason and thought Bruce could agree that it was kind of ironic. Maybe he just kept in shape. No one ever considered that a possibility?
"As always, still try to keep it clean and don't do too many work outs at the gym; you spry adults think its fine until you're back in the emergency room with a broken bone. Listen to your body. And what got that injury on you – like all the others you've gotten that weren't from your job at the station?"
"Ah, I work partly with constructing houses. You know, for the less fortunate. And a rec center counselor, oh! And my side job as a gymnast in –
"You do so many odd jobs when you have so little time? Take a break now and again, or you'll be forced to work a lot less. Lemme tell you." The doc looked over his clip board, then handed Dick a slip showing his x – ray results. "Just, no more heavy lifting until I say it's all better. M' Kay?"
"Yes sir. Dr. Fitzpatrick, sir." Dick hopped off of the table and smiled before waving with the right arm this time. "Could you just, make up another note in case I need to rest in?" He added sheepishly. "I was told it would need some time, and I want to be sure I take your orders to heart. No offense...?"
"None taken, Mr. Grayson. Have a relaxing rest of your week. I'll have the front desk speed along a note for your chief, right away."
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