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It was easily the most predictable hit he’d ever delivered. If the knee hadn’t telegraphed it, the wind up would have. He’d leaned back, leaned forward, and sent the sloppiest punch of his vigilante career at the face of a man who should’ve seen it coming from a mile away.
Bruce’s head snapped back with a soft, surprised oomph. He took one step backward, regaining his balance on one overly-smooth loafer as blood began to gush down his face.
Dick stared at him, unable to speak. Unable to look away as Bruce put a hand to his cheek, probing at the bloody gash like he’d never been hit in the face before. The hit he hadn’t seen coming.
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Bookmark Notes:
Perfect hit !
(lol) -
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Bookmark Notes:
And Dick had taken advantage of that -- here in Bruce’s safe space. Where he could cast off Bruce Wayne’s suit jackets and roll up his sleeves and squint at his screens for hours on end. He had spent billions of dollars locking down the Cave, keeping it secure from gods, aliens, and natural disasters.
Dick had just walked in.
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Dick stared at him, agonized.
“And then I told you,” Bruce paused, turning to look at the sparring mats over Dick’s shoulder. “I told you, that kind of anger was okay in here. That here was the only place it was okay. You couldn’t take it out there. You couldn’t punish people, just because you were angry. Do you remember that?”