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buggeryThis is all Te's fault. By which I mean, thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thete1 for inspiration; to monkeycrackmary, petronelle and thete1 for audiencing; and to brown_betty for a frustrating (for her) beta.
Title taken from the song "Redwing" by Dan Messe, which, again,thete1. (Someday, I will hear this song, instead of just reading the lyrics.)
Contains themes some readers may find disturbing, but no explicit or violent language. Is safe for my mother (though not necessarily yours) to read.
Still with me? Okay, story.
Don't Mean To
It isn't that Tim's in a hurry to get back to the cave. He's just having *fun*.
Being Robin is amazing, everything Tim never dared to aspire to his whole life, even after Jason proved you didn't have to be Dick Grayson to be Robin. Even all the months he worked harder than he would've thought he was capable of, consciously striving to prove that he was worthy of it, hadn't quite taken all of the sheen of unreality off it. Tim was Robin. Tim *is* Robin.
*Robin*.
But on the other hand, he'd had all those months to get used to the idea that the suit would be his. The Redbird is something else entirely.
He'd never asked, and Bruce had never suggested anything, either, about his getting his own vehicle. It was unprecedented, really: Dick and Jason had had their own motorcycles, when they were old enough (for varying definitions of 'old enough') but Tim had had every reason to expect to be in the passenger seat of the Batmobile most nights once he was cleared for active duty.
The Redbird was a complete surprise -- Tim hadn't even known Bruce was having a new vehicle built -- and he's still not over the heady rush of his own Robinmobile. Being able to gun it down deserted stretches of straightaway in the pre-dawn hours accomplishes the exact opposite of dampening that thrill, that elation.
His headlights pick out a shape in the road ahead, and he has just exactly enough time to slow down and maybe need to swerve to avoid hitting it -- he hopes -- he prays --
--He winds up not needing to decide which way to swerve, or whether to attempt a full stop, because the shape slips off the road. Upwards.
Tim continues slowing down, and reviews his memory of the last few not-quite-panicked seconds, and assigns a tentative identification to the shape. And pulls off onto an access road, slowing down even more.
He pulls over and kills the Redbird's lights as soon as he's out of sight of the road, and Superman is touching down next to him even as he's getting out of his car.
"What is--" it, he starts to ask, then realises that's a bit abrupt; but "What's wrong" could seem rude in a different way, and Superman is *staring* at him, and... Tim realises *he's* staring and clears his throat and starts over. "Superman?"
"Evening, Robin," Superman says, and then... Tim is tempted to construe Superman's body language as nervous, even uncomfortable, but that doesn't make sense--
Tim considers. Maybe--
"I..." Maybe Superman really is uncomfortable. It's impossible to tell in the dark, but his body language suggests he might be blushing. "I wanted to talk to you."
"Of course," Tim says, and his voice is gratifyingly steady even as his mind is racing. He touches the door of the Redbird behind him with one hand to remind himself that he's standing still. He waits.
"I wanted to. Ask you." Superman is looking at the ground, or possibly at Tim's boots, which is reasonable because tabi have never been part of the Robin uniform before and his are black to, er, boot.
"Yes."
"When -- Did you -- How long have you... known."
And Superman's arms are folded across his chest, but the effect is more defensive than intimidating, and Tim's pretty sure that's all Superman is going to say.
Okay, Tim -- Robin -- here's your big chance. Detect. But it's really more a matter of ruling out other possibilities, and that doesn't take long.
"You overheard one of the conversations about... my previous hobby. My collection."
"I-- yes."
Tim takes a moment to decide how to phrase his answer. Then he glances back at Superman, and something in his posture makes Tim's mouth open and the words just pour out. "I couldn't get to Metropolis often, and you were rarely in Gotham except on business, and there was only one time when I happened to be in Metropolis at the right time *and* the right place."
Superman's eyes blaze at him. They seem to be actually glowing in the dark. Tim straightens up so that his cape falls closed in front of him, just in case.
Tim swallows.
"Go on." Tim never knew Superman could sound hoarse. Or possibly it's just the pulse roaring in Tim's ears making him seem to.
"Once I had... observed data to reference, it became fairly easy to extrapolate other... encounters from subtler cues in your meetings in Gotham." And Metropolis. And, later, New York. Tim doesn't think it's necessary to go into that much detail.
Superman nods, and looks at the ground again, and frowns and descends the couple of inches to the ground. His feet make a faint rustling sound against the leaf litter at the side of the gravel road.
Tim waits, and checks to make sure he isn't shivering or hyperventilating or going into shock; he isn't. He's freaking out quite mildly, really, considering the circumstances.
"Does he-- does Batman know?" Superman asks after a long moment.
It had never even occurred to Tim that he might not, and he does have a moment of panic before he can recall precisely what photos he'd taken, as opposed to what he merely remembers. "I... I don't believe so," he says, slowly. "There's no... unambiguous photographic evidence in my archive."
Just lots of friendly, pal-around contact. And many pointed looks. Some looks that could be construed as heated.
Not all of them had been directed at Dick.
And... it seems like he has a right to ask, now, if perhaps not necessarily to know.
"May I... ask you something?'
Superman nods, though his mouth is a taut arc of frown.
"Were... that is, I -- Did you and... Jason... ever..."
"No," Superman says, immediately. And he's smiling, now, for all that it's somewhere between rueful and regretful, clear enough to read even in the wood-shadowed night.
"But you--"
"If he had returned my interest," Superman says, and it's the easiest words have seemed to come for him since the conversation began.
Tim nods, and for a moment it feels quite literally as if he can't get his mind in gear to think, like those few times he didn't engage the clutch quite right in the Redbird, weeks ago. Then the image of Dick gasping, clutching at Superman's back, seems to fill his vision.
Tim forces himself to focus on Superman, on the way Superman is looking at him. Not just expectant. There's something... something he recognises, there. And--
There's a question hanging unspoken between them. The one that's been there all along, if he's viciously honest with himself.
"I... I believe I'll need time to consider. But... well. Everything about Robins *interests* me, Superman."
"Something, perhaps, that we have in common." Superman's smile is one he's seen before, many times... just never focussed on him. It's familiar in a way that's frightening and soothing all at once.
Tim smiles back. And holds out his hand.
*
I want more fanfiction about characters like these by you, Jack
I want more stories by the Jack, and I'm not picky about fandoms
thete1 for inspiration; to monkeycrackmary, petronelle and thete1 for audiencing; and to brown_betty for a frustrating (for her) beta.Title taken from the song "Redwing" by Dan Messe, which, again,
thete1. (Someday, I will hear this song, instead of just reading the lyrics.)Contains themes some readers may find disturbing, but no explicit or violent language. Is safe for my mother (though not necessarily yours) to read.
Still with me? Okay, story.
Don't Mean To
It isn't that Tim's in a hurry to get back to the cave. He's just having *fun*.
Being Robin is amazing, everything Tim never dared to aspire to his whole life, even after Jason proved you didn't have to be Dick Grayson to be Robin. Even all the months he worked harder than he would've thought he was capable of, consciously striving to prove that he was worthy of it, hadn't quite taken all of the sheen of unreality off it. Tim was Robin. Tim *is* Robin.
*Robin*.
But on the other hand, he'd had all those months to get used to the idea that the suit would be his. The Redbird is something else entirely.
He'd never asked, and Bruce had never suggested anything, either, about his getting his own vehicle. It was unprecedented, really: Dick and Jason had had their own motorcycles, when they were old enough (for varying definitions of 'old enough') but Tim had had every reason to expect to be in the passenger seat of the Batmobile most nights once he was cleared for active duty.
The Redbird was a complete surprise -- Tim hadn't even known Bruce was having a new vehicle built -- and he's still not over the heady rush of his own Robinmobile. Being able to gun it down deserted stretches of straightaway in the pre-dawn hours accomplishes the exact opposite of dampening that thrill, that elation.
His headlights pick out a shape in the road ahead, and he has just exactly enough time to slow down and maybe need to swerve to avoid hitting it -- he hopes -- he prays --
--He winds up not needing to decide which way to swerve, or whether to attempt a full stop, because the shape slips off the road. Upwards.
Tim continues slowing down, and reviews his memory of the last few not-quite-panicked seconds, and assigns a tentative identification to the shape. And pulls off onto an access road, slowing down even more.
He pulls over and kills the Redbird's lights as soon as he's out of sight of the road, and Superman is touching down next to him even as he's getting out of his car.
"What is--" it, he starts to ask, then realises that's a bit abrupt; but "What's wrong" could seem rude in a different way, and Superman is *staring* at him, and... Tim realises *he's* staring and clears his throat and starts over. "Superman?"
"Evening, Robin," Superman says, and then... Tim is tempted to construe Superman's body language as nervous, even uncomfortable, but that doesn't make sense--
Tim considers. Maybe--
"I..." Maybe Superman really is uncomfortable. It's impossible to tell in the dark, but his body language suggests he might be blushing. "I wanted to talk to you."
"Of course," Tim says, and his voice is gratifyingly steady even as his mind is racing. He touches the door of the Redbird behind him with one hand to remind himself that he's standing still. He waits.
"I wanted to. Ask you." Superman is looking at the ground, or possibly at Tim's boots, which is reasonable because tabi have never been part of the Robin uniform before and his are black to, er, boot.
"Yes."
"When -- Did you -- How long have you... known."
And Superman's arms are folded across his chest, but the effect is more defensive than intimidating, and Tim's pretty sure that's all Superman is going to say.
Okay, Tim -- Robin -- here's your big chance. Detect. But it's really more a matter of ruling out other possibilities, and that doesn't take long.
"You overheard one of the conversations about... my previous hobby. My collection."
"I-- yes."
Tim takes a moment to decide how to phrase his answer. Then he glances back at Superman, and something in his posture makes Tim's mouth open and the words just pour out. "I couldn't get to Metropolis often, and you were rarely in Gotham except on business, and there was only one time when I happened to be in Metropolis at the right time *and* the right place."
Superman's eyes blaze at him. They seem to be actually glowing in the dark. Tim straightens up so that his cape falls closed in front of him, just in case.
Tim swallows.
"Go on." Tim never knew Superman could sound hoarse. Or possibly it's just the pulse roaring in Tim's ears making him seem to.
"Once I had... observed data to reference, it became fairly easy to extrapolate other... encounters from subtler cues in your meetings in Gotham." And Metropolis. And, later, New York. Tim doesn't think it's necessary to go into that much detail.
Superman nods, and looks at the ground again, and frowns and descends the couple of inches to the ground. His feet make a faint rustling sound against the leaf litter at the side of the gravel road.
Tim waits, and checks to make sure he isn't shivering or hyperventilating or going into shock; he isn't. He's freaking out quite mildly, really, considering the circumstances.
"Does he-- does Batman know?" Superman asks after a long moment.
It had never even occurred to Tim that he might not, and he does have a moment of panic before he can recall precisely what photos he'd taken, as opposed to what he merely remembers. "I... I don't believe so," he says, slowly. "There's no... unambiguous photographic evidence in my archive."
Just lots of friendly, pal-around contact. And many pointed looks. Some looks that could be construed as heated.
Not all of them had been directed at Dick.
And... it seems like he has a right to ask, now, if perhaps not necessarily to know.
"May I... ask you something?'
Superman nods, though his mouth is a taut arc of frown.
"Were... that is, I -- Did you and... Jason... ever..."
"No," Superman says, immediately. And he's smiling, now, for all that it's somewhere between rueful and regretful, clear enough to read even in the wood-shadowed night.
"But you--"
"If he had returned my interest," Superman says, and it's the easiest words have seemed to come for him since the conversation began.
Tim nods, and for a moment it feels quite literally as if he can't get his mind in gear to think, like those few times he didn't engage the clutch quite right in the Redbird, weeks ago. Then the image of Dick gasping, clutching at Superman's back, seems to fill his vision.
Tim forces himself to focus on Superman, on the way Superman is looking at him. Not just expectant. There's something... something he recognises, there. And--
There's a question hanging unspoken between them. The one that's been there all along, if he's viciously honest with himself.
"I... I believe I'll need time to consider. But... well. Everything about Robins *interests* me, Superman."
"Something, perhaps, that we have in common." Superman's smile is one he's seen before, many times... just never focussed on him. It's familiar in a way that's frightening and soothing all at once.
Tim smiles back. And holds out his hand.
*
I want more fanfiction about characters like these by you, Jack
I want more stories by the Jack, and I'm not picky about fandoms
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-12-05 01:55 am (UTC)Yay! for Robinosexuals! And Robins! And Clark being a huge perv!
no subject
Date: 2005-12-06 07:29 am (UTC)I firmly believe there's a giant perv behind Clark's wholesome, all-American image.