A/N: Make sure you read chapter 1 first-it's been updated!

Preview for part II

"Bruce, you know all of this is unnecessary," Dick spoke slowly and calmly into his cellphone that was caught between his ear and shoulder as he fastened the sapphire cufflinks to the end of each sleeve of his blue dress shirt.

They were the last objects in the package Bruce had sent him, along with the rest of his ridiculously made-up ware for the evening. The billionaire had had the initiative to remove all of the price tags but the maker labels were still there-especially since everything had been customized. Dick hadn't needed to look up the foreign names to know that he was putting on an outfit that he estimated was a good three grand, even before the custom, handmade, Italian shoes that fit him a little too perfectly. As if the shoemaker 'Chaplain Torveli' had actually been in his room at night to personally measure every angle, line and plane of his feet.

-Which was just ridiculous…not that Bruce couldn't have done it though.

"Dick, please. I want to make this night special. It's our anniversary."

The acrobat finally fixed the cufflinks in place and reached up to pull the phone away enough that he could sigh in exasperation so he would not get into trouble for it. If there was one thing he had learned about Bruce by actually dating the guy is that all of that flirting with women may have been an act to cover for Batman but the billionaire was damn good at it! He was constantly flirting with him and what was downright disturbing was that the cowl didn't seem to stop him from ever doing so. It was hard to work with Batman these days because the man made him blush too damn much and even that was nothing compared to when Bruce Wayne took him out on legit dates.

Dick brought the phone back to his ear with a smile, "I know Bruce. Now don't freak out again. I just finished putting on your new present."

"Good!" Bruce barked, as if he was physically checking it off of a list, "I'll be there shortly."

And he hung up.

"Goodbye," the acrobat said sarcastically with an eye roll, closing the line and slipping the cell phone into his pocket.

He took the moment to glance back up at the mirror on his closet door, observing his gifted outfit for the evening. The Italian shoes he had puzzled over were shined to perfection and for some reason-not only fit him perfectly but were heaven on his normally sore feet-which was weird because stability and fashion usually came with pain or at least some uncomfortableness. The black dress pants, with navy undertone, had a familiar Alfred-steamed-perfection to them that made Dick smile and thankfully had big enough pockets to hold some stuff. A black belt encircled his slim waist with a silver belt buckle that was embedded with the Wayne-logo. (Property-claim much Bruce?) The shirt was some kind of silk, but he couldn't place the origin. It wasn't Chinese silk, not even close. He'd have to ask if he got desperate enough to learn. He smirked at the color choice of the blue that stretched across the symbol of his Nightwing suit. It was collared, long-sleeved and had two particular, deliberately-placed (he knew), creased lines running down and curving towards the silver-titanium-cupped sapphire cufflinks.

This was easily three grand in nothing but clothes and this was yet another thing that he did not understand. It wasn't the monetary affection in this situation; it was more the general fact that he didn't understand why someone bought an outfit that they would only wear once.

Still, he seemed resigned to the fact that he was about to be swept away into an evening that he could never give Bruce the equivalent of. That was what was so irritating about the relationship to him. Dick reached up to run a hand through his hair, which he was greatly thankful for. Being so great naturally, it was low maintenance. He was free of any droopy eyes or black circles, the concealer covered what scars he needed it to for the night and the new #5 cologne of the set that had been sent with the outfit lingered subtly. He wasn't sure why every scent was subtle but maybe that was just what Bruce wanted. Perhaps it was the detective inside of him, wanting to stay mentally stimulated even on a carefree date.

"What the hell have you gotten yourself into Grayson?" he asked his reflection.

He wasn't ignorant of the media's attention on Bruce and him. They had surprised him though. Most people were shrugging the story off as they didn't care, nodded to it as if they had known all along or let out exasperated sighs before saying: "What took them so long?"

There hadn't even been that much of a reaction from the hero community and Dick wasn't sure whether to be pleased or worried by it. Had everyone actually seen this a long time ago? He knew Roy and Donna were still having long-distance glaring matches with Bruce from time to time but only Roy had taken direct action-once. Dick wasn't sure what had happened between Batman and Arsenal but Bruce never spoke of it and Roy only commented that they had simply talked…and that he would be on the billionaire's ass for the remainder of his life if he even dared hurt his friend.

Buzz!

And there was the doorbell. Hm, Bruce must have been waiting nearby then.

"Yeah Bruce, not creepy at all."

Bruce Wayne was a creeper-through and through with extreme stalker-ish tendencies.

Buzz!

Dick smirked and scooped up the outfit's last piece from the end of his bed; a sleek, finely pressed, black jacket. He threw it on and made his way out of his bedroom, flicking the light off as stepped into his living room, where a single lit lamp was hanging over the bar that protruded from beside his front door. A deep breath, here went nothing!

He made his way over to the thick oak door and reached for the brass knob. One turn, a click and…

It was Bruce of course and he was immediately scanning Dick's body, his eyes catching each detail of the outfit as he spoke lowly and held out his customary dozen roses that came with every date.

"Good evening. You look magnificent, love."

Damn it the blush was already spreading over the acrobat's face and his own stretching smile hurt his face as he reached out to accept the roses into his hands. It wasn't until he could breathe again that Dick glanced down at the bouquet he had been given. OK, truthfully every one of their dates after those first two months had always come with a complementary bouquet of a dozen varied colors of roses. His penthouse was full of them resting within numerous stylized vases that he was certain were Alfred's choices. This bouquet was not a dozen red roses though. The traditional 12 red roses were actually the perimeter lining for a grouping of 12 smaller roses; three light blue, three dark blue, three black and three yellow.

Dick's smile grew a bit more as he glanced up and spoke back to his partner.

"And you're absolutely breath-taking yourself Bruce."

That caused Bruce to blush and the billionaire wasted little time stepping back and holding out his arm in invitation.

"We should be going. We have quite a night ahead of…US."

US…Dick liked that. He turned and reached for his keys on the side bar, slipping them into his pocket and flicking the lamp light off. Then he turned to lock his door, taking the opportunity to bring the bouquet close and inhale the scents escaping them. He glanced up for a moment to share a secret eye-smile with Bruce and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Finally, he wrapped his arm around Bruce's and they headed out.

"Any paparazzi?" the younger man asked as they stepped into the elevator at the end of the building.

The billionaire frowned and looked at his partner worriedly, "A few were outside when I drove up-I think most of them followed me from Gotham but I did see a few locals. They were volleying the boxers or briefs question."

Dick sighed in long-suffering before giving his companion an amused smile, "That's New Yorkers for you."

Bruce caught the slight and chuckled before the elevator opened again and they stepped out. And yes! There they were, sticking cameras through the tiny windows beside the main door to get pictures.

"Shall we Mr. Grayson?" Bruce said with a smirk.

"Oh, but of course Mr. Wayne," the acrobat said with a laugh.

Bruce dropped his arm and curled it around his partner's waist, "Let's give them pictures then."

AKA: when we walk out the door I'm going to be flirting with you.

(6:00PM)

Bruce had decided to drive in a new vehicle Dick had never seen before but his partner had urged him into the passenger seat behind the tinted windows before he could inquire. It wasn't that they had anything against the paparazzi crowd there, they were actually being pretty fair with their questions, but the billionaire had stated that they were on 'a tight schedule' so they had to get going. So, Bruce quickly slipped into the driver's seat, pausing in preparing to drive only to reach out over the compartment between the duo to tap at a hidden panel on the dashboard. It opened and a small vase rose out of a door by the output of the AC/heater controls.

Oh, for the flowers then.

Dick slid the bouquet into the vase and shared another smile with Bruce before they each reached for their seat belts.

"What's our first stop?" Dick asked as Bruce started the engine.

The radio came on, some old station that was playing songs with soft, non-lyric, melodies.

"Dinner," the older man said deeply, reaching over with one hand to grasp his companion's.

He raised it to his face and brushed his lips over the knuckles in a soft kiss.

"You smell nice," he said with a smile.

"Shut up flirting and drive," Dick ordered.

"As you wish."