Archive of Our Own

The glow of the diner’s neon sign splashes across the wet asphalt, turning the street into a watercolor of bright blues and reds, and the sky stretches above like a sheet of black paper. The surrounding skyscrapers, that spiral upwards like sentinels made of light and metal, keep the stars at bay; tiny white pinpricks punched into the black expanse, and Dick has to squint in order to catch the gentle twinkling. 

The sound of Wally shouting his name has his head snapping away from the night sky to where his friends crowd at the edge of the curb, giggling and conversing like murder of chuffed crows. He grins, smelling the savoury scent of fries and burgers. As he joins the group, Wally slings an arm over his shoulders. 

“Dude, I have no idea what the girls got us,” Wally drawls, foot tapping the pavement rapidly in habit. 

Donna raises a perfectly arched brow at Wally, before glancing at you. Your head is bent over the paper bag, one hand rifling through its contents. The rustling noise of paper scratches against Dick’s ears, and he can’t help admiring the way the diner’s neon light paints your skin in hues of blue and red, bringing the brightness of your eyes to life. Your face is scrunched in rapt attention as you, one by one, produce each person’s meal. 

“That’s for you.” You hand Wally his huge burger and large fries, accompanied with onion rings. You return to the paper bag, diving back in to find another treasure of greasy take-out. 

“And this one’s for you.” A cheesy Hawaiian wrap is gently pressed into Donna’s awaiting hands. Then your face splits into another smile as you hold out Dick’s order of loaded fries and a frozen vanilla coke.

Dick feels as if his heart is going to implode. He’s never outright told you what his favourite order is, but here you are, holding it out to him with nothing but a soft smile and the city lights trapped in your eyes. 

Taking the heated cardboard box with heaps of cheesy fries and caramelized meat, and the frozen vanilla coke, he watches as you crush the grease-stained bag into a ball, and he frowns. 

“Didn’t you get anything for yourself?” he asks, before picking up the plastic fork stuck inside the fries and taking a bite.

You shake your head as you walk towards a metal recycle bin and shove the crumpled ball through the slat. When you come back and nestle into Donna’s side, you shrug a shoulder dismissively.

“Nah, this is just something I wanted to do for you guys. I ate only like, an hour or two ago, anyway.”

Dick’s face scrunches further in quiet disdain. He wants to insist that you get something for yourself, even if it’s just a small box of fries, but you seem as content as a cat next to Donna, and he thinks better of it. 

The wind snaps against his cheeks while the group remains huddled together, and he nearly chokes on a laugh and a mouthful of fries when Barry scoffs down his onion rings in two seconds flat, letting out a ferocious burp afterwards. He hears your laughter, the sound more like music than anything, and watches with a quiet grin as your hand grips Donna’s forearm, your body bent at the waist as you suck in a shuddering breath between bursts of giggles.

When each meal has been devoured, not a single crumb left behind—and empty boxes and wrappers are thrown away—you all decide to end the night there. It takes a while for each of you to finally step away, because each time Dick thinks you’re about to officially say goodbye, you snap a quick joke that has everyone chortling, faces split into amused grins and squinting eyes, and jokes are stapled onto yours until it’s a cycle that continues until someone’s brave enough to be the first to leave.

Donna, with an unfiltered yawn pushed into her shoulder, blinks tiredly at you and ruffles your hair, saying goodnight. Dick watches as you wrap your arms around her waist and squeeze her tight, murmuring a goodnight and a gentle ‘love you and get home safe.’

Wally leaves soon after, and you give two big kisses on each freckled cheek that has the red-head light-heartedly spinning around like a top, playing off some goofy cartoon reaction before he moves on to squeeze the life out of Dick.

“Ciao,” Wally says with a two-fingered-salute, before ‘jogging’ down the street. It’s more like a run that the average Gothamite wouldn’t be able to keep up with, but it’s still a small attempt to keep the zoomies under wraps. 

When Dick turns to you, you’ve already got your arms spread out for a hug. His heart tugs inside his chest, as if it’s trying to crawl out of him and get to you, and he finds himself stepping into your awaiting hug without a second thought. He rests his chin on your shoulder, hands clasping at the small of your back and his arms squeezing your sides gently. You’re incredibly warm, and he thinks that makes sense because you’re like sunlight incarnate. 

“You heading to the manor or to Bludhaven?” you ask softly, and Dick thinks it’s a blessing that you haven’t pulled away yet. He wonders if you like this as much as he does, but the thought is dashed away instantly. This is how you are with everyone.

“The manor,” he answers. “Don’t think I can drive all the way back to the apartment tonight.”

“Oh, you okay?” you ask immediately, thinly-veiled concern wrapped around the question. 

Dick tightens his hold on you. “Yeah. Just really tired—you know driving when you’re tired can be as bad as driving when you’re—”

“When you’re drunk,” you giggle. “Yeah, I know. But I’m pretty sure you of all people don’t have much of a problem driving when you’re tired.” 

“Hmph. Maybe I’m just lazy then.” 

“I think you may be right.” 

Dick hides his grin into your hair, shoulders shaking with a silent laugh. Your arms slip away from him, and the harsh air of Gotham’s winter night replaces your warmth.

You step back, the collar of your jacket playfully pulled at by the wind. You shove your hands into your pockets, and rock back and forth on your heels. 

“I’ll see you sometime soon?”

Dick huffs. “Duh. You can’t go very long without seeing me, anyway.”

“Pfft—sure, buddy. I lament at the idea of not seeing you for more than—what? Three days?” 

“Aw, don’t be mean.” 

You laugh softly, shaking your head before murmuring, “Night, Dick.” 

“Good night, Sunshine.” 

You smile once more, before turning away and taking quick steps down the street. You’re bathed in neon light thrown out from shop windows and flickering signs, patches of warm-yellow falling on your shoulders and a ring of gold around the crown of your head each time you walk under a streetlamp. 

Dick shifts his weight, preparing himself to tear his gaze away from you and head back home. Just as he lets his eyes drop to the ground, he hears you call out his name urgently. His head snaps up, the force of it nearly giving him whiplash. For a moment he frowns, confused as you walk backwards while fixing him with a grin. 

“Hey!” you call out. Dick raises a brow, eyes trained on your slowly retreating form.

“What?!” he yells, cupping his hands around his mouth. 

You mirror him, a grin hidden behind your curved palms. “I love you!” 

Dick’s heart jumps into his throat where it pulses like a music note, and he wants to sing it back to you with everything in him. He swallows hard, lets a smile stretch across his face, and watches as you turn back around and start jogging to a parked taxi cab. 

“I love you too,” Dick murmurs to himself, and the confession is swept away with the city.

***

Your cashmere sweater is brushing against Dick’s arm and it’s driving him crazy. You’re sitting cross-legged between him and Duke, a member in the circle everyone’s formed on the floor of the manor’s living room. A stack of UNO cards is towering in the center of the circle, and the force that Stephanie slams a 4+ card down nearly sends it toppling over. Duke throws his head back and groans, a genuine sound of pure agony. 

Dick laughs, hearing your own amused chuckles beside him, though you offer Duke a sympathetic smile as the disgruntled vigilante picks up four cards. Dick’s glad he can’t truly look at you, because he’s sure you look painfully perfect right now—eyes bright and sparkling, and unbelievably soft-looking in your sweater. He can tell that you’re flushed from all the excitement bursting inside the room, your body heat seeping into his side.

When you lean your temple against his shoulder, he almost forgets that it’s his turn. 

“Hey! Dickie! Wake up!” Jason grumbles beside Stephanie, and Dick snaps his gaze back to his hand of cards. He picks his card, and squints at Tim who sits beside him.

“My beloved brother,” he starts dramatically. 

“No. No. Don’t you do it. Don’t you do it—Dick!” 

Dick cackles as he puts down a 4+ card, and Tim, who’s already holding at least twenty cards, falls onto his back in defeat, spewing a chain of curses. 

Tim sighs as if his soul’s been crushed, before sitting upright again and picking up four cards. “You’re actually horrible.” 

Dick grins, opening his mouth to retort, but it’s your wheezing that cuts him short. 

You’re bent over, face scrunched in bone-shaking laughter. Tears glisten at the corners of your eyes, and you’ve sent the entire group giggling. Dick’s own laughter joins yours as you shove your face into his shoulder fully, cry-laughing into his shirt. 

“Oh, my gosh—my stomach hurts,” you wail into him, and without thinking, Dick wraps his arm around your trembling shoulders, his cheeks hurting from the wide grin splitting across his face.

“Does my brother’s pain amuse you? Hm?” Dick teases breathlessly, and you’re thrown into another fit of laughter.

When Dick’s eyes sweep from you to the game again, he catches Jason’s eye—and Dick easily picks up on his knowing expression.

He ignores it, because the way you’re leaning into him is just something you do. Nothing more.

***

The kitchen hums with heat, and the scent of freshly baked cookies hangs sweetly in the air. Amber lights hang elegantly above the long dining table, and you’re standing off to the side with your hands in your pockets, while the others crowd around Alfred and the still-too-hot-to touch trays of cookies. You’re smiling, content with the familial eagerness and competition between the Bats as they each search for the biggest cookie.

When Jason—who’s less intense than the others and has one cookie in his mouth already—passes you, you’re given a gentle squeeze on your shoulder. It’s a rare touch, but you treasure it all the same.

Jason drags out a chair and sits heavily on it, offering you the seat next to him. You sit down, watching as Tim holds a cookie high in the air with a coy grin on his face. It’s swiftly replaced with a pained grimace when Damian stamps on Tim’s foot, and the cookie is lowered with a scowl. 

You shake your head fondly, and Jason scoffs beside you. You watch as Dick gracefully dodges Steph’s grab at the three cookies he’s managed to snatch. He grins, bright and electric, and you think that he's like a thunderstorm: beautiful and humming with energy, so easy to read but unpredictable, too.

Your fingers itch to simply graze the heat of his skin, like he might just transfer some of that energy to you. 

But you sit still, watching with a muted smile as Dick throws his head back and laughs at something Steph said. You fold your arms and lean your head on Jason’s shoulder, who doesn’t mind and only briefly presses his temple against the crown of your head.

This, you find, is much easier than reaching out for who you consider to be the sun. 

***

“Y’know,” Dick drawls, loosely stepping towards you with his hands in his pockets. “You could’ve told me you’d be staying up late in the observatory. I would’a joined you in a heartbeat.” 

Dick watches as you startle, spine flinching back into the frame of the open window. You’re perched comfortably like a cat on the windowsill, cross-legged. Your wide-eyes slip back to a gentle, tired droop, and you give Dick a slow smile.

Oh, you’re the prettiest thing ever, you know? Is all Dick can think while you look up at him, the moon caught in your eyes. The indigo hue of the night paints itself along the slope of your nose, and high point of your cheeks, and if you keep looking at him like that, he might just combust.

“Well, you found me,” you say cheekily. “Care to join?” 

Dick shakes his head, lips curling upward as he hoists himself up onto the windowsill. He makes it look effortless, like he’s floating. 

“So,” he says inside a sigh, “why aren’t you asleep?” 

You don’t say anything right away, but Dick catches a flicker of something in your smile, and it’s not the usual warmth he’s come to love.

You shrug your shoulders. “Just couldn’t sleep. Had too many thoughts running around in my head, y’know?” 

Dick does know. For months, each night’s been the same for him: restless tossing and turning with thoughts of you running laps in his mind. He tries to get rid of you, but you’re stubborn—even in his dreams. 

“What kind of thoughts?”

Dick doesn’t know why he asks, but there’s a morbid curiosity in him to pick you apart—find out how you tick. He’s known you for a while, and he likes the fact that most of the things he knows about you are things he’s picked up along the way. Deductions, observations, but it’s never been things you’ve told him. He wants to hear you speak to him as easily as you touch him. 

Your hands fall to your lap, and you fidget with your fingers. Dick knows you do that when you’re nervous, and suddenly he feels cold, because he doesn’t ever want to make you nervous. 

Is it him that’s making you nervous, though? Or is it something else? 

“You don’t… have to tell me,” he says slowly. He wants you to tell him, but when you meet his eyes again, he thinks he’ll wait all night, maybe more... definitely more. 

“They’re just stupid thoughts,” you admit quietly.

Dick huffs, shuffling to mirror you, cross-legged and shoulders hunched inward. “Someone told me everyone has stupid thoughts and sharing them is part of being friends.” 

“Well, some shouldn’t be told to…friends.” 

“You hesitated.” 

“When?” 

“When you said friends.” 

You fall silent, turning to look out the window again. Dick watches you—notices the way you pull your bottom lip under your teeth. Another nervous habit. 

“Hey,” he tilts his head, and you look at him without hesitation (and his heart skips because of that). “You can tell me anything. Even the thoughts that “shouldn’t” be told to friends.”

You inhale, and Dick catches the way it shakes. It sends a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach.

What could possibly be bothering you so much?

“You know I love you, right?” 

You said it so softly that Dick thinks he misheard you. He tries hard not to let his throat close, and he swallows hard. Of course you love him—you love everyone. 

“Yeah. Yeah—I know you love me. I love you too.” 

“No—I mean… I love you,” you whisper, and you’re staring at him with a raw intensity he hasn’t seen from you before. He’s seen you passionate and fiery. He’s seen you sad and melancholic, bursting at the seams with joy, but never this. 

You’re staring at him like you’re pleading for him to believe you. Begging him not to say something that will inevitably break your heart. 

“Sunshine,” Dick laughs, the sound choked, disbelieving. It’s as if he’s been spun around in circles, tossed upside down and rung out. All he can focus on is the pounding of his heart against his ribs, and the way you haven’t looked away. 

How are you this brave? 

No—no, he knows how. You’re like the sun, and the sun doesn’t apologise for the space it takes up in the sky, or the heat it presses into his skin. When he reaches for your hand and feels the gentle scrape of your skin against his palm, he knows he’ll let himself burn under your touch.

“You really love me?” Dick asks, and it’s barely above a whisper. 

You nod, fingers tightening around his hand. “I thought it was obvious.” 

“Obvious?” Dick gapes at you, before his brows pull inward. “Sunshine, you were anything but obvious!” 

In any other circumstance, maybe you’d laugh—if your heart weren’t hanging in the balance, maybe you’d shake your head and tell him he’s being silly; that you were so obviously in love with him.

But you can’t bring yourself to do that, so you only grin hesitantly.

“I wasn’t?” 

“Are you kidding? I—no! You were so… so touchy with everyone that I figured I wasn’t any different to you than—than Kory! Or Donna, Wally—even Jason!” 

This time you do laugh, and it loosens Dick’s chest like stones rolled off his lungs.

“You know what made me realise that I love you?” you raise a brow, and Dick catches the sincerity in the question. His head tilts, eyes expectant and his lips aching to stretch into a giddy smile. 

“What did?”

You shuffle forward, keeping your hand inside Dick’s like he’s a tether to reality. If he weren’t touching you, maybe you’d think you were swimming inside some sort of dream world, one that would snap into nothing once you woke up. 

But he’s here, and his thumb is rubbing crescents into your skin, and you’re not dreaming.

“I realised that I love you—” and you speak in a whisper, like you’re trading a secret— “when you made me nervous to touch you. Just standing next to you made me feel like I was standing on the edge of a cliff.”

Dick feels like he’s been punched in the chest, the air knocked out of him. Usually he’d sputter and cough, try to suck in a haggard breath. Instead his breath is caught in his throat and he doesn’t dare to breathe. You’re so close to him that he can see the faint web of lines at the corners of your eyes, the smile lines around your mouth that tell him life’s been kind to you.

You’re so close that he’s afraid that if he breathes, you’ll simply dissipate like smoke, blown away before he can blink. So he doesn’t think hard about it when he brings his free hand to your cheek, and you feel like silk and love under his touch. He’s not aware of how big his smile is, how it sends electricity scattering up your arms like goosebumps. 

“You still hugged me, y’know,” he murmurs. 

“And I was terrified when I did.” 

“I don’t ever want you to be afraid to touch me.” 

You linger on his words. “Does that mean you want me to keep hugging you?” 

Dick’s breath fans against your mouth when his head leans forward, forehead rocking gently against yours in disbelief.

“Babe, I want you to hug me all the time. Hold me in any way possible—kiss me, too.” 

Your face lights up, lips pulled into a beaming smile. There’s tears in your eyes and Dick can feel the dampness under his own, and he takes your mesmerized silence as what it is.

His lips press against yours, and he melts into you. Yes, he was right all along. You do taste like the sun. 

thank you for reading, God bless <33