this is where i’ve been if anyone’s interested :-)
”Whaa ⎯⎯ !”
Tim stiffens when he’s manhandled into a head lock in surprise. He gives a breathy chuckle and tries his best to angle his head up to smirk at Dick. “Alright, alright gramps. Y - you beat me,” he loops an arm behind his back and claps Dick on the shoulder.
Releasing the poor kid, Dick drops back onto his butt and sits against the side of the dirty building, resting his arms on his bent knees.
”Glad we got that settled in a civil manner.”
He scoops the baby up and blows a raspberry on his cheek.
Really? Geez, you need to do some serious marathoning.
[He sets the coffee maker to run then turns back around to face Jai, leaning back against the counter.]
Jonathan crosses his arms over his chest, needled fingers extending far out over the opposite elbow. His coat hangs down, flapping and pressing against the back of Jonathan’s head when the wind flares and shoots upwards from the streets below. The sound of his heart beats in his ears, blood inevitably rushing to his head, and most likely turning his face an unsightly purplish red.
Without his glasses, the world is a blue of lights and smears of color, nearly impossible to make out. Unfortunately, he’s always been cursed with poor vision that’s only gotten worse over the years. He fights not to squint, and look even more undignified than he already does.
He has to have his pride, at least.
Unfortunately for Jonathan’s pride, that’s all the motivation Nightwing needs to release the end of the grapple line from where it’s tied around the railing, and let the criminal free fall down toward the hard concrete below. He won’t let him collide with it, of course—the vigilante has his moral code, and no genuine desire to fatally hurt another person—but instilling a little fear in a fear monger? Dick can get into that.
With only a few feet left between Scarecrow and the asphalt, he catches the end of the rope and holds strong, stopping his fall abruptly. Then without warning he lets the rope go, allowing the last two or three feet to catch the other man off guard. With Jonathan sprawled on the ground once more, Nightwing jumps down to join him.
“I chose the ground for you. What was in the boxes?”
“I'm always expecting you”, he says. Don’t get him wrong, don’t underestimate Bruce Wayne for a single second because he will bring you down. Ever since the Court appeared did Bruce put his big ego away and understood there were mysteries not even he knew about Gotham.
Bruce and Batman both would always expect the Court to strike. He would be patient, always the silent protector, and once they’re out Batman would hunt them.
The Court has its ways. And they send always such young assassins. For half a second Bruce feels bad but what can he do?
He wants to save everyone. Help everyone. He is a stubborn man.
“Ever vigilante. That must be hard to keep that up.”
Two short swords appear from inside the Talon’s
belt, and he flips them in his hands once before
tightening his grip. He was far better at double wielding
than trying to maneuver larger weapons. The Court had
recognized that early on, and assigned him his now
precious twin blades.
”Maybe it wasn’t fair of me to attack you out of costume.
I hope this doesn’t end too quickly.”
Live And Let Die || Double Agent AU (Closed)
Roy didn’t bother being subtle about personal space and chose to sit close enough so that their knees were touching and his hand in close proximity on the bed behind him. It was not only obvious that the two of them were flirting, but it was also obvious that they were both on the same page. He was confident that Dick knew exactly how things were going to go down if he got one of his facts wrong—what it meant to keep the blindfold on.
It was why Roy got a little nervous when Dick guessed the label and where it was from. Damn it. He was hoping that the cheapness of the wine would have thrown him off. “Just at the fact that you’re a classy guy. Figured you might have a little more trouble with a cheaper wine.”
It was also why the red head was a bit skeptical of him when he said the wrong year. He’d been confident with everything else, so it wouldn’t have been unlikely if he knew the year too. Whether or not he purposely said the wrong year or genuinely made a mistake was not a concern for Roy. It didn’t change the fact that Roy had just won. The hot, bubbling giddiness in his chest caused a victorious smirk to spread onto his face.
“So close, Dickie.” He leaned in closer and murmured the words next to his ear. “The year is 2011.”
His eyes idly wandered to the unopened bottle of wine on the table, contemplating whether or not to open it now or… later. “I guess you’ll just have to ask me nicely if you want that favor from me. A deal is a deal though,” He started as he nudged the part of the fabric that covered Dick’s temple with the tip of his nose, effectively whispering the words onto his ear. “You have to promise me to keep this on until I say you can take it off.”
It’s more fun than he dares to admit when Roy’s voice spikes in victory, and Dick gets to force a soft tsking noise, like he’s really disappointed that he’d messed up. Never mind that the other man is pressing closer to his face, lowering his voice to a whisper, the blindfold only allowing him to feel the heat of how close they were rather than enjoy the image—all things that Dick wanted from the moment their little bet was on. He could have won, sure, but that wouldn’t be nearly as tantalizing as spending the rest of the night in the hotel suite with Roy Harper and the little strip of fabric over his eyes.
“I wouldn’t be much if I wasn’t a man of my word,” he replies, turning his face ever so slightly toward the archer’s so their noses brush when he speaks. They’re close enough that Dick knows if he leaned forward just a bit more he’d be able to press his lips against the other man’s, but he holds still for now.
“So now I’m totally defenseless. As vulnerable as a baby lamb. And as innocent as one, too.” His tone is more than just coy—he’s going overboard, all while cracking a smile that’s anything but innocent.
“What’re you gonna do with me, Harper? Make me jump through hoops?”
the true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he lσνєs what is behind him.