Repentance - Dick Grayson/Reader
Summary: It took a lot of convincing for you to go out with Dick Grayson. And things were amazing, until they weren't. Now, you've got to figure out if you want to recover this.
Pairing: Dick Grayson/gn!reader (but they are described as wearing a dress, FYI)
Tags and warnings: Hurt -> comfort, self-confidence issues, swearing, no cheating but Dick is a dick, three (3) uses of Y/N, Jason is there for a second!
Author’s Note: Oh my god you guys, I finally finished the first hurt -> comfort fic from the poll and it is SO much longer than I thought it was going to be. I had to take a couple of days off there to be pissed at Dick myself LOL. But, I'm really happy with the end product and how this turned out, yippee!!! Huge thanks to @twentytomidnight for helping me think through this one <3
Word Count: 6.7K
It had taken a couple of weeks for you to agree to go out with Dick Grayson.
The eldest child of Gotham’s billionaire prince, with looks so effortlessly stunning that he was pursued relentlessly by modeling agencies, let alone paparazzi. His Instagram was full of candid photos so picturesque that they looked like they had been staged for hours, but you knew that’s just how Dick was. And the comments underneath, well. They were lustful at best, at times downright vulgar. Not that you disagreed with their sentiments.
And he was nice. So charmingly kind and careful of every person in the room, no matter how much of a wallflower they were attempting to be. He noticed you and he championed you with a soft, encouraging smile, a gentle hand on your shoulder, or a subtle nod.
It was entirely unfair. So when he asked you to go out to dinner with him, you politely declined. If it had been any other gorgeous celebrity, you would have thought it was a prank, a joke spared at your expense. But you knew Dick was genuine, which made it even more intimidating.
Not that you were particularly insecure, but Dick was Dick. Standing beside him, you looked so painfully average that it made your self-confidence take a nose dive. Every strong characteristic you thought you had seemed to pale in comparison to his. He could have any supermodel, Victoria’s secret angel, Olympian, movie star. So, why would he stoop to asking for your company?
But Dick was nothing if not persistent. You began running into him more frequently with questionable serendipity, and at each subsequent date proposal, you found it more difficult to come up with an excuse not to go.
So you finally relented, agreeing to be his date to some charity gala after his pleads of desperation. And you hadn’t prepared for anything more in your entire life. Hair appointments, nail appointments, shaving from the eyelashes down. A dress and shoes so luxurious that your legitimacy in the boutique was scrutinizingly side-eyed. When he picked you up in a tuxedo with a waiting limousine, you still thought that he looked better - effortlessly so. He disagreed entirely.
He was a perfect gentleman and the night was nothing short of magical. Public eyes dissecting your every pore, watching you cling to Richard Grayson on the dancefloor as he twirled you all night. At first, the attention was smothering, but as the night persisted and his sweet, soft praises of how mesmerizing you looked, how captivating you smelled, and how enchanted he was that you had finally said yes to one of his proposals, you couldn’t have cared less if the whole world was watching.
That night on the balcony, he nothing short of begged you to go out with him again, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear that had strayed in Gotham’s brisk winter wind. And who were you to resist his advances after that?
So, you began dating. As subtly as possible at first, but eventually the big media piece broke. News that Dick Grayson was no longer an eligible bachelor, and who was his nobody of a partner?
The tabloids bothered you initially, but Dick was comforting. Strong and reaffirming. Repeating time and time again that it was he who was the fortunate one in the relationship. The one who had struck gold after all.
When he disclosed to you that he was Nightwing, you felt your bond solidify impossibly stronger, and your doubts all but disappeared. Short of his family, no one else was privy to his secret identity. No one else had that piece of him and you clutched it close to your chest.
And nobody else got to hold him in the night, running their palms across the old scars littering his torso. Nobody else got to smooth their fingers through his inky locks, listening to him purr from the sensation of your nails on his scalp. Nobody else knew how he liked his eggs in the morning, how he took frigid cold showers no matter how icy it was outside, and how his nose wrinkled in poorly-hidden disgust when you talked about your coworker that chewed with his mouth open.
That was you and Dick. Your relationship. Your love. The man that was wholly yours.
So, why were you watching Nightwing relentlessly flirt with a news reporter on your television screen right now?
It wasn’t that late. Dick had headed out for patrol early in the night, claiming that Batman had requested his assistance with a drug shipment bust in Gotham. He kissed you on the forehead, then the cheek, then cornered you in the kitchen and devoured you, leaving you counting the minutes until his return. He placed his mask on with a smirk, the white lenses over his eyes molding into amused crescent moons, and tossed you a sultry look over his shoulder before diving backwards out of your apartment window.
And now, you were watching him toy around with the reporter - a truly gorgeous woman with smooth, supple skin that illuminated in the Gotham moonlight. Her body was taut, obnoxiously toned, and you thought the shadow that she cast in the film lights must be as skinny as a straw. She flipped her shiny hair to her opposite shoulder, biting her lip as Nightwing provided her with another smooth one-liner. When his muscular arm reached out to fix the corner of her collared shirt, you reflexively turned off the television. You couldn’t stomach any more.
For minutes, you sat in the dim lighting of your shared apartment, staring at the blackened television screen. Your ears were ringing despite the only sound present being the gentle whirring of your apartment dishwasher and distant traffic outside. Your body felt boneless, and you went slack, slouching in on yourself from the weight of your intrusive thoughts. Your eyebrows pinched together so hard it was giving you a headache, and you bit down on your bottom lip with enough force that you drew blood.
After moments, minutes, hell it could have even been hours, you gathered the strength to turn off the living room lamp and retreat to your bedroom. Forgoing your bedtime routine, you pulled back the covers and tucked under the sheets, curled into a fetal position, staring at the wall.
Later, when the unlocked window in your bedroom slid open, you felt yourself involuntarily stiffen. When he slipped into bed behind you, beefy arms searching to constrict themselves around you pull you into his embrace, you felt the fiber of your being repel him similar to like magnets. Noticing your rigid posture and tidal breathing uncharacteristic of slumber, he lifted up on a forearm to peer over your shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, voice soft but blue eyes analyzing you in the pitch dark.
“Nothing, ‘m fine.” You replied in a meek tone. Unconvincing at best.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” He asked.
“Couldn’t sleep.” You replied. No teasing quip about waiting up for your favorite rogue or being unable to bed down without his embrace.
Your reluctance was palpable to the Average Joe let alone the vigilant Dick Grayson, who knew your exact mood by the way you held your coffee mug in the morning. But, he let it lie, his own exhaustion deep to his core, hoping that whatever it was would have faded or become revealed in the daylight. Eventually, you did fall asleep. Still facing away from him in an inflexible curl, with his palm uneasily resting on the small of your back instead of wrapped around your waist. Dick didn’t fall asleep. Or if he did, it was a light unconsciousness, an unsettled feeling keeping him in limbo of the waking world.
That morning, you were no better. Despite your reputation as a late riser, you were up first, startling him from the unsatisfying nap that he was plunged in. As his bleary eyes blinked to focus, he saw you trailing into the kitchen, clad in your own worn pair of pajamas. He frowned immediately. Typically, you would be wearing his shirt.
Within moments, you felt his presence behind you as you started the coffee. You grit your teeth, still unwilling to confront the despair and envy that tangoed in your chest as you replayed the scene from the night before behind your eyelids. Dick noticed that your rigidity hadn’t faded.
“Good morning, honeybun.” He said, in that husky morning tone that normally sent shivers down your spine.
You chirped back a near silent and feeble response, focusing all of your energy on the coffee beans as you loaded them into the grinder. Typically you would have savored the smell, but this morning you weren’t feeling typical.
Dick’s lanky, gymnast form wrapped around you from behind, but your body didn’t mold into his like it used to. You were like a statue rooted deeply into the ground. You felt him frown against the nape of your neck.
“What’s got you up already?” He inquired, voice muffled as he pressed into your skin.
“I’m gonna head into the office early.” You replied. “I’ve got some work stacked up. Want to get it taken care of.”
He didn’t reply, but you felt his frown deepen further. He noticed you dancing around his presence as you got ready for the day, slipping a single piece of bread into the toaster instead of asking if he wanted one too. He would have typically endured the scalding water of your shower to accompany your morning wash, but somehow, he felt like he would be intruding. You nearly grimaced as you gave him the smallest peck on the cheek before disappearing out the door without a further word. Dick was left alone in the apartment by 8:00 AM, with crossed arms and thinned lips. Something was definitely wrong, but he didn’t have a clue.
Work was only semi successful at distracting you from last night. You could get engrossed in a task but as soon as it was finished, all you could think of was Dick’s suave words at the target of another woman. Your greatest fears come alive. It felt like the pit in your stomach was neverending, a vortex all consuming and threatening to take down the months of your relationship that filled you with confidence and adoration. You tried to remind yourself that it was a persona - not your Dick Grayson on television being a tease, but Nightwing. Still, it did little to soothe your despair knowing that the two were simply separated by the thin latex of a mask.
While you normally intently watched the second hand push forward, as soon as your shift was over, you almost felt a flicker of regret. You delayed your route home as much as possible, and facing your front door felt like facing a formidable foe. As soon as you sunk your key into the deadbolt, you felt dread rising.
Entering the apartment that normally filled you with so much love and comfort, you felt like you wanted to disappear. You would have gotten a hotel but that would leave your confrontation with Dick looming dangerously on the horizon and you weren’t entirely sure that he wouldn’t just show up anyway. As you rolled your jacket from your shoulders, a delicious aroma filled your nose.
“Hey there, dearest.”
The sight of your boyfriend angling to spot you from the kitchen. He was dressed in casual comfort, with the frilly pink apron you had gotten him for Christmas wrapped around his slim waist. He moved with agility across the kitchen, unable to shirk his status as gymnast even years later in your humble home.
You grumbled an unintelligible reply, aiming to resign to your bedroom as quickly as possible. Unfortunately for you, his nimbleness caught you instantly in the hallway, arms splayed between both sides of the doorframe to capture you in his embrace. Desperate for your affection, he didn’t care how frozen you were, pulling you deeply in his grasp.
“Missed you today.” He grumbled, pouting at your wriggles for freedom. Normally you were a more than happy prey within his catch.
You murmured something, unintelligible and not the expected “I missed you too, Dickie”, causing him to grip further, aiding your frustration.
A hand snuck down to pinch your butt and that’s when you felt yourself lose it. The gall of initiating such intimate intention, where he would normally whisper such wanton sweetness in your ear and make you forget about reality, when last night he was chatting up someone else… it burned you deep at your core. You summoned your strength to buck him.
“Dick, get off of me!” You screeched, using your might to fling him from you, knowing he would only be mildly displaced.
Dick unlatched immediately, turning to face you with a perturbed look. He could have bested you easily in strength, but by one look you could tell that his temper was fighting a different battle.
“Why are you giving me the cold shoulder?” He asked, his face in a slight snarl. “You’ve been acting weird since last night!”
Usually, you would have more restraint, but his abhorrence to your reasonable upset ignited your anger as well.
“Leave me alone, Dick!” You fumed. You ducked under his bicep and started down the hallway once again. You barely got three steps before you felt a hand on your hip pulling you back.
“No, something’s wrong with you!” He said, spitting as he dragged you towards him. “I’m not letting you go until you tell me what it is!”
With all of your might, you elbowed him in the ribs. You knew that to him, the pain was minuscule, but the surprise was enough for him to drop you from his clutches. Your whole body shook with rage.
“NO!” You yelled back, surprising yourself with the volume of your own voice. “Something’s wrong with YOU, Dick. Something’s wrong with YOU, making me feel for you, striking down my defenses. Something’s wrong with YOU, insisting that you take me out, ensuring that I’m the one for you and that there’s not a soul out there that compares. There’s something so wrong with you that you made me believe that I was on par with you, THE Dick Grayson, and then whored yourself out on public television, showing me once and for all that I was no more than a sorry suck-up to believe that your lies could have been true.”
Every word you spat with vitriol, with all of the insecurity and grief and anger that you could muster. Your finger jabbed the air like a dagger with every enunciation. When you looked into his eyes, you saw a frenzy so fierce that you suddenly felt the fear that Nightwing’s enemies must realize moments before their own demise. You wouldn’t have wished it upon them without knowing the horrors that they committed.
Within the fumes in his watery blue eyes, you saw something else. Concern, sadness, regret. A desperation that made you want to drop it all, run to him, and fall to your knees.
The rage burned stronger. You marched down into the foyer, retreating to your abandoned coat and slinging it over your shoulder. You pulled the front door open, and with one more vengeful look at your lover, you slammed it shut behind you.
You’d be staying in that hotel room, after all.
If you couldn’t sleep in the bed that you and Dick had maximized for comfort, with those satin navy sheets that matched the exact hue of his blue suit accents, then there was no way you were sleeping in a shitty motel bed. The room smelled like cigarettes and mothballs, and your personal space heater was noticeably missing.
Calling it quits on trying to sleep, you stepped out on the balcony. The scratchy cotton of the hotel robe was your only defense against the chill Bludhaven air, and you pulled it closer to you as you blinked, looking out into the city skyline for answers. The city was tacit, reluctant to respond.
Folding your arms on the balcony railing, you leaned, looking forward into the dusky smog. You imagined the nights you had spent lonesome in your apartment, waiting, while your boyfriend performed his acrobatics across the skyscrapers, thwarting threats. In prior weeks, it would have made your heart surge with pride. Now, it just made you burn.
The brisk air was comforting on your bare limbs, and you were about to close your eyes, when you felt the hair on the back of your neck start to stand. Eyelids forced open, you started, staring off into the skyline once more in search of a silhouette. A shadow that revealed a pair of analytic eyes burning back on you.
Unable to identify them, you pulled the robe tighter still against your torso, before retreating inside. As you slid the sliding glass door closed and locked the deadbolt with a click, you missed the way that Nightwing’s shoulders slumped with defeat, his figure perched atop the building just adjacent the balcony where you recently stood. He let out a defeated sigh, watching you draw the curtain to your hotel room closed.
Morning brought no reprieve for the second day in a row. You pulled yourself from your uncomfortable bed and tugged on your day-old work clothing, resigned to head into the office early to bury yourself in work.
Staring at the computer screen only amplified the anxiety within your core. Eventually, you would have to return home, where Dick would be waiting, and face the music with some kind of clarity. However, the uncertainty of mixed emotions churned in your cauldron of a stomach. This was serious. How were you supposed to navigate this with the delicateness required to salvage your relationship without even knowing how you felt in the first place?
Gathering your materials, you went up to your boss and let them know you were taking off early for the day. You needed some space to clear your head.
Thankfully, when you returned home, Dick was out. Mindlessly throwing some clothes and toiletries in a bag, you scribbled a quick note on a legal pad, leaving it abandoned on the kitchen countertop. As you walked from the threshold of your shared apartment, you tried to steel your nerves and focus on organizing your thoughts.
“Dick - I’m staying with a friend for a couple of days to figure things out. I’ll text you when I’m coming back and we can go from there.
-- Y/N"
When Dick appeared on Jason’s doorstep, the younger brother reflexively slammed the door, but Dick’s grasp prevented him from closing it all the way. A pair of sweatpants hung loose on Jason’s hips, his hair ruffled from tossing and turning throughout the day. If Dick were to wager a guess, Jason returned home from Red Hood duties early in the morning and his knuckles on the door woke him from much needed slumber.
“What?” Jason grumbled, less of a question and more of a sharp statement.
“Can I come in?” Dick asked, the typical joviality gone from his eyes.
“No.” Jason replied, running a hand through the white streak in his bangs.
Dick didn’t reply. Simply casting Jason a most pathetic and desperate look without even trying. Despite Jay’s desire to shut the door in his brother’s face and return to his shitty nap, Dick’s pitiful and uncharacteristic countenance delayed his reaction for a couple of seconds too long. With a deep sigh, Jason shoved the door open wide enough for Dick to slip through, grunting as he turned around to retreat to a worn recliner. The arms were littered with cigarette burns where Jason must have fallen asleep with a light in between his fingers.
“What’s wrong with you?” He asked, folding his arms over his chest.
“I screwed up.” Dick replied, vaguely.
“No shit.” Jason replied, without much empathy. “Why else would you be bothering me at home on a Thursday?”
Dick took a seat opposite Jason, sinking uncomfortably in the extremely tattered couch. He felt his tailbone dip in the flattened cushion and touch the frame of the sofa. He picked at his cuticles before speaking.
“I screwed things up with Y/N.” He admitted.
Jason gave an disapproving huff in reply. His eyes were trained on his sibling, lips pulled into a tight expression. If Dick was going to bother him at home, he was going to have to fess up on his own accord. Jay already had limited patience for playing therapist today, there was no way he was going to goad Dick into opening up.
“Did you see the news segment last night?” Dick asked, looking up from his fingernails.
A look of realization crossed Jason’s eyes before he settled back into his grumpy demeanor. He nodded.
“Awful slutty of you, ‘Wing.” He grumbled.
It was Dick’s turn to move his fingers through his hair in an uncoordinated ruffle. He knew he wasn’t coming to Jason for sympathy, nor was he seeking it. But hearing confirmation of his screw up from his little brother didn’t exactly feel great either.
“I don’t know, I just…” Dick trailed off, eyes unfocused in the background of the shabby apartment. “I got caught up in the moment. Huge bust. Went smooth as silk, smoother than expected even. Shit, B basically told me he was proud of me. Y’know, in the way that he does.”
Jason maintained his furrowed look.
“I was feeling like hot shit, I guess is what I’m trying to say.” Dick replied. “And made an ass out of myself and humiliated the person I care the most about. I didn’t even realize it until they lit into me yesterday. I’ve never heard them yell like that.”
Dick let out a colossal exhale.
“I think I’ve lost them, Jay.” He replied, voice hushed as if he was afraid to speak it aloud. “They spent the night in a hotel. You should have seen the way they… looked at me.”
He let his head fall into his hands, broad shoulders pinched in discomfort.
“I don’t know what to do. I’ve been Nightwing, even Robin, for so long that the duty is ingrained in me.” He admitted. “But coming home to them is the only thing that actually makes it feel worth it. If I’ve screwed that up for good… I don’t think I’m going to be able to live with myself.”
He finished his diatribe with his eyes cast to the floor. The admission of guilt was cathartic in the worst way, as if speaking his mistakes out into the open made them more final, cemented. The two brothers sat in uncomfortable silence for what felt like minutes. Jason leaned back in his chair, the poorly built frame giving a contemptible squeak at his bulk.
“I don’t know why you came here, Dick.” Jason said, his voice a low growl.
After several beats, Dick replied.
“I don’t either.”
More silence. His confession of guilt hung thickly between them, Jason like a stoic priest holding a grudge. But despite his hardened stare, Jay felt the despair emanating off of his older brother, who he had looked up to so dearly as a kid. Despite his flaws, the sibling that insisted on maintaining the family bond. Holding their brokenness together. For that, Jason thought that Dick deserved a response.
“Well, you’ve got two choices.” Jason said, breaking the silence. “Accept that it’s over, that you’ve fucked it. Try to move on.”
Dick’s shoulders slumped further.
“Or, you repent and change. Not with words, but with choices.” He finished. “No guarantee you’ll get them back. In fact, you probably won’t. But atoning for it is the best chance you’ve got.”
When Dick looked up, he caught the trained eyes of his younger brother, reveling in the hidden softness in his gaze that only Jason’s closest companions would notice. He sunk into the appreciation he had for the hardened man hearing him out, listening to his confession, and offering his advice, trying to let that drown out his shame.
Dick replied with a knowing nod, relishing the silence, however uncomfortable, for it was still time and companionship that his brother had afforded him.
The weekend came, but you didn’t greet it with your usual delight. Although, staying with your friend had proven to be the right choice. Even though you were sleeping on a pull-out couch, the change of scenery had provided you the clarity to think things through, and more importantly, to consider what you wanted going forward. But for every revelation you made, you felt three uncertainties rise in return. Most of the time, you felt like you were being held captive by your conscience.
“Hey, something came in the mail for you.” Your friend said, rifling through bills to find an envelope addressed to you.
Your returning look was perplexed, but you reached out a hand to receive your parcel. Your stomach clenched at the immediate recognition of the scrawl. You ran a finger between the seam, disrupting the glue and pulling the scratch paper out to unfold it.
“Y/N: I know you don’t want to see me right now. But, I desperately want to see you. Need to see you. Talk things out. Apologize.
If you’ll give me that grace - and I don’t blame you if you won’t because I don’t deserve it - meet me on the bench by the lake on the central park trail tomorrow at noon. I hope you still remember the one.
Love, Dick”
That night, you hashed out every possibility with your friend, waffling between holding your ground and refusing to go, showing up to read him the riot act, and moving to another country to start a new life. After what felt like hours of going around and around, you let out a sigh, throwing up your hands.
“I’m going.” You said, exasperated. Your friend returned with a raised brow. “I’m tired of being in limbo. We just need to figure this out so we can get over it.”
With a reassuring hand on your back, they gave you a nod.
“You’ve got this, and you’re always welcome to stay with me if you need it.”
“I hope you still remember the one” Dick had written, but how could you forget?
The first - well, technically second - official date that you had gone on as a couple, days after the gala. He collected you at your apartment with eagerness, held your hand and stroked it with his thumb as you walked the Bludhaven central park trail. He did most of the talking, filling the silence with stories of his rambunctious childhood, but when you came upon the bench by the lake, he had quieted, pulling you over to the bench to sit and enjoy the view.
Approaching that same bench now, you felt your heart squeeze looking at the silhouette of the back of his form. Those tousled obsidian locks meeting the strong muscle of his upper back at the boundary of the nape of his neck. The region that made his impressive figure buckle when you pressed kisses to the skin there. He had one arm extended along the back of the bench, and you admired the vasculature in his forearms, running down to terminate in lean and skillful fingers. At your soft footsteps in the grass, you saw his slender nose and profile come into view.
He looked at you with incredible softness, a somber undertone painting his features. He looked worn, tired, uncertain. It was a stark difference from the boldly confident man that you had come to know in the last year.
“Can I sit?” You asked.
He nodded in response, pulling his arm from the back of the bench to give you space. You took a seat next to him, a strained distance between the two of your bodies that were typically pressed as close together as they could be. In your peripheral vision, you saw the way he looked at you. Such fondness undermined by sadness.
“I finally worked up the confidence to kiss you for the first time here.” He murmured.
You let out an involuntary snort.
“You worked up the confidence to kiss me?” You replied, in disbelief. “I don’t think there’s a person on this planet who would have rejected that.”
“But you did.” Dick corrected, causing you to turn to face him head on with a scowl. You most certainly had not, remembering how your heart fluttered as you leaned into his lips. “Rejected me, that is. I remember the first time that I asked you out, I had it all planned. Rehearsed the exact words in the car. And you still said no.”
You fixed your gaze out on the shimmering body of water in front of you, confused as to why he belabored this point. At your silence, Dick continued.
“And you’re right, nobody had ever rejected me like that before.” He said. “I was disappointed. Surprised, too. But I went home that night, and still couldn’t stop thinking about you. So I kept trying.”
You remembered your cat and mouse phase well, in prior months with some fondness, though now with the sting of something else.
“Every time, you were ‘out of town’, or ‘at a work event.’ Or had a friend that was moving, and they needed your help.” He persisted, with an airy laugh. “But even when you said no, you had the sweetest look on your face. Kept telling me ‘maybe some other time’ hoping that I would drop it. But I couldn’t.”
Dick ran his palm over his face, scrubbing at the corners of his mouth.
“And when you finally said yes, I felt like… I don’t know. Like I had won the lottery. Like I had just done heroin. That night at the dance, when you finally let down those walls and let me have you… I lost sleep replaying it over and over in my head that night.”
A sad smile graced his lips. His pause was brief.
“But anyway. Thanks for meeting with me. I wasn’t sure you were going to show up. In fact, I thought you weren’t going to.” Dick said. “Wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.”
“I wasn’t sure I was going to.” You admitted.
“I just needed to… talk to you.” He said. “I have some things I need to say. Before you, y’know, make your final decision.”
You didn’t respond, silently urging him to continue.
“What I said and did on TV… was stupid. Betrayed your trust that I worked so hard to build.” He continued. “Crushed your heart I’m sure. All of those nights I spent reassuring you that you were the only one for me and that you were worth it. It’s still true. Not like my actions have shown it.”
Dick sighed. Your emotions were all over the spectrum, but you let him finish.
“I went to Jason’s place the other day, before I came home and saw your note.” He admitted. “I told him about that night. How the bust was easy, Batman was even openly proud of me, for once. I remember how excited I felt knowing I was going to get to come home early to you, actually getting to spend the evening with my favorite person. It all went right to my head. That reporter pulled me aside and begged for a segment and I just… made a complete ass out of myself. Got so caught up in the Nightwing persona, feeling on top of the world. Making an ass out of myself, that I could live with. But humiliating you, that I can’t.
“I knew I fucked up immediately, but when I came home from the cave and saw you asleep, felt your resistance - that’s when it really sunk in. Then we got into that fight and you left, and I knew it was all over. That I fucked up irreparably this time.”
Dick turned to you, reaching for the palms overturned in your lap with an uncharacteristic, shaking hand. Despite a small part of you wanting to pull away from him, you let him take your hand.
“I’ve played this over and over in my head, from every viewpoint and every angle, and I can’t make it work out.” Dick said, his voice cracking. “I’d spend the rest of my life making it up to you, showing you that you are the most important thing in my life - that coming home to you is the only thing that makes being Nightwing worth it, but I can’t ask you for that in good conscience.”
You nodded, a gravity coming over the both of you. Was this really the end of the romance that you had with Dick Grayson? The man that made you internally pinch yourself to overcome the disbelief that you were dating?
“So, I’m putting the ball in your court. I’ll do whatever it is you want to do. But just know that if I could take it all back, I wouldn’t hesitate.” He finished.
You sat in silence then, both staring out onto the lake, scanning it for possible answers. It had none to provide. His hand was limp in yours, not grasping with that assuredness, that possession that you were used to. It felt awkward. More uncomfortable than the first time that you had met him.
After what felt like an eternity, you spoke.
“I won’t pretend that this makes it all okay, Dick.” You admitted. “The reason I ducked your advances for so long was because I was sure that there was no way THE Dick Grayson settled on me when there were a million other worthy people in the world. People that knew your lifestyle. People who could understand you. And when I finally gave in, you made me believe that I was one of those people. I truly believed that until the other night.”
Dick felt the shame continuing to boil in his gut. He had never hated himself more than in this moment.
“But, it also didn’t erase the love that I feel for you. The love that we have built over the last year, that was more true than anything I’ve ever known.” You countered. “So I’ve spent the last couple of days trying to reconcile those things in my head.”
You shifted, releasing his hand to bring a palm to his cheek. He all but melted into your touch.
“I’m not willing to throw that away just yet.” You said. “I’m not going to be able to bounce back - for things to go back instantly to the way they were. I am too hurt for that. But if you say you’ll spend the rest of your life showing me how you truly feel? Well. I can’t bring myself to deny you or I that opportunity.”
He blinked slowly, lids oscillating as if they weighed hundreds of pounds and caused great strain to lift. You felt a grave serenity overcome him, as if he was grateful to be released from the purgatory of the last couple of days.
“We’ll start from square one.” He agreed.
You leaned in to give him a chaste peck, his hand grasping your knee as if it was his only lifeline. Pulling away, you settled your head onto the curve of his shoulder, staring off into the lake which had changed so little in the course of time that your relationship had changed so much. But being near Dick again, even though the proximity came with so much uncertainty, soothed a part of your soul that had been deeply hurting for the last week.
Epilogue:
Over the following couple of months, Dick proved true to his word. That night that you rekindled on the park bench, he returned to the cave to inform Batman that he would be taking a step back for a while. Asked Jay and Roy to keep a watchful eye over Bludhaven while he focused on the priorities of his life.
Slowly, you recovered. Bundling your PTO, Dick took you away for an extended vacation overseas. He booked a little house by the ocean where you stayed for a couple of weeks, getting lost in the privacy of nature and finding each other again, in the absence of news reels or tabloids. You remembered all of the reasons you admired Dick in the first place - the way he made you laugh, could read your mind at the most inconvenient of times. And Dick showed you a vulnerability that he had been unknowingly holding back, revealing the most authentic parts of himself that nobody who knew Richard Grayson or even Nightwing were privy to.
You had the privilege of falling in love with Dick Grayson twice.
A couple of weeks after your return, you found yourself on that same balcony of Wayne Manor. Spiffed up for yet another charity gala, things felt so similar and yet so different than they had just shy of two years ago. You still spent hours cultivating your look. You still felt the omnipresence of Gotham reporters, eager to leech a story out of the sudden disappearance and subsequent return of Dick Grayson and his lover. You still felt the same weightlessness when Dick spun you on the marble floor, pulling him into you with a protectiveness that bordered on possessiveness, unwilling to share you with the rest of the world.
And he still had the ability to sneak up on you when you were lost in thought.
“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” He asked, his deep voice breaking you from your reflection.
You smiled, a genuine thing, as you turned to face him. He still looked mouthwatering in a tuxedo.
“Just waiting around for my playboy.” You teased, earning a faux injured look from your man.
He pulled up next to you, snaking an arm around your waist. His nose traced the side of your neck before you felt his plush lips place the most gentle kiss to your pulse.
“What do you say we get out of here a little early?” He asked.
“And where would we go, Mr. Grayson?” You countered.
“I know a place.” He replied, taking you by your hand.
The two of you looked extra out of place on the park city trail in the dark of the night, dressed in black tie attire. Dick had offered to carry you, but you declined, trodding along the gravel in your dress shoes, though you let him hold the train of your dress as you marched. Coming upon that fateful park bench, your heart softened and you smiled, leaving Dick on the trail as you approached the edge of the lake. You cast your gaze out into it, silently urging it to tell you of its power, to admit to you the nature of its mystery.
Your eyes closed to the serene melody of late night warblers and gentle rustle of wind through the trees. You felt the breeze kiss your skin, and thanked a higher power for time. For the months of growth and reflection, for the opportunity for your relationship to not only sprout but to fortify. The journey had been tumultuous, but you wouldn’t have changed a thing about it as long as it led you right to where you stood.
Behind you, admiring the way that your head lolled back in relaxation, was Dick. He soaked in the sight of his lover completely at ease, his heart light yet full of wonder that for all of the choices he made and regrets in his life, he was still the luckiest man in the universe. Mostly because he had you.
As you cherished the moonlight casting itself on the lake, you turned around to face him, where he knelt lowly on one knee, a small wooden box perched in his hand, and a smile that said “thank you for knowing me”, reserved only for you, for the rest of time.
Dividers both by: toxisyddy
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