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Dick knew it was a bad idea as he did it. Hell, he knew it was a bad idea when he first got the idea! He should have ignored the temptation. He should have fought off the urge. After all, it was a terrible, awful, no-good idea, but… he still did it.
But it wasn’t his fault!
Nope, it wasn’t his fault, and he was maintaining that. Obviously it was Conner’s fault. That was the only explanation that made sense! It wasn’t like Dick was the one leaving his shirts lying around for anyone to wear. What was he supposed to do when he saw the worn shirt lying all alone in the change rooms? Leave it? Of course not! No, Dick couldn’t leave it. What if the shirt felt lonely?
Which was right where his mental justification ended. Even he wasn’t flexible enough to make those acrobatics work, so he stopped that train of thought entirely and resigned himself to the cold, hard truth.
He absolutely should not have put on Conner’s shirt.
But he did, and even if that was his fault, he maintained that it wasn’t his fault he got caught. Getting caught was definitely Conner’s fault entirely, no mental gymnastics needed for that one.
See, Conner wasn't supposed to be at the Cave. He was supposed to be out with Wally. Dick should have been totally safe to guiltily shrug on Conner’s shirt after his solo-gymnastics practice and wear it back to the Manor in a move that was so many types of creepy he couldn’t even let himself think about it.
But that hadn’t happened. That hadn’t happened because Conner was here. Conner was standing in front of him.
Oh god, Conner was standing in front of him and Conner was staring at him. Intensely. He was staring at him intensely, like he was trying to figure out the secret to life and Dick had the key to the universe or something.
Which made no sense! It made no sense and Dick was only thinking about it because Conner was staring at him and Dick didn’t know what to do, since he absolutely had not expected to run into Conner right in front of the change rooms as he tried to hurriedly get to the zeta-tubes without anyone seeing him.
He should have been able to do it, too! Hell, he was Robin; sneaking around was in his blood.
However, Conner had super-hearing, and apparently, he’d had a question for Dick, which he had started asking from around the corner before they’d nearly collided with one another and Conner had started staring at him like he could see into his very soul.
“I have important Batman business. What did you need, Sups?” Dick asked after the silence had stretched on for so long that it was even more uncomfortable than it needed to be.
Dick was pretty good at lying, if he said so himself. After all, he lived two lives! He was Batman's protégé! He could totally bluff when bluffing was needed, but there was something about the bright, icy blue of Conner’s eyes and the way they were staring at him that made his voice squeak embarrassingly.
Thankfully, Conner didn’t call him out on it. Instead, he just continued to look at him heavily. He tilted his head to the side. His nostrils flared even as his eyebrows pulled down into his very-confused-but-not-upset expression, which was one that Dick actually knew really well, since he caused it a lot.
Conner wasn’t the most talkative clone Dick had ever met. Actually, he just wasn’t a chatty guy all around, and Dick… potentially spent more time looking at Conner than he should.
In doing so, he had memorized and identified quite a few of Conner’s microexpressions.
“Wait… is that my shirt?” Conner finally asked, which was not his original question about flexibility and absolutely not a question Dick wanted to answer.
So he didn’t.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said. Yeah, that was great! That would totally work.
Conner normally followed his lead, so Dick should be able to dismiss the shirt-thing with no issue.
Only it didn’t work.
Somehow, Conner’s eyebrows pulled down even lower, and he asked, “Why are you wearing my shirt?”
“I’m not wearing your shirt!” Dick protested, but his voice raised half a pitch in a way that totally gave him away.
God, puberty was embarrassing.
“Yes you are,” Conner stated. He crossed his arms across his chest, which made Dick feel things he tried very hard to ignore, especially since Conner was still watching him so intently.
“No I’m not,” Dick said in reflex, since he had absolutely no idea what else to say and he was used to arguing with Wally.
He wasn’t sweating. He absolutely was not sweating because he was not nervous, not at all.
Conner growled, and said, “Yes you are.”
“No I’m—”
“I can see the Superman logo on the other side,” Conner told him, cutting him off.
Dick squeaked. “Are you x-ray visioning me? Since when could you do that!”
Conner’s eyebrows pulled even deeper into his very-confused-and-getting-annoyed expression that Wally caused a lot, and he said, “I can see the stitching.”
Dick looked down with a frown of his own, and… oh. Right. The stitching!
“Do you not want to be wearing it? Did you put it on by mistake?” Conner asked. He looked more frustrated than ever, which made Dick actually feel a little bad.
Maybe Conner wouldn’t care? Maybe he wouldn’t even realize how totally weird and inappropriate it was that Dick was wearing it in the first place. Conner wasn’t always up to do with social faux pas, so maybe he’d just think Dick needed to borrow it!
He could go with that. He could totally go with that, but he also couldn’t lie.
Not to Conner.
“No I… I do,” Dick admitted, feeling his face start to burn behind his glasses. He was so glad the Cave was empty on a very rare occurrence.
“Good. That’s good,” Conner said, and then he stared at Dick so intently he was absolutely certain that he was missing something.
“Uhm, I… why is that so good, Sups?” he asked, feeling his heart climb up into his throat. He didn’t know what it meant, but it had to mean something, right?
“You don’t know what it means?” Conner asked, and he sounded even more upset than he had earlier.
Which, what? How had he fallen so behind in the conversation? What was even going on?
“W-What it means?”
Conner growled again, which always did funny things to Dick’s heart and even funnier things to his stomach. The taller boy didn’t say anything for a second, and Dick watched Conner watch him, endlessly thankful for the lead lining on his sunglasses which made it impossible for Conner to tell that he was staring right into his eyes as he tried to figure out just what was going on.
“In one of M’gann’s shows, a girl wore her boyfriend’s football jersey,” Conner said slowly. “It signified that they were a couple, and let the other students at their school know that they were both off-limits.”
Conner nodded at the Dick, and said, “That doesn’t have my team number, but it has my family crest on it.”
Since Dick’s eyes had strayed and he’d been staring at the curve of Conner’s bicep, it took him a moment to figure out what the clone said. When he computed the sentence and the meaning he knew was behind it, he made a very embarrassing “eeping” noise that he would never admit to.
“I—well, I wasn’t—and it doesn’t have to! I mean! It’s not that—”
“I like it,” Conner said decisively, accompanying his statement with an adorable nod of his head.
Oh.
“Y-You do?” Dick asked, his heart in his throat.
Conner nodded seriously. “Yes. You should keep wearing it.”
Oh.
Oh, that was not what Dick had been expecting. That was not what Dick had been expecting at all when he stole Conner’s shirt in some post-training-adrenaline-fueled haze of impulsiveness.
What was he supposed to do? Should he do something? Dick hadn’t ever dated anyone before! He’d only ever made out with Wally once when they both wanted to try it! Sidekick training had not prepared him for this at all—which, thank god for that since Bruce was his dad—and that meant he was unprepared!
Dick hated feeling unprepared, so did something entirely out of character.
He said the first thing that popped into his head.
“W-What about when it gets dirty?” Dick asked, feeling breathless and hopeful and elated all at once.
Conner stepped forward, and he gently grabbed the very loose sleeve of his own shirt on Dick’s arm. His fingers were warm when they brushed against his bicep. “I’ll give you another one.”
Dick had no idea what to say to that. He had no idea at all, so he nodded his head and let the weight of Conner’s icy stare bore into him and seep under his skin. After a second, Conner moved his hand from Dick’s arm to his waist, and slowly, with a lot of hesitation, wrapped his fingers around Dick’s hip.
Dick was a fourteen-year-old boy who had never so much as held hands with anyone before.
(Making out with Wally didn’t count. Wally was his best friend and it was a memory better forgotten.)
He was not okay.
“D-Didn’t you have plans with Wally?” Dick asked, because he was an idiot who was absolutely not okay and needed to have something else to focus on other than the way it felt like Conner’s fingers were burning a brand into his skin.
“Oh,” Conner said, his small, pleased smile melting into a frown. “Wally was being an idiot.”
“What was he saying, Sups?” he asked, swaying a little bit closer when Conner didn’t step away.
“He said M’gann was more flexible than you,” Conner grumbled, like it was the worst thing he’d ever heard.
Dick opened his mouth to answer, but then it died out on his tongue when he processed what Conner had actually said.
“I… what?”
Conner grunted. “He said that M’gann was more flexible, but that isn’t true. I’ve watched you both during training; you have a greater range of movement. She may have an edge with her shape-shifting, but you are the most naturally flexible team member.”
“You’ve been watching me stretch?” Dick asked. His voice sounded a little more urgent than he’d meant, but suddenly this was very important.
“Yes,” Conner told him with a nod.
“I…” Dick had no idea what to say. Dick had no idea what to say, which hadn’t ever happened before.
Suddenly, Conner’s face went worried. “Is that okay?”
It was. Holy Batman it so was, but he needed to know something else even more important.
With urgency, he asked, “Why were you watching M’gann stretch?”
“Because Wally said she was more flexible,” Conner explained, as if that made sense.
It did not. “Wait, has this been an ongoing argument?”
“Yes. Wally is stubborn.” Conner grinned in a way that showed his teeth, and added, “So am I.”
Dick barked out a startled laugh at the comment. In response, Conner’s face morphed into an endearingly sweet smile, one that Dick hadn’t ever seen Conner give to anyone else. His heart did a ridiculous flip-flopping thing inside his chest that Conner had probably been able to hear, but Dick didn’t even care.
Conner was still holding onto his waist, so Dick took a shaking hand and wrapped his fingers around the width of Conner’s wrist to give himself something to hold on, and tried to keep himself from exploding.
“You are amazing,” Dick breathed, feeling like his heat was going to break out of his chest with how full it suddenly felt.
Conner ducked his head and mumbled his thanks with a shy little smile, and Dick swore to himself that he would do whatever it took to put that smile there for the rest of his life.
Which may have been a little dramatic, but eh. He was Batman’s protégé, after all.