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dick grayson has always been a good friend to the people you surround yourself with. you’re not his friend, not yet, but he always makes a point to include you - starting conversations when your other friends are busy with each other - sharing dessert from that food stand you’ve always wanted to try when everyone else is too picky to have a bite - gently ribbing you alongside the ones you are close with when you do brute force yourself into the group’s conversation.
the most one-on-one time you’ve spent with him was the third time you’d seen him, after a movie that none of you were sure he was going to make it to (he was late to the chain restaurant dinner beforehand. you don’t know him well, but your friends say he was late getting off work, then he had to make the drive from blüdhaven to gotham. you’re pretty sure everyone met in college, the way you met your best friend who introduced you to this ragtag group, but you were never on the same degree path as them and you know he wasn’t at the same commencement everyone else was. that’s the only way everyone would know this guy who is, for some reason, willing to drive two hours in friday evening traffic to an even busier city just to see the worst movie released this year). you stood on the roof of the parking garage while everyone else had split off into their own, smaller groups, just talking. your best friend told you he’s quiet until you get to know him, but that night, you had the pleasure of talking about yourself to someone who seemed unshy - he asked questions no one else has, wanting to know your opinions about everything in the world, and doing what he could to make sure the conversation carried on, until someone you were closer to heard what you were talking about and jumped in.
on the car ride home, you briefly mentioned to your best friend what several people have already said about him.
“it was nice talking to him. he was very sweet. and he’s… cute.”
she laughs, and, while the light’s still red, she turns to you and says, “he’s hot, is what he is.” you blush a little bit and agree with her, but she continues, “but i think i’d be angry if you started dating him.”
so, that’s that. you mostly talk to him when he’s on a group call that your best friend’s also in, one that you have never been invited to join (after all - you’re really only “close” to three people in the group). it won’t be a big deal if you never see him again. after all, what you supposedly feel towards him has not even gotten close to crush territory, even if your best friend teases you about the infatuation. dick grayson is never someone you could be with, and that’s not a thought that’s born of any sort of insecurity, but one of the lack of proximity that could reasonably start anything.
-
two years have passed since you actually met dick grayson for the first time. you don’t see each other ever, but you do grow closer to his best friend, wally west. you talk surprisingly often, sending each other funny photos, playing a video game once a month. you haven’t even exchanged phone numbers, and that’s why it surprises you when he invites you to a small party he’s throwing. the very small guest list doesn’t make much sense when you put any thought into it - you, your best friend, roy harper, donna troy, dick grayson… you’re not sure at all where you fit into any of this. after all, you’re their friend’s best friend. it’s a shock you even talk to wally as much as you do. after some (mild) freaking out, your best friend convinces you that her friends love you and would love to have you there.
when the day comes, wally pulls you to the side to check if you’re okay once your best friend splits off from you. at first, when you look around, dick doesn’t seem to be there, and you nod and sigh in relief. that feeling doesn’t last long, though, when wally turns his attention from you and flashes a smile at the door. you shuffle away from him to find your best friend as he continues his greetings, knowing full well who you’d be seeing if you followed his line of sight.
the night progresses normally, all things considered. you actually don’t stick to your best friend’s side the entire time and make an effort to speak to the guests you don’t know well (you find out roy has a child, a daughter named lian, and donna, as young as she is, has already been married, had a child, and gotten divorced).
dick, the man you were so worried about seeing tonight, does not single you out or make an effort to speak to you. you think this would be a good thing, as he was the main reason you were afraid to come, but all it does is make you shake with nerves (and what you are so nervous about, you absolutely cannot place). as he walks around wally’s apartment like he lives there, you steal brief glances in the hopes that he will say more than the “hello!” he did when he first noticed you showed up.
(his hair has gotten longer, a little bit shaggier since the last time you saw him. he could probably pull it into a ponytail at this point. it looks good on him, and you’re not the first person to point it out, but you are quick to agree when someone finally does. he’s dressed differently than he usually is, as well. even in the gotham heat, you’ve mostly seen him in some sort of sweater and jeans. he looks like he’d gotten comfortable after coming from one of those galas he used to go to with his father - a smooth button-up, no jacket, pressed slacks, shoes that were shined recently but not today. dick’s easily the best-dressed there, everyone else a bit closer to you, in a t-shirt you’ve never worn before and your favorite pair of jeans. the sunglasses he insists on wearing everywhere are pushed up past his hairline and would look annoyingly cocky on anyone else, but right now you’re just thinking of that conversation you and your best friend had in her car after that movie where she called him hot. you can’t make eye contact with this man, but you’re not sure if it’s you or him that’s putting more effort into making sure that doesn’t happen.)
after far too long standing around doing nothing but talking, wally claps his hands and announces it’s time for a vote. the movie choices are… fine, but one of them is your best friend’s favorite, so you have to vote for that. roy huffs when he realizes he’s the only one who didn’t vote for it, and dick and wally both laugh at him.
the six of you grab drinks and move to the “den”, where there’s just enough seating for the group. donna pulls your best friend away to the couch, roy shuffling into the right corner. you anticipate wally going for the loveseat with dick, but he plops down on the beanbag just to the right of the doorway (“in case anyone needs anything!” he says, and it’s endearing how hard he’s trying to make sure everyone’s having a good time). that leaves you with one place to land. you look longingly at your best friend, hoping for her to come to your rescue, but roy’s telling her something that’s funny enough it’s got her with her eyes closed and head thrown back. you turn to look at dick and he nods, but his expression doesn’t change. it’s the most interaction you’ve gotten out of him these past few hours since that awkward first greeting. it’s fine. everything’s fine.
once the dvd’s in, wally skips through the ads, turns on subtitles, and presses ‘play’. as the title card finally pops up, roy moans in what can only be described as agony, and dick finally, finally, leans over to speak to you, telling you, “he hates this movie.” you gasp and face him, finding him already looking at you with a smile. “i’ve only seen those two argue over one thing, and it’s this.” he points at the couch on the other side of the doorway and you can’t help but laugh to yourself when you notice your best friend kick roy, hard, presumably at something unkind he said about the film. it’s kind of a sweet moment, but you do envy their closeness when you compare your best friend’s behavior with your own.
forty-five minutes in, things start to blur. you weren’t tired before, but surrounded by people you know you can trust, you grow weary. roy has fallen asleep (no one can fault him on that) and even wally, who seemed genuinely excited to watch it, is blinking slowly at the screen. donna’s invested, and you can hear her whispering questions to your best friend, who grins as she spills the fun facts she knows about the scene currently playing. god, there was a reason this was her favorite movie and not yours. it’s good, but you have to admit that it’s boring until at least the halfway point. you glance around one more time before deciding to make yourself cozy. you remember dick placing a medium-sized pillow between the two of you not too long ago (which… unfair of him to place a physical barrier between you. you were already tucked into the far left corner of the loveseat, feet on the ground, doing what you could not to be in his personal space. you like to respect others’ boundaries, but you know he’s not exactly shy about physical contact). you don’t intend on falling asleep like roy did, but you do want to rest your eyes for a few minutes. after all, wally lived closer to dick than either of them did to your other friends, so you had your own nearly two-hour drive to get here, and that’s after a full day of hyping yourself up. surely, dick wouldn’t be too bothered if you do decide to lay down. it might be a loveseat, but there’s enough space for your torso in the space that he left on your side of the barrier. if you swing your legs up over the armrest without managing to kick wally in the head, you could lay on your back and turn only your head to face the tv.
you just don’t realize that the pillow you made the choice to rest your head on is halfway on dick’s lap until you are halfway on dick’s lap. you tense when you notice his left arm resting on the top seam - something you didn’t notice in the darkness, but could feel when you got close to it. dick doesn’t move or acknowledge what you’re doing, so after a small battle in your own mind, you get fully into position. your head displaces some bulk inside the pillow, moving it into your eyesight when you tilt towards the screen, so you rest the back of your right hand in front of your face to push it down, and, god, there dick is again in the darkness. his own right hand is curled around the edge of the pillow, his arms crossed in front of him, and the tips of your middle fingers brush for a moment. you try not to gasp or twitch, but you do pull away slowly. when you do this, his hand chases yours. your fingers link awkwardly as he pulls your hand further up than it was before. your forearm blocks your vision now, the opposite of what you were trying to do when you laid your hand on the pillow instead of on your torso. the way your fingers tangle together bothers you slightly. you choose not to address the choice he just made, but he does it for you, leaning into you, lips close to your ear, letting you know that, “it’s okay to hold my hand, really.” you don’t respond verbally but it’s harder to not react this time and you inhale deeply, hold your breath for one-two-three-four counts, release in seven counts (which you know isn’t the correct way to do box breathing, but you’ve got all of the techniques mixed up in your head). he doesn’t point this out and it feels like a small mercy with the sudden rush of anxiety going through your chest right now. your heart is beating hard against your ribcage, yet you don’t try to pull away again.
you don’t know what has come over dick grayson. in fact, you think it’s a prank. he has never shown any sort of emotion for you besides what is expected in a general friendly environment. you are absolutely baffled the first time he leans down over you, and instead of whispering some comment about the film like you anticipated, he just breathes for a moment before placing a kiss against your roots.
and it’s not a one-time thing.
the entire rest of the film, he leans over every few minutes and presses another kiss to your hair. he hesitates each time as he decides whether he wants to leave another or not, and over half the time, he does. you can hear the pair of sunglasses he has on the top of his head slide down. hear him pushing them back up. feel your hair getting mussed. you know you won’t be able to sleep now, not when you’re getting the attention you’ve been silently craving.
the moment takes longer to end than you thought it would. being you, knowing your history, you expected him to wrench his hand back the second the credits started playing, but it’s only when the music ends and wally hits the lights that dick changes his pattern and nuzzles his nose into your hair. he stays there for a second, whispers, “thank you”, then finally pulls back and takes his hand with him.
not long after the movie ends, the “party” (if it could even be called that in the first place) dies down and by the time you go to leave, it’s like nothing ever happened. no one acknowledges the affection that was shared between you two, and you don’t have the guts to pull him to the side to ask what that was about. you hug your best friend, telling her you’ll see her when you see her, and wally catches you in a hug of his own. dick catches your eye as you open the door, waving goodbye to the others, saying you have work in the morning, and you see the blush start to form when he tells everyone he’s going to follow you out. you didn’t park far. you’re in a safe neighborhood. you don’t need an escort. wally disagrees and says he’ll sit outside to wait for you to drive off and for dick to walk back. your last moments together tonight won’t be spent entirely alone, and you wonder if you ever will be in a room, just the two of you (you never have been, before). he doesn’t speak on the walk - doesn’t move to touch you or reassure you that what happened was real. he opens the driver’s side door for you, a true gentleman, watches you get in, gives you a smile, shuts the door. wally waves goodbye from the porch. you leave.
on that two-hour drive back to gotham, for the first time in a longer time than you’d like to admit, you hit ‘shuffle’ on your love songs playlist and don’t agonize over what could never be and how your best friend is totally going to kill you.