Title: Late

By: Demon Faith

For: Miss Gordon

Author’s LJ: demon_faith

Author’s website: http://faithoftheheart.ahkay.net

Summary: Roy’s cooking. Dick’s late. (Dick/Roy established)

Notes: Inspired by Nightwing #127, this takes place in some kind of Nightwing and Titans continuity. Yeah, my TT comics’ knowledge is that good. Hope this works for you!

Roy looked at his watch. Late. Again. One day, Dick would learn that “fashionably late” only applied to the fancy socials with canapés.

“Daddy? Where’s Uncle Nightwing?”

“I don’t know, sweetie. I think he’s just late.”

Lian laughed, little bubbles of squash forming at the corner of her mouth.

“Uncle Nightwing’s always late!” she said and then ran off to grab whatever that thing was that Bruce had given her. Why Batman was now distributing toys like some dark, brooding Santa Claus Roy had no idea, but Lian seemed to like it so he wasn’t going to object.

And he really had to tell Dick that ‘Uncle Nightwing’ was not an appropriate title…

Roy impatiently picked up the ‘phone and rang Dick’s cell. It rang into eternity before the voicemail picked up and he replaced the receiver. Probably driving or biking or swinging from rooftops – sometimes Roy wondered if he’d ever actually grown up and then remembered that Dick was as serious as a seizure 24/7, even when he was laughing and throwing popcorn at Alfred.

He carefully turned down the heat on the saucepans before peering through the window of the oven again. It was all going to burn. He’d have Dick for this – when would the man learn the meaning of the word ‘punctuality’? Admittedly, Roy wasn’t winning gold stars in that area, but he was doing better than Dick.

Sighing and sitting heavily on a chair, Roy folded his arms like a grumpy housewife and stared at the clock.

~

Somewhere in the dark, Dick listened to water dripping and tried not to cry.

He hurt. Everything hurt and he just wanted to go home. Home, yeah, to that big double bed and the dark drapes and Alfred coming in with tea and…

No, wait, he didn’t live there anymore. Um…the flat then, the one he…no, what? He couldn’t remember anything at all.

He was going home to someone, somewhere. He clutched at the bag in his hand, the slick plastic slipping slowly from his hand as he realised that he couldn’t remember very much of anything. He was going home. Somewhere warm, with a meal, real people. But…why was he there?

Clutching his pounding head, Dick stood and staggered against a wall. It was muddy. He pulled his hand away and then looked up. There were stars above him and giant silhouettes of strange objects. What was he doing down there? And why was the ground so very far away?

Looking around, he saw a ladder at the side and grabbed it with his good hand, letting the other hang down, blood trickling over the bag. Slowly, painfully, he began to climb.

~

The turkey would be dry. Roy tutted at the clock – he was already an hour late, and he hadn’t even called! There were ten missed calls on his cell and no response. He had even tried the emergency microphone but even that wasn’t working, and Oracle had called him up to scold.

“Look, Babs, it won’t happen again, promise…yeah, I know Ollie does…that doesn’t mean…yes, yes, I know…I will…goodbye.”

“Is Aunt Barbara coming too?” Lian said, rushing over with wide eyes and crawling into his lap.

“Uh…no, Lian. I was just seeing if she knew where Uncle Ni…Dick was.”

“I’m hungry, Daddy,” she said softly and Roy automatically reached for the fruit bowl.

“Daddy! That’s not real food!” Lian cried and Roy looked at her.

“What do you mean “not real food”? It’s good for you!”

“Uncle Nightwing says real food comes on a big plate or with chocolate!”

“Oh, does he now?” Roy muttered under his breath and gave her an apple. She pouted but bit into it anyway.

“Are we gonna eat real food soon?” she mumbled around the apple and Roy ignored the insinuation.

“Soon, sweetie, soon.”

Roy was getting angry now. “Damned Bats,” he muttered under his breath and grabbed another apple.

~

His vision was blurry but the climb was almost complete. He hauled himself over the edge of the pit with a growl and then lay on the ground, breathing heavily.

His mind was beginning to clear, the shadows receding into the darkness of the night. Faintly, he could hear music playing and he hauled himself up so that he was sitting, aching and bleeding and confused. He knew that song, what was it, why was it important…

It’ll be lonely this Christmas

Christmas! A flood of memories ran in front of his throbbing eyes – dinner, late, swinging, falling, waking in the dark.

With a new clarity, Dick carefully got to his feet, doubled over from the pain and made his way slowly out of the building site.

Only two blocks to walk.

He lurched down the street, repeating that mantra in his head.

~

There was a slow and stuttered knock at the door. Lian rushed to answer it whilst Roy deliberately turned his back. If he was going to be this late, he would get a cold shoulder with his dry turkey. He peered at his poor destroyed turkey one last time before throwing open the oven door.

“DADDY!”

The panicked shriek sent him into action – door shut, running speed and a quick assessment.

Dick was wavering in the doorway, covered in blood, mud and grit, and clinging desperately to the doorframe and a small bag in his hand. Roy’s heart broke.

“Sorry…sorry I’m late,” Dick mumbled, before his eyes rolled back into his head and Roy’s quick reflexes saved him crashing to the floor.

“Lian, can you get my big blue case please, from under the bed?” Roy said, keeping his voice steady as he stared at Dick’s slack, greying face.

Her little footsteps ran from him and Roy gently shifted Dick in his arms, standing carefully and moving him over to the sofa. He laid him down and knelt beside him, watching him bleed into the throw. Lian careered back into the room, the heavy case hefted up to her chest and breathing quickly.

“Good girl,” Roy said, taking the case from her. “Now can you boil the kettle just like Uncle Alfred taught you?” She nodded solemnly. “Good, run and do that for me please.”

He turned back to Dick, but there was no sound. “Will he be okay, Daddy?” she said softly. Roy offered his best, bravest smile. “Sure, sweetie. He’ll be just fine.”

She smiled back and then ran off into the kitchen. Roy tore open the case and sought out bandages. He pulled open Dick’s shirt, smiling at the sight of battered padding. Dick had been flying. Removing the second layer, he saw a few scattered bruises but nothing that spoke of lasting damage. The man was very lucky.

“Fell with style,” Roy muttered affectionately, drawing a hand through Dick’s hair. His eyelids fluttered, just like in the movies, and then those pained blue eyes met his.

“Roy? Wha…what?”

“It’s okay, lie still. You fell.”

Dick nodded and let his eyes fall closed again.

“Not so fast, Grayson. Keep them open ‘til I know your head’s okay.”

“Head’s fine,” Dick mumbled but opened his eyes anyway.

Roy heard the swishing of water behind him and turned, seeing Lian with the washing-up bowl half-full of water.

“Is this okay, Daddy?” she said, looking past him to where Dick was watching her.

“Perfect. Come and hold Uncle Dick’s hand, will you?”

She set the bowl down carefully and then scurried over, pressing Dick’s hand between both of hers. “Are you alright, Uncle Nightwing? You look real sick.”

Dick chuckled low in his throat. “I feel a bit sick, Li. It’s good to see you though. When I get…cleaned up, you can have your present.”

Roy raised an eyebrow. “You held on to a present but forgot the rope?”

Dick gave him a look through tired eyes. “Priorities, Harper.”

The mud and blood came away in a dirty trickle, sending the throw from salvageable to scrap in the space of five minutes. Dick relaxed a little, the codeine and Lian’s prattling lulling him as Roy worked. Bandaged up like a mummy, with an absurd number of stitches holding him together, Dick was finally allowed to sit up.

“So, where’s my dinner?” he said weakly and Roy glared.

“Wilting in the oven, Batboy. That’s what you get for being late.”

Dick sighed deeply and Lian patted his hand.

“It’s okay, Uncle Nightwing. I turned the knob all the way down, just like Uncle Alfred taught me, so it’s warm but not cooking! Isn’t that good? Can we have dinner now?”

Roy stared at his little girl. She worked the oven by herself and dinner wasn’t burned? Oh.

“Right, uh, I’ll get it ready then,” he said, a little shocked, moving back into the kitchen and hearing Dick and Lian’s laughter in his ears.

~

“You should be asleep,” Roy scolded but Dick just smiled at him sleepily and held out his hand.

“Was waiting for you,” he drawled and dragged Roy under the covers. For once, Roy leaned into him, wrapping himself around all the non-bandaged parts of Dick until they felt safe.

“Lian sleeping?” Dick added, words breathed now as he was drifting off.

“Yeah, and she’s thrilled with whatever was in that bag, Mr Amazing Grip.”

“Witty, Roy,” Dick mumbled, but secretly pleased. She liked it.

“Yeah, so excited that the only way she’d sleep was a long story about Uncle Nightwing’s Adventures.” Dick let out a breathy laugh and Roy licked his cheek until Dick swatted him out of the way.

“What did you tell her?” Dick asked, turning his head so their lips were barely a breath away.

“Oh, how Uncle Nightwing was coming to visit on a rope, because he’s an idiot, and then his rope snapped and he fell and fell until he went splat. Then, he somehow picked himself up and wandered over here, where Daddy patched him up just like a well-loved teddy bear. Sound good?”

“Hmm,” Dick said, mind guiltily slotting the rest of his real memories back into place. “Of course, you could have said how Uncle Nightwing wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing and so missed the fact that one of the buildings had been demolished…”

The look on Roy’s face was one of horror and fear and Dick thought he was about to get yelled at.

“You could have died.” The wounded voice was worse.

“I’m an idiot, I know,” Dick said and offered a kiss of atonement. Roy accepted it reluctantly and then licked his nose.

“Yeah, but you’re my idiot.” Another lick. “Merry Christmas, Dick.”

Dick revelled in the warmth of Roy’s breath on his cheek, the turkey settling in his stomach and the buzz of a sedated, healing body.

“Merry Christmas, Roy.”