Flying Without Clouds

Five Times Dick thought Bruce would kiss him + One Time Dick kissed Bruce

1

When Dick's lids closed there was darkness and, somehow, the darkness stretched too long. He only realised that he wasn't blinking, that he was closing his eyes when Bruce's voice floated through his mind. He forced himself to straighten, forced his eyes to open.

He had to focus! They had a task, they had a goal. They were Batman and Robin.

He couldn't let his guard down. Not when criminals could shoot through the streets and alleys of Gotham at any time. Not when Bruce trusted him. Not when Bruce relied on him.

Why was it so hard to concentrate?

His head felt heavy as he shook it pursing his lips. This should have been a night like any other. A common patrol. Nothing out of the ordinary. He shouldn't have been that tired, that exhausted, that weak. Why was he?

He breathed in, the oxygen sticky in his lungs as if there were too much dust in the air. Only then he remembered Bruce saying something although he couldn't remember the content for the life of him.

"Wha-what… did you… say?", he murmured. The words fell off his tongue like stones. He blinked. Slowly, too slowly.

Bruce faced him, a shadow above the roofs. For a moment Dick thought his eyes narrowed although he couldn't be sure with the cowl of his. He was sure that Bruce wanted to say something, his lips opening softly.

However, he didn't get to voice whatever thought danced through his mind when a scream echoed through the night. It was high-pitched and female and Dick froze.

We must help her, rushed through his mind and he would have said so if his mouth wasn't so dry, so dusty.

He rose, hands leaving the security of the tiles. Adrenaline burned through his veins, burned like fire, hot, too hot. He felt too hot. He moved but his muscles felt like rubber bands. A surge of nausea spread through his stomach and up to his throat and for a second he thought he'd throw up.

He looked to the shimmering nightlife of Gotham, to the dark corners of the streets beneath the roofs, to the bright neon letters of shady clubs and then there was darkness. It took him a second to realise that he had closed his eyes, again. It took him another second to realise that he didn't feel his legs, that he was stumbling, his head dizzy.

He reached out, his hands shuddering in the wind without feeling the cold. Without feeling any cold. Without feeling anything.

He fell.

Until he didn't.

His eyelids fluttered open to meet the gaze of Bruce, blue eyes wide inside the blackness of his mask. Dick shouldn't have been able to see them, shouldn't have been able to count the hairs of his beard stubble. He needs to shave. He's better looking without a beard, shot through his mind and where did that thought come from?

Dick felt his face heat up wondering how that was even possible. Bruce's breath brushed against his cheek, against his lips and for a second Dick thought that Bruce's face went even closer to his. For a second he thought that Bruce might kiss him.

Of course, nothing like that happened.

A moment later Bruce withdrew his face to rest his hand against Dicks forehead. He sighed.

"You're burning up," he declared. "I'm calling Alfred. No more patrolling for you tonight."

Dick blinked, his mouth shut, knowing that it wouldn't do to complain. He forced himself to shut down every weird thought he'd had. For god's sake, why did he even think about that?

It must be the fever, he decided. Only the fever.

Nothing else.

2

Dicks heart danced inside his chest as he gulped down the last sips of his coffee.

Bruce had tried to hide it for a long time and he had been successful in the past years. Too successful. Dick didn't want to admit it but it had taken him far longer than he had anticipated to find out when Bruce birthday was.

Bruce had turned out to be quite stubborn when it came to the topic. Their conversations either ended in an oddly sudden mission that couldn't be rescheduled or in Bruce claiming he forgot he even had one.

When conversations with him led to nothing Dick took to the library trying to find photo albums or letters that might solve his problem. He read through scripts and texts that sometimes weren't even in English but without success. He searched through the other rooms of the manor, the study, the living room, the bedrooms, even the batcave! Nothing.

In the end, he hadn't been able to find a single hint, a single date.

It had been tricky indeed.

Then, Alfred had appeared, the knight in shining armour. All it had taken was a single question and he had received the golden answer. Dick had been close to banging his head against the wall. Of course, Alfred. Of course, he would know it. Why hadn't he thought about it earlier?

But the warmth spreading through his body had been greater. He had the date. The date of Bruce's birthday.

When Bruce walked into the kitchen Dick had a hard time trying to contain the grin on his face. A few seconds later he didn't even try anymore. He knew that his smile would be audible in his voice so it didn't matter.

"Good morning, Bruce," he greeted.

Bruce frowned instantly. However, it did take a few seconds for him to reply, his eyes roaming over Dick and the pancakes towering in between plates of bread and sausages on the table.

"Well, good morning, Dick," he drawled. "Is there something I should know?"

Dick approached him, one hand behind his back. He raised one eyebrow, grinning. "I dunno. Can you tell me what day it is?"

Dick hadn't thought it would be possible for Bruce to frown even more. Sometimes this man seemed incapable of raising the corners of his mouth. However, it wasn't long before Bruce lost his frown, his eyes widening just a bit. He caught himself a second later, his face a flat mask, although Dick saw his jaw tensing.

"February 19th."

"Aaaaaand we have a winner," Dick exclaimed. "Happy birthday, old man!"

He rushed forwards, wrapping his arm around Bruce, almost tall enough to rest his head against Bruce's neck. Deck felt him freezing but then, two warm hands were grazing his back returning the hug. His heart jumped in his cheat, almost ready to fly away.

He didn't know exactly why he was the first one to pull away.

"I also have a little something for you," he said.

The present was small and hidden behind light blue wrapping paper and white ribbon. When he pressed it into Bruce's hands, his breath caught in his throat and he felt his skin prickling.

"Thank you, Dick, but that really wasn't necessary," Bruce murmured without opening the package, still looking into Dick's eyes.

"Alfred helped me to be honest." Dick shrugged chuckling a bit. He had to resist the urge to scratch his neck. "Just open it already…"

Dick didn't need to look at the package as he already knew what was in it. He only watched Bruce. He watched his eyes lighten up as he removed the paper. He watched the soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he realised what he was holding in his hands.

The pages rustled as Bruce opened the photo album. He flipped through different pictures of Dick grinning, of Bruce frowning, of them mostly just standing next to each other, sometimes having an arm around each other. Of course, there weren't any pictures of them as their alter egos but Dick was satisfied with the photos he got from Alfred.

"I really like this one," he said before leaning over. He pointed to a rare shot of Bruce and him smiling together, watching the sunrise while sitting on the balcony of Wayne Manor. "We should do it more often, don't you think?"

Bruce looked up and their gazes locked. He was close. Really close. Dick could see the sun reflecting in his eyes, blue as a cloudless sky.

For a second he wanted to lean forward. For a second he thought that Bruce leaned forward. For a second he thought that Bruce might kiss him.

He didn't.

Bruce only rolled his eyes before turning his face to the breakfast table.

"Maybe."

Dick was left with heated cheeks and a frown rivalling Bruce's.

3

Dick had been the one to propose it.

They had done a lot of undercover missions, albeit much to Bruce's reluctance. What was so different in doing this one?

He had his weapons beneath the dirty shirt and trousers, he had the earplug through which Alfred would whisper instructions and warnings. He didn't even look like Dick Grayson anymore, not with green contact lenses and blondish dye in his hair.

They had to make sure it really was the kind of organisation they feared it was. The solution is obvious, Dick had thought. Making an undercover visit, checking out just how deep the darkness in the hearts of these traders went and later coming back as Batman and Robin to destroy them.

It should have been easy to bust this ring of illegal prostitution, right?

It shouldn't have made him that nervous. It shouldn't have made his heart beat as fast in his chest as it was. He gulped, his mouth dry.

Nevertheless, he thought he did make a good job cowering in the centre of the room, his arms hanging lifelessly next to his body. Sometimes he flinched, sometimes he glanced around the room as if there were something or somebody after him. There probably was.

He tried his best to force every emotion out of his eyes, out of the features of his face. Be a ghost, his mind whispered.

He couldn't shake off all the nausea as he felt foreign eyes wandering over his body.

Bruce also did a good job playing the arrogant businessman that wanted to get rid of the bastard of his sister. In disguise, of course. Even without the tinted glasses and the auburn coloured hair, nobody would suspect the rich playboy and investor Bruce Wayne in this shady cavern. Though, if Dick was being honest he almost felt like he did too good of a job.

In the beginning Bruce had been against the idea with a vehemence that had surprised even Dick. There had been a storm raging in his eyes that Dick hadn't seen before. His muscles had twitched and for a second Dick had been sure that Bruce would hit him.

Alfred had talked with him and somehow convinced him to try it and the storm in Bruce's eyes came to a halt. Dick had to resist the urge to bite his lips.

In this dusty secret chamber behind the bar Bruce sure did a good job pretending to detest him.

"He would certainly fit your establishment," Bruce finished with a voice that didn't seem to belong to him. If Dick weren't standing right beside him, he wouldn't have thought it possible for him to talk like this.

His skin itched like a million ants were crawling on it. He allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment wishing for Bruce to hurry the fuck up so they could leave. They knew what they had wanted to know. Nothing kept them here anymore. He almost regretted his proposition.

"Well, he does look pretty," drawled the bald man behind the desk, the eyes empty and dark like black holes. He took a deep draw from the cigarette dangling between his fingers, gaze meeting Dick's. Dick flinched as if ordered to and the man, Gerald F. Harris, laughed.

"Don't be scared, pretty boy! We're all nice here."

Dick looked down before hearing heavy boots meeting the floor as Harris rose to walk around his desk.

"What's your name, boy?", he barked. Dick had to resist the urge to grab the knife inside his sleeve, the blood hot in his veins. He had to bite in the insides of his cheeks in order to force every flicker of anger out of his voice.

"Daniel," he whispered.

"Eh, really? Of course, we would have to change it," said Harris before looking to Bruce. "Mr. Adams, right?"

Out of the corners of his eyes Dick saw Bruce straightening.

"I have to say, I'm intrigued. However, there is one thing I'd like to know," he grinned in a way that made Dick's stomach churn. "Does he know how to please?"

For a second there was silence. Dick didn't dare to look up unless he wanted the bodyguards in the corners of the room to know just how much it would please him to beat out the teeth of their master.

"Of course," Bruce said. Someone else might not have realised the difference in his voice but Dick could hear the disdain like a gun shot.

"Why don't you show me?"

Dick froze, his heart froze, his mind froze, his soul froze. A part of him knew that nothing could go wrong, that no one of these crooks stood a chance against Batman and Robin. The other parts of him forgot everything about it as he felt Bruce's hand against his jaw.

His eyelids fluttered open, wide. His heart leaped in his chest. He met Bruce's gaze, his face a mask as it drew closer. Dick couldn't move, couldn't think, heat surging through his body.

For a second he thought that Bruce might kiss him. Kiss him to show Harris his worth.

However, there were no lips against his. There was only the sound of several quick gun shots burning through the air.

Dick blinked realising that Bruce had sought a distraction to draw his gun. He breathed in looking around to the people wincing on the floor.

"I'd hoped it wouldn't have been necessary," Bruce sighed. "Let's call the commissioner."

4

The champagne sparkled in the golden light of the lamps as Camilla Jones took a few sips. Not too much, not too hastily. She wouldn't want to appear like a boundless drunkard but she also wouldn't want to appear prudish, Dick figured.

"Mr. Wayne, I'm really grateful for what Wayne Enterprises did," she smiled. "What a generous sum."

Bruce smiled although Dick knew that it was as fake as the whiteness of Camilla's teeth.

Dick didn't like charity galas. However, he knew that Bruce liked them even less. More often than not Dick had kept away but in the past years he had felt the growing pressure to attend them. Maybe it was because he had gotten older. Maybe it was because he didn't want to leave Bruce in the agonising company of bores like Camilla Jones.

He felt his muscles tensing as a few other reasons floated through his mind, reasons he didn't want to consider, reasons he didn't want to explore.

Smile, he told himself. Nod and smile.

"You're Richard Grayson, right? Mr. Wayne's ward?", said Camilla in that moment and her eyes wandered over his body. A grin flashed across his face before Dick bowed in a fluid motion.

"The one and only, Milady," he said like a hundred times before. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He winked at her noticing with a certain satisfaction how her cheeks turned a darker colour. Her eyes sparkled like the champagne in her hands.

"I think I saw you at the banquet of Mr. Rosier a few years ago. Sadly, I couldn't make your acquaintance then but I do remember you were rather young," she cooed, her eyelashes fluttering. "I hope you don't resent me for saying that you've grown into quite a handsome, well-mannered man."

She laughed a soft laugh that seemed to be supported by alcohol.

"Don't you agree, Mr. Wayne?" She patted Bruce's arm.

"How about I get you two something to drink? We really should raise our glasses to this new and shining collaboration." A second later she was gone in the crowds of talking men and women, searching for a waiter apparently.

"Don't you agree, Mr. Wayne," Dick mocked as soon as Camilla was out of earshot. He shook his head before rolling his eyes. "Why do the conversations seem to get more trivial with every gala?"

No answer.

"Bruce?" Dick turned his head almost expecting Bruce to be gone too. He wasn't.

However, he did look like he hadn't listened to anything Dick had said. His eyes met Dick's but he didn't seem to see him, the blue clouded. His eyebrows were drawn together as if there were thoughts rushing through his mind that he couldn't quite comprehend. As if he was trapped in his very own storm, a storm only he could see.

"Bruce?", Dick whispered taking a few steps forward. Maybe he's ill, shot through his head. He did say something about a cold earlier. Dick had to resist the urge to press a hand against Bruce's forehead.

He only realised that he had raised his hand after all when Bruce grabbed his wrist in the air.

"Don't," he growled so low that Dick almost didn't understand him.

Dick gulped, his heart beating with a hundred miles per hour. He felt his face heat up as Bruce didn't let go of his hand, didn't back off. Bruce was staring at him as if this was the first time he really saw him and not just his shadow. For a second Dick thought that his eyes sparkled not unlike Camilla's.

For a second he thought that Bruce might kiss him.

"Here you go," shouted Camilla in that moment, drinks in her hands, and Bruce stepped back as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Dick's hand fell against his side as he let go of the breath that had been captured in his lungs.

"I hope you didn't miss me too much," Camilla said and her voice sounded shrill and ugly in Dick's ears.

5

Bruce's right, Dick told himself as he threw his clothes inside the suitcase. He would have rushed out of Wayne Manor earlier but he didn't want to regret not taking them with him. He had no intention of returning after all. Bruce had extinguished every intention he might have had.

His muscles tensed as he rose and he had to suppress the urge to scream out his anger and frustration. When his eyes began to burn, he blinked away any tears that might appear.

He walked through the hall towards the entrance with stiff legs. Somehow he managed to keep a blank face.

"I'm leaving," he announced without knowing if Bruce was even in the same room. "Like you wanted me to. I hope you're happy."

Only a few steps separated him from the door when a few words whispered through the air, stopping him in his tracks.

"I see," Bruce said.

Sparks flew through Dick's body as he narrowed his eyes. He wanted to throw something against the wall but he didn't know with whom he was that angry. With Bruce for ordering him to leave? Or with himself because he froze at the very sound of his voice? Because he was so damn dependent on him?

Because he felt like he couldn't breathe at the prospect of leaving him?

Because he wished against better reason that Bruce would hold him back, that Bruce would grab his shoulders, that Bruce would yell at him to stay?

Dick knew that it wouldn't happen.

I don't want you to get hurt because of me, whispered the memory of Bruce's voice. Because of my burden. I should have realised it sooner and I'm sorry. I've already stolen too much of your life. You should lead a good life. A normal life.

Maybe I don't want to live a life without you, Dick screamed inside his head. He knew that he couldn't say it. He couldn't even admit his feelings to himself. To Bruce? Never.

He didn't know why he turned to look at Bruce. Maybe he wanted to see his face a last time. Maybe he was a helpless optimist after all.

Bruce's face was as blank as his own although Dick thought that his shoulders appeared more slumped than usual. When he approached Dick, he wasn't quick. His steps were slow, almost hesitating, as if the floor were filled with burning coal.

"Do you want to say something?", Dick ground out. "Something more about how I should take care of my fragile body and mind that clearly aren't suited to stop criminals?"

Bruce frowned. "I didn't say something like that."

"Well, if they were your thoughts it's even worse."

Dick felt a strange satisfaction at watching Bruce flinch, at watching him losing his composure, if only for a second. The grin on his face hurt. It didn't feel like it was a part of him but he knew that he would burst out in tears the moment it vanished.

"I didn't want to hurt you," Bruce whispered in such a low tone that Dick had to lean in to understand the words.

His chest hurt, his head hurt, his whole body hurt and he didn't know what to say. Bruce looked at him, his gaze like a storm flickering all over Dick's face. For a second Dick thought that it rested on his lips.

For a second he thought that Bruce might kiss him.

He wouldn't survive that.

Dick turned and grabbed his suitcase without another word.

A second later he disappeared into the rainy streets of Gotham.

1

Dick didn't think he would return. He didn't want to return, dammit.

He wasn't Robin anymore. He didn't belong to Gotham anymore. He didn't belong to Batman anymore.

He took on the alias of Nightwing for that reason, right? To free himself from the past, to be independent, to be the man he should be.

But not the man you want to be, whispered a voice inside him. Dick sighed. He didn't have the strength to fight it anymore.

When he moved through the darkness of Wayne Manor he wasn't sure what had drawn him in, why he had come that day of all days. His blood rushed through his veins and his skin prickled. He expected Bruce to appear in the shadows at any moment but it didn't happen.

He's probably away with that new orphan of his, Dick thought pursing his lips. Jason Todd.

He couldn't bring himself to hate that guy even if he wanted to. It had been his choice in the end. His choice to turn his back on Bruce.

Somehow he found himself walking into Bruce's empty bedroom. Somehow his gaze went the right way to capture the books on the shelf and, somehow, his muscles moved making him step closer.

He only realised what he was looking at after blinking a few times at the dark cover. His thoughts swam inside his head, his fingers heavy as he picked up the photo album.

He didn't want to see the pictures but he also couldn't hide the smile brushing over his lips as he flipped through the pages. Everything had been much easier back then.

When he reached the last pages, his smile crumbled. White pages. He remembered that he had left them like this. At first because he didn't have more photos. Then he had thought that it would be nice to fill the blank pages with memories as they both grew.

Sadly, he had forgotten about it and Bruce had never reminded him.

Dick sighed. However, when he let the album fall back in the shelf he felt his heart warming up. Bruce had kept it. He must have liked it.

Dick's smile returned as he realised what it was that had brought him to the Manor. It was the 19th February after all.

"Dick?"

He froze. His breath caught in his throat and for a second he wished for the floor to swallow him. His heart stopped just to jump through his chest.

He didn't want to turn but he turned, nevertheless.

"Hey, Bruce," he said. The words tasted like rotten meat on his tongue. "How's life?"

Horrible, Dick wanted him to say. I want you back, he wanted him to say.

Bruce said neither of them. He said nothing.

He was wearing a white button-down shirt with a loose tie and Dick realised that he probably came from some party or charity gala. Bruce's face seemed to be freshly shaved and his eyes gleamed with the same strength, the same intelligence, the same blue like a cloudless sky. He'd almost managed to hide the shadows beneath them.

Bruce looked at him with a gaze that could mean all or nothing. His lips trembled as if he wanted to say something without knowing what. Without being able to find the right words.

Another minute went by until he finally managed to open his mouth.

"Why are you here, Dick?", he asked with a flat voice.

Dick felt his muscles tensing, felt his blood heating up and he had to resist the urge to shake his head. He hasn't changed after all, Dick thought. Has he?

But he also hadn't changed. His feelings hadn't changed.

He was old enough to make his own choices. He was old enough to know what choices he wanted to make.

And he knew why he was here.

"Happy birthday, Bruce," he murmured, rushing forwards.

A second later he was pressing his lips against Bruce's, feeling the heat radiating from the skin beneath his, listening to the familiar heartbeat speeding up. His own heart beat in his throat. His whole body trembled as if he had run a marathon but it didn't matter.

It didn't matter because he felt a weight leaving his chest that he hadn't even known was there. It didn't matter because he could finally breathe.

Bruce froze and Dick expected him to back away at any moment.

He did not expect him to return the kiss.

But that was what happened.

In one moment, Bruce was rigid like a statue. In the next moment, he put his hand around Dick's neck. Not to push him away but to draw him closer, pressing them closer.

His lips parted to let their tongues slide against each other and Dick didn't even care about the saliva trickling down his chin. Every fibre of his body burned but it didn't hurt. He felt like he was standing in the centre of a fire, flames licking at his skin without touching it, without marring it. He felt invincible. He felt like he could fly.

His heart flew out of his chest and he felt light, so light. He didn't know that it was possible for the human soul to feel so much.

He didn't want it to end.

"You don't know how long I wanted to do that," Dick panted against Bruce's mouth. He let his forehead rest against Bruce's, his fingers holding onto his shoulders as if it were the only thing keeping him standing. Maybe it was.

He felt Bruce's hands brushing over his back, soft like feathers, like he couldn't believe what was happening. Like he thought that it was all an illusion. It wasn't.

"Maybe I do," whispered Bruce.

A/N: I usually upload my stories on AO3. Though, I thought I might as well upload my works on (I don't know how many are still reading here but I didn't want the BILB story to be the only uploaded work by me). I'm not a native speaker, so please don't feel bad about correcting my errors :)