Work Text:
Tim is dreaming about his teammates. Not particularly linearly; images swirl and reform, of Cissie firing arrows that explode into fireworks, of Cassie flying full force so walls burst open when she hits them, of Kon lifting rubble with his TTK and Bart laughing as he crackles to a stop and away again. And Secret weaves around the edges, translucent, fluid, disappearing, reappearing. Tim’s in the middle – Robin’s in the middle, calling out formations and pairs, tossing grapples to pull lines. He’s not sure what they’re doing, but it seems to work. Everyone’s smiling. It feels successful. It feels like fun.
Tim’s window creaks and softly beeps.
Tim smiles at Kon in the sunlight and opens his eyes to Nightwing silhouetted by the dimly glowing night sky, one long shapely leg stretched to the floor and the other boot on his windowsill. “You better not have stepped in something,” Tim scolds as he rolls towards his window, and Dick laughs, low and rich, as he turns and pulls down the screen, leaving the pane up.
“Promise I didn’t,” Dick says, bending and crouching pleasingly to unfasten and kick off his boots, but he sounds a little breathless. Tim coughs and hums in answer, tucking his hand under his head as he watches Dick peel off his gloves, and waits to find out why his brother vigilante just woke him up from his night off. He did offer to patrol tonight, only to have Dick scold him that he’s growing and in school and needs regular nights off for homework and sleep and boredom, while Bruce looked on proudly.
So much for that, apparently, as Dick turns to Tim, his smile glinting, and rolls into bed with him, smelling like warmth and wisps of aftershave and … flowers? Oh, fuck. As he says, “Hey, little brother, can I ask you a favor?” he touches Tim’s face with a trembling hand.
“Did you even try the decontam,” Tim replies, like his hands aren’t rising to Dick’s chest and throat, “before you crawled in here to infest my room with pollen?”
“Took a quick shower,” Dick replies ridiculously, and the ends of his hair are cool and damp, the roots even wetter. “And it’s not quite what you think. Lemme tell you while--?”
Tim groans softly, and makes a point of rolling his eyes, as if his pulse isn’t already racing. Dick got pollened and came to him. He used to dream about this. “Back or front on this suit? Don’t hold out.” To be honest the last time he dreamt this was three mornings ago.
“Back.” Tim slides his fingers around Dick’s long sleek throat to release the first catch and reach in for Dick’s pounding pulse, while Dick slides his hands around Tim’s waist, clutching and easing, holding himself in check. “Can I?”
“That way,” Tim says, nodding towards the corner under the window, and, “your heartbeat is zooming.” He lifts his arms so Dick can peel his hoodie off, and twists out of his boxers under Dick’s broad, heated hands. Pressing himself naked to the slick Nightwing suit lights up years of remembered fantasies, but. Priorities. “Let’s get you out of this before you melt.” He pauses to remember this fortnight’s code and Dick pauses in leaning in to tell him, but if Tim can’t remember he doesn’t deserve this. “Come here,” he orders, and Dick’s smile shines as he finishes leaning in to kiss Tim.
Tim kisses back, lips pressed to soft warm lips, tongue caressing flexing tongue; he still succeeds in entering the code, and feels just a little bit proud of himself as he cracks open and unseals the suit. Dick sighs lushly over his mouth and kisses him urgently but sweetly, too, like this isn’t just the pollen. He chose Tim to come to with this, he chooses to have Tim undress him and help him, and that might be the hottest aspect of everything tonight.
Or it might be the delicious arch of Dick’s throat under Tim’s mouth, the way he puffs and laughs and drags splayed fingers through Tim’s hair as he mutters, “Yeah, yeah, just like that.” Maybe it’s how he wiggles as they cooperatively pry his suit down his hips, making Tim want to sling his thighs outside Dick’s and sit on him, to try to hold him still and pleasantly fail. “There’s a party,” Dick starts, draping a bare leg over Tim’s, “three-quarters-mile to the west of here.”
Tim has to pull his mouth off Dick’s pulse to make himself think, which he feels a smidge guilty about. On the one hand, multitasking. On the other, Dick, warmly naked in his bed, sleek hard body thrumming against his, smiling at him from right here as Tim says, “There’s a safehouse at Bendis and 424th--”
“You’re not in it,” Dick says, and the way his lips and lenses gleam – Tim has to kiss him again like he has to breathe. He can still smell the wisps of floral and woodsy scents rising off Dick’s hot damp skin, but it’s not like any sex pollen could affect him more than Dick does just by being his beautiful heroic ridiculous self.
Tim toggles Dick’s lenses and leans back, pulling their mouths apart, and Dick swings up long damp lashes as he pouts, his wide eyes the color of unpolluted evening skies. “Come back with that,” he mutters, pushing his chin forward, and Tim is tempted in every cell.
Instead he closes his fist in Dick’s hair, and tries out, “Report, Nightwing.” Dick’s eyes flare, then darken, his round-mouthed surprise unfurling to a wide smirk.
“Yes Sir Robin Sir,” Dick says, because, and pulls Tim bodily atop himself, because he’s more than strong enough, and because he knows it lights Tim up inside to be manhandled like that, pressing his hands into Tim’s waist hard enough to tingle. “So as I was saying.”
Tim leans away, rolling his eyes again, and reaches for the crate by his bed. Dick, of course, stops mid-sentence to press his plush, hot, open mouth to the inside of Tim’s bicep. “Stop distracting me,” Tim attempts to snap.
Dick bites him lightly and pulls away, settling into Tim’s pillow, dark hair feathering out around his bright face and shining smile. “You’re just so handsome and right here.”
That makes Tim’s face and ears flare with a blush, crashing against the flush already rising all over him. “You’re the hand--”
Before he can even say it both Dick’s hands frame his face with the gentlest roughness. Tim has to look up, and falls into Dick’s midnight eyes as Dick pulls him down for a deliberately slower kiss. Tim can feel Dick holding his breath, vibrating, warm and hard-muscled and beautiful under him, and his own heart aching happily as he kisses back.
Tim’s hand closes around the tube he needs and he plants the other one on the pillow and pushes up, pulling away. “You were telling me what happened already,” he says firmly to both of them.
Dick squeezes Tim’s face lightly, sliding his lightly calloused hands down Tim’s tingling neck and chest as he resumes talking. “I heard someone call in the party on the scanner, so I dropped by. It was actually pretty nice, just noisy, a bunch of kids dancing and cavorting in a backyard full of soft grass and a covered locked pool. Pretty safe.”
“And the parents?” The lube blurts embarrassingly out onto Tim’s fingers, and he is not going to blush again. Bite his kiss-sensitized lip, maybe.
Dick giggles, and Tim looks at him. Dick blinks, and mutters, “Huh,” and runs his fingers up and down Tim’s sides just firmly enough not to tickle. “Judging by the laughter and screams from upstairs they were having the adult party. I grabbed a rebreather and checked out the windows, and everyone was either happy or happily passed ou-- oogh, yes”, with a pornographic moan as Tim wraps the lubed hand around him.
Tim’s “Shh!” and Dick’s “sorry,” overlap. “You just feel so good,” Dick says, tipping his head back, looking up through his gracefully arched eyelashes, rocking slightly into Tim’s hold.
“They’re home,” Tim reminds them both.
Dick nods, curling his mobile hands behind Tim’s shoulders. “So I left the adults to it and went to talk to the kids, and the cutest little girl in a purple princess dress came up to me. She’s gonna be something when she’s grown.” Dick sighs, and shivers, digging his fingers hotly into Tim’s ribs. “Her name’s Gardenia and it was her party, she told me. She’s the pollen princess.”
“A little girl?” Tim asks, as firmly as he can, twisting his hand, feeling Dick shuddering under him.
“Yea-ah.” Dick’s voice is shaking, his eyes pressed shut under wide silky lids. “She demanded uppies and when I picked her up I felt it just flow off her, overloading the rebreather, cascading all over me.”
“Reckless,” Tim tries to scold, and watches Dick puff a laugh, smiling wide, feels Dick’s broad hands press around his waist again.
“Probably. She told me she likes making flowers grow and people happy. I told her she was doing a great job and gave her a little nerve pinch so she could nap and everyone else could calm down. Ugh.” Dick grips Tim’s free wrist, Tim’s pulse banging against his fingertips. “So that’s the gist. Can I tell you the rest later?”
Tim pauses his moving hand, and steals a moment to just look at Dick spread out beneath him, wearing nothing but a mask and a gleaming smile. “I’ll allow it,” he says, and barely has time to smile himself before he’s gasping under Dick’s hands sweeping hot up his back, curling around his head, pulling him down into a fierce kiss.
Tim gasps and Dick growls, letting go at last. Tim chuckles, curling his other hand under Dick’s tightened balls, working undistracted now to get him off. Dick’s laugh vibrates into his mouth as Dick curves fingers through his hair and an arm across his back and folds long legs over his, thrusting up urgently into his touch. “C’mon,” Tim murmurs over Dick’s soft slick mouth, riding his hard flexing thighs, “C’mon, big brother, I can take it--”
Dick shoves his tongue up into Tim’s mouth and his fingers deeper into Tim’s hair and his cock into Tim’s slicked hands. He whirls them over like flying, rutting down against Tim, who moans encouragingly, pulling and stroking, rocking up into it. Tim tingles everywhere his skin slides against Dick’s, his nipples already aching, and tries to forget himself, to fill his attention with Dick. His delightful job here is to get Dick off, to ease what seems like the easiest pollen intoxication ever.
Dick is kissing Tim devouringly now, his whole body in motion in Tim’s hold, like embracing a flame, Tim thinks ridiculously. A solid muscular flame, chest heaving against his, knees tucked under his, hips rolling so forcefully Tim’s hands skid as he tightens them. Dick shudders, his voice lilting high, his moans breaking into cries pressed into Tim’s tingling mouth. He pulses under Tim’s grasping fingers, sticky slickness all the way up their chests, and Tim gasps and doesn’t let himself moan back, tries to exhale soothing noises as he strokes Dick one-handed, pressing the other to the small of his back, over the end of his flexing spine.
Dick feels almost impossibly good to hold. He always has from the very first time he hugged Tim, a lifetime ago.
“Oh,” Dick sighs against Tim’s lips, and it’s an actual word. He pulls their mouths apart and slumps more beside Tim than atop him, and Tim is aching but he can hold it back a few minutes, turning to keep his arms around Dick, feeling Dick’s arms wrap around him. “Mmm,” Dick says against Tim’s hairline, and “Little brother,” and “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” Tim murmurs into the beautiful dip of Dick’s throat, and considers licking him there, but that probably wouldn’t quite be soothing.
“Whew.” Dick’s breath ruffles Tim’s hair. “At least I’m not fizzing inside anymore, I can relax a little.” Tim hums, wiping one hand on the sheets and curling it back around a hot bruised patch on Dick’s forearm. “Did I tell you about Gardenia’s parents?” Tim hums ‘no’, feeling every inch of their bodies tangled together, sweat-slicked and warm and wonderful.
Dick kisses his hairline a little more firmly. “Their faces were amazing when they answered their doorbell and found me holding their little girl. Like they wanted to be alarmed but they couldn’t help smiling at me. Ah, pollen.”
“Pollen nothing, have you looked in a mirror?” Tim considers, then lets himself say, to feel Dick’s submerged laugh in response.
“Anyway,” Dick says, “I handed her over and gave them the sitch, that their little princess is a meta and I’d have an associate of mine contact them soon. I’d rather handle this than let Bruce.”
“Makes sense,” Tim agrees, riding Dick’s sigh.
“They kept touching my arms with their free hands,” Dick says, a little dreamily. “Holding her between them, patting my shoulders, stroking my wrists. You can’t tell me that wasn’t the pollen.”
“Maybe they though the orgy needed a special masked guest.” Dick laughs aloud at that and Tim presses a smile into his chest, running his lips along the line of a knife scar.
“Fortunately the orgy was breaking up right around then, the guests staggering out pulling on their clothes and collecting their children, because that’s when the po-po arrived.”
Tim snorts. “The po-po?”
Dick’s fingers tangle in his hair. “Officer Shouty deserved the designation. Fortunately Officer Brain Cell kept him in check. I told them it wasn’t deliberate drug use, just an accidental psychoactive exposure, and to keep an eye on everyone as they got themselves together.”
“Send anyone down there from our team?” Tim asks. Dick shifts, looking down at him, a raised eyebrow crinkling his mask when Tim looks up. “Hey, I’m taking notes.”
“Bluebird to the party, Batwing for the city. I caught a shower at the municipal pool a few blocks away.”
Tim says, “Did you even spend five seconds? I can still smell your cologne.”
Dick smiles at that, slowly, sensually, “Do you like it, little brother?” He pulls one big warm hand down along Tim’s hip, the top of his thigh, and around to his sticky hot cock. Tim has to hiss at the press of cunning fingers. “Have any ideas for what you want to do with this?” All Tim can do is shake his head and stare up at Dick’s widening smile and feel the curl of his wicked hand. “I think I do. Come up here and fuck me?”
Dick’s put Tim on top, specifically, three times so far. Tim’s going to be keeping track for awhile. “I—” is all he manages to choke out on a throb of want and a lump of uncertainty. He shouldn’t take advantage of Dick, he should help him --
Dick rolls onto his back, pulling Tim onto his chest, between his thighs, still smiling enticingly, still stroking him slowly. “Yeah,” Dick murmurs, voice low enough to vibrate down Tim’s spine and up through his balls and belly. “That’s what I want.”
God, Tim wants it too, and isn’t sure he should have it from Dick in this state. “We can-- oh,” as Dick’s fingers run down the crease of his spine, electricity surging in their wake.
“But I want you inside me,” Dick says, wiggling into position, draping his knees over Tim’s shoulders, and Tim is overcome. “Gonna fuck me little brother?” Dick asks, smile gleaming in the low light, and Tim turns his face to kiss the hard sinewy side of Dick’s knee, digging his own knees into the mattress beneath them. “Gonna fill me up and make me feel better? Make me feel awesome?”
“Fuck,” Tim mutters, and reaches for the lube. “Fuck, Dick.”
“That’s the idea,” Dick says, turning his hand palm-up under Tim’s hip. Tim squeezes the tube and tosses it back into the crate, pressing his forehead to Dick’s collarbones as Dick’s wet hand curls around him again.
“I should --” Tim hisses helplessly, shivering under every stroke Dick pulls along his cock, leaning on Dick’s thighs pressed to his chest. “We should --”
“I’ll be fine,” Dick says carelessly, and Tim should point out the care Dick takes when he tops Tim, but Dick is curling to meet him, gripping his hip and guiding him, and Tim grabs two handfuls of sheet-covered mattress and presses and slides, against the firm crinkled ring, sinking slowly into Dick’s heated tensed beautiful body. Nothing else feels like this tight rippling press, not fingers, not lips or tongue.
“Nngh, Tim,” Dick groans over him, wrapping both arms around him, pulling him in. “Come on, fuck me.” He writhes and Tim pushes and they slap flush, driving twin high noises out of both of them; Dick pushes his heel into Tim’s back and his hot open mouth to Tim’s hairline, and Tim’s hips uncouple from his conscious control and start rolling, shoving a huff out of him on each slam.
Dick laughs, breathily, happily, his warmth soaking into Tim. Dick’s sticky-slick fingers slide over Tim’s dented lip which is how he realizes he’s biting it sore. “Breathe,” Dick puffs, stroking Tim’s lip and his nape, cradling Tim’s sides with his firm sleek thighs, a scar twisting under Tim’s freed lips. Tim’s nipples throb in his sparking chest, and if he could let go of the bed he could touch Dick in a dozen places: his arched throat, his pebbled nipples, his cock hard up against Tim’s belly.
Dick digs fingers into Tim’s nape, blows out a moan-edged breath and inhales and twists and suddenly-- Tim slides in a little deeper, Dick’s breath catches in his throat, and they’re moving together like one unit, like one body, like in the best fights.
“Hair,” Dick gasps, and Tim is almost too distracted to figure it out, but Dick said it, so of course he pushes a thought through his melting brain. He pries a hand free of the mattress and pushes it up the back of Dick’s long arched neck to grab a fistful of his silky wet hair. Dick sucks in a high-voiced breath Tim can feel like his own, laughs down into a deep groan and shudders and tenses around Tim, pulsing against his belly, spattering them both again.
It hits Tim like the happy inverse of shrapnel, warm and slippery and amazing, and he groans himself, pressing his cheek over Dick’s heart, shaken all through, flame surging down his nerves. Tim slides his face along Dick’s damp solid skin, smooth between the scars, pressing his mouth shut as his chest heaves after thinning air. He’s catching fire all over, down his back tucked under Dick’s calves and his hip and nape under Dick’s tight hands, the blaze pulsing through his balls and belly and cock. Lips pressed tight, cheek plastered to Dick’s chest, Tim swallows down his own cries, stars arcing along the lining of his eyelids. Dick taught him he can be loud for sex, but not tonight, here in his ordinary-teen bedroom.
Dick puffs soft laughter through Tim’s hair, rubbing circles on his lower back, dropping his legs to bracket Tim’s waist. Tim can let himself have a few more moments to reconsolidate in Dick’s hold, so he takes them, and smiles over Dick’s skin, dragging his lips along Dick’s collarbone as Dick kisses his forehead.
Then he tips his chin up, so Dick can kiss him on the mouth, pulling his hand down Dick’s gorgeous back as they linger over the kiss for a long happy moment. Pulling out – disconnecting himself from another person – feels weird as ever. He always has to suppress a wince when he’s been fucked, but Dick just sighs sweetly and curls tighter around him, then eases away.
Tim pushes himself onto his shaky knees and trembling arms, and Dick gives him a heavy-lidded smile. Tim manages not to wobble when he puts his foot down on the floor, backing out of bed to reach for his minifridge. Behind the Zesti he keeps a couple of bottles of Gatorade – there.
Even with eyes mostly closed Dick can grab a tossed bottle out of the air. He chugs it and as Tim gets back into bed and pulls the blanket up over them he watches the apple of Dick’s throat bobbing. At precisely the halfway mark Dick stops, pressing the bottle against Tim’s hand. Tim considers arguing up until his throat clicks as he swallows. Then he gives in, takes the bottle, and drinks the rest.
Dick yawns, stretching fluidly, and drops an arm across Tim’s back, humming contentedly. Tim should let him crash, but there’s one more thing he’s wondering about. “What?” Dick asks, half smiling, like he can hear Tim thinking.
“Who are you calling in for your little meta, Gardenia?” Tim asks.
“Already dropped Donna a line,” Dick replies, wiggling a little, turning towards Tim, and sighs into another yawn.
Good choice, Tim thinks, but doesn’t bother to bother Dick with the comment, instead watching his face relax into sleep, forehead smoothing, lips parting. They’re both sticky and sweaty but Tim privately delights in the savory smell and morning’s soon enough for a shower.
A flutter at the window catches Tim’s eye. His windowsills are conveniently wide both inside and out, and a pigeon settles outside, turns a beady eye on Tim, and gives him a big toothy grin.
Only in Gotham, and Tim wouldn’t trade it, wouldn’t trade this, for the world. He smiles at the freaky pigeon and puts his head down beside Dick’s on the same pillow.
It feels like just three seconds later when Tim wakes up to bright morning sunlight and Dana knocking on his door, calling for him. And, as he opens his eyes, a blue and black butterfly by his nose, Nightwing’s folded mask.
Tim groans, dragging the mask under his pillow as he calls out “On my way!” to Dana. He puts his head under the pillow too, for good measure as he smiles at the mask, for one more moment before he gets up into his new day.