5This is from trash-by-vogue's "The way you said 'I love you'" prompt list on tumblr. Anonymous requested #20: As we huddle together, the storm raging outside. Thanks for the request, I had fun writing it. I hope you like it!
"Can I stay here tonight?"
A flash of lighting, a roll of thunder, the rain intensifies.
Dick is soaking wet. That, along with the helmet held loosely in his hand, tells Wally that Dick rode all the way here from Gotham—despite the storm that screams 'don't ride a motorcycle tonight unless you have a death wish.' And going off of the way Dick is carrying himself and the defeated look on his face, Wally wonders if maybe he does.
"Of course." Wally opens the door wider to let Dick pass, taking note of the bruise forming on his left cheek. After closing and locking the door back up, he turns to fully face Dick again, voice more serious as he asks, "Are you okay?"
"Fine, just don't want to be in Gotham right now," Dick says casually as he kicks off his wet shoes off and hangs up his jacket. There's a pause, a moment where they just look at each other saying nothing. Then, "Bruce and I had a fight."
"And did Bruce do that?" Wally gestures to the bruise, voice a little angrier than he had intended.
Dick's hand reaches up, just barely brushing over it. "I . . . is it bad?"
"I'll get an ice pack," Wally says softly. When he comes back to the living room—promised ice pack in hand—Dick is on the couch, leaning forward on his knees and hands clutching his hair. And . . . shaking.
"Hey," Wally places his hand on Dick's shoulders as he sits down next to him, "talk to me."
Dick shakes his head and lets out a breath as he takes the ice pack from Wally and presses it against his cheek. "Everything is just so messed up."
Wally can agree with that. Dick's so-called guardian tried to break his face about an hour ago, and that is the very definition of messed up. These fights have been getting more frequent, and Wally is sick of seeing what they're doing to Dick. Someone needs to do something, and if Bruce isn't going to change, maybe Dick needs to stop going back.
But Wally doesn't say that. He doesn't know what to say. So instead, he simply says, "I'm sorry. This shouldn't be happening to you."
Dick laughs at that. "You make it sound like I'm some innocent victim in this. I'm part of the problem, Walls. If I could learn how to keep my mouth shut, most of these arguments wouldn't even happen."
"It's not your job to control Bruce's temper," Wally points out.
Dick shoots a glare at Wally. "He didn't mean it."
"Now you're defending him?" Wally asks, exasperated.
Dick drops the ice pack and stands up. "Stop acting like you know what's going on!"
The two stare at each other, both wondering how this turned into an argument. The silence is thick, but neither moves or says a word.
A flash of lighting, a roll of thunder, the rain intensifies.
"I'm sorry," Dick says quietly, gaze going to his feet.
Wally swallows before standing and moving over to Dick, taking his hands in his own. "I know. You're just on edge, yeah?"
". . . yeah."
Wally nods. "And you're right. I don't know what's going on—not really. But I'm here for you. You know that?"
Dick takes a step forward, leaning into Wally as he nods.
Wally doesn't know how long they stand there, just holding each other as Wally rocks them gently. The rain continues to pour against the roof, creating a calming atmosphere for the two of them. At some point, they end up huddled together on the couch, a blanket wrapped around the both of them with the melting ice pack back against Dick's cheek as he tells Wally everything that's been going on at home.
Stress, mostly. And from what Dick had told him, the fight had been building up for the past week. Long hours, not enough sleep, too much criticism and too little understanding were all factors, and tonight the two of them just snapped. Both of them were out of line, but Wally will still hold it against Bruce for not putting an end to it sooner.
They talk for two hours, Dick crying for some of it. Due to stress, mostly, Wally tells himself. By the end of it, he thinks Dick is feeling better. Well, at least good enough to get rid of that defeated look and text Alfred back to let him know he's safe.
Wally pulls Dick closer and presses a kiss into his hair. "I'm glad you came here. To me," Wally tells him.
Dick hums. "Me too. And thanks—for being here for me, I mean."
"Always." And Wally knows Dick will do the same for him, has done the same for him.
A flash of lighting, a roll of thunder, the rain intensifies.
Dick presses himself deeper against Wally's side. "I love you."
"I love you, too," Wally says, automatic and full of certainty. "Now, try to get some sleep, okay?"