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“Can we get back now?”
Jason only turned enough for a glance, eyes a thin line before walking forward without a word.
Great. Perfect. 100 point communication.
One missing, three homicides and a robbery. Those were what waiting on Dick’s work desk, typing out every letter on complaint files of parents, lovers, family, friends, even the media sniffing on every door of crime life for a corner of two dollars and a half, when Dick was out here, by the side of the coast, leisuring himself in a carnival of fairy lights, cotton candies and merry go round.
There were sounds everywhere, children running, adults laughing, food vendors shouting. Machine running, power shooters and thousands of coins, water splashed and balls thrown. The whole place lit up like a Christmas tree planted in the middle of the street on a snowy night, and people flooded over like moths to a flame.
Dick never got a chance to change, still in his trenchcoat and a silver batch in the chest pocket. Jason robbed him right off the station, didn’t explain a word, didn’t turn, didn’t budge, stayed dead silent on the whole ride that Dick had half-expected they would arrive at a hospital and not a goddamn funfair.
At least any shady deal, murderous clown around here would see that there was a cop on the show tonight to reconsider their plans.
Not that they cared much, honestly.
“You’re hungry?” was the first thing Jason said for the whole damn night.
“Actually⎼”
“Let’s get chili dogs. I want chili dogs”
And there he strode, faster than a red hot firetruck on those damn legs. This time, he dragged Dick along as well. He got two portions without asking what Dick liked or not, pushing the wrapper against his face while wolfing down the food the moment it was hot on his hand.
“If you ain’t eating, it’s mine.”
“Jason⎼”
“It’s mine then.”
He picked the chili dog off Dick’s hands, turned on his heels and just like that, kept on walking again. It was hard enough to walk among the crowd, even harder trying to catch up with a man sized like Jason.
Tired, defeated, confused. It was long enough of a day to just go with the flow. What Dick needed now was a cup of coffee and not another person yelling by his ear.
“I’m going back.” He decided.
“Well fuck me, ain’t that the clown house.” Jason suddenly turned and waves of people suddenly halted to not bump into a mountain of a man he was.
That was how Dick knew tonight wouldn’t end well if he just left Jason alone like that.
“Hey hey hey!” Dick jumped ahead, walking backward with his hand flat tight against Jason’s chest. Like calming a bull, every goddamn time. “Hey, not here. Not them.”
“This city’s got enough clowns for this shit, Dickiebird.”
Knowing someone like Jason, he wouldn’t take a joke so far if not a joke at all.
“Come on, I’ll get you popcorn.”
“Sugar your way around huh, Golden Boy? Aren’t you Daddy’s perfect egg?”
Dick wanted to punch him square in the face.
“Why don’t we hit my place, huh? A pack, Indian? What do you think?” Dick tried, softened his voice and ran his hand up to pat Jason’s shoulder. Jason didn’t like it when a “Jason no” hit him straight in the face. The way Bruce did it.
“You just wanna go back, don’t you?” Well fuck him, Dick wanted to go back. “I’ll have that popcorn then.”
They never really put a name to it, really. Not a name nor a word about the extra toothbrush in the cup, or another set of plates in the sink. Or the fact that neither of them really complain when finding the other halfway through their windows like a thief caught red-handed, except no theft’s skin was ever as thick as theirs, making their way at home, fetching the last pizza in the box, downing the last coffee in the cup. Or, just so very casually, making their way to the other’s bed and sticking around in the next morning, demanding a full English breakfast and non-shitty coffee.
Dick couldn’t remember when it started, just knew they both agreed on mutual things, compatible in leisure, time, and… other things. To be honest, Dick would rather they kept things as simple as it was.
Why the labels when they freely paced through the carnival, stopping here and there, eating whatever they could, and he got to see Jason looking as excited as a child among the crowd and sounds.
That man never really got to be a child. Not a day in his life.
“Ah fuck. Yo Dickie!”
Before Dick could answer, everything turned into a blur and he got jerked, pulled, dragged, and manhandled in the middle of the road until they finally got to a booth. All a hundred and seventy five pounds of him in gold watch and dress shoes, a Glock 22 and a half-bitten candy apple. Jason landed his feet on the ground, not breaking a sweat if not more energetic than a kid on Christmas morning.
Shoot for gifts. Why the heck not.
He thrusted a shotgun at Dick’s face before he could finish processing what was going on, smiling ears to ears. “Give me your best, Goldie.”
Dick looked at the rifle, down to the candy apple, then back to Jason, “For real?”
“Am I ever not real, Grayson?”
“No, you’re about as vivid as Atlantic in the ocean.”
“Ain’t no Alatean boy gonna ever fuck you as good as I can.”
Dick clamped his mouth shut, looking away. His skin felt Jason’s eyes hot on it before he finally turned away and took the air for interest.
“Goddamn it, Dick. It was a joke.”
That hit a little bit too close to home to be just a joke. And it was probably written all over his face because all that was left of the sharpness in Jason’s grin was stripped down until his eyes lingered on Dick’s no more.
He fixed his throat, tapped the booth, fingers stretching his chin while asking, “How’s for the prizes?”
“20 for the rabbit. 30 for the teddy.”
“And that thing?” he pointed, Dick’s eyes followed.
He couldn’t help but snorted when he saw it, “Plushies?”
“Bats plushies, bird head.”
“You’re surprisingly soft on the inside, Mr. Two Hundreds Forty Five.”
“If you’re calling me fat, I’m yetting you through this booth.”
“I’m not.” He wasn’t. He knew better. Hell, better than anyone, having that body naked on top of him for more than one occasion.
“Yo, how’s the deal for those?” he shouted to the owner.
“50 for those, big guy. Biggest things come hard.”
“Fine.” he then turned to Dick, “What do you want?”
“What?”
“The plushie. Which do you want?”
Dick doubled over laughing, then saw how serious Jason was, “Oh shit, you’re not joking.”
He could see the owner already sweating buckets watching a six feet five man slowly taking over his booth and getting one rifle off the rag. A man like that, there was just so much your imagination could walk through.
“Chop chop, princess. Ain’t got all day picking your shoe.”
Dick laughed again, this time half bland, half nervous. He knew Jason was doing it.
“You don’t have to.”
“You’re goddamn right I don’t have to.”
“Just choose what you want.”
“Ain’t the goal, Goldie. I wanna give you what you want.”
And there he went at it, again.
How many times had they stepped on this landmine? How many times since it started? Dick wanted exactly what they had right now. Nothing.
He, of all people, knew better than to add one strike of complexity into their story, because Dick, of all the things he could do, had not the heart to write the end of their chapter.
“You don’t have to.” he repeated.
When the same words ran twice, they hit differently. Same sounds, different languages. Maybe that was what took the cutting joy of Jason’s handsome face when he looked away, snorting to himself.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Grayson. Not when you act like I never give you a damn thing in my life.”
He did. Or at least he did try, until he realized Dick didn’t like it.
“What are you doing?” asked Jason when Dick went over and took the shotgun off his hands. He didn’t like the idea of Red Hood with a rifle in a carnival full of children, family, lovers crossing and making memories. God knew this jerk was a show off when he could, as much of an entertainer as Dick was, minus the tights and trapeze plays.
“50 for the plushie, right?”
The owner looked at his uniform, planted his hands on his hips and sighed, “Tell me you’re a rookie.”
“You wish, buddy.”
Dick propped the handle up against his shoulder and made his aim. This, he could do. This, he was familiar with. Breathing in, focus, find a target, and make your shot. Nothing Robin School 101 hadn’t roughed him up yet. This was as close to the job as he could get, doing things he knew, running paths he remembered, and not dancing in the dark with Jason’s hands on his waist in his one-bedroom apartment.
This, he could deal with, not those teal blue eyes hot on his skin when he thought Dick wasn’t looking.
Dick wasn’t really looking, but he didn’t need to. He knew. And he didn’t like what he knew.
He leveled his head and marked his targets, fingers quaking as he felt the frail weight of this non-lethal shotgun in his hands gradually grow in passing seconds. Breath in. Breath out. His finger moved.
Pulling the trigger was always easier than not pulling. Once the shot was fired, you couldn’t stop. Couldn’t have it in yourself to hesitate no more.
“Show off.” Jason chuckled, and Dick couldn’t help but grinned back.
He put the rifle down after shooting down ten target plates straight in a row of the chain, took a good look over the plushies and snorted when taking his pick.
“I’ll take Red Hood, please.”
Oh the way it made Jason’s eyes roll all the way to the back of his skull.
“Enjoy fucking with me, Wonder Pants?”
“Please, you wore those pants too.”
“Aint long enough to fill out the wonder.”
The plushie sat waiting on the front counter fast enough, like everybody here knew how this game would end the moment Dick took the gun in all badge and uniform. The only one who wasn’t getting a good laugh out of it was the booth runner. Hell, his pride was shot dead like one of those poor target plates when losing one of the big prizes right at the start of the night.
“Don’t you have a crime to solve, pretty boy?”
And it hit home, didn’t it. Dick’s smile slipped off because he knew that man was right. He shouldn’t be here, playing, leisuring. Acting no better than the corrupted goons with batons and badges in a legal station.
“Thank you,” Dick whispered, turned on his heels and pushed the plushie to Jason’s chest. “For you.”
“My my, should have brought chocolate and flowers as well, McCharming.”
“That was fun. Can we head back now?”
Something changed in the light reflecting on Jason’s eyes. He grasped on Dick’s wrist and pulled him on the pathway. Dick was too tired to ask, all he did this whole night was letting the bigger man drag and pull him here and there when he should be off doing good in his life. His job.
“I heard they have a big prize somewhere. Biggest of the night.”
“Jason.”
“Is the whole fucking town here or what? Can’t walk straight on my damn legs.”
“Jason, I really should⎼”
“Am no heathen, Dickiebird. I’m not letting you walk off empty-handed after your Clint Eastwood gimmick for this.”
“Clint Eastwood… You're full of shit.” Dick laughed, had to stop on his feet to laugh steadily or else he would be face first down the ground over some cables.
“Am keeping my shit safe from you now on.”
“Yeah, you should. If I step on your bullets one more…”
“Goddamn it Dickie, you walk on wires and complain to me about tripping over bullets.”
“Wires I intend, not waking up and wiping my face with the floor in the bleak morning because you can’t reload and clean up for shit.”
Jason barked out a laugh, “Should have hired a maid to warm your bed, Dickie, not a gang lord.”
“Yeah, you’d look terrible in a white apron and lacy stockings.”
“Fuck you, I can rock a tiara if I want.”
Dick doubled over laughing, knees buckled and lungs gave out. If it wasn’t because of the crowd, the lively sounds of all the things that ran this carnival, his guffaws would have echoed all the way past the water hitting the neighboring city. The type of embarrassing, stripped bare, ugly sound that if you recorded yourself in the heat of the moment, you wouldn’t admit it was you with a knife at your throat.
There was something in Jason’s eyes when Dick finally regained sanity, something soft and bright and had lingered in him for long enough Dick could taste it on his skin. It was something one could hardly see from someone like Jason, something he rarely let out, something Dick had never seen before.
Or maybe Dick had, but rather pretend he didn’t.
“There it is!” Jason suddenly shouted, and off he went, picking Dick up from under his arms like handling a wet stray cat and running toward the sea of people.
“Fuck off.” he snarled, and what a Messiah, people parted way and refused to bump sides with a grumpy six feet five meat wall of cargo pants and leather jacket.
“What the fuck?” Dick muttered under his breath when he saw what was all the fusses about. “A punching machine?”
“Fuck yeah!”
Jason dropped Dick back on his feet and went straight to the one in charge by the machine, not giving all the people who lined up for a prize half a glance.
“How’s the prize?”
“A cotton candy or a medal, man.”
Jason looked back at Dick who edged by the crowd, smirked, and turned back to the owner. “And that thing?” he pointed, Dick’s eyes followed.
He couldn’t help but snort when saw it,
“A Nightwing doll?” A huge one.
“Don’t dream it, man. How about a gold if you can hit 800?”
“I ask for that doll,” Jason grunted. He didn’t like saying things twice, and he made sure people knew it.
“It’s an absolute. You gotta hit 999, man, in two strikes. That’s shit is impossible.”
They sounded so sure, because people who designed this kind of game knew most couldn’t pull that off. That was their profit stream, in the end.
But most weren’t all. And Jason was all but just another rugged man.
Dick knew nothing he said could get Jason to turn away, not when his lips were stretching into such a smirk so wide.
“You’ve heard, Dickie. You’re the biggest prize for the night.”
Dick rolled his eyes, couldn’t help but laugh. “What are you going to do with an adult-sized Nightwing doll plush, Jay?”
“Whatever a man can do, Dickie. Whatever a man can do.”
Jason handed Dick’s the Red Hood plushie and went over toward the game platform, eyeing the last guy who tried. He wasn’t polite, crude even when cutting lines and didn’t have enough heart to care. Because why the heck would he, right? Both of them knew none of the people in this crowd would be able to pull the magic tonight, if not them. If not him.
Dick didn’t hear much after that, actually, the whole carnival faded into a void when Jason took off his jacket and flexed his arms, those goddamn massive arms. Dick’s stomach bubbled at the thought of them carrying Dick’s weight at ease when they entangled onto each other, moving from room to room with clothes falling on each step; of them pillowing Dick’s head in the morning and leveled him too high that made his neck pop when waking up.
Jason had grown into such a strikingly attractive man from the first glance of the eyes, but there was something just extraordinary about a man so indulged in his “thing”, something he was really good at and became good at just because he loved doing it. Flow state was what it was called.
Jason had his own patterns of character when he was really into it, tiny things that cracked through that iron man. Lips quirked, brows up, eyes squinted. Whenever in a good mood, his laugh would hit real low, low enough to make one wonder if the earth could rumble in the same frequency. And when he really felt it, really felt it, and let the joy carried his body, his shoulders would roll back and his chin tilted a little higher, adam apple popped and white teeth on display. He would be enough of a sight if not the wandering hands that did nothing but explore for the closest heat of warm body. Dancing fingers, glazes of skin, ankles touch.
And he would look at Dick with enough earnest to make him wonder what was behind those teal blue eyes.
Maybe it was a bad idea, learning each other's traits so nonchalantly like this. Dick couldn’t recall when it had begun. A year? Two? Feels shorter and longer at the same time. To the point that it didn’t startle him anymore when suddenly felt the mattress sink and a body hot against his back right before the crack of dawn.
It was shameful to admit that he would probably even feel lonely, yet not surprised if one day Jason stopped climbing his way through the window from the fire escape.
It was always Dick’s place anyway. Always his apartment, his station, his building. He wanted to give Jason the freedom to choose, and wanted the freedom for himself to not have to choose. Dick was always happy to go with the flow, always. As long as it made people happy, didn’t hurt that much to swallow a little pride.
“Hey!”
Dick jumped at the call and the bell rang. Jason looked squarely at him, the machine blinking aggressively. 999, an absolute. From behind the stall, the owner hung his mouth open in disbelief. The crowd around them was shouting widely, clapping hands, whistling cheers.
Dick didn’t know he had zoned out for that long, and Jason had most likely realized that too.
“I want you to watch.”
Dick swallowed and nodded, “Okay.”
Jason grinned. His eyes bright and white teeth sharp. Like he always did when they woke up and saw each other side by side. A beautiful, wild dream. Dick wished he never had to wake up, and died like that.
Jason squeezed his palm, and fisted his hand. There were veins bulgy and huge, visible even in the dark rooting all over his arm, neck, all the way up his forehead. Teeth gritted, breathed out. The ground beneath those combat boots sunk and drilled. You could feel the air seized, winds turned, and gravity reversed.
“Fuck” was the last sound the game owner let out before Jason swung his arm and struke like a force of nature.
Bam!
It was too much of a hit, everybody cringed. The numbers jumped, but Jason? Jason was grinning like he couldn't care less if tomorrow was the end of the world. He looked at Dick and just at him. It was more than enough to make a person feel special, more than enough to wake the butterflies and light fireworks.
999. The machine rang, and the whole place went wild. Jason threw his fists and shouted, adding gasoline to the fire of the crowd. Dick was screaming too, he clapped and clapped his hands against his mouth to scream louder at his victorious champion.
And then Jason pulled him into a hug. A hug so tight felt like he wanted to crush all of Dick’s bones until he turned into pieces. But his hands were a little too warm even through layers of clothes, a little bit too gently when cupping Dick’s nape. His palm rested a little bit too low down the small of his back. Low enough to make Dick feel like they were back in his one-bedroom apartment, dancing all alone in the dark.
And Dick had wanted nothing more, nothing more than to just bury his head into the crook of his neck and kiss his collarbone.
His warmth still lingered on Dick even after Jason had let go and gone to get his earned prize. The plush doll was humongous, but he grabbed it with ease and was grinning toothly when pushing it to Dick with both hands.
The crowd chuckled, swooned, some ladies gasped. Dick couldn’t hold his lips back from a smile when receiving the soft thing with both hands.
“Thank you.”
“Whatever a man can do, Dick.”
He looked breathtaking under the neon light, Dick thought so when he hid half of his face behind his cute big own figure and smiled teethly.
“Come, Imma show you something.”
And there he went, dragging Dick here and there on their little adventure again. Dick had stopped complaining to himself about it. How could he when Jason was looking this earnest and happy for what had felt like the first time in his life?
When Jason finally decided it was about time to close the end to their little fun trip, they had made way to the giant ferris wheel with a full night's worth of waiting. Before Dick could say a word, again, Jason pulled on his arm and cut through the line, didn’t give a damn when people flipped him off and Dick had to keep his neck low apologizing everyone. He walked them toward the standing staff, left Dick, the Red Hood plushie and of course, the giant Nightwing doll by the steps and went to whisper something into the staff’s ear. Well, whatever he said, it must have been magical because the guy suddenly looked all nervous, nodded, pulled the chain and led them straight into a cabin.
“Did you threaten him?” Dick asked immediately once they were alone, sitting face to face and starting to hit the air.
“Relax. I bought the tickets when you were off getting us meat sauce.” The meat sauce Jason demanded. “Just happened to slip a fifty into his back pocket.”
“You’re so bad.” Dick giggled.
“You love me when I’m bad.”
Dick chuckled low, hugged the doll tight against his chest. It suddenly felt awkward now when they were both silent and his skin naked under Jason’s gaze.
“Feel any better now?” Jason asked, suddenly.
Dick blinked, gears turning. He finally found his voice back after too long of a moment. “Yes. Thank you for the night.”
Jason swiped a finger under his nose, looked away. “You’re always so polite for shit, Dick. Like we’re nobody.”
“I’m not… We’re not. I’m just appreciated.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“But I am. This is not something that can happen often.”
“But it can.” Jason retorted, quickly looked at Dick and then away, “It can if you just let me.”
Landmine. Dick had to watch his steps for what to say next. So instead of Jason, he stared at the Red Hood plushie by his side and pretended to have a conversation with it.
“You know I can’t.”
“Can’t or don’t want to?”
“I can’t.” Dick repeated, “In fact, I shouldn’t be here at all.”
“There you go again, beating yourself up until it fucking eat you alive.”
“I have a job, Jay.”
“Don’t we all?”
“People could be dying.”
“Hell, people die all the time, Dickie. You’re the only one who died before hitting the grave.”
It would have been much easier to snap back and get angry if Jason wasn’t hunching over with his attention all to the side of the window. It would have been much easier if Dick could just look into his eyes and explain how this… whatever Jason was implying, wasn’t what they agreed on. Wasn’t what Dick had thought they agreed on.
Because he liked them right here, right where they were. Unnamed. Unknown. Unspoken.
“You haven’t come home for three days.” Jason’s eyes were off the window but down at his boots instead.
“I know.”
“I could’ve helped.”
Or kill more. “I know”
Felt like there was still more hanging in the air, but none of them said anything else.
“Oh.” Dick let out, edging toward the window.
Gotham nightscape… it was beautiful. Thousands and thousands of blinking lights like lost stars of the Milky Way. The scape stretched up and blended in with the inky sky, creating an infinite void for the constellation of lights. The city was its own universe upon the eve of night. It was from up here in the sky, a slow moment of floating instead of falling, did it become so clear that this city cutting edges, money, cruelty and its blood children that made this place the haven it was. For power and richness. For crime and for justice.
In the graphite lullaby, each vivid hue collected the prays and the wishes, the boarding pass for the land of sinners.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?”
Dick hadn’t noticed when Jason had moved close to the same window.
Close enough, they felt each other's breath, sensed each other's warmth. And warm, Jason was, when he pressed his hand over Dick’s and entangled their fingers.
“I never get to see it like this… without the mask.”
“I know.”
He squeezed Dick’s hand tight, and Dick squeezed back tighter.
What was he seeing, through those teal blue eyes? What did he see in Dick that made his sight fixated on Dick this long. Because how could a man, born and raised in the mud and blood of this city, look away from this beauty to the mere mundane that was Dick alone.
He shuffled something out of his jacket, and for a moment Dick tensed. His shoulders rigid until he saw what was pulled out.
“I um… got this as well when you were getting the meat sauce.”
A little cupcake in a clear container sat in his hand. Unharmed and beautiful even after all the things they had done within the night.
Jason threw the plastic away, pocketed again, and pulled out a candle, lighting it up with the same flip lighter he always used for smoke.
“Happy birthday, Dickie.”
Air liquified in his lungs. Dick gasped, choked, and was numb to the idea of what to say. What to respond to.
Jason knew it. He knew him. He chuckled low when pulling their hands up until they held the cake together, fingers brushed over one and another.
“It’s a wonder, you always remember everybody’s birthday but yours.”
Something was warm in his chest, hot in his stomach. Dick felt the spice coiled up his nose, his eyes blurry.
“It’s okay, babe. I’m here for the job anyway.”
Jason’s fingers were rough. They were patchy, calloused and always too big, too thick, too strong. But they were always, always , so gentle and feather-like, brushing over Dick’s cheek and tending his face. They swiped over his tears and held his head, mingled into his hair, pulling him over until their foreheads touched, noses bumped.
Dick wanted to brawl and crack open like an infant in his caress, until he shrunk into nothing but a child of those days when the whole circus wrapped around him in the animal tent, waiting for a little boy to blow out his candles.
“We can do this again. Again and again. If you just let me, the way I’ve let you.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll take you anywhere. Everywhere.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll give you everything you want, Dick. Everything. Tell me what you want, Dickie?”
Dick trembled, breathed, and finally blew out the candle.
“I want a cabbage dog.”
Jason pulled back, just enough to cringe and laugh, “What?”
“At the shooting stall. I saw they have it. I want a cabbage dog plushie, just like the one they had today.”
Gears were turning, but Jason wasn’t stupid. He knew right away. He pulled them into a kiss that Dick yearned to deepen.
They both tittered when pulling away.
“You’re the weirdest asshole in my life, Goldie.”
“Got any complaints?”
“Nah,” he cupped Dick’s face, and Dick cupped his. They both knew so much more should have been said, so much more could have been done. But all the things they shouldn’t have done, and all the things they should have done, they had gone through all.
It was a life too late to regret now.
“I’ll get you that damn dog. This year. Next year. And the years after. I’ll get you every damn silly cabbage dog to your heart’s content.”
Too many thoughts went unsaid, unspoken feelings went unnamed. But a poet they both weren’t. So maybe, just maybe, for tonight, let them just be lovers, a little lost, a little found.
(Artwork by 麻可夫斯基)