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Bruce Wayne woke up to the soft sound of rain drops pattering against the glass window. He blinked, his eyes heavy with sleep. The room was dark, the blue satin curtains drawn, and his bare arms covered in goosebumps due to the coolness of the manor’s air-conditioning system. Something inside him ached pleasantly, lazily, demanding he return to the land of slumber. Ordinarily, he would have heeded it’s seductive call, glancing at his phone for the briefest moment before stretching his back, pulling at the covers, and making himself comfortable once again so he could go back to sleep. Yet this morning such thoughts did not even cross his mind, for in his embrace, with his head using Bruce’s naked chest as a pillow, was none other than Dick Grayson.
Bruce took in the younger man’s sleeping feature; the way his lips were slightly parted, the delicateness of his jaw, the upward curve of his button nose, his disheveled hair and how a few strands fell in front of his closed eyes, those long eyelashes that gently rested upon his soft tanned skin. He slept soundly, his left arm draped over Bruce’s body, the hand resting against the neck, the long fingers curled lazily. Beneath the covers, one of his legs was wrapped around Bruce’s thighs, keeping their bodies as close as they could manage in that position. Every line of Dick’s countenance was at peace, every part of him relaxed in a way Bruce had not seen in years.
He was beautiful. He was perfect. Bruce let out a shuddered sigh, his lungs feeling breathless. Part of his brain still could not believe this was real. The previous night had felt like a dream; their warm kisses, their heatedly whispered professions, the way they moved together — always perfectly synchronized, always able to read one another, always knowing how to best compliment each other, as if they were made for each other — everything had been so perfect, so beyond his wildest fantasies, that it all seemed as if it happened in some fragile suspended reality, a magical realm where the troubles of the world could not hurt them, where everything was possible.
But it was all real. Gotham’s rain fell outside their window, its melody grounding Bruce to the world of darkness and decay and evil and corruption… The rain with its soft pattering sound reminding him that it had not been a dream. It was all real. It was all real and as the last traces of slumber finally left Bruce’s conscious, unbreakable joy took its place as he stared in awe of this amazing man in his arms… This amazing man whom Bruce could now finally call his.
Because he now could, Bruce carefully, slowly so not to wake him, brushed away some of those wayward black locks. And because he now could, Bruce placed his lips to Dick’s head.
His heart soared. His hold on Dick tightened, the arm looped around Dick’s hip bringing him closer. His free right hand now caressed his cheek. Though his neck was twisted uncomfortably, looking away was not an option.
The rain outside seemed to pick in force, the sound growing louder but no less soothing. This was real. Bruce still couldn’t believe it. He certainly wasn’t deserving of such a gift, but he would thank every god in existence for blessing him with this wonderful man, by allowing his love — a love that was far more overwhelming than words could express, a deep and unshakable love that he had been nursing for so many years, a love that was both crippling and empowering in its intensity — to be returned.
A flash of lightning. Within seconds, a loud roaring thunder. This was real. This was real.
Bruce knew Dick had woken up before he opened his eyes. His mouth closed, his brows furrowed just slightly before they relaxed again, and after a deep breath, a content sigh escaped his lips. Bruce cataloged every sound and every movement with reverence. It amazed him that he was allowed to witness this up close, that he got to watch every stage of his beloved slowly rising to conscious.
It was beautiful. It was breathtaking. It made his heart ache. He wanted this at every moment of every day and now… Now he could have it.
Dick’s eyes opened just as another flash of lightning consumed the room. For the briefest second, he looked at Bruce as if he, too, wondered if this was all dream. Then, accompanied by the sound of thunder, Dick’s lips were graced with the most enchanting smile Bruce had ever seen.
“Good morning,” he whispered, and if they hadn’t been so close, his voice would have been lost to the pattering of the rain.
Because he now could, Bruce leaned forward, pressing their lips together in a chaste but lingering kiss. Dick was still smiling even as they came together, moving his left hand that was curled by Bruce’s neck to cup the older man’s strong jaw.
“Good morning,” Bruce’s own greeting was gravely, rough. His throat felt dry, yet he dared not move to drink from the water bottle he kept by his nightstand.
“Good morning,” Dick repeated, his smile bright. He nuzzled against the crook of Bruce’s neck, his nose tilting upwards, his lips ghosting over the skin with phantom kisses. Another deep breath, and another content sigh. It made Bruce’s entire body shiver. “I could get used to this.”
Bruce hummed in agreement, kissing the top of Dick’s head once more. His shampoo, he had discovered the previous night, had a crisp green tea with mint fragrance. It was strong enough that Bruce could still perceive its smell beneath the heavy scent of sex that clung to Dick’s person.
It suited him, he had decided last night as he felt Dick’s body quiver in pleasure beneath his. The green tea with mint scent suited the younger man well. And when mingled with the scent of Bruce’s own of musky sandalwood and geranium cologne… When the two fragrances were combined together with sweat and sex…
Well… That scent, Bruce could now see, really suited Dick. And it was something only Bruce would ever get to smell.
“I’ve dreamed of this for far too long,” Bruce whispered into his hair.
Dick chuckled.
“Not longer than I have, I can guarantee you that.”
Perhaps not, but Dick’s lead was not as wide as it should have been and it was easily compensated by the sheer ferocity of Bruce’s love and desire for the other man.
Another flash of lightning. The two lovers remained entangled in each other’s embrace, their still naked bodies clinging to one another, their gazes fixed on each other. Dick’s thumb caressing Bruce’s morning stubble. Another clash of thunder. The pattering of the rain grew louder. The room grew darker. Bruce’s heart swelled inside his chest the longer Dick looked at him with those soft and adoring eyes, as if Bruce was worthy of such dedication. As if Bruce hadn’t ruined his life time and time again. As if Bruce was not responsible for every scar that marked his skin and every trauma that clung to his mind ever since he took him in.
He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve Dick. But Dick… Somehow, Dick loved him anyway.
And Bruce was a selfish bastard who was also weak enough to cave as soon as that which he had most wanted was freely given to him.
Whoever said Batman had an iron willpower and self-control knew nothing. When it came to Dick Grayson, he was as weak and as helpless as a tiny ant out during a storm.
Lightning. Thunder. Rain. Dick’s smile, the gentle caress of his touch. This was real.
“What time is it anyway?” Dick asked, his voice even more of a whisper than before.
“Not sure,” Bruce replied with a sigh. “Early. Too early.”
Dick’s smile changed. Bruce had long learned to identify all the nuances that differentiated each of Dick’s smiles so he could pick apart their meaning. It always amazed him how he could shift between them with ease. This time, he went from a small closed lip smile to a grin, goofy, cheery yet no less genuine.
Happy, it meant. Exuberant. Delighted. Ecstatic.
Blissfully in love.
“Good,” Dick propped himself on Bruce’s chest so that half his body was now on top of Bruce’s. His left hand — slender, with long elegant fingers and rough callouses — moved from his jaw to play with his hair. “I don’t think I feel like getting up yet. I want to enjoy this.”
“You’re a cuddler.”
“As if you ever had any doubt about that, Mr. Batman.”
Bruce’s lips twitched upwards. Dick beamed at him. More lightning, more thunder. Bruce never wanted this moment to end. There was not a single part of him that was not utterly and completely in love with Dick Grayson. There was not a single version of him that could ever love or want anyone as badly or as much as this Bruce loved and wanted Dick Grayson.
And he had him now. He had him and this was real. He didn’t deserve him, he would never deserve him. He could spend the rest of his existence working to make himself worthy of Dick, yet he would never come close to deserving him.
But by some miracle, Dick wanted him as well. Dick loved him as well. Dick loved and wanted him as well and Bruce was the happiest person in world for it.
Lightning. Thunder. The pattering of the rain. This was becoming Bruce’s favorite morning melody.
“I gotta say,” Dick carded his fingers through Bruce’s hair, his smile now lazy. “I really dig this morning look you have going for you.”
Bruce chuckled, “Really?”
Dicks hummed.
“Reeeeally,” he leans forward and presses another kiss to Bruce’s lips. The arm Bruce had looped around Dick’s waist squeezed him closer. “The stubble, too. I really like it.”
“You do?” Bruce’s eyes were shinning with amusement. His thumb rubbed small circles on the small of Dick’s back.
“Very much so,” as if to prove his point, Dick pressed their lips together once more, then moved down to his chin, and started tracing his jaw with light kisses. “It’s sexy.”
That, Bruce knew, was useful information to remember.
Dick continued to pepper Bruce’s face with kisses, seemingly content to spend the morning doing nothing else. After a few seconds, however, Bruce turned his head so that his lips could chase Dick’s.
That made Dick smile and chuckle. It was one of the most magical moments in Bruce’s life.
“You don’t think it makes me look too old?” he asked as their mouths pressed together. “The stubble, I mean.”
“It doesn’t make you look old,” Dick assured him. “And even if it did, that wouldn’t be a bad thing, B. It wouldn’t be a bad thing at all.”
Bruce opened his eyes, only then realizing he had closed them. All too suddenly, memories of Dick at galas smiling all too appreciative as men with gray streaks in their hair showered him with far too much attention, of Nightwing’s ease when working with an older hero, of his strange alliance with a certain mercenary, came to his mind.
It all made something stir in his chest. Something… sour. Bitter. Unpleasant.
“Ah…” his tone was flat. “I forgot you have…”
“A thing for older men?” Dick pulls away just enough so they can look at each other, an amused glint in his eyes. “Yes. Yes, I do. I really, really do.”
Something must have flickered in Bruce’s expression, because Dick — always so observant, always able to read him with an ease that should be terrifying instead of comforting — tilted his head, his smile quirking slightly.
“What? What is it?”
“Nothing.”
Bruce really should have known better than to think such a weak response would dissuade his younger lover.
“No, it’s not nothing,” Dick’s voice sounded every bit as amused as he looked. “Is it… Oh, no, Bruce… Are you jealous?”
Bruce’s silence must have been answer enough, for soon Dick was throwing his head back and laughing.
“Oh, Bruce…! Seriously?”
Bruce’s frown deepened.
“I do not understand what is so amusing.”
“You don’t? You really don’t?” Dick smiled at him indulgently. “Oh, you big dummy bat… Just why do you think I have this… This complex? You try being twelve years old, just starting to hit puberty and just beginning to figure out sexuality and stuff while having this unfairly handsome and sexy older man as your mentor and constant partner in life. You try having… Having you around constantly growing up and not develop a thing for older guys. Go ahead. Do it. I dare you.”
“When you were twelve, I was thirty. Hardly old.”
Dick rolled his eyes.
“When you’re twelve, everyone above twenty is old, B.”
Bruce huffed, begrudgingly conceiting to that point. It only made Dick laugh more.
“Oh, come on, Bruce… Don’t be like that,” Dick said. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable talking about this, but… I… I’ve been in love with you since I knew what it meant to feel this way for someone. I was twelve when I found out I was in love with you. And I… I also learned heartbreak from you.”
Bruce felt a bitter prickle in his chest. He could easily picture Dick in his Robin costume, quiet and vulnerable, watching as Bruce ignored his presence and responded eagerly to Selina’s kiss. He saw Dick sitting alone at the dinning room table, Bruce’s empty chair beside him, taunting him with the knowledge Bruce had spent the night out with someone. He could even remember the feel of young Dick’s knowing gaze following as Bruce adjusted his bow tie at a gala, returning after having briefly stepped out along side a woman whose name he never bothered learning.
It was a strange thing to acknowledge. Bruce understood why Dick danced around the matter the night before; after all, if Dick truly had fallen for Bruce when he was as young as twelve, then Bruce could have never returned Dick’s feelings early enough to spare him heartbreak. But that did not make Dick’s feelings any less valid. Dick’s age and the impossibility of something ever happening between them at that point did not make his heartbreak any less painful. And, though he knew that it was for the best, it was still difficult for Bruce to come to terms with the idea of Dick quietly enduring that heartache while he remained oblivious to his hurt.
Lightning flashed. The thunder roared. The pattering of the rain brought him back to the present.
Dick was still smiling at Bruce, one of his hands still playing with his messy morning hair. He still looked at Bruce as if he were the most incredible thing in the world, his love shinning unashamedly in his eyes.
He was beautiful. He was beautiful and Bruce would give him the world if he could, if it would make him happy. But the way he looked at Bruce made it seem as if he did not need any of that… As if all he needed to be happy was Bruce.
“I was twelve when I learned what love was, and twelve when I learned what heartbreak was,” Dick repeated, his voice now quieter. “And I was sixteen when I found out I would never get over you.”
Bruce inhaled sharply. Remorse and shame flooded him.
Sixteen. The age Dick was when Bruce realized something was changing between them. A change that scared Bruce to the point of desperation, leading him to commit some of the worst mistakes of his life.
He wanted to let go of Dick, to push him away, to end this before he messed things up even more. He did not deserve him. He could never deserve him.
He wanted to hold Dick close, to kiss him, to never him go. He wanted to let him know he regretted everything he did. He wanted to vow his eternal devotion, not knowing what he had done to earn his forgiveness.
Lightning. Thunder. Rain. How could any of this truly be real?
“I knew if my feelings hadn’t gone away after what happened… Well, then they never would, would they?”
Bruce opened his mouth, then closed. The conflicting words died in his tongue.
Dick’s eyes softened. Undoubtedly, he could read Bruce’s thoughts perfectly.
“Just stop right there, you big dumb bat. We sorted this out last night, remember? We promised… This is not a one time thing, and this is not something we’re going to regret.”
They had promised. In between kisses, as they shed their clothes, as they worshiped each other, as they professed their love… All throughout the night, they promised they would not let this be a one time thing. They promised that if they were to take this next step, it would be in order to start a long journey side-by-side.
They belonged together, they belonged to each other... They promised that together, they would fight the world for this if need be.
“I don’t deserve you.”
Bruce’s voice was heavy with emotion. The words did not convey nearly all of what Bruce wanted to say, but Dick was undeterred, still staring at Bruce with those soft eyes, his smile still indulgent and filled with fondness.
“Well, too bad that’s not really your call to make, is it?” Dick spoke with ease, long having learned how to talk Bruce out of the downward spirals his mind would trap him in. “But you know what you do deserve, B?”
Bruce didn’t say anything. Dick pressed their foreheads together. His hand now cupped his jaw again, his thumb caressing his cheek.
“You deserve to be happy, Bruce. And you know what? So do I.”
Bruce closed his eyes for a moment. He listened to the rain, to its gentle prattle. He felt Dick’s heart beating against his, he took in the mingled scents of green tea with mint and musky sandalwood and geranium. He let Dick’s wash words over him, the last remains of fear leaving his body.
Lightning. Thunder.
This was real.
He loved Dick Grayson so much it brought tears to his eyes.
He loved him so much…
And Dick…
Dick loved him back.
This was real.
“You’re the only person I’ve ever loved, and the only person I’ll ever love.” Dick continued. Bruce opened his eyes, meeting Dick’s loving gaze with his own. Dick’s thumb brushed away a tear. “You’re it for me, Bruce. You’re the only one for me.”
“You’re the only one for me, too,” Bruce, his voice strained with earnest. “I love you.”
Dick’s smile was radiant.
“And I love you. So, so much, B… And we deserve this. We deserve this.”
Bruce nodded. His hand cradled the back of Dick’s head.
“We deserve this,” Bruce repeated.
“We do. We deserve to be happy, B,” Dick said. “So let’s… Let’s do it. Let’s just… Let’s just be happy together, okay?”
Bruce smiled. He brought their lips together into a passionate kiss. Outside, the sound sounds of thunder and rain mixed together to compose the most beautiful of morning melodies as flashes of lightning illuminated the otherwise dark room.
This was real. Bruce loved Dick and Dick loved Bruce back.
This was real, and together, they would fight any storms ahead for the sake of their happiness.