Chapter 22: Wench Martini
(Slight triggerwarning: There's discussions and a light depiction of sexual harassment at the end of this chapter. If that makes you uncomfortable, send me a PM and I can send you the rest of the chapter so you can skip that specific part)
September 1st
Blüdhaven
Morgan
Morgan stared at the sight before her. The club was big and far less grimy-looking than anything she'd seen in Gotham. She raised her done-up eyebrows at the sign in front, and the ten foot tall painting on the side of the building, depicting a bearded, blonde man with braids carrying a fierce expression, a shield, and a sword.
Her companions all watched expressions dance across her face with a mixture of pleased and amused faces.
"A Viking-themed bar?" she deadpanned. "Really?"
"We're celebrating your heritage!" M'gann said with enthusiasm, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Karen and Barbara snickered. Morgan aimed a good-humored glare in their direction. She had no doubt that M'gann was sincere, but the amused looks on the others' faces told her they were, in fact, teasing her.
"Ragnarök is a fine place," Raquel assured her, gesturing for her to go first. "The drinks are tasty, and the music is great. Now go!"
The five of them went inside and Morgan took in her surroundings. The interior was spacious with a high ceiling, making it feel a lot less confined than she had expected it to. Two extra levels of balconies ran along the edges of the room, creating more space for tables, allowing the ground floor to mostly be taken up by a large dancefloor, where LED squares lit up, timed to the rhythm of the music. The bar was huge and crowded with people waiting for drinks
It looked like a great place for her first-time experience at a club, Morgan decided. Despite her friends' bad attempt at humor. Her heels click-clacked against the smooth, dark floor as they went further in.
She had decided to go all out on her outfit, with a tight, short, black dress with golden accents. As she'd grown out of her awkward teenage years, Morgan had discovered she didn't mind heels as much as she once did, and now she wore a pair of glossy, red pumps with a thick, tall heel. Her hair was newly washed and hanging loose in big, bouncy curls, her bangs framing her face to reveal glittery, dark eyeshadow and glossy lips. If she was going to a club to have fun, she was dressing the part. She so rarely got the opportunity to dress up like this.
Ragnarök wasn't full yet, as the night was still young, but the others still took care to create a path for Barbara's wheelchair. They weaved through the small, looking for a table large enough for their group. The five of them were only the beginning. She knew Connor, Artemis and Zatanna were joining them later. Mal had a late shift at work and had promised he'd try to show up, if he could.
They had simply arrived early to secure a table, before the first wave of club-goers crowded the place, so they could grab something to eat before the real party began and the drinks started flowing.
They were in luck – at the wall furthest back from the entrance, nestled in a corner, was an unoccupied booth. It sat right at the edge of the large, square dancefloor, but the bar was all the way on the other side of the room, which was probably why the large table hadn't been claimed already.
They settled in, and Morgan took in their surroundings with glee. This was going to be fun, she decided. She looked forward to dancing as long as her heeled feet could bear it. The music was still low enough that they didn't need to shout, since the dancefloor hadn't been opened yet.
"By the way," Barbara said once they'd all shrugged off their outer layers and shed their purses. "I invited Koriand'r. I hope that's okay?"
The others exchanged subtle looks before all eyes fell on Morgan.
Her heart sank into her stomach, and she immediately felt bad about it. Why did they all look at her like they expected her to have anything against Koriand'r joining them? She felt her face grow hot with a mixture of guilt and disappointment.
Yes, the truth was, she did mind. But it made her feel terrible that she felt that way. Then again, wasn't it normal that she would mind, when she knew Koriand'r was pursuing her ex, whom she had recently realized she still had some feelings for?
God, things were complicated.
Morgan felt the gloss on her lips as they stretched into a strained smile.
"The more the merrier!" she said. "I invited Guy too, by the way."
Raquel groaned loudly and Karen facepalmed.
"Shush!" Morgan laughed. "He's not that bad, he's actually pretty funny once you get past the relentless flirting."
"See, that's the thing, you're the only one that's managed to get past the relentless flirting." Barbara said, taking off her glasses to wipe at a smudge.
"He said he would stop by for an hour or so but that he's busy with Lantern stuff, so he's not going to ruin your entire evening."
"I'll drink to that!" Raquel grabbed the menu on the table and started leafing through. "Who wants dinner?"
As the group sat discussing what to eat with their first round of drinks, Morgan felt a smile growing ever larger on her face.
Tonight, she intended to forget about everything else that was going on in her life. Forget about rifts and saving the world. Forget about nightmares and prophecies. Forget about exes and crushes. Forget about Yellow Lanterns.
She just wanted to have fun and pretend for once that she was simply a young woman out with friends.
That was doable, right?
Morgan was starting to feel the buzz. The drinks were fruity and deceptively didn't taste of alcohol at all, but she could feel it starting to take effect. The music was loud, pumping into her skull until she felt like her brain was vibrating, but the song was nice, and she didn't mind it. Her thoughts wandered as she took in her surroundings. Perhaps it was her inebriety that had put her in this calm, harmonious state, but she felt completely at peace. She sat at the edge of the booth, where she could see the entire club clearly.
Artemis, Barbara and M'gann were talking animatedly across from her. Her eyes flitted across the room and settled on Zatanna, Karen and Raquel who were dancing, looking to be having the time of their lives. They all looked amazing, she noted. She supposed their occupation naturally led to a pretty fit physique, but she had to admit her group of friends was comprised of exclusively gorgeous people.
Guy and Koriand'r were off to the side, also talking – it seemed Koriand'r didn't mind his flirting, or perhaps wasn't even registering it. Guy stood bopping along to the music and she guessed he was working up the courage to ask the beautiful Tamaranean to dance.
"Feeling dizzy yet?"
Morgan broke out of her daze and looked at Connor, who sat between her and M'gann. He was nursing a beer and looked surprisingly relaxed, considering that Morgan knew this probably wasn't his usual idea of a fun Saturday evening.
"Just enough for it to be fun." She assured him with a smile, taking another sip from whatever drink it was Raquel had placed in front of her. "I'm only on my second."
"Well, the night is young," he shrugged. With his metabolism, Morgan knew getting drunk wasn't possible. Well, unless Superman had some stash of Kryptonian wine hidden somewhere..
The song ended. Zatanna arrived at their table and plopped down, out of breath and red-cheeked, drawing the attention of the whole group.
"You guys should join!" She encouraged them. "Once I catch my breath."
"I'm not drunk enough for that, yet, I think," Morgan said, finishing her drink. She fully intended to dance at some point when she felt ready. Raquel and Karen came over just in time to hear her.
"Well in that case," Raquel slapped a hand down on the table dramatically and Karen pumped a fist in the air before hollering, "Time for shots!"
Morgan grimaced. "Maybe just another cocktail for now?"
Artemis laughed and got up from the table. "I'll help carry the next round; I don't think I trust these two to not spill it all."
Morgan looked at Barbara, who was studying the dance floor with intensity, and she felt a stab of guilt.
"Is it even fun for you here?" she asked, and then winced when she realized the blunt question might've been insensitive. She blamed the alcohol.
Barbara smiled at her, that intense look melting off her face in an instant. Like all of the other bats, she was a great actress.
"I'm here enjoying a nice drink and chatting with my friends. Why shouldn't it be fun?"
She smiled at the redhead, who took a deep sip from her drink, directing her eyes onto M'gann.
"I think the more interesting question is why M'gann isn't drinking at all."
Morgan looked at their martian friend, realizing that, indeed, she'd only had a Pepsi and nothing else.
M'gann and Connor both started shifting around in their seats, looking both pleased and caught. They exchanged a look and Connor shrugged before drinking deeply from his beer.
"I'm not drinking because Connor and I are having a baby," she softly admitted, her cheeks coloring with a pleased red. "I'm pregnant."
"Surprise?" Connor said, the smile on his face too tender for Morgan's eyes.
It took her a moment to comprehend what she had just been told. She was sure if she hadn't been drunk, she would've been better able to catch up to what was going on, but as it was, she was shocked by M'gann's words. Pregnant? As in, they were going to become parents?
Was it on purpose? Was she supposed to express happiness or sympathy?
"Oh!" she said. "Um, congratulations! Or, sorry that happened?"
M'gann rolled her eyes and Connor pressed his lips together to hide a grin. "Just congratulations."
"Well, congratulations, then!" she quickly said, leaning over to give M'gann a hug, the drink in her hand sloshing about. She sat back down quickly, feeling like her limbs were growing stiff, making every move jerky and graceless. "That's huge!"
Barbara and Zatanna had launched into congratulations immediately. Morgan felt somewhat frozen in her seat as she looked at the two of them gushing about what this meant.
M'gann, pregnant? It felt too insane for her drunken mind to comprehend – that was one of her friends, someone she considered within her own age-range. Had they reached the age already where people got pregnant, and it was on purpose?
Certainly, she hadn't.
But as she took in the pleased look on M'gann's face, she realized the alien was excited. Connor had wrapped an arm over her shoulders, looking pleased as he pulled his wife closer.
"That's why I'm here. Didn't like her going to a bar on her own now."
M'gann rolled her eyes at him and swatted at his hand. "Connor, I swear if you're going to pull that overprotective thing during the entire pregnancy, then I'm having this baby on Mars."
Before Connor could respond, Artemis returned with drinks, having enlisted Koriand'r and Guy to help her. Raquel and Karen were back on the dancefloor, dancing with Mal who had shown up at last.
The gang was all here. Well, the ones that were old enough. Except..
Morgan quickly accepted another drink and drank deeply from it.
"Woah, slow down sweetheart!" Guy said, plucking the drink from her hands. He shuffled into the booth, placing himself between Morgan and Connor. Connor grunted with annoyance at being pushed out of the way but moved over to make room.
If she'd been sober, she was sure she would've told him off for taking the drink from her, but as it was, she didn't react quick enough. Before she had the chance to complain, Guy had already placed the drink in front of her again and held up his own.
"Cheers! And happy birthday."
She clinked her glass with his and drank from it. He smacked his lips and let out a satisfied groan before stretching and settling his arm easily around her shoulders.
"Gardner, you'd better remove that arm if you want to keep it," she said dryly, sipping casually from her drink. She sat with her elbows on the table to support her upper body, which was starting to feel heavy. The new cocktail was sweet and sour and extremely yummy. She felt like she could drink ten of these and never get tired.
Guy moved his arm.
"Can't fault a guy for trying."
Her thoughts buzzing, Morgan turned back towards M'gann.
"Wait, so are you going to quit the Team?"
M'gann shrugged and drank from her Pepsi.
"Once the baby arrives, I'll probably take some time off. I've talked to Dick about it and we agreed I would work more behind the scenes. Take on a few of his duties as leader, like relegating missions and handling communications."
"Talking 'bout me?"
Morgan looked up at the new voice, her heart already threatening to jump out of her throat. warmth spread all over her body, originating from her chest, as the night suddenly became perfect.
"Dick!" she exclaimed, scrambling to get out of her seat immediately to greet him. With no hesitation, she pulled him into a tight hug, her left foot popping up with excitement. "You came after all!"
"I was invited, wasn't I?" he kept his hands on her arms as she drew back, and the sensation of his battle-hardened fingers along her bare skin made goosebumps erupt where he touched. She was sure it was just the alcohol heightening her sensitivity. Definitely. Always blame the alcohol.
He smiled easily at her as he let her go and shoved his hands into the pockets of his black pants, thumbs sticking out. In her drunken state, she forgot about being subtle as she checked him out. He was wearing a deep blue dress shirt with the top two buttons unbuttoned and the sleeves folded up to his elbows, and his hair had been swept into a side part that suited his wavy locks perfectly. She thought he looked like Prince Eric from the Little Mermaid, only with more sex.
Wait, what was she talking about?
"Uh, he was?" Artemis leaned in to ask Zatanna, who was watching the pair of them like a hawk, not that either noticed.
"Do you have a drink? Do you want one?" Morgan asked him, looking towards the bar.
"Sure," Dick motioned casually with his shoulder in the direction she was looking, and tilted his head at her. "What do you recommend?"
Morgan accepted the crook of his elbow as he held it out, and the pair of them went towards the bar. With his rolled up sleeves, the brand her hand had left on his wrist was exposed. Her own dress only had tiny sleeves that hugged the top of her shoulders, and so the handprint on her arm was visible too - the first time they had both worn them plainly for all to see. It felt intimate to her, almost like a couple's tattoo.
She started rattling off the drinks she'd tried so far.
"I know the name is kinda funny but I'm drinking a Pornstar Martini right now - well, here they're calling it a 'wench martini'. It tastes fucking good."
"Language," he laughed.
"Sorry, I'm a bit drunk," she readily admitted. She knew he was a bit old fashioned that way - most likely a result of being partly raised by a British butler.
"I could tell." They reached the bar and he suddenly halted to look her over, his eyes hungrily taking her in. "You look beautiful."
The room was already hot, and she'd been flushed as it was, but at his candid words, she could feel herself blushing to the roots of her hair. She hoped the neon lights of the club hid her complexion.
Feeling very pleased with the attention, she smiled goofily.
"You look beautiful too," she said. "Or handsome? Do guys like being called beautiful?"
He laughed again and the sound was so sweet that she didn't even care that he was laughing at her.
"I don't mind being called beautiful," he winked at her and quite suddenly turned his attention onto the bar. It had been fashioned to look like the stern of a ship, wooden planks coming to a point and jutting out into the room instead of being pushed back against the wall like most bars usually were. The middle of the ship had shelves upon shelves of mixers and alcohol. The bartenders wore braids and helmets with large horns. All the men were large and beefy with thick beards, and the women wore tight corsets with plunging necklines and long skirts.
Raising his hand, Dick easily got the attention of a female bartender who made a beeline for him and took his order.
"I'll have a - uh," he looked over the card one more time, "Bloody Margaret?"
Morgan pretended to gag and stuck her tongue out.
"Insane choice," she said, "So many fruity drinks and you ask for the one with tabasco in it."
"You know I don't like overly sweet things," he defended his choice with a laugh.
The bartender came back a moment later with his drink.
"Anything else?" she asked, eyeing him with barely concealed interest.
Dick smiled and declined smoothly.
Now that his eyes weren't firmly on her, Morgan began to break free of the stupor his sudden appearance had put her in. Wasn't she supposed to be making sure he didn't notice she was in love with him? Because she wasn't doing a bang-up job of that, at the moment. She felt the smile on her face slip. Was she perhaps losing control a bit? Just a little bit?
He turned towards her again and she immediately felt her smile regrow. It was probably fine.
They weaved their way back through the throng of people, heading for their friends, and Morgan became aware of several of them watching with confused yet knowing faces.
Shit.
Time to play it cool.
She stepped to the side to create some distance between them, and immediately bumped into a pair that was busily making out on the outskirts of the dancefloor.
"Sorry!" she gasped when one of the guys aimed a fierce glare in her direction. Dick pulled her back to his side with ease and wrapped a hand around her hip.
"You always were clumsy in a pair of heels," he teased, and Morgan pouted. Her plan had failed, and now everyone could see them walk with his arm around her. She felt like his fingers were burning holes into her flesh, and yet she shivered from the touch.
As soon as they reached the table, Koriand'r sprung forth and greeted Dick with a big, enthusiastic smile.
"Hey, Kory," he smiled easily back at her and sipped from his drink. He let go of Morgan's hip like he'd already forgotten she was there, and turned towards Koriand'r.
Morgan stood blinking in confusion for a second, feeling cold and lost from the absence of him by her side. She became aware of the others looking at her, and she quickly got back down into their booth, drinking deeply from her martini.
She felt confused and heartsick but pretended to be engaged in the conversation going on, offering a quick response when needed, and otherwise keeping her focus on her drink. It was rapidly emptying.
Ten minutes later, Guy got up from his seat and said he had to leave.
"The others are helpless without me," he winked at Morgan, and she rolled her eyes good naturedly.
"Thanks for stopping by."
He bowed exaggeratedly and walked off. Morgan followed him with her eyes, and unfortunately it caused her gaze to land upon the two people standing across the room, talking intensely.
Why did Dick and Koriand'r have to go all the way across the room to talk? Wasn't their booth good enough for them?
She drank miserably from her new cocktail, the Wench Martini already ancient history. She was four cocktails in by now, and she could feel it.
Dick's arrival was supposed to have made the evening perfect, but now it felt like a bust. She hated the burning sensation of jealousy in her chest. If she looked at them for too long, she felt like she would cry.
Many ugly thoughts danced across her mind. She wanted to yell at Barbara for inviting Koriand'r. She wanted to tell Koriand'r to leave. She wanted to tell Dick that he was being the biggest jerk for flirting with another woman in front of her when-
When what?
When she'd broken up with him and then stupidly fallen back in love? When she had willingly let him go and then decided maybe not, after all?
Morgan closed her eyes against the tears she felt suddenly well up.
"Need the bathroom," she announced and got up from the table with a slight stumble. She probably needed a bit of fresh air if she was being honest. The loud music and the amount of alcohol in her blood was making her unfocused and emotional. And she couldn't let the others see her misty eyes.
She went through the crowd on unsteady legs, unsure if she was shaking from her emotions or the cocktails. Perhaps a mix of both.
The bathroom was no less crowded than the bar. There was a long line. Women bustled about, talking loudly. A girl stood in the corner drunkenly crying, with three other girls clumsily embracing her and shouting words of encouragement directly into her face. Morgan was unsure if that was really helpful.
She found a sink and held onto it, looking at herself in the mirror with a fierce glare.
"Pull yourself together!" she lectured sternly, pointing a finger at her own reflection. "You're better than this. If he wants to run off with Koriand'r and have lots of babies and live happily ever after, then that's his deal!"
The woman using the mirror beside her had listened to every word she'd said, and now she stopped reapplying her lipstick to look at Morgan with concern.
"Someone giving you heartaches?" Her voice was sagely and calm. She looked crazy with her half-applied lipstick and her bright-purple bop, but to the emotional Morgan she appeared like an anchor in a storm.
She felt the tears well up again and she bristled as embarrassment mingled with sadness and several cocktails. But the look on the woman was that of pure concern. At her question, the girl behind them had stopped crying, and she and her three friends were now listening with rapt attention.
Under the sudden, concerned attention of five other women in the bathroom, Morgan felt her shields crumble and she nodded pathetically, lips quivering.
Exactly how drunk was she?
"He's talking to this very gorgeous woman, and I was the one that invited him so it's my own fault!"
A chorus of righteous anger and encouragement rained upon her, so rapid it made her dizzy.
"Fuck him!"
"Men are such losers! You can do much better!"
"Girl, you are a goddess and he's just a crusty man-child!"
"Noooo!" She cried even louder, her drunken mind soaking up their frantic mood like a sponge. "You don't understand, he's actually way too good for me and I deserve what's happening. You see, I broke up with him but now I think I'm still in love with him and-"
"Show us!"
"Yes, we want to see the asshole who made you cry!"
They four girls stumbled as one towards the entrance, and Morgan and the woman by the mirror, both more sober, if only marginally, exchanged a look.
The woman motioned for her to lead the way, and Morgan approached the door, peeking out with only half an eye, in case one of her friends – or worse, Dick – should see her and her new acquaintances.
She spotted him still talking with Koriand'r by the bar.
"That's him." she pointed a small finger, and the four girls looked like a pack of meerkats as their heads bopped around, trying to spot him. "The guy with black hair and a blue shirt, talking to the tan redhead."
"Oh!" one of the girls exclaimed when she saw him. They all took their time looking him over before closing the bathroom door behind them again.
"Girl, he's gorgeous, forget what I said about crusty."
"You need to win him back! Look at his ass!"
"Go out there and ask him to dance!"
"You can do this!"
Morgan looked from the choir of enthusiastic girls to her side, and towards the wise woman with the half-painted lips. She stood stroking her chin in thought. She appeared as the Oracle of Delphi to Morgan at that moment, ready to bestow the wisdom or damnation of the gods.
"Do you want to get over him, or do you want to win him back?"
Her mouth opened and closed like that of a goldfish as her scrambled mind tried to produce a single, productive thought.
"I don't know," she admitted.
The woman nodded sagely. "Then that's what you have to figure out." She placed a hand on Morgan's shoulder and squeezed it. "Go forth and reach enlightenment."
Morgan stared into her eyes, noticing that the woman wore contacts that made her iris's pink. Had she ever met anyone wiser?
"Okay." She nodded and stood taller, determination coursing through her like adrenalin.
The four girls cheered her on as she took confident, marching steps out of the bathroom.
"You got this!"
"Show him what he's missing out on!"
"If he rejects you, I'll kill him!"
Staunchly ignoring the perhaps too enthusiastic girls, she let the bathroom door swing shut behind her. She looked at the table with her friends – they were all engrossed in conversation and none of them noticed her.
She looked at Dick and Koriand'r next, her mind made up.
And then she promptly went through the front door, because she was a coward, and she didn't know what she wanted.
Morgan leaned the back of her head against the cool exterior wall. A breeze blew at her curls. The music coming from inside was greatly muffled, and it almost felt peaceful where she stood.
The fresh air greatly cleared her head, and an amused smile spread across her lips at the scene she'd just taken part in.
She wanted to get over him – right? That's what she'd decided days ago. Though, she hadn't been drunk then. Her drunk mind and her sober mind needed to sync up now, before she made a mistake. Perhaps, it was time for her to stop drinking, before she lost all of her inhibitions.
"What you're going to do is this; you're going to go inside, you're going to rejoin your friends, and you're going to have a good time," she whispered to herself, squeezing her fists in determination. "Even if he spends all night with her."
It took her another ten seconds to push away from the wall she was leaning against, but then she went inside. Her chest was throbbing, but it was less of a sharp pain and more that of dull acceptance. As she reentered the club, the noise, lights and smells of the place washed over her like a great ocean tide. She struggled to keep her thoughts clear through the sensory overload, but her goal was set. Find her friends and have fun.
She weaved through the crowds, keeping her head down and eyes away from where she knew he would be.
Once she was back at the table, a chorus of cheers erupted at her arrival.
"The birthday girl!" Barbara cheered.
She smiled, despite herself. These were the people she wanted to spend her time with. These were the ones she knew she could depend on.
Morgan sat back down and joined their conversation. Her mind was itching to look towards him, but she knew it wouldn't bring anything good.
Karen came back to the table with a tray and slammed it down, spilling not an insignificant amount of the liquor in the small glasses.
"Shots!" she announced. Her face was flushed, and her pupils dilated. A second round of cheers erupted from the table.
Morgan sipped on her cocktail instead – shots probably weren't the best idea. She resolved to finish the second half of her drink and then stick to water from then on.
Why were they talking by themselves for so long?
What if they weren't talking anymore? What if they were.. kissing?
She instantly looked in their direction, feeling a strange relief mixed with annoyance when she saw that they were still talking. Dick had his arms crossed across his chest, looking focused as Kory spoke. Did he have to hang on to her every word like that?
The tight coil of emotions Morgan had been trying to keep down for the past half an hour burst inside her, and she found she'd had enough of this wallowing in misery. Why did he get to influence her mood so much, when she hadn't even thought he was going to come in the first place?
Fuck it, she thought. Time to party.
Koriand'r could have him, for all she cared. She was here to have fun with her friends, and by God, she was going to have fun! He'd said he wasn't coming, so why had he even shown up, if just to ignore her from the other side of the club all night?
Morgan rose from the table with a rush, drawing all gazes onto her.
"What are these?" she pointed at the shots.
"Uh, tequila." Artemis said, looking at Morgan with caution.
Morgan's mouth was set in a grim, stubborn line as she took a shot and downed it in a single swig, ignoring the protests from her more sober friends.
She slammed the glass back down onto the table, her eyes twitching from the sensation of the liquid burning down her throat.
"God, that sucks!" she wheezed. Shots definitely weren't for her.
The burning subsided and she focused back onto her mission; have fun.
"I wanna dance," she announced with way more intensity than she was sure had been necessary.
Karen and Zatanna cheered and whooped and the two of them whisked her onto the dancefloor like they'd been waiting for her to say that all night.
She'd said earlier that she wasn't drunk enough to dance yet. The truth was, though she was sure it would shock her friends to find out, Morgan knew how to dance. She knew she didn't seem like it - but why shouldn't she know how to dance?
She'd spent most of her teenage years stuck by herself in her room with endless time for hobbies – and dancing had been one of them when she'd gotten antsy with too much unused energy. She liked the control it taught her over her own limbs, and trying to fit the energy of the different genres of music was a fun challenge. All of her later training had helped her gain better control of her body, and that hadn't just been beneficial when it came to fighting; it also made her a decent dancer.
True, it usually hadn't been in heels, and she'd been sober, but she still knew how to. And she was usually alone with no one to judge her, but that's where her inebriated state greatly helped.
She felt the heavy bass of the music vibrate in her skull and the beat of the music pulsed through her body as Zatanna and Karen pulled her to the middle of the floor.
The colorful strobe lights were disorienting, but she didn't care as she focused her tipsy mind onto moving with the others to the beat of the music. A big, carefree smile broke through and she felt every thought and emotion melt away. The strobelights made everyone look like they were moving like robots and the sight made her giggle.
This was fun.
And, if after a few minutes of dancing, she noticed Dick's watching her, she would simply consider it a bonus.
September 2nd
Blüdhaven
Dick
She was dancing. Why was he so surprised that she even knew how? Shouldn't he have known, after having been in a relationship with her for a year and a half?
Had he never danced with her?
Dick watched Morgan as she whirled around with Karen and Zatanna, looking flushed and carefree. The smile she wore made his chest clench. He could feel some type of hunger settle in his stomach at the display and he took a large drag from his drink to distract himself. The room was getting unbearably hot.
"Dick?" Kory questioned before following his eyes. She saw what he was looking at and smiled ever so slightly.
"Thank you for your help, Dick," she placed a hand on his arm to regain his attention, and he looked at her as if she'd broken him out of a trance. "We can finish this discussion another time. I think your mind is elsewhere."
As she flicked her head subtly towards the dancefloor, he almost wanted to deny it, even as he found himself seeking out the curly head bobbing in and out of view between throngs of dancing people.
Then, Morgan whirled around, laughing at something Zatanna had shouted at her, and her eyes met his through the crowd. Her movement stilled as she seemed to realize he was looking at her too. Her chest rose and fell rapidly from her dancing, and the breathless look, with her flushed cheeks and parted lips, was too much for him.
Dick downed the rest of his drink and set it down on the nearest surface, his jaw squared with resolve.
He wasn't drunk by any means – it would take a lot more than two cocktails to achieve that, especially since he'd been trained to withstand any kind of toxin since he was young enough to go out on patrol as Robin. But the music and the dancing and the loud, happy people lent to him a more carefree attitude and perhaps even made him a bit of a daredevil.
And she looked so sexy out on that dancefloor; it was a siren call he was unable to resist. Especially because she was still looking at him, her eyes blazing.
It was as if the string keeping him helplessly tied to her was tugging on her end too, because she started heading in his direction, almost seeming unaware of her doing so. Her two dance partners noticed, but didn't stop her.
Dick expertly weaved through the crowd of dancers, never taking his eyes off of her approaching form.
They met somewhere on the outskirts of the dancefloor, and he smiled roguishly at her before holding out a hand.
"What about your wound?" Her concerned eyes looked to his torso, the wound hidden beneath his blue shirt.
"It's fine – I had the stitches taken out two days ago."
Assured, she did a small, teasing curtsy before smiling teasingly at him.
"Then dance with me."
At her words, he eagerly pulled her close.
The setting they were in – the club, the music, the people, the dance floor, the drinks, all allowed his hands to rove over her as they danced, and they did so unabashedly. He could feel her lean into his every touch, and it encouraged him that she didn't mind his closeness – rather, she seemed to welcome it. Emotions he had long kept in check to keep his feelings hidden bubbled in his stomach and he felt himself craving more and more of her the longer they danced. His body reacted to having her close in a way she hadn't been for months, and the heat it ignited would've been overpowering if he'd been a less disciplined guy.
The two of them hardly gave notice to their surroundings anymore, but that didn't mean their surroundings hadn't noticed them.
As Kory went back to their table of friends, the other's smiled in welcome.
"Where did Dick go?" M'gann asked as she scooted over to let Kory sit.
"Right there," Barbara pointed at the dance floor. She popped a French fry in her mouth and chewed as she watched the others locate their leader, and what he was doing. A sly smirk bloomed on her face as she watched the facial journeys her friends went on at the sight of Morgan and Dick dancing like they were seconds from tearing each other's clothes off. Currently, Dick had a hand buried in Morgan's hair at the nape of her neck, their faces barely an inch apart, and Barbara thought about setting up a betting pool for how long it would take for them to start making out.
"Did they.. forget they broke up?" Raquel questioned, sounding unsure. M'gann and Barbara looked at each other conspiratorially. Clearly the two of them understood more than the others did.
Karen, Mal and Zatanna came stumbling back to the table.
"Look at that!" Karen hissed, pointing eagerly at the two people the others were already watching.
"Guys," Zatanna bent low over the table, looking very grave. All eyes turned to her. "Do you think they're fucking?"
"Who even invited Dick? I thought they couldn't stand being near each other after the break up?" Artemis protested.
"That was months ago." Connor said, still with his beer in hand. "You should've seen Dick after Morgan got hurt on the North Pole mission."
He didn't elaborate; he didn't need to.
"Okay, so my question still stands," said Zatanna.
"After tonight, who knows?" Barbara said casually, grabbing another fry and smiling slyly at the others. "All I can tell you is that Morgan was the one who invited him."
They all exchanged looks as the song ended, and another began.
"Maybe we should sneak off and leave those two alone. It's getting late," M'gann said. "They'll figure themselves out."
"Will they?" Artemis asked with skepticism, though she got up from the table.
They all started packing up their things, some more reluctantly than others. Karen and Zatanna quickly agreed to head to another club, but the rest of the group chose to call it a night.
The couple on the dancefloor didn't notice their friends slinking off, too engrossed in their fun.
The 'one dance,' became several. Dick brazenly placed his hands on Morgan's hips and pulled her to him, so her winged back was flush against his chest. It had been so long since he'd last felt her move against him and it was intoxicating. He might not have been drunk from the two drinks he'd had, but he was drunk on her. This was a wholly new side to her that he'd never seen before. He desperately needed to know why she'd kept it from him when it was so alluring.
She felt like an enigma that kept exposing new layers to him, and he realized he would be content with spending the rest of his life trying to uncover every facet to her, every little quirk and quality.
If she'd be willing to put up with him.
From the way her ass was currently grinding against him, he was willing to guess that she was probably coming around to the idea.
Dick knew he probably should've spent his night trying to figure out where the rifts had gone, or looking for ways to track down the Fates to find answers. Or plan out what he was going to say at the meeting tomorrow. But it had been weeks since Diana had last made any headway, and just as long since they'd last encountered a rift. Even Doctor Fate had suggested the crisis was starting to settle.
No, it was probably okay that he was allowing himself to take a night off. He had asked Red Robin to take care of things with the Team tonight, after all. Dick was off duty.
Besides, how exactly was he meant to concentrate on hero work when she was dancing like that, and looking like this, in his arms?
He felt his worries melt away as he decided that they could wait for another day. The world would still need saving tomorrow, but tonight? Tonight was theirs to enjoy.
He wasn't sure when it had happened, but at one point Morgan had turned in his arms and had returned his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck. He bent over her, pressing his cheek against the top of her curly head. The music had faded and something softer had come on, and the two of them stood swaying to the music. He could feel her sigh deeply against him, and he wondered how aware she was of what was going on. He could tell she was drunk, but how drunk was she? Was she still in control of herself, enough for him to consider this a conscious choice she was making? Did she realize how clear she was being with her feelings?
He had long ago accepted that she needed to realize that she was still in love with him on her own. He knew that if he told her, she would retreat and deny it, and he would have ruined their chance.
But he knew – oh, he knew very well that she was still in love with him. Nothing about this indicated anything different.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the dance floor had become less crowded, and the music less energetic.
Dick was abruptly pulled from his thoughts by a new pair of hands on him from behind. The bubble of happiness he'd been in burst as he was dragged out of his blissful thoughts and back into his body. He felt his heart sink into his stomach as the hands traveled from his lower back and onto his ass, squeezing brazenly.
He froze, his usual lightning reflexes failing him. It was happening again.
This was exactly why the club wasn't his favorite place. Why he hated going to the stupid functions for the Gotham elite. Too many men and women unable to keep their hands to themselves, too tempted by his looks to remember his humanity. To them, he was a pretty thing to exploit.
He should've worn some looser pants, something that didn't draw attention to his features.
Morgan must've felt him go stiff as a board because she drew back, blinking as if coming out of a daze. He could tell she was more sober now than she'd been when he'd first arrived to the club, but her cheeks were still flushed and her eyes a tad unfocused.
She looked up at his face and seemed to realize something was wrong, just as someone pressed closely against his back and breathed hotly against his neck. The stench of alcohol was heavy on their breath. He closed his eyes, disgusted, against the sensation.
"Girl you gotta let me have a turn when you're done with him."
He resisted the urge to powerfully shove the clearly drunk woman off. Her hands were wrapping around him from behind, brushing across his chest and torso, and he winched when she hit his wound.
And despite being an extremely skilled fighter, despite being a respected hero and a leader, he'd never felt smaller and weaker.
With shaking hands, he grabbed onto her and gently but firmly removed her hands from his person. He remembered the words of advice he'd gotten from Bruce, who he knew had suffered much of the same during his younger years. Bruce had reminded him of the power he held, and had told him he was better than the people who put their hands on him. He'd encouraged Dick to not accept it, but to never use his physicality against anyone weaker than him – to always strive to solve things peacefully.
Morgan, however, had never received a lesson like that.
Dick saw fury contort her previously peaceful expression and she lunged forward, roughly pushing the woman off him. He was coming out of his frozen state, but not quick enough to stop Morgan as she drew her fist back and punched the woman square in the face.
The woman crashed into the crowd behind her. Shouts erupted as the people closest to them stopped dancing and started watching the scene playing out in front of them.
Dick grabbed firmly onto Morgan's arm and held her back.
"What are you doing?" he hissed into her ear. Her nails clawed at his hand, trying to get him to let her go, her furious gaze firmly on the woman on the floor.
She moaned in pain where she lay. She made a move to get up, and several bystanders reached forward to pull her up, casting weary glances towards Morgan, who looked like she was about to start spitting fire.
"What's going on here?" Dick saw a huge bouncer approach, his face hard. He was wearing one of those stupid helmets with braids too, but it didn't take anything from the angry look he sported.
"That girl just punched this woman," said a man holding up the inebriated woman. Her nose was bleeding and she looked completely out of it, and Dick felt his stomach plummet. What had Morgan gotten them into now?
"She was groping and harassing my friend!" Morgan pointed at the woman, her fury so great her finger shook from it.
The bouncer looked at the bleeding woman, then at the enraged Morgan and lastly at Dick. He gave Dick a good once-over. The look on the man didn't give him any hope for a good outcome.
He knew exactly how this was going to go.
"What, pretty boy too fragile for a bit of attention from a woman?" He spoke to Dick directly and Dick fought between feeling sick and angry. The bouncer's tone was mocking and cruel. "Need a little girl to defend your honor?"
"Excuse me?" Morgan raged and pulled at the hand Dick still had around her upper arm. She needed to stop escalating. Couldn't she see she was making everything worse? "Come over here and I'll give you something to defend, asshole!"
Christ, he needed to defuse before she started brawling with everyone in sight.
"My friend is drunk." His voice was calm and firm. "The woman was inappropriate, but she shouldn't have hit her. We're sorry."
Morgan gaped at him. "No, we're not! I'll hit her again!"
Dick looked at her with lightning in his eyes and his mouth set in a grim line. His insides were churning and he just wanted to leave.
"Morgan, stop making this worse."
It was as if she only then realized that he thought she was out of line, and he saw her visibly deflate. Her eyes flashed with fury, but she stopped straining against his hold and the fight seeped out of her.
"You're sorry, alright," said the angry bouncer. "And banned. Get the fuck out."
"That's fine, I was never going to set my feet in this shitty club ever again." Morgan wrenched her arm free of Dick's grip. "Your stupid hats are woefully inaccurate, by the way."
She went towards their table to collect her things. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, staring at her as she went past them.
Dick's stomach was a coil of emotions. He was angry with her for attacking a civilian, and for causing a scene. And yet.. touched that she'd stood up for him.
He followed right behind her as they left the club, aware of dozens of eyes on them. Morgan was fuming still, he could tell. Her wings rose and fell in agitated flutters with every breath she took, and she marched with her head bent low like a ram about to gore anyone that came too close.
God, he hoped there weren't any paps nearby. He didn't want to end up in a tabloid, again. And he didn't want to drag her into it.
They were outside, and the cool night air did well to clear his head. He felt like he was finally starting to come down from the experience, the phantom hands of the woman on him slowly dissipating. The sick churning in his stomach wouldn't let up yet, he knew from experience. It would take him a few days to really let it go.
This was why he didn't go to clubs.
Morgan kept walking down the street at a break-neck speed, especially for someone in high heels. The music from the club grew distant. It was late, he could tell, from the abandoned streets.
"Morgan!" he called after her, not sure if he wanted to lecture her or if he just wanted her to calm down.
She whirled around on her bright red heels, and she still looked irate. He halted abruptly so he wouldn't bump into her. Her eyes roved over his face.
"Why didn't you defend yourself?"
He hadn't expected that to be her first question at all.
"What do you mean?"
"Why didn't you defend yourself? That bitch was completely out of line!"
How could he make her understand that it wasn't that simple?
"You saw how that guy reacted," he began, trying to find the right words to make her see. "I got groped and then shamed for not enjoying it. And then we got thrown out of the club because you stood up for me."
She stilled and he saw the look in her eyes change as she started to understand. His frustration grew, but it wasn't directed at her.
He pushed a hand roughly through his hair, feeling hair product stick to his fingers.
"Can you imagine what would've happened if I had defended myself, verbally or physically? I'd end up on the front page of every tabloid in the city; "Wayne heir starts fight with woman at club". I don't have the luxury of making a scene!"
She seemed to shrink into herself, arms crossed over her chest.
"I'm skilled enough that I could've taken on every single person in that club and come out on top. But how can I call myself a hero if I use those abilities on civilians? Wouldn't that betray everything I claim to stand for?"
She was silent for a long time, her head bent low over her crossed arms. Her curly bangs hid her face, and he had no idea what she was thinking. He felt shame pool into his stomach, for causing this situation. Would she find him weak now? Was she angry that he had ruined her night?
Then, she looked at him and her eyes were blazing with a quiet anger, and the guilt intensified.
"That's bullshit, Dick," she said, her voice low and firm. "If it had been someone groping me, would you have told me the same?"
"No, of course not!" he instantly denied, feeling anger and protectiveness rise at the very thought of it. "It's different."
"How is it different? Because I'm a woman? I'm stronger than any civilian that would harass me. So wouldn't that be abusing my powers?"
He didn't have an answer. He'd been taught to stay in control, to not let it bother him – to not escalate. He'd been told that he had to be better, to not abuse his hard earned skill and talent.
"Why do you think I told you clubs weren't really my thing?" he said feebly. "You think that was the first time this has happened to me?"
She looked horrified at that.
"I'm not taken seriously because I'm a man and I'm strong, so I can't possibly be harassed, right? We have a-a responsibility to not abuse them. We dedicate our lives to protecting them. I learned from a young age, growing up in Gotham's elite.. escalating doesn't help."
He could tell he was explaining himself badly. His thoughts were scrambled, and he was starting to question what he thought he knew. The way she instantly insisted on his right to defend himself made him feel like a fool for ever thinking different.
"Fuck Gotham's elite," she said dismissively, bristling at the very thought. "Being adopted by a billionaire means having to accept sexual harassment? Dick, that doesn't make sense!"
"Bruce told me-"
"Oh, fuck Bruce too, while we're at it! Did he tell you, you shouldn't defend yourself?" The light blazing in her eyes and the flush across her cheeks made her look captivating and terrifying. "Tell me he did, and I'll go beat his ass for you – after all, he's not allowed to defend himself because I'm a woman."
"He obviously didn't tell me to accept harassment! You have no idea how many people he ruined just because they looked at me the wrong way when I was growing up. But he told me that I needed to settle things the smart way.. not with my fists." He looked at her with disapproval and a raised eyebrow.
She rolled her eyes.
"But my fists are so concise," she said, not without a hint of humor. The tiny, impish smile that bloomed on her face made him smile too, and his hands twitched with the desire to pull her close.
She grew serious again and looked at him with a grim face.
"Dick, you have to promise me that you'll never again let anyone put their hands on you like that without your permission." Her tone allowed no room for argument. He was unsure if he'd ever seen her so quietly serious before. "Just because you're stronger doesn't mean you have no right to defend yourself. I don't care about getting thrown out of clubs, I don't care about tabloids, I don't care about causing a scene. I don't care about responsibility and abusing your abilities – you don't accept it from now on. Promise me."
He was starting to feel small again, but warmth erupted in his stomach. He could tell how much the moment had affected her, how shaken she was, and it was as if it made him realize for the first time how wrong it was, and how wrong he'd been to just accept the harassment as an inevitable part of his life.
Dick knew he was handsome – ever since he'd hit puberty and started growing into the body of a young man, some men and women had looked at him with predatory hunger in their eyes. Every social function he'd been forced to attend, he'd spent keeping close to Bruce or finding some corner to hide in, to evade their beady eyes and wandering hands. The few times he'd tried going to a club with his friends – or the few times his school buddies had convinced him to join despite his better judgment – something like this had happened. If it wasn't physical touch, it was the constant comments on his body.
And often, his school buddies had tried to high-five him once a someone had finished groping him, or they'd expressed annoyance that he always got all the attention.
There was a reason he had stopped speaking to every single one of them once he'd graduated.
At some point, the harassment had become just a factor of life. It was something he did his best to avoid by keeping away from places where there'd be drunk people.
The look Morgan regarded him with now made him realize that it wasn't normal. It was as if he hadn't known he was allowed to stand up for himself until this very moment, because she'd given him permission.
Dammit, he loved her so much.
"I promise."
"Good." She uncrossed her arms and breathed a sigh of relief. She bent over and took off her shoes. "Now let's get out of here. My feet are killing me."
"I'm sorry," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close as they began to walk off. "I know this wasn't the night you'd hoped for."
She frowned, looking deeply confused. She held onto the hand he had resting over her shoulder. "Why are you apologizing? You haven't done anything wrong."
The warmth in his stomach started to spread all over. How did she manage to make the world appear so much simpler? She was right, of course. He promised himself that next time would be different. Next time, he wouldn't be afraid to make a scene. And yeah, maybe it would get him kicked out, and he'd be on the frontpage of the tabloids, but at least he'd know that he had stood up for himself.
"Besides, Bruce is an equal opportunity fighter," he told her, working to come down from the emotional high he'd experienced in the past ten minutes. His hands had finally stopped shaking. "If you fight him, he'll fight right back. He won't care that you're a woman."
"Good," she said firmly. "He'd better be ready to square up."
"I am begging you to not try to fight him."
"Buy me a burger and I'll think about it." She pointed at the Wendy's across the street from them.
"Cheese?"
"Obviously."
"Be right back." He let go of her shoulder and went to cross the street.
"Dick?"
He turned back towards her at the vulnerability in her voice.
She was watching him with careful eyes, a deep tenderness visible on her face.
"Are you okay?"
He considered it for a moment, but he felt confident in nodding yes. "I'm fine."
Looking at her as she stood illuminated by a single streetlamp, red heels in hand, head a mess of curls and sharp eyes watching him fondly, he truly meant it.
He was just fine.
Uhm ok, so this chapter, I was pretty nervous about posting. Because it starts out so silly. Just some horny, messy fun. And then it suddenly swerves into an incredibly heavy topic at the end there.
Followers of the tumblr I use to give updates on this story know that I've talked about this topic at length but I figured I'd like to give my 2cents on it here too.
In the comics Dick Grayson is a victim of rape - more than once. And he's the victim of frequent, casual sexual harassment. And for some reason, those moments are NEVER treated with the weight they deserve. When he got raped, he was blamed for it. When he gets sexually harassed, either verbally or physically, it's often played as a joke. We never really see Dick actually stop and defend himself - the most he does is like a halfhearted "hey, don't do that" or something along those lines. He's shown to not be comfortable with those moments, but he's never shown defending himself and putting a stop to it.
But why? This is a guy that's so used to defending himself against physical threats. Why doesn't he just beat these people up? So I wanted to dive a little bit into the psyche of it all.
We all know from the Me2 movement that even large, strong men can be harassed and feel powerless to stop it. And I don't think Dick is any different in that. I think his physical strength almost ends up working against him because he would feel like he shouldn't raise his hand against a civilian, even when they're harassing him. I think, in this one area, Dick is vulnerable. I think he would feel just as small and powerless as the rest of us.
I didn't want to use sexual harassment just as a shock factor. If I was going to include it, I wanted it to have a point.
Enter Morgan. This was about showing the way these two make each other stronger through their loyalty, but also through their different outlooks on life. Dick spend most of his youth growing up somewhat entrenched in the Gotham Elite, which is ripe with social conventions, unspoken rules, micro-aggressions against each other etc. He would learn that he shouldn't rock the boat. He would learn that acting out got you shunned and then exposed in some tabloid, or on social media, because the world loves watching and judging the elite. He would learn to swallow his discomfort for the sake of keeping up that flashy appearance that was expected of him.
In short: Nightwing gets to defend himself; Dick Grayson does not.
Morgan hasn't learned any of that. She's from a rough, Gotham neighborhood. She learned fighting in the schoolyard. She learned telling bullies to piss off or get a broken nose. She doesn't understand those unspoken roles, and if she knew about them, she could simply disregard them anyway.
When Dick remarks that she makes the world seem so simple - that's the whole point. She asks him to consider things from a different angle, and his life becomes better for it. She's the first person that's told him he's allowed to defend himself physically against a harasser, and that's monumental for him.
So yeah. I hope that make sense?
Onto some less serious stuff:
For this chapter, I recommend listening to Dancing on my own (The original, not the wailing Callum Scott version RIP) because NO OTHER SONG more perfectly captures that "I'm drunk on the dance floor with flashing, disorienting lights all around me and I'm desperately trying to get the attention of the guy I like, but he's talking to some other girl and that makes me feel a little bit insane" feeling that I wanted to get across.
Also Wanna Be Dancing by Sycamore is pretty good for when Dick finally goes to her and they dance together. It's less appropriate in a diegetic sense because its not necessarily club-music, but the mood and the lyrics of the song are very fitting for the emotions of that moment.
Also theres this danish song called Jalousi by Medina that's about trying to convince yourself that ACTUALLY YOU DONT CARE AT ALL about the guy you're into getting "stolen" by another girl that's pretty and nice and more interesting than you. Theres an english version too (Jealousy by Medina) but the lyrics aren't as fitting. Still, it reveals how Morgan feels as she tries to convince herself that she doesn't care even though she really does. And she can't even hate Kory because she's not doing anything wrong, she's just incredibly beautiful and interesting.
Ok, that was a loooong authors note. I hope you're still here lol. Anyway, I HOPE YALL ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER AND DON'T FORGET TO LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK XOXO