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“For fuck sake, Grayson—relax!”
Dick stopped to glower at Hank, only just noticing that he had indeed been pacing.
Really, he did not get how Hank—or anyone else in the Tower—could do it. Waiting on others, without wanting to pull the hairs off their heads. Only this time it was not a mission Kory was out at. She was out to just enjoy herself but Dick’s head had taken several trips down ‘Worry Street’ as it is.
Hank poured himself some juice into a glass, his eyes on Dick glinting with curiosity.
“Two hours,” Dick sighed, swinging open the fridge to fetch himself a beer, “and not a single update from Kory.”
“And Dawn,” Hank emphasized, as though Dick had gravely ignored her. “The girls can handle their time alone if that’s what got you in a shitty mess.”
Hank’s gruff comment took Dick by no surprise. The enormous man looked a tad bit odd drinking juice, and perhaps Dick had not helped his bad mood by pulling out a beer.
“Or is that why you sent Conner with them?” the non-drunken outburst went on. “Sure makes a fucking good referee.”
Dick unscrewed the top of his beer bottle by the edge of the island with more force than he had intended. “I’ll act like you just didn’t say that,” he blew out, before taking a seat across from Hank.
“It’s no secret some things needed clearing up between Dawn and Kory. A common dick, for one.”
Dick took a long swig of his beer before he could say anything he regretted; before he could wound up disappointing Kory again. He had come too far, had done away with too much of Robin’s thorny baggage, to go running back to his short-tempered ways.
After all, and understandably so, Hank was not as adept at embracing change as Dick had in a matter of a few weeks.
So Dick braced himself for another fire shot as Hank leaned his weight against the island.
The ex-quarterback seemed contemplative as he stared down at his bruised fist. When he finally glanced up at Dick, though, he looked wounded and worn. Like a stray dog. “Sorry,” came the word, a yelp of self-humiliation.
Dick put his beer down. “Forget about it.”
“No. I don’t want you sending phantom girl and Tiger boy after my ass. Trust me.”
Hank’s attempt at a joke was a joke in itself, and it had Dick’s ribs tingle a bit despite of himself. “Who’ll I have game night with, assuming that I do?” Dick laughed, light and genuine.
There was something weak but tangible growing between Hank and him and he had made an oath with himself to nurture and maintain it, just as he was doing with Jason. It was difficult at times, nonetheless, because that meant remembering all the gritty details of his past failures as a friend and leader.
Oh, thank God for Kory—now more than ever! After Donna and Deathstroke, she had taught him persistence and hope in achieving positive change just by her mere existence; by the way her graceful form walked the Tower up and down in an effort to hold together, and bring back whatever life and fire had been stolen from her since her sister happened.
Things would never be the same after the mistakes Dick had committed in the past, but they certainly did not need to get any worse either.
“So, alien girl and you…” Hank had his eyebrow shot up, smirking.
“Kory?” Dick gulped, “Friends, is all.” He tried to sound dismissive, sound. But the panic of Hank poking holes at his privacy was just this close to make him want to bolt to the control room.
“Man, I don’t know,” Hank sung, whirling the juice in his glass like wine. “The way she looks at you, and from the way she works it, you can’t tell me you never wanted to—”
“Maybe I do like her!” Dick blurted out. Kory was already getting enough unwarranted attention from Connor of late. To have Hank add to his list of ‘competition’ was just too much.
Besides, he could not take Hank’s insinuation that Kory was just another mere ‘drive-through’ (like most of the women from his past) lying down. Kory was worth more to Dick than anything he would ever imagine on this planet, and if Hank now knew his secret—fuck it.
“He speaks!” Hank’s grin was wide and smug as he held up his glass. “Grayson’s whipped! Let’s cheers to that.”
“I know what you’re up to,” Dick chuckled breathily, keeping his bottle down. “You’re trying to get me drunk and it won’t work.” The memory of one particular woman in thigh-high boots and a magnificent fur coat came to Dick’s mind, and his smile literally grew out of his face. “Ask Kory.”
“Warning in advance.” Hank slumped his shoulders. “No double dates for me. I’ll scare off Dawn.”
Dick sat straighter. He had gotten none—if very little—chances to talk with either Hank or Dawn about their apparent separation. “How’re you holding up?”
“She hates me,” Hank replied, his voice low. “How do you expect am holding up, Dick?”
“She still loves you, Hank. Maybe she just needs space. Maybe she’s not at her personal best in life.” Thinking of Kory and how he had not been there for her in her hard times drew a sigh from Dick. His guilt was a far cry from over but that did not mean that he should not encourage others. “It’s been a pretty rough couple of weeks, anyway,” he added, giving a small smile, “Took a toll on all of us naturally.”
Hank snorted. “I’m guessing Kory told you all that?”
“No, just observed her,” Dick admitted. He clenched his jaw as the back of his eyes stung. “Kory and I…we haven’t really had a chance to talk since the funeral. I’ve been a dick to her—no surprise there,” Dick looked to find Hank still with him, his face surprisingly soft. “But here we are, aren’t we? We’re healing. Maybe soon, when our lives have taken some shape, she’ll come to me. See where we can go from here.”
“For real this time,” Hank held his juice up and Dick agreed, clinking bottle with glass.
“Cheers.”
They drunk in companionable silence until Hank cleared his throat huskily. “Kory’s one heck of a woman!”
“Don’t say that too loud,” Dick blushed from behind the top of his bottle. “Dawn might hear you.”
“Well, I’m a single man, Dicky.”
For the first time in his life, Dick found himself in complete peace with Hank. Selflessness had its rewards, he guessed. And being there for his friends, just as Bruce had said, turned out to be the remedy he had needed…longed for…all along.
This time he was the one to lift his bottle and offer cheers. “To your happiness, anyways, Hank. Everything’s possible.”
Hank frowned, looking positively revolted. “God, who are you and what’ve you done to Dick Grayson?”