“I knew this was coming.” Wally says excitedly when he finally reaches the table. “I knew it!” 

Dick’s hand shoots out, smushing it into Wally’s cheek to get him to shut up, forcing him down into the seat next to him. “Oh my god, bro, you’re so loud.” 

“I can’t help it!” Wally’s enthusiasm slowly rubs off on Dick, their laughter intermingling with one another. “I’ve been watching your lovesick ass for months–” 

“Alright, alright.” Dick hastily interrupts him, casting a glance towards your surprised expression. “You need to shut up before you embarrass me even more.” 

You lean into him, his hands automatically lifting your legs to let you rest them on his thighs. “So,” you wiggle your eyebrows, “months, huh?” 

Dick twists his head away from you, suddenly interested in the art on the library wall. “I have no idea what he’s talking about.” 

“You had a crush on me.” You sing, poking his cheek again. “You thought I was super cute and pretty, and you were all like ‘oh my gosh, i like her’” 

Dick stifles his smile, the tips of his ears turning a dark red. He lets out a dramatic sigh, throwing his head back before he rolls his head over to peek at you. “You’re getting a big head right now, aren’t you?” He squints his eyes. 

You tilt your head to bump your forehead against him. “If I had a big head, I bet you’d still have that super debilitating huge crush on me.” 

He pauses for a moment, blue eyes seemingly swallow you whole before his lips stretch, soft and slow across his face, eyes hazy. “Yeah.” He whispers. 

You swallow, your chest very warm. 

“I’d still have that crush on you.” Dick finishes his sentence, his hand rubbing small circles on your knee. 

From next to Dick, Wally pretends to throw up. You catch the redhead’s green eyes and pull back, smiling shyly. 

The chair next to you scrapes on the library floor. 

“Oh?” Roy’s teasing voice floats through the air to your ears as you turn around, the boy pulling out the chair next to you “Looks like Dick finally grew some balls?” 

You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “I actually made the first move.”

Dick yelps, hurriedly covering your mouth with his hand. “That’s not– I thought we weren’t going to tell anyone about it!” 

You laugh, sticking your tongue out to lick his palm. Donna appears from behind you with Kori in tow, the two of them pulling out the empty chairs across from you and Dick. 

“What’s this I hear about Dick not making the first move?” Donna smiles teasingly, slipping her bag off her shoulder. She looks towards you, shaking her head with a smile on her face. “Always taking the lead, aren’t you?” 

“Is that how you see me?” Dick asks Donna, who only winks and sits down. 

Kori watches the both of you, a strained smile on her face as she pulls a chair out in between Wally and Donna. Her eyes dip to the hand Dick was using to brush away a strand of hair from your face and her chest tightens involuntarily.

She coughs. “I didn’t know Dick had a shy side– I mean, he made the first move with me.” 

You blink. Dick goes very, very still, his eyes darting to Kori. His hand tightens over yours on his knee, hidden beneath the table, suddenly very scared of how you might react. 

Wally shifts uncomfortably in his chair, holding his breath. Donna glances at Kori, an eyebrow raised but Kori continues to stare down at the table, her smile twitching from the effort. Roy crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair, his lips set in a thin line. 

The entire table holds their breath.

For a second, you don’t move a muscle, frozen in place – and then you relax, shrugging as you reach for the strawberry lemonade refresher Dick had bought for you. “Well, we all know I’m the more assertive one in any relationship anyways.” 

Dick’s shoulders droop slightly, his thumb making concentric circles on your knee again. Wally exhales loudly, exchanging a glance with Roy while Donna laughs along, careful to keep her voice light. 

Kori finally looks up from the table, meeting your eyes. 

You tilt your head, eyes soft at the corner with a small smile tugging at your lips. You carefully slide your drink towards her, the plastic cup leaving droplets of water in its wake. “Want some? It’s the strawberry lemonade drink from the cafe by McCombs Hall.”

Kori forces herself to nod, reaching for the drink and you finally look away, turning to grin at something Dick says. 

She stares at her reflection in the darkened screen of her open laptop, her hand holding on to the cup you had given her, the sound of your voice floating through the peaceful library air and Dick’s laughter mixing with yours. 

Her fingers tighten around the sweating plastic cup when she hears the way Dick holds your name in his mouth, the sweetness of the strawberry lemonade reminding her of afternoons that used to be uncomplicated. 

She doesn’t look at Dick, but she doesn’t need to – some things have a way of staying with you, whether you ask them to or not.

x.

Dick hates the hallway outside your apartment door, specifically the space right outside your door.

In other words, he doesn’t want you to leave. 

You hold your hands out expectantly, pink cat-eye nails shining underneath the fluorescent hallway lights. “My bag, please.” 

Dick scrunches his nose, his hand tightening on the brown leather straps digging into his shoulder. “And if I said no?”

“You want to get my degree for me?” You say jokingly, taking a step forward to hook your finger into his belt loop, tugging him forward. He lets himself get pulled in, your hips fitting snugly against his. 

He shakes his head, a smile on his face. 

You narrow your eyes playfully. “You just want to spend more time with me, don’t you?” 

Dick rolls his eyes, falling forward to rest his head on your shoulder. “Oh no, you caught me.” 

“You are so dramatic.” You giggle, tangling your fingers with the soft hairs at the base of his neck. You gently tug, pulling his head up until he meets your gaze. “Do you want to just come inside? We’ll have dinner together?” 

Dick stares up at you through his lashes, blinking slowly before exhaling, One hand lets go from where he’s gripping onto your handbag straps to wrap around your waist. “Can I?” He whispers, fingers tightening on your waist slightly. “Please?” 

“Of course you can, handsome.” 

The words slide out of your mouth so easily, it makes his chest ache – like he was always going to be a part of your life. 

He looks away, cheeks warm as he straightens. “Then inside we go.”

You pinch his cheek lightly before turning the doorknob, the two of you slowly falling inside the warmth of your cozy apartment. 

x.

The light of your lamp shines bright in the dim apartment, the soft golden glow making his shadow dance along the walls. 

Dick folds his legs underneath him, carefully raising a hand to rest on the leg that you’ve draped over his thighs, your back leaning against the armrest of the couch. The TV in front of you flickers as a re-run of ‘Roman Holiday’ ’ continues to play on the giant screen.

He takes a breath, his chest falling as he exhales slowly. 

You glance up. 

“Are you nervous?” 

He looks over towards you, hands clammy. “What? Why would I be nervous?” 

You sit up, untangling your legs from his. “You tell me.” You slide your hand across his shirt, right above where his heart lay before tapping twice above it. His pulse jumps with every touch. You tilt your head, leaning forward to rest your chin on his shoulder. “Why are you so jumpy?” 

“Did something happen?” 

He shakes his head. “No, nothing at all.” Dick’s eyes dip to the curve of your lips before he clears his throat again, hurriedly looking away. “Nothing at all.” 

You frown. “Clearly not.” You turn him to face you properly and press your palm flatter against your chest. “Your heart is beating like crazy and you can’t meet my eyes– oh.” 

You pause, suddenly understanding what he’s been looking at. You pull your hand away, a sly smile on your lips. You raise an eyebrow, leaning in close, “You want to kiss?” 

Dick scoffs, doing his best to keep his gaze steady on the TV screen like Audrey Hepburn was the most interesting thing in the world. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Are you sure?” You shuffle closer, practically in his lap now. Dick wiggles his arm out, wrapping it around your waist to steady you. His thumb brushes soft against the sliver of skin as your shirt rides up slightly. 

“C’mon Dickie.” Your eyes glance down to his lips before flicking back up to his eyes. Dick exhales slowly, keeping his gaze trained on the TV despite seeing nothing. 

You grin teasingly, your cheeks aching from how badly you wanted to laugh. “Baby.”

Dick finally drops his gaze on you, blue eyes darting across your face as he watches your lashes brush across the top of your cheeks every time you blink. He flexes his hand around your waist once before relaxing, pulling you in closer. 

“You’re being unfair.” He whispers, resting his forehead against yours. 

“How am I being unfair?” Your breath caresses his mouth, the skin of his lips tingling. You hum softly, your hand reaching up to tangle themselves in his shirt. “I’m just asking if you want to kiss.”

You look up at him through your lashes. “I don’t know if you can tell, but I’d really liked to be kissed by my boyfriend.” 

He can’t hold back his smile. “You know exactly what you’re doing to me.” 

“No I don’t.” You shake your head. “Why don’t you show me?” 

Dick doesn’t move. 

The sounds of the Roman Holiday continue to play around the two of you, wrapping you in your own little bubble, He looks at you – really looks – committing every little inhale you took, the warmth of your skin against the palm of his hand and the smell of your perfume intoxicating him, to memory.

Like he was afraid you would disappear if he blinked. 

Dick gives you the tiniest nod, his shoulders drooping. 

Your eyes flutter shut.

You lean in closer, slow and unhurried, waiting. Dick’s eyes trace over the curve of your lip once more before he meets you halfway, his lips soft against yours before he curls his arm tighter around your waist, pressing harder. You sigh into the kiss, eagerly pulling him in. The bell on your bracelet rings softly, a low chime that reverberates in his chest, when you clutch his shirt a little tighter.

You hum against his lips before pulling apart, gently biting down on his bottom lip before letting go. 

Dick shudders against you, his eyes fluttering open. 

“Oh.” He murmurs, mostly to himself. 

You smile, brushing your nose against his. “Am I that good of a kisser?” 

A quiet laugh slips out of him and he nods. “Yeah. Really, really, really good. The best I’ve ever had.” 

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow. “So you’ve kissed other girls?” 

“Oh hush.” 

Dick dips his head again, pressing another kiss to your lips, slower this time. There’s no stopping the fireworks that explode under his eyelids with every touch. 

Gojo runs a hand through his hair, finally dropping his cursed technique. “Finally.” He gives Riko a playful glare. “No more babysitting.” 

Riko sticks her tongue out at Gojo, who sticks his tongue right back out.

And then it happens, too fast for anyone to notice, too fast for anyone to stop it—

A sword plunges through Gojo’s chest.

x.

You laugh at a joke your Japanese literature teacher says, your blue pen scribbling away in your notebook. 

The spring breeze flows in through the open windows, bringing the smell of sunshine and slow blooming flowers in the air. You turn your head towards the window, taking a small sniff of the spring air and your pulse thrums with excitement.

It was the perfect day. You were going to go to the cafe with your friends later, cram school today was closed and—

Something tears through your chest.

You stand up abruptly, your chair falling over backwards while white, hot, burning pain sears through your ribs. The air disappears from your lungs, your fingers clutching the wooden desk until the whites of your knuckles show. Spots fly in and out of your vision and your knees buckle underneath your weight.

Just over the ringing in your ears and in between the way your breath stutters and rasps like you can’t get air in your lungs, you can hear Gojo’s voice echoing faintly in your head. 

What—

And then the pain subsides, gone as quick as it came, replaced by a dull ache. 

You gasp, head jerking up. Your teacher stares at you, stunned, as do all your classmates.

The silence stretches, smothering all sound. 

“Are you okay?” Your teacher’s hand hovers from where she was writing on the blackboard, chalk still held in between her fingers. “Do you need to go to the nurse?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m sorry. I just—“ 

Wait— 

Your breath catches. The word isn’t yours. 

You try to swallow, but nothing goes down. 

The taste of blood fills your mouth, thick and overpowering. 

Your throat—

Your throat—

Why can’t you breathe? A raspy sound comes out your mouth, a sound you never knew you were capable of making, but no air comes. 

Your hands fly up to the column of your throat before you can even understand why, thin red lines appearing across your neck, nails scraping against skin that feels too hot, too tight, too fragile.

Your mouth opens again, but no sound comes out, not even a wheeze.

The ringing in your ear swells like the crescendo of a song, drowning everything out — voices, footsteps, your own heartbeat.

Your teacher is moving now, pushing chairs out of her way as she rushes towards you. Someone is screaming. Desks scrape violently across the floor but you can’t hear a thing.

You can’t speak. You can’t breathe. You can’t—

Something snaps inside you, searing pain lighting every nerve on fire like someone had ripped your spinal cord out your body. 

You choke on air that still won’t come, a thin line of blood slipping past your lips, sticky and warm, but it isn’t enough, it isn’t enough, it isn’t enough — nothing is enough — because he’s—

Your body convulses around a pain that’s not yours, can’t be yours, shouldn’t be yours—

He’s—

Your vision splinters into white.  

The room tilts, tilts, tilts, and the floor disappears from your feet. 

Your knees give out. 

Your teacher screams your name — you think, you can’t hear anything over the ringing in your head.

Your eyes roll back. 

And in the split second before the world turns black, you realize the worst thing of all: 

You can’t feel Gojo.

x.

The cursed sword sticks out from under Gojo’s nose, his entire body’s nerve signals misfiring. 

This couldn’t be possible. 

And then he feels his blood, thick and sticky, sliding down his throat but never going down, and blaring heat and pressure against his neck. 

This shouldn’t be happening. He was untouchable, he should be untouchable, he is–

Toji rips the blade out of his neck, harsh and fast. 

The world tilts underneath Gojo’s feet, his head filled with a dull buzzing that only grows louder and louder and the colors of the world suddenly look strangely muted. 

Everything moves in slow motion around him. His eyes lock on to the blood stained blade Toji held up, driving it closer and closer towards his chest. Every instinct and more tells him to move, to shield, to do something – but he can’t. 

His body feels detached, alien – like it wasn’t his anymore. 

A pulse of shame runs through him, cutting through the shock, but it’s not enough as his muscles stay rooted to the ground, even as Toji drives the blade into his chest, over and over and over again. 

Gojo falls forward, his eyes rolling backwards. 

Toji’s oily laugh is the last thing he remembers hearing before the blade plunges through his skull –

“Ew!” Riko points at it, laughing excitedly, her eyes lit up. “It’s so ugly!”

They both cackle with delight, screaming with joy as a wave knocks them off their feet. 

Geto watches them from the sand, shaking his head with an affectionate sigh before turning to Kuroi. 

Kuroi watches Riko with an affectionate smile, the rays of the sun warming the sand across her toes. “They seem like they’re having fun.”

The sound of the waves crashing into the shore mixes with the sound of seagulls squawking as they fly through the bright blue sky. 

“Are we sure this is okay though?” Kuroi asks, adjusting her grip on the beach volleyball she was holding. “Shouldn’t we be… preparing?”

Geto shakes his head. “It’s fine. I suppose this is Satoru’s way of showing compassion for Riko, but still—“ he cups his hands around his mouth.”— we should get going. Satoru! Let’s go!”

Riko pouts as she trudges up towards Geto and Kuroi. Gojo follows behind her, pausing just once to scan the horizon and catching the way the sun sparkles across the blue waves before stepping along the sand again. 

Geto lowers his voice as Gojo nears the two of them, his suggestion of staying longer in Okinawa ringing in the air. “You’ve been using your technique nonstop since yesterday.” He stares concerningly at Gojo. “You haven’t been sleeping either. Are you sure we don’t need to go back to Tokyo?” 

Geto’s eyes dip to where Gojo had been unconsciously rubbing at his sternum. “Are you sure she’s okay?”

Gojo glances over to where Riko, who had cheered up exponentially at the prospect of staying longer in Okinawa. “Yeah.” He answers finally. “Look at her. She’s happy staying another day.”

“You know that’s not who I mean.”

Gojo doesn’t respond. Instead, he straightens, ignoring the way his head was spinning, the burning behind his eyes and the bile rising in his throat. “We’re good. I’m good. Besides, you’re here too.” 

Gojo claps a hand onto Geto’s shoulder and turns around, the conversation left behind. 

x.

You suppose you were glad Gojo had the decency to tell you he’d be leaving — but it was hard to be anything except fucking miserable.

You heave into the toilet bowl, choking on an involuntary sob. 

You hate this. You hate the soulmate bond. You hate that you get sick every time he leaves. You hate—

You retch into the toilet bowl again, the porcelain cold against your clammy fingers. 

You wipe your mouth on ripped toilet paper, forcing yourself to breathe in heavily. Your mother stands just outside the bathroom, eyebrows knit together in concern. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Her hand hovers over your back before she lets it fall over your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles over your skin. 

You shake your head, closing your eyes. “No.” You mumble, leaning back against the wall. “You can’t do anything.” Your eyelids droop, head slowly dropping forward. “M’so tired.” You mumble, eyes burning as tears prick the corners. 

It was true. You have never felt this tired before. No matter how much you slept, a heavy sort of exhaustion was set deep in your bones. 

Your mother purses her lips before gently smoothing the hair over the top of your head. “I’m sorry, baby.”

You stifle another sob as a flash of pain suddenly flares again, pins and needles stabbing your chest with every breath you take. 

“I’m going to get you some water.” Your mother continues, her voice soft against your ears. “Try and drink some, okay?”

You nod in response. She steps back, looking over your defeated figure slumped on the ground before hurrying off to the kitchen. 

The sounds of her footsteps disappear down the stairs and you pull your legs into your chest, resting your cheek on the tops of your knees. 

The sentence slips out your mouth before you can stop it and you hate that you can’t stop it, but even moreso, you hate that you mean it with every fiber of your being. 

“I miss Satoru.”

x.

The sickness lasts for only a day and a half. 

You stare up at the ceiling, shoulders drooping when the last of your fever subsides. 

You could finally breathe again. You let out a sigh of relief, sinking deeper into the comforter. 

Two days. The fastest you’ve ever felt better when Gojo has left town. 

Maybe Gojo had returned — but you knew better. You always knew when Gojo was back in Tokyo, your body wouldn’t let you not know.

Belatedly, you think about the article you had read online years ago, back when you were searching desperately for answers and autonomy. 

In some cases, the bond can be weakened.

Something in your chest lifts. You ignore the ball of guilt in your gut and turn onto your side. 

You could fall in love like normal. You could fall in love like normal. You could fall in love like normal.

x.

Geto blinks when Gojo suddenly drops his rigid pose in the airplane seat, his entire body sinking into the cushioned seat. 

“You okay?”

Gojo nods, his head resting against the seat headrest. “Better than I’ve felt in days.” He says honestly. His eyes flutter shut, long white lashes sweeping across the tops of his cheeks. 

Geto hums, glancing over at the row next to them where Riko and Kuroi had been napping. “I wonder why.”

Gojo’s eyes snap open, his mouth setting into a downturned frown. “I wonder why too.”

The airplane continues to hum through the air, the vibrations loud. 

His frown deepens, head tilting as though he could hear an unintelligible sound that way. 

And then he feels it — soft and barely there at all, like a flicker of a flame — your pulse beating in time with his, just beneath his skin. 

You hum quietly to yourself, collecting the books you’ve strewn across your apartment, a steady collection growing in your arms. 

The black hoodie you’re wearing sweeps past the soft expanse of your thighs, stretching past your fingertips. You won’t comment on the fact that it still smells like lavender and bergamot, won’t comment on the fact that you’re secretly glad he didn’t take it back from you, won’t comment on the fact that it’s actually—

Someone knocks politely at your door. 

You blink, relaxing your fingers from where they’ve tightened around the book spines before walking to the door, carefully balancing the stack of books as you swing the door open. 

“Hey.”

You look up into Dick’s eyes, a soft blue illuminated by the glowing sun behind you. 

How pretty. 

“Hi.” You pull the door open wider, letting him come through the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

Dick reaches over, warm hands brushing yours as he takes the stack of books in your hands. “I wanted to ask if you would be down to grab some froyo with me.”

You direct him towards a small bookcase in the back of the room, carefully reshelving the books. “Yeah, I’d love to.” You stick the last book into the shelf, clapping your hands free of dust. “You know me, I do love my sweet treats.”

Dick smiles, soft and earnest. “Yeah. I know.”

He takes a small step back, eyebrows furrowing as he takes in your clothes. “Is that my hoodie?”

You freeze. Dick watches you innocently, unable to hide the smile forming on his face. 

You cross your arms over your chest, staring out the window. “You gave it to me, remember?”

He holds up his free hand in surrender. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to ask for it back.”

You squint at him. 

Dick laughs lightly, the sound matching the warmth of your apartment, settling itself nicely within the corners of the room. Your heart jumps a little at the sound.  

“It looks good on you, that’s all.” He turns on his heel, already halfway to the door. “So, froyo?”

You nod, dutifully ignoring the heat on your cheeks — definitely not from the sun — and follow him out, slipping your sneakers on as the door closes quietly behind you. 

x. 

Your frozen yogurt tower sits on the scale next to Dick’s, though his looks meager in comparison. Sprinkles, chocolate covered pretzels and mochi, fresh fruit and Rice Krispies scatter across the top of yours, while Dick’s has nothing but some fresh fruit and a whopping three gummy bears. 

He raises an eyebrow. “You weren’t joking about your sweet tooth.”

You roll your eyes, smiling at the cashier as she sticks a spoon into your frozen yogurt tower. “And you are the liar, you said you like the sweet stuff.” 

You reach for your wallet as the cashier turns the iPad around, but Dick gently shakes his head, pushing your hand away. “My treat.”

You hesitate, fingers still wrapped around your Dior card holder before nodding, forcing yourself to let go of the sheepskin leather accessory. 

He hands you your cup, the blue plastic spoon stuck precariously in the frozen yogurt mountain. “By the way,” Dick’s cheeks turn a soft shade of red when his fingers brush the tips of yours accidentally, “I didn’t lie. I do like sweet things.”

You gesture towards his small frozen yogurt cup. “Your froyo says otherwise.” 

“I just have a strict diet.” He admits sheepishly, guiding you towards a window seat. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a sweet tooth.”

You pull your spoon out your mouth. “Well, that’s no fun. Life is short, you should enjoy all the yummy things it has to offer. Like frozen yogurt, ice cream, candy—“

“Vanilla?” 

Dick offers the word quietly, swirling his spoon around  his frozen yogurt concoction. 

You pause, spoon held mid-air. 

It all comes flooding back to you, your cheeks unbearably warm. 

Tastes like vanilla?

“Yeah.” You clear your throat, averting your gaze. “Vanilla is good too.”

Dick hums, scooping a spoonful of frozen yogurt into his mouth, smiling knowingly. “That’s good. I really like vanilla.”

You engross yourself in trying to get the perfect bite — the right amount of froyo with sprinkles, a mochi, parts of a chocolate covered pretzel, fruit — all while ignoring the fact that everything you were eating was tasteless as the butterflies in your stomach took over. 

“Anyways,” Dick looks over at you, letting himself bask one last time in the shy look on your face before continuing. “I did have an ulterior motive today when I asked you out for some froyo.”

“Yeah?” You look up with mild interest, desperately hoping the heat on your cheeks was nowhere near visible on your face. “And what is that?”

The clouds part from outside the window, the warm sunlight shining through the thick plexiglass to illuminate the blue and pink plastic tables. 

You ignore the way Dick’s blue eyes seem to swallow you whole, heart pounding in your chest. The light illuminates them for a moment, his head tilted just right. 

You look back down at your cup, shoveling a spoonful of melting froyo into your mouth. How pretty.

“I wanted to talk to you about… the kiss?” Dick’s voice ticks upwards, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on the plastic spoon. “If that’s okay with you.” 

You force yourself to smile. “Yeah, of course!” 

The smile plastered on your face begins to ache on your cheeks, but you keep your gaze steady on Dick. 

Here it comes. 

You brace yourself, stomach churning. You already knew what he was going to say — that it was a mistake, he shouldn’t have done it, that he didn’t know what he was thinking, that maybe you guys should just be friends or even friends with benefits—

“I like you.” 

You blink. “Huh?”

“Sorry that was–” He laughs awkwardly, looking away. “Wait, okay– so I do like you but I didn’t think it would come out like that.” Dick groans slightly, rubbing his eyes before he holds up his hand. “Hold on. I just need a minute to–” He glances at your dumbstruck face before sighing in defeat. “Yeah.” 

“Oh.” Your mouth opens and closes without a sound coming out. 

“Sorry.” Dick sighs again, “that wasn't super smooth or suave, was it?” 

You shake your head, a small laugh making its way out of your mouth. 

“Well, I meant it.” Dick clenches the cup slightly, the paper cup bending underneath his fingertips before he lets go, fingers flexing on the cold surface. “I do like you.” He glances up at you hesitantly. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to tell you that I do like you. And the kiss– I really liked it, probably a little too much, but–”

His cheeks redden and he coughs awkwardly into the crook of his elbow. “ Yeah. I just wanted you to know. You don’t have to do anything about it.” 

Your chest feels very warm right now. 

“Oh.” You focus on the slow collapse of your froyo tower, the toppings drooping down the side. “Okay.” 

DIck looks up at you. “Okay?” His eyebrows knit together, nervousness written all over his face. “Okay good?” He asks carefully, “Or okay like we should just never talk about this again and pretend like it never happened?”

You shake your head, laughing slightly. “No, no, I meant like okay, cool.” You swirl the spoon around in your cup before forcing yourself to take another spoonful. “I just didn’t think that was where this conversation was going?” 

Dick tilts his head. “What did you think we were going to talk about?” 

“Um…” You hesitate before answering, your voice low and whispered, barely heard over the noise of the froyo shop as a little league soccer team filed in. “I just thought maybe… you regretted it? That you were going to tell me it was a mistake or maybe you just wanted to be friends who also happened to kiss sometimes?” 

Dick snorts, despite himself before immediately shaking his head vigorously. “No, well, I mean if you wanted to be friends that did that, I would be down for it but–” he chuckles lightly again. “No, I don’t think any of those things. That's why I wanted to talk to you.” Dick’s blue eyes search your face, tracing over the curves of your cheeks and the slope of your nose. “I don’t regret anything. The kiss. You. I keep thinking about it actually.” 

Your stomach flips traitorously, the corners of your lips threatening to break out into a gigantic smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Dick echoes. He shovels a spoonful of melting froyo into his mouth. “Really ruins my cool guy image, doesn’t it?” 

You laugh. “Well, for what it’s worth–” 

You bump your thigh lightly against his under the table. “I like you too.” 

Dick blinks before nodding. “Okay. perfect.” He nods again, keeping his blue eyes focused on his half empty froyo cup, feeling the heat crawl up his neck and his cheeks. “Cool, cool, cool.”

“You’re still trying to keep your ‘cool guy’ image right now, aren’t you?”

Dick coughs before shaking his head, hurriedly pushing the last spoonful of his frozen yogurt into his mouth. 

You hum and say nothing, but the smile on your face matches his all the same. 

x.

Dick swivels around in his seat, turning to face his group mates as Professor Smith continues to drone on and on, his monotone voice becoming nothing more than background drivel.

The powerpoint slide blown up behind them details bullet point after bullet point on their group project. The boy in front of Dick squints his eyes when Professor Smith accidentally bumps into his projector, the light suddenly blinding. 

“Jesus Christ,” He scowls, shielding his eyes from retinal damage. “Professor Smith needs to retire already.” 

Dick snorts, typing something on his laptop. “No kidding. I think he’s been here since the university was founded.” 

“I think he’s tenured.” The girl sitting next to Dick sighs, scrolling through her phone, “He’s never leaving the school.” 

“Yeah.” The boy snorts, glancing over at Dick. “He’s gonna be haunting the hallways, moaning something about management information systems.” 

Dick shudders, laughing softly. “The horror. Real scary stuff.” 

“Anyways, I was thinking if everyone was free right now, we could meet up at the library for a bit? Like an hour or two, start drafting out what to do and everything and then meet up again maybe on saturday or same time next week.” The girl next to Dick smiles at the two boys. “What do you think? By the way, I’m Audra.” 

“James.” He gives her a thumbs up. “I’m free. Sounds good to me.”

Dick nods, reaching for his phone to take a photo of the projector slide. “Dick — and I’m down for the meeting after this.” 

“Cool.” Audra smiles, looking up towards Professor Smith as he dismisses the class. “Perfect timing because we just ended.” She shoves her laptop into her bag before looking expectantly at the two men who sit there, dumbstruck. “Get moving!”

James and Dick exchange a glance, the corner of Dick’s lips twitching upwards on one end, pulling it into an uneven smile before he puts his laptop into his bag, swinging it over his shoulder with James following suit. 

He falls into step with James, the two of them filing down the stairs with the rest of the kids in the class murmuring complaints over the group project while Audra waits impatiently outside the doors, bouncing up and down on her tiptoes.  

Something tugs at him, forcing him to glance up from where he’s stepping carefully down the stairs.

Then he sees you. 

You’re walking past the doors of his lecture hall, your straw stuck in your mouth as you slowly sip on your half-drunk coffee. You don’t look up at first, too engrossed on your phone but Dick watches you anyways, the strange tug in his chest growing stronger with each second. 

Like his body knows you before his brain does.

You glance up briefly, soft eyes illuminated by the sun shining in through the window before they land on Dick’s.  

You pause. 

He raises his hand, soft and tentative, a small, hopeful half-wave. 

You lift your hand, fingers wiggling. You weave through the crowd, the golden rays of the sun following behind you as they illuminate your path closer and closer towards him. 

Dick doesn’t even remember Audra and James are with him, the entire world narrowing as you lean against the doorframe, swirling your coffee cup in your hand. 

“Hi.” You smile. 

“Hey.” Dick says back easily, his hand automatically reaching for yours. His fingers find yours, squeezing your free hand once before sliding your longchamp off your shoulder to swing over his. 

Audra watches the two of you, eyes shining before she clears her throat lightly. Dick blinks before turning around to face his two group members like he’s in a trance.

“Hi.” She greets you before looking over to Dick. “Is this your girlfriend?” 

Dick glances at you once before nodding, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Yeah.” 

You smile before leaning into his touch. 

“I’m Audra and this is James.” She cocks her head towards the blonde haired boy, who jerks his head towards you in greeting. “Yo.” 

“We’re going to the library to do a group project.” Audra continues, eyes flicking back and forth from the dopey smile on Dick’s face to your finger absentmindedly tracing nonsensical shapes on his forearm. “Do you want to come with?” 

Dick carefully slips your hand into his, squeezing once then twice. 

The sun crawls up your body, warm and comforting, but nothing is warmer than the way Dick watches you, the corner of his eyes crinkled as the three people wait patiently for your answer. 

“Yeah.” You answer, shifting closer to Dick. Audra smiles, bouncing away towards the stairs with James following behind closely, listening as she chatters on about citations and deadlines. 

You glance down at your intertwined hands before looking down the hallway, walking behind the two people. 

Dick doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time. 

Good morning Gotham and thanks for choosing to tune in to BAAT 103.7FM! If this is your first time listening in, welcome and if you’re a long time listener, hello again! Today, we have two very special guests joining us for a crowd favorite segment: Bone Deep. 

Tune in at 12PM as we speak with the most highly requested Bruce Wayne, and [Full Name], the couple that had once turned every head in Gotham before their breakup two years ago. We’ll get to hear them both as they ask each other questions about their former relationship and how their lives are doing now as they reconnect. This interview will also be available in video format on our Youtube channel by the end of the week so be sure to check that out!

I won’t say anything more to preserve the surprise. Now here’s Jeff Buckley with his song, ‘Lover, You Should’ve Come Over.’

x.

Someone hands you a set of plastic cards, questions written in dark bold letters across the white cardstock. Across from you, Bruce looks over at his own set of questions, his blue eyes darting from one side of the page to the other as he reads. Another set of hands adjust the microphone in front of you to the proper height before handing you a pair of headphones.  

The host looks over at the both of you, smiling. “Are we ready?” 

You nod. 

Bruce clears his throat lightly, his eyes flicking over towards you once, unnoticed by anyone in the room, before nodding. He slips his headphones on, adjusting the cuffs of his button down as he turns back towards the mic, your own silhouette just before him. 

If he tried hard enough, he could reach out and hold your hand again – but he won’t. 

The host hums in satisfaction. “Perfect!” They glance at the window booth behind them, the sound tech manager holding his hand up. 

“And we are back in 5–“

Bruce looks at the purse perched next to you on the end of the wooden table. 

He’s quite certain he bought you that Lady Dior — you had been eyeing the limited edition but had refused to buy for some reason that you always refused to articulate, even when Bruce had offered to buy it for you, even when your personal shopper had specially set it aside for you.

So he bought it for you anyway – and you had thanked him with stars in your eyes and millions of kisses pressed on his cheeks and his lips, and he distinctly remembers thinking he would buy you everything in the world if it made you always smile like that.

“4–“

You stare ahead into the mesh of the microphone, willing yourself not to look over at Bruce.

Your eyes drop down to the sleeves of his shirt, catching the way his platinum cufflinks gleam in the light.

You’re pretty certain that’s your favorite one of his, bought from a private jeweler you had dragged him to at a jewelry show. 

He told you he didn’t need another set of cufflinks to go with his massive collection already. 

He only wore this set after you had given it to him, the rest of the cufflinks be damned. 

“3–“

Bruce can still smell your perfume like you had just sprayed it, notes of wild figs and white cedar, despite the rush of wind coming from the air conditioner, despite how long it’s been since he’s last smelled it. 

“2–“

He still cracks his knuckles when he’s nervous, you notice. 

“And we’re back! Once again, thank you all so much for tuning in to BAAT 103.7FM! I’m sure we’ve all been waiting for this segment, so without further ado, welcome to Bone-Deep. Today we have Bruce Wayne and [Full Name] joining us.” The host swivels slightly in his chair to face you. “You two have been one of the most highly requested guests to appear on our show. Thank you both so much for coming!”

You smile, nodding along enthusiastically. “Thank you so much for giving us the opportunity to be here.”

“So, have either of you ever listened to a ‘Bone Deep’ segment before?” 

“I have.” Bruce answers, his voice smooth as he speaks into the microphone. “It’s been very entertaining.” He avoids your gaze as he finishes his sentence. “I look forward to our time on air with you today.”

“Awesome!  Now, in front of you two, you each have a set of questions to ask each other — and there are no repeating questions within each set. You’ll each take turns asking the other about the relationship and how things have been since you have last seen each other.”

The host gestures for the two of you to pick up the cards. “But before we begin, let’s start off with an easy question for the both of you. Could each of you tell me one thing about the other person that might surprise people?”

Your hand squeaks on the wood of the table. 

For the first time in too long, you look up into Bruce’s eyes, the same shade of blue you spent two years trying not to think about. He holds your gaze steadily for a few seconds before dropping it, looking back towards the host. 

“She’s very fast at connecting the dots so she has a tendency to start a conversation midway.”

“That’s what some people call ‘quick-witted.’” The host grins. “It’s a trait I wish I had.”

“Me too.” Bruce says softly. 

Your heart beats a little faster in your chest, pressing against your ribs. 

“And you, [Name]?  What about Bruce?”

You don’t look at either of them, choosing instead to focus on a tiny spot next to the mic stand of the host. “Bruce is very funny — much more than people realize.”

Bruce works up the courage to look at you, really look at you — but you avoid his gaze. Instead, you force a smile on your cheeks, careful to crinkle the lines around your eyes, your voice upbeat. “Shall we get right into it?”

“I couldn’t have said that better myself.” The host gestures towards Bruce. “Bruce, why don’t you start?”

He nods, picking up the cards in front of him. The edges of the cardstock dig into his fingers, little pinpricks of pain that he barely registers. 

With a deep breath, Bruce begins to read.

x.

It’s too easy to fall back into old rhythms.

Bruce tells jokes that you’d only laugh at if you knew him well enough — and you hate that you do, because you end up holding back your giggles like an idiot. 

You give him that little glare that makes him sigh in defeat whenever he tries to deflect a question before answering honestly. 

He pretends like he doesn’t notice your foot gently pressing against his leg, the fabric riding up his calf when you cross and uncross your legs.

You pretend like you don’t miss the way he taps his fingers gently on the arm of his chair, a rhythm that only he could hear but you knew by heart nonetheless. 

You stare at the last card in your hand. 

The question is predictable, to say the least – but then again, of course it would be. Bruce’s publicist had approved of every question to be spoken or unspoken. 

Is there anything that you hope they’re happy with now?

You bounce your leg softly, slowing to a stop when you feel the tips of your heels brush against the fabric of Bruce’s pants again. 

His eyes flit towards you at the motion despite being in the midst of his answer to the last question you had asked (what’s one misconception that the public had regarding the relationship?) before returning his attention back to the host.

Bruce adjusts in his seat, sliding closer to the front of the chair. 

Underneath the table, you can hear the shuffle of his shoes as he moves. You glance down, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes, the corners of your lips already pulling up at the ends when you notice the black tips of his leather shoes suddenly half an inch closer to your foot than it was before. 

Bruce gently taps his fingers on the table, pulling your attention back up just in time to meet the host’s gaze when they look back towards you. 

“Now! We’re beginning to wrap up our segment. I’d like to thank the both of you once again for coming. It has truly been an honor. I’d like to take the last few minutes of our segment to talk about something a bit more recent. Bruce–” 

The host swivels around in their chair to face him. “You’ve got a charity gala next week–”

You hum, tilting your head slightly to the side. 

“Actually,” you interrupt the host before they can burst into a long spiel about the guests attending. “I have two more questions I’d like to ask Bruce.” 

The host blinks. “Well, that is… unprecedented, but sure! As long as Bruce agrees–”

“I do.” He says quietly. 

“Oh!” The host laughs nervously, curling their hand around the mic stand. “Well, I suppose there are no objections. Ask away.” 

You lean forward, pressing yourself against the edge of the table. Across from you, Bruce raises his eyebrow ever so slightly before leaning in just as much. 

“Do you miss me?”

Silence. 

The static in the room seems to grow in volume. 

The host whips their head nervously around back towards you. “Oh– oh, that’s not one of the preapproved questions–”

You ignore them, keeping your eyes steady against the weight of Bruce’s gaze seemingly trying to swallow you whole. 

“Bruce.” You call his name softly. “Answer the question, please.”

You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly as he exhales through his nose. Somewhere in your peripheral vision, you watch as Bruce brings his hands back under the table, his finger rubbing against his empty left ring finger. 

He looks up at the big red ‘ON AIR’ sign lit up. All of Gotham, all of Metropolis, all of the tristate area was listening. 

He answers anyway.

“... Yes.” 

His answer makes your heart do a somersault. 

You refuse to let up. 

You tap the tips of your shoes against his, gently pulling his attention back towards you. The host seems to disappear, along with the rest of the world until there is nothing left but Bruce and you alone in the room with the soundproof walls and secrets that disappeared as quickly as they were thought of. 

“What do you miss about me?” You ask, quieter this time. 

Somewhere behind the plexiglass, the sound manager fiddles with a few knobs as he tries to pick up the softness of your voice, the quiet of your question disappearing in the corners of the room. 

Bruce raises his eyebrow. “Do you ask that question to all your exes?”

You shrug, finally leaning back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest.  “You’re deflecting again.”

“And you’re asking inappropriate questions.” Bruce says back. “How about you go first?” 

You laugh, a small puff of air more than an actual sound. “That’s not how questions work. I asked first so you–”

“[Name],” Bruce cuts you off, the shape of your name sweet on his tongue. He pauses for a second when you slowly still, meeting his gaze with wide, innocent eyes. “[Name],” he says again, resting his head against his palm held against his temple. “What do you miss about me?” 

You worry your bottom lip in between your teeth, all the words in the English language suddenly failing you. 

You missed everything about him. 

You missed too much of him. 

You wet your lips despite the dryness of your mouth. “I miss…”

“I miss your voice.” You finally whisper, pressing your lips into a thin line after the sentence slips out. You keep your gaze steady on the wooden grain of the table before opening your mouth again, heart threatening to leap out your throat. “You have a very nice voice, and it was always very calming.”

“And I miss the way you’d say my name.” You continue on slowly, your eyes suddenly staring at something very far away. “It was always said so kindly, even when you had been upset with me.” You pause, exhaling. “I liked hearing it.” 

You clear your throat, shaking your head slightly. Bruce watches your hair gently rock back and forth with the motion, your bangs falling in front of your eyes, soft strands of your hair sweeping past the smooth column of your neck. 

You give him a polite smile. “Satisfactory?” 

He nods, the tiniest of smiles playing across the edges of his lips. 

“Now it’s your turn.” You look at him expectantly, folding your arms across your chest. “What do you miss about me?”

Bruce takes a breath, the ribs in his chest expanding before he exhales. “I miss your laugh.” 

You nod, gesturing for him to continue. 

“You had a very nice laugh.” 

Even the words seem to surprise him. Bruce blinks, both eyebrows raising before he continues. He straightens, his shoulders rolling back. 

“I miss how you’d call for my help whenever you saw anything you didn’t like – a bug, a book that’s too high on the shelf, a dinner you could no longer finish.” 

He looks past your shoulder. 

“I miss your smile.”

You lift your eyes slowly, taking in every word. Bruce meets your eyes, a steady, sincere gaze that you love so dearly. 

“I miss your books left all over the manor – always half-read, never to be finished.” 

You hum. “Go on.”

“I miss the way you’d shove your cold hands down my back to make me flinch.”

“Keep going.” You laugh, remembering the cold winter days in the Wayne manor, a fireplace always kept burning in the large space of Bruce’s office, the feeling of his skin warm under your icy fingertips, the ripple of his muscles as he jerked away from your touch but never straying too far.

“I miss how you’d have me lay on top of you like a weighted blanket.”

The small smile on your face grows a little wider. “Keep going.” 

“I miss how you’d raise your arms when you wanted to be hugged.”

“Another one.” 

Bruce chuckles softly, shaking his head. “You are being very greedy.” 

You roll your eyes, mouth open to retort but it never comes. 

Bruce finally meets your eyes once more, the blue of his eyes bright under the fluorescent lighting of the room, searching, searching, searching – for what, you’re not too sure. 

He opens his mouth again before closing it. 

And again. 

Then, almost reluctantly, almost a slip of the tongue, his eyes still on yours, never once faltering–

“... I miss kissing you.” 

Bruce’s confession sits heavily between the both of you, the words heard by thousands of people over the radio, never to be taken back. 

You don’t know what to say. The blood rushes to your ears, your mouth parting in surprise. Bruce’s expression holds no answers to the questions racing through your head, each one lost before it could ever reach your tongue. 

Bruce doesn’t say anything more. 

You’re not sure if you want him to. 

The studio hums with the sound of electrical equipment, the confession hanging in the air, waiting to be acknowledged. 

And then the host’s laptop rings. 

And rings.

And rings.

The soundboard manager looks almost panicked as his board lights up in millions of different colors, thousands of incoming calls streaming in all at once. 

Slowly, the world comes rushing back in. The host clears their throat almost apologetically, glancing back and forth between the two of you. 

“I… think this is a good place to end today’s segment.”

Neither of you argue. 

a/n: this was inspired by a scene in an upcoming indie play called the 'Playback'. More specifically, it was based off of this tiktok edit that I saw and i have linked here

Dick curls his arm around your waist, pulling you in impossibly closer. The world slowly disappears around the two of you, his other hand skimming across your waist, thumb brushing against your exposed back. He can’t remember how his hand got there – only that it is, and that it feels right.

Did he tell you he really liked your makeup? Well, whatever, it doesn’t matter now – but he thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen – you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

You tug on his necklace again. ‘I’ll be really good. I promise.’ 

Your noses brush together. His heart races in his chest. 

‘You promise?’ He can hear himself, voice low and rough. ‘You’ll be good for me?’ 

You nod before he even finishes his question, a smile on your soft lips. ‘Yeah. So come and find out if it’s vanilla, won’t you?’

Your lips are closer than ever, already hovering over his. He can feel your grip tightening on his necklace, your other hand cupping his jaw, the ghost of your touch against his skin right now, your breath on his lips. 

Dick leans in, closer, closer, closer–

He presses his lips lightly against yours, pulling your chest flush against his. You moan into the kiss, hands flying up to tangle themselves in his hair, pulling him deeper in.  

Fuck, he could do this forever–whatever it would take to hear that pretty sound come out of your mouth again.

You tug on the hairs at the base of his neck, opening your mouth as he kisses you deeper, harder, tongue brushing against yours. 

The bell on your bracelet rings by his ear when you pull lightly at his messy black hair, soft and sweet, echoing in his chest. 

Your lip gloss does taste like vanilla. 

He’s so glad he was right. He could feel the slick gloss smearing across his lips, his chin, marking him as yours. His hand reaches up to tilt your jaw as he slips his tongue into your mouth. 

You whine at his touch, shuffling on his lap. He swallows it with pleasure, his lips crashing back against yours after pulling apart for a breath, like he couldn’t bear to be apart for any longer than he needed to. 

His name tumbles from your lips like a prayer, like the only word that you’ve ever known, in that voice that he dreams about. 

Dick breaks away slightly and you protest, a little noise escaping your mouth. You shake your head, chasing after him, your lips swollen and gloss messily smeared all across your chin. 

Well, who was he to deny you? 

He meets you again, mumbling against your lips, swallowing every little sound you make. “Fuck, I could–” Dick moans when you suck gently at his lower lip, biting softly. “I’ve been wanting this for so long– oh, shit– baby, I–” His hands wander across your back, settling on your hips before squeezing. 

“Baby, I–” Dick throws his head back when you press your lips against his cheek before kissing down his neck, sucking softly. “Fuck– baby, I love this, I love–”

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP 

Dick jolts awake, his heart racing in his chest. He stares at the white ceiling above him while his incessant alarm clock continues to blare loudly in his room. 

The early morning rays of the sun shine across his face, a gentle breeze filtering through the window, flirting with his white curtains. He groans, smacking his alarm clock and the room is filled with silence once more. 

He can still feel the ghost of his dream on his lips, the taste of vanilla on his tongue. 

Dick sighs, turning over to bury himself in his pillow and not for the first time since he’s met you, he thinks about a big stuffed rabbit plushie and wonders if it’s as soft as it looks.

x.

You’re avoiding him.

Dick’s jaw muscle ticks upwards once, forcing himself to keep his eyes trained on the blank document opened on his laptop screen. You sit on the other side of the table they’ve all gathered at in the Kane Memorial Library, situated as far away as possible. 

You type away on your laptop, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, nails clacking away on your little butterfly keyboard as you work on the literature review of your dissertation. Donna leans over from where she’s sitting next to you, pointing at something on the screen and you laugh sheepishly, pushing her hand away. 

He forces himself to type his name on his paper, a tiny semblance of being an actual, hardworking student, ignoring the empty seat beside him.

You usually sit next to him – almost always, your body angled slightly towards him as he pulled your legs over his thigh, your foot hooking onto his calf, resting your chin on his shoulder as you both scrolled through his phone together. 

Dick glances up from his laptop, meeting your eyes from over the rim of his laptop. Your eyes widen, like you weren’t expecting him to look back before you smile, soft and polite, and return your attention back to your laptop. 

Okay, so you were definitely avoiding him on purpose. 

Wally clears his throat from next to Dick, reaching for his blue water bottle. “Can I have some? I forgot mine and I’m not paying $2 for a plastic one.”

“Yeah!” Dick looks up at the sound of your voice, a smile on your face as you look at Wally, “Save the dinosaurs–I mean turtles, sorry.”

“That’s for straws, gorgeous.” Roy gently corrects you and you roll your eyes, sticking your tongue out at him. 

Dick just nods, flexing his jaw again as Wally takes the bottle from where it’s sitting next to his silver laptop. His eyes flit back over to where you sit, but you’ve already turned your attention away, laughing at a tiktok Donna sent you. 

(look at me, look at me, look at me)

Wally sets the water bottle down, the metal clanging lightly against the table. Dick glances over, rolling his eyes when his best friend grins at him sheepishly. 

“You drank all of it, didn’t you?”

Wally holds his hands up in surrender. “So I was thirsty, sue me.”

Dick shakes his head, a smile on his lips. “You know what–” He stands up, the chair scraping behind him as he grabs his water bottle. “One of these days, I might just do it.” 

Wally lets out a noise of protest.

Dick glances around the table before his blue eyes settle on the crown of your head. “I’m going to go refill my bottle. Does anyone want anything?” 

Kori looks up briefly from her phone before shaking her head. Roy slides his own yellow water bottle across the table, the metal bottle teetering dangerously close to the edge before Dick slides his slim fingers through the handle, the two metal bottles clanking against each other. 

Donna shakes her head and Wally leans back in his seat, grinning. “Maybe a water bottle for me?”

Dick shakes his head, gently tapping his water bottle onto Wally’s forehead. “I’m not spending $2 on you either, so you and I are just going to continue sharing spit and you’ll like it.”

Dick looks up when you let out a little laugh, your hand covering your mouth. You rock your body into Kori sitting next to you, shoulders shaking. His shoulders loosen, his own lips stretching to match the one you were hiding behind the palm of your hand, and for a brief second, he wished you’d let him see it.

Kori looks over at you, your laughter contagious. “His joke wasn’t even that funny.” She teases, gently nudging you with her shoulder and you shake your head, sucking in a breath. “It was so gross–” You let out another peal of laughter, each sound intertwining with your words. “I wasn’t expecting it–”

Ah, Dick’s hand tightens around the water bottle straps before it loosens, the two metal bottles hitting his thigh. Your laugh was so pretty. 

You straighten, clearing your throat but the remnants of your smile still remain. “Okay!” You do your best to avoid looking at Kori, “I’m good now, wait–” You can’t help yourself, sneaking a peek and immediately dissolving into a fit of giggles again. “Kori! Don’t look at me!”

You hold your hand up, pointedly blocking your vision from her as you meet eyes with Dick. He blinks, a soft smile on his face. 

Come back to me, he wants to say – but he doesn’t.

You hold his gaze for a brief moment before the unguarded smile on your face drops into something politer, distant and your attention disappears back into your laptop.

His own smile twitches. 

He clears his throat, walking around the table towards the water fountain. You don’t look up once. 

Dick ignores the way Wally’s eyes bore into the back of his neck, pausing by you. Kori glances up, an eyebrow raised but doesn’t say anything. Her fingers remain motionless from where she’s scrolling on her phone. 

Dick bends down, careful not to get too close, careful, careful, care–

Orange blossoms and white peaches. 

He swallows, his heart jumping into his throat. You glance up over your shoulder, turning to face him, leaning away slightly. 

“I can refill your water bottle too.” Dick gestures to your pale pink water bottle. His heart thumps against his ribs, painfully loud and he swears you can hear it judging by the way your gaze drops to his chain dangling off his neck, the ring pendant swaying in front of your face. His voice slips into a whisper, meant for your ears only. “It’s not a problem.” 

You pull your gaze back up into his blue eyes. 

A beat. 

You shake your head, turning back to your laptop. “I’m okay, thank you though.”

Dick’s face burns. He straightens, nodding. “Okay.” His mouth has never felt so dry before. “Sounds good.” he stands behind you, frozen for half a second before he’s jerking his limbs away from you, his hands feeling empty despite the two water bottles dangling from his fingers. 

He forces himself to take slow steps, half-expecting, fully wishing that you’d change your mind and loop your arm through his like you always do, chattering excitedly about whatever you had been thinking about.

He knows better than that though. 

He turns towards the water fountain before he can spiral. This side of the library is quieter, cooler, the fluorescent lights humming above him. The whir of a printer sounds next to him, papers sliding out of it before landing in a neat little pile on the paper tray.

Dick stares at the ever-growing stack of papers for a moment. Whoever was printing all those pages must be going through a rough spot. 

He finally tears his eyes away from the never ending whir of the printer, setting Roy’s bottle down on one corner of the water fountain before unscrewing the cap of his own with hands that haven’t quite yet steadied. 

The water stream begins immediately when he pushes the bottle against the sensor, filling his bottle to the top. 

Dick watches the water rise, hoping the sound of running water would drown out the thoughts in his head, but they never do. You think he would have learned by now.

He screws his water bottle cap back on, swapping his for Roy’s yellow one. 

I’m okay, thank you though.

He grimaces slightly, rubbing his hand over his face. Even when you were pushing him away, you were still nice. Dick sighs, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he watches the water bottle slowly fill. 

Someone laughs nearby. 

His head jerks up before he even knows it, his shoulders turned towards the sound — and then he realizes he knows this laugh. 

You’re standing a few feet away, hugging a girl that Dick vaguely recognizes — your freshman year roommate? Something like that, he can’t quite tell — your arms wrapped around her, tight and snug. 

He blinks. 

The early afternoon sun rises through the skylight window, its soft golden light falling over you, bathing you in a warm glow, the rest of the world disappearing around you.

The sound of water overflowing over forces him to look away, his eyes widening as water spills out from over the rim of Roy’s bottle. “Shit.” He hurriedly grabs the bottle, hands fumbling as he spills the excess. The water sloshes out from the water fountain, little droplets splashing onto his shirt and he curses again. 

He glances over towards you, but you haven’t noticed him, still smiling the same smile he’s carved into his memory, still glowing under the sun’s spotlight, still every bit pretty he remembered. 

Bits and pieces of your conversation float through the quiet hallway, reaching Dick’s ears and his cheeks burn. He shouldn’t be listening to this, he shouldn’t even be standing here anymore—

“So, what about you and that guy? Dick? You guys looked really cute at the party!”

He forces himself to stay very, very, still. His ears strain to hear you over the pounding of his heartbeat. 

You let out a small laugh. “No, we’re just friends.”

“What?” Your friend sounds shocked. “But he looked like he really liked you. I saw you guys on the couch, you know. Looked real cozy.”

“No. He was just being nice.” You give her a rueful smile. “It was just a mistake on my end.”

Dick feels like he’s been rooted to the floor, every limb locked. 

He looks towards you helplessly, mouth opening and closing. 

“But…” your friend looks over at you, her voice lowering slightly. “You really liked him, didn’t you?”

You shift your weight — Dick can hear the soft scuff of your Onitsukas on the library linoleum floors. “Yeah.” You finally answer quietly. “But it’s okay. It’s not his fault, you know?”

You shrug, lifting your face towards the sun as you stretch. “I was getting in over my head. You know me, always rushing in before I’m sure.”

Something in Dick’s chest gives.

Your friend gives you a small laugh, reaching over to pull you into a hug and the two of you turn around the corner.

Dick stares at the two full water bottles, water droplets sliding down the metal slowly, his throat tight. 

He glances over to where you once stood before grabbing the water bottles in one hand, the two metal bottles clanging noisily against each other and turning abruptly on his heels. 

It’s more of an instinct rather than a proper decision.

“Hey— Wait— [Name].” Dick jogs over, his heart beating against his chest. You glance behind your shoulder, pausing when you catch sight of him. “Dick?”

He swallows. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

You slow down, your arm still looped around your friend, who gives Dick a sly smile. 

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

Your friend gives Dick a once-over before her jaw drops in a small ‘o’ in understanding. She turns towards you, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Hey, I’ll catch you later. Text me okay?” She untangles her arm from yours, squeezing your hand. “I mean it, text me as soon as you guys are done talking.”

She glances back at Dick, his ears a bright red before looking back at you. “Seriously. As soon as you guys are done.”

She pressed a kiss to your cheek before she lets go, giving Dick a pair of thumbs up behind your shoulder. 

‘Good luck’, she mouths. 

Dick pretends not to have noticed. 

“What’s up?” You smile, tilting your head to the side. “Did you need my help carrying—“ you glance down at the two water bottles hanging by his side, “— the two water bottles?” You let out a small laugh. “I thought you went to the gym? What’s all those muscles for?”

Dick shakes his head, tightening his grip on the water bottle handles. “No— I just…” he shakes his head, forcing himself to stare into your eyes. “Can we not— joke for a second?”

You stare at him, your smile faltering. “Um, yeah, sure.” You walk towards a row of books when the librarian stares at you pointedly. “Am I in trouble or something?”

He gives you a small smile, the corners of it barely reaching his eyes. “No.” Dick shakes his head, “You’re not in trouble at all. I just–” He inhales deeply, shutting his eyes for a moment. 

“I overheard you talking with your friend.” 

Your eyes widen, the smile wiping off your face instantly. “What?”

“Sorry.” Dick’s eyes fly open immediately at the tremble in your voice. “Sorry, I wasn’t eavesdropping, I swear. I was just filling the bottles like I said and I happened to overhear it.” 

He runs his hands through his hair, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I just want– no, I need to tell you–”

Dick looks at you, blue eyes wide and earnest. “Us. Whatever you’ve been feeling, whatever we were before – you, me, us — none of it was imagined. You weren’t reading into things. You weren’t wrong.” 

You look away, crossing your arms over your chest. “Dick, you really don’t have to–”

“No.” He cuts you off firmly. “I do.” 

You watch him, watching his jaw work itself as he struggles to come up with the right words. Your fingers tighten around your arm, the back of your neck burning as he inhales, mouth half open like he’s ready to speak before he closes it again. 

“I’m not good at this… stuff.” Dick gestures vaguely between the both of you, your one eyebrow raised. “I kept thinking about the right words to say, picking the right moment and I–” 

He huffs a breath, hanging his head. “Turns out I just kept saying nothing.”

Dick closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“I should have kissed you that night.” His voice is soft, almost drowned out by the sounds of students milling about the library shelves, but you hear it all the same.

Your face burns. Your heart threatens to beat straight out of your chest.

Dick’s eyes are so blue when he opens them again, shining under the fluorescent library lights. The metal bottles brush against his thigh, a dull ‘thud’ against his black sweatpants. 

“I should have kissed you, you don’t know how much I wanted to.” He looks at you helplessly, tracing over the curve of your lips and the soft skin of your cheeks. “You don’t— you don’t know how much I regret it, how much I wanted it, how I went home and dreamt about that exact moment and actually kissed you instead of being the coward I was.” 

“So why didn’t you?” You force the words out, a whisper more than a question.

Dick pauses his ramble, staring at you for a moment. His chest rises and falls heavily before he swallows. 

“I was scared.” He admits, tightening his grip on the water bottles slowly slipping out of his sweaty fingers. 

“I am terrified of how much I want you.” Dick whispers. He looks away towards the broken spines of paperback books behind you, staring unseeingly at the titles written in gold and black ink. 

“I want you so much, it makes me think I’m crazy.” He lets out a small chuckle at himself. “When I want something, I can’t let myself have only a little bit.” 

He pauses. 

“And I didn’t want to pull you into something unless I was sure of it.”

He finally forces his gaze back to you, ignoring the rapid beating of his heart. “It wasn’t fair to you. And I’m sorry.”

You look at him, flexing your fingers around your bicep. “And?” You stare at him imploringly, taking a tiny step closer. The space between the two of you vanishes, leaving nothing but the heat between your bodies. 

“Are you sure yet?” 

Dick nods. He raises his hand, placing it on the shelf above you, fingers gripping the ledge. “I’m sure.”

You take another small step forward, your arms unfolding from your chest. Dick holds his breath as he watches your hand reach forward, hesitating once before your finger hooks itself into his chain dangling from his shirt, the ring pendant swaying back and forth. 

His blue water bottle slips from his fingers, dropping noisily onto the ground but Dick couldn’t care less. 

You tilt your head up slightly, noses brushing. His nails scrape the shelf, grooves appearing in the old wood. 

“Sure enough to kiss me now?” You whisper, your finger pulling him in by the chain.

“Yeah.” Dick swallows, his eyes darting down to the plush of your lips before returning to your half-lidded gaze. 

You cock your head to the side, lips parted, waiting. Dick swallows, the blood rushing to his ears loud and hard, every nerve in his body extremely aware of the closing distance between his lips and yours. 

He waits for a heartbeat, pulse pounding dully in his ears before pressing his lips onto yours, soft and slow, warm and barely there at all. 

He was right, it does taste like vanilla. 

x.

Wally looks up from his phone when Dick appears at the table, sliding Roy’s bottle back to him before taking his seat. 

He sits up. 

You appear a moment later, catching Wally’s gaze and blowing a kiss his way before sitting down, digging through your bag. 

Wally glances over at Dick, the black haired boy typing away on his laptop, shoulders relaxed. He doesn’t look up once. 

Wally looks back over to you. You stare deeply into the laptop camera, mouth parted as you fix your lip gloss, the shimmering liquid catching underneath the library fluorescent lights. Roy says something that makes you laugh, holding out the lip gloss wand towards him and he pretends to pucker his lips before winking and returning back to his work. 

Something in Wally’s brain clicks. 

He takes another look at Dick, his eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought. Dick finally glances up at him, his skin prickling underneath the intense gaze. 

“What?” Dick stretches his neck, the joints popping like a glow stick. “What is it?”  

The library lights catch on Dick’s face, exposing the tiniest bit of glitter on his bottom lip. Wally tilts his head, his eyes flickering back to where you were applying the finishing touches to your lip for the briefest of moments before back to Dick.

“Nothing.” Wally finally answers, resting his chin on his palm. “You just look… different.”

“Maybe because you’ve been staring at me with no explanation.” Dick snorts, looking back at his laptop screen. 

Wally hums. “No, you seem a little more relaxed.” His eyes bounce back from Dick to you again. 

You tuck your lip gloss into your bag, sweeping your hair behind your ears. You don’t look across the table until Wally clears his throat lightly, locking his green eyes onto yours.

You tilt your head. Wally shakes his head and smiles knowingly before leaning towards Dick, chin resting on his shoulder. 

Dick glances down, an eyebrow raised as Wally opens his mouth, words barely audible over the soft shuffling of papers and keyboards clicking in the library. His entire body stills when Wally’s words finally register, Dick’s hand instinctively reaching towards his mouth to tap on his bottom lip. 

“You uh,” Wally suppresses his grin. “You got something on your mouth, man."

a/n: ok i really will put on a bit of a disappearance act now (I feel like im just constantly lying lmao) bc i need to really think out the next few chapters but anyway!!!

He blinks, a small smile forming on his face. 

“Hey. What are you doing here?” 

You look at him sheepishly. “Wally said to come over but he’s still stuck in a frat meeting and I’m locked out.” 

Dick laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corner as you speak. 

”Can I come in and wait here?” You hold up your chrysanthemum tea juice box like it’s a peace offering. “You can have some of my juice?”

Dick raises an eyebrow, opening the door wider for you to step through. “You want me to drink out of your half-finished juice box?” He leans in slightly, a teasing smile on his face. “Have all your saliva up in my mouth?” 

His hand reaches out, gently pulling your Navy longchamp off your shoulder. You slip the straw into your mouth, glaring at him half-heartedly. “Yes.” You say seriously, taking a step into his warm apartment. “I’m going to slurp it all up into my mouth and spit it into yours–mama bird style.”

Dick gags but his cheeks still warm all the same. He reaches over, plucking the juice box from your mouth to take a sip from the straw. 

His fingers brush against yours, warm and soft, a jolt running up his spine. Your hand hangs in the air, the silver bell on your bracelet letting out a soft chime when Dick gently pushes your hand back. 

His heart jumps, the sound threading into his bones and pulling him closer towards the smell of white peaches and orange blossoms. 

You gape at him, blinking in surprise while little droplets of juice dry on your skin, sticky and tacky. 

“Hey!”

Dick raises his eyebrow again, a smile curving on his lips around the straw in his mouth. “You said this was for me.” 

“I said ‘some’ not all! You fiend!” 

He gives you a little laugh, slipping the straw out his mouth. His hand reaches over before he can think, his pointer gently swiping across your chin, collecting the remnants of juice before sticking his finger in his mouth. 

You freeze.

Dick stares at you for a moment, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why were you staring at him like–

His tongue runs over the tip of his finger. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Dick blinks blankly back at you, his every nerve set on fire. His entire body feels frozen, joints stuck in their movement. He did not just do that. He did not justdothathedidnotjustdothat–

He pulls his finger out his mouth, hurriedly walking towards the kitchen sink. “Sit anywhere.” The sound of running water fills the room. “I’m in the middle of a zoom lecture right now but I should be done soon.” 

You nod, watching Dick wash his hands. His hand slips on the soap dispenser, the plastic bottle falling into the sink with a loud clatter. He winces, lifting it back up into its proper place. 

The sound of running water is loud. So loud. Like it’s trying to drown out all the noise in the apartment. 

He clears his throat again. “I can turn the TV on too.” Dick pauses for a moment, the flaming heat returning to his cheeks with a new intensity. Was his voice always this high? “Just—“ he shuts the water off, making his way towards you with a damp paper towel. “Just let me know.” 

You take the napkin gingerly, a thoughtful look in your eyes. “You have my bag still, silly.” 

Dick blinks. “Oh.” 

He hands it over to you, the plushie swinging. Dick swears it’s laughing at him. You hum, curving your fingers over the straps before turning around, making your way into his bedroom. 

Dick stares. “Wait— why are you— hold on—“ he stumbles in after you, ears red. 

“I wanna stay with you.” You answer easily, gently wiping your chin in the reflection of his mirror. “It’s weird to be in here without you nearby.” 

You meet his gaze in the mirror. “Is that okay?”

(yesofcourseit’sokaywannastayforever?)

Dick nods. “Yeah. Always.” He grabs the pajamas he had left on the bed, throwing them into his laundry basket. “You can sit here.” 

You nod, setting your bag onto the floor before falling onto his mattress. 

Behind him, the professor drones on and on through Dick’s laptop speakers. Vaguely, he’s aware that he should be listening when she mentions something about the midterms but he can’t bring himself to care because—

You’re wearing his sweatpants. And his hoodie. The ones he let you borrow (read:keep).

It looks good on you.

Like it was made for you – and maybe it was. 

You roll around in his bed, humming quietly to yourself as you burrow deep into his blanket, hugging a dinosaur plushie his younger sister Cassandra had given to him to your chest. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” 

Your question makes Dick jolt, hurriedly taking his seat and turning back to his laptop. “What? Yeah, no, I’m–” He swallows, his hands randomly hovering over his keyboard. “I’m there. I’m focused. I’m a good student.” 

Behind him, you let out a soft laugh, a melodic sound that makes him want to turn around again. “Good student.” You muse. “I’ll have to see the results to believe it.” 

Dick forces himself to laugh. 

From his laptop’s reflection, he watches as you bury your face into the soft plush of the dinosaur. You whisper something to the dinosaur, your little hushed words the only thing he can hear despite the incessant chatter from his professor’s lecture. 

For a brief second, he catches himself in the darkened reflection, the sun hitting his screen just right, illuminating the smile he didn’t know he was wearing, and his expression –soft, unfocused, the kind he was careful not to be seen with. 

The professor says something else, the slides on the screen change and his reflection disappears.

x.

It’s another party.

Another night of strobing lights, another night of jungle juice that Wally himself concocted, another night of being stuck in a sweaty, crowded, frat basement.

Dick was only here for you— sorry, he means for you and Wally. Roy had work tonight. Kori had a cold and Donna had stayed behind to take care of her, leaving only you, Wally and Dick to brave the frat party adventure alone. 

And he’s not just saying that because you’re nowhere to be found in this busy basement. He nods his head to the beat of the music, taking a small sip out of the red plastic solo cup, scanning the sea of drunk college kids. 

You were here just a moment ago, hanging off his arm, singing with Wally as he played music on the DJ booth before you disappeared, pretty eyes lit up at the sight of a friend across the room. 

Dick smiles politely at a girl who glances at him again (he swears it’s the fourth time she’s done that), pressing himself further back from the crowd when the group of girls she’s with begins to inch forward. 

He glances around again, tilting his head when he doesn’t see Wally’s vivid red hair by the DJ  booth. 

“Yo!”

Dick jerks in surprise when Wally shows up, throwing his arm around his shoulder. “What are you doing standing here? Go and mingle! Stop being a wallflower.” 

Wally grins, eyes sparkling. “Or are you shy and need me to introduce you to some girls?” The red haired boy cocks his head subtly towards the girl that had been staring at Dick. “I have a feeling that you have some options.” 

Dick shakes his head, letting out a little laugh that contradicted the way his fingers tightened on the plastic cup. “Nah man, I’m good.” 

“You sure?” Wally wiggles his eyebrows. “You might just find your soulmate, you know?”

Dick laughs, lifting the cup to his lips instead of answering. He glances over his shoulders for a moment, the sound of a bell chime – clear and pure, familiar and warm, cutting through the music and noise, threading straight in between his ribs and into his heart – ringing somewhere in the distance. 

“I don’t think I’m finding her in a frat basement.” Dick says lightly, to which Wally only shrugs. “That’s what pessimists say! Anyways–” Wally steers Dick into a different part of the basement, plopping Dick on an old leather armchair where a fan was softly blowing and the noise has dimmed. Fewer people were here now, a mix of drunk and sober college students desperate to get some reprieve from the chaos just across the hall. 

“Chill out here. The bros are about to do some sort of performance thing and trust me, you don’t want to be there. Hell, I don’t even want to be there.” Wally rolls his eyes lovingly, pouring the contents of his cup into Dick’s red solo cup, the mixture of liquids rising to the brim. “Drink up!” 

Dick opens his mouth to protest, but Wally’s already gone, disappearing into the party goers once more. He sighs, shaking his head and leaning back into the couch cushion as the music from the next room continues to thrum in his veins. 

The little fan on the ceiling does nothing except barely move the stuff basement air around slowly. He exhales again, his chest rising and falling. For a moment, he can hear the other room erupting in cheers and screaming, the sound of music rising, and Wally’s voice, loud and clear despite the noise –‘shit!’ – and he lets out a small laugh – that must be what Wally had been trying to avoid. 

He turns his head towards the wall, studying the signatures on the canvas backdrop with the frat’s letters printed on it in a blazing red, yellow and black. If he squints, he can make out Wally’s signature scrawled in a dark blue sharpie. Dick takes another tiny sip out of his cup before setting it down in the cup holder of the seat, wincing at the overly sweet, too strong taste. 

“Oh my god!” 

Dick turns, blinking as you saunter over towards him, hands held up in relief. “There you are! I was literally looking for you everywhere.” 

He can’t help but smile when you step closer, dropping your little leather purse onto his lap. “You disappeared on me!” You pout, leaning forward. Dick reaches out instinctively when you stumble in your knee high boots, the alcohol singing in your veins. His hand rests along your hips, fingers brushing against your exposed back. 

“Careful.” He murmurs, voice low. 

You hum, letting yourself fall forward into his touch. “You missed their performance, by the way.” You adjust your halter top as you continue your story, pointing at your boots. Dick glances down, a hand removing itself from your waist to pull up a falling zipper, nodding as you continue to ramble on. 

“--and then Ryan did like this weird kick thing? But he, like, totally misjudged distance and almost kicked Wally right in the stomach.” You’re saying, shaking your head. Out of the corner of his eyes, Dick watches a few partygoers glance your way, a boy tilting his head with a smirk as he scrutinizes your appearance before he turns back to his group of friends. 

“Anyways–” Dick blinks at the sound of your voice, his blue eyes returning back to you with your sparkly eyeshadow and soft hair framing your face. You put your finger underneath his chin, gently redirecting his attention. “You’re being a bit of a boring party pooper staying out here all on your own.” 

He shrugs. “I’m not a big party person.” 

“But you came out anyways?” Your lips quirk upwards. 

“For Wally.” Dick answers easily. Your finger still hasn’t moved from where you’re tilting his chin upwards to meet your gaze. 

“Not for me too then?” 

“Always for you too.” The words slide out his mouth too honestly. Dick’s finger twitches from where it’s resting on your hip, but he does nothing. You’re too drunk to even realize, a dopey grin threatening to split your cheeks in two. You giggle, the sound making his heart jump in his chest. 

You pull back slightly, fanning your cheeks. “Okay, be completely honest with me.”

Dick nods, his breathing suddenly very shallow. His heart stutters against his chest before it picks up speed, thrumming violently against his ribs. He swears he can hear it despite how loud the bass is in the other room. 

Did you notice? Were you going to ask him? 

He swallows nervously. He wasn’t ready, he wasn’t ready, he wasn’t–

“Do I still look pretty? Is my makeup all messed up?” 

Dick stares at you blankly. You frown, waving your hand in his face. “Okay, if you’re not answering me, I must look like a mess right now.” 

He forces himself to shake his head, his bangs falling in his eyes. “No.” He clears his throat, hoping he sounds somewhat normal. “No, you look fine. All makeup still intact.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Promise.” 

You sigh in relief, reaching down to pick up your purse. Dick holds it up for you, the leather strap digging into his finger as you rummage through the contents before pulling out a compact cushion case and–

His breath catches – just for a moment, just enough to make him forget how to breathe for a split second. 

It’s your lip gloss. 

Not just any lip gloss though. It’s the one you had left with him the first time you had met – in this exact same frat house, only this time, Kori wasn’t here. He forces himself to stay very, very still. 

You pluck your purse out of his fingers, dropping it back down on the chair in between the armrest and his thigh unceremoniously. He’s already reaching into his pocket to pull his phone out for you, the camera flipped to show you your reflection. 

“Wow,” you laugh, light and easy, “You already know what I want before I say it – I like that in a man.” 

The praise shouldn’t make him feel so giddy – but it does. 

Dick watches you with careful precision, blue eyes memorizing each of your movements as you doll yourself up again. You press the powder puff carefully to your forehead and by your nose before closing the compact with a satisfying ‘click’ and pull out your lip gloss. 

You drop your head in defeat before you even unscrew the cap off. “Oh my god, I cannot stand. Everything is spinning.” 

It was supposed to be just a passing thought in his head, a wish that he was never supposed to say out loud, a desire that he had been suppressing ever since he had met you – but it comes out before he can stop himself. 

“You can sit on my lap.” 

You stare at him, face blank. Dick immediately recoils, letting out a nervous laugh.“I mean— just because you’re tired. And there’s no other chairs.” “It’s— yeah.” He coughs, thanking Wally and his frat brothers for the dim purple and red lighting in the room, hiding his burning cheeks. “Only if you want.”

A beat.

“Okay.” 

It’s his turn to stare at you blankly now. His fingers squeeze around his phone, arm frozen and phone held up in midair. You don’t let him dwell on it any longer, already placing your hand on his shoulder as you straddle his legs, hips resting comfortably on his thighs. You shift, gingerly testing the weight before relaxing completely. 

You’re closer than he remembers ever seeing you. 

Fuck, you’re even prettier than he ever thought – he means, you’ve always been pretty, but now, he could see everything – the sweep of your eyelashes against the tops of your cheeks, the plump of your lips, the slope of your nose. Dick forces himself to breathe, his entire body sparking under your touch. 

You give him a small smile, the smell of white peaches and orange blossoms making his head go hazy. “Comfy.” 

He forces himself to laugh again. You look over your shoulder, reaching for his hand to hold up his phone again, pushing it back until it’s by his ear before you nod, unscrewing the cap of your Dior lip gloss. 

It’s too much for his poor heart. Dick swears it’s about to fly out of his chest with every swipe of your gloss wand over your lips, his blue eyes committing every moment of this to his memory. 

“Is it vanilla?” 

Dick doesn’t even remember asking the question. You pucker your lips one more time, smiling proudly at your reflection before looking towards him. 

“Yeah. It’s pretty, right?”

The hand holding his phone slowly falls, resting against your hips as his thumb brushes against the small of your back. 

Dick nods. He forces himself to put his arm onto the armchair rest instead, fingernails digging into the old cracked leather. 

“Smells good.” He croaks out.

You pause from where you’re zipping up your purse. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Tastes good too?”

You blink and Dick inhales sharply. A smile spreads on your face, coy and sweet. You lean in, your baby pink nail hooking into the white gold chain of his necklace, pulling him in towards you. 

He can’t move, can’t think, can’t breathe—

Your voice curls in his ears, low and seductive. “Want to find out?” 

Dick doesn’t answer, his heart pounding in his ears. 

“I— um—“ his voice comes out lower than he expected, rough around the edges. 

“C’mon Dickie.” Your lips hover over his, the proximity making his tingle. Your free hand crawls up his chest, gently pushing his hair back behind his ear before you cradle his jaw, tilting his chin up. “It’ll be really good.” Your eyes meet his, half-lidded and filled with something that makes Dick’s fingers curl against his palm and his breath hitch.

You whisper again, lips brushing soft against his. “I’ll be really good.” Your nose gently sweeps past his and his chest tightens, every nerve all too aware of the closing distance between the two of you. You stare into his blue eyes, every motion of your lips sending tingles down his spine. “I promise.” 

You give a small little tug on his necklace, pulling him in even closer. Your hair falls past your shoulders, a curtain hiding the two of you from the world. 

He’s too hyper aware of every movement you make—the way his chest was pressed against yours, the ghost of his breath lingering on your lips. 

It’d be easy to just move forward. To press his lips against yours. To feel the warmth of your skin seeping into his while he pulled you closer--

Dick shakes his head rigidly, neck jerking with every movement. “We can’t.” He whispers. 

He doesn’t know if he wants you to have heard him. 

You exhale softly, your breath caressing his lips before you pull away, releasing his necklace. “Okay.” 

The chain drops back down onto his black shirt, the platinum ring pendant bouncing on his chest. 

Dick watches helplessly as you stand, carefully readjusting your shorts. His fingers flex against the leather seat.

“You don’t have to get up. I just—“

He pauses. 

Just… what?

You wave his protest away politely, shaking your head. A smile hangs off your lips, small and practiced, hiding the flicker of embarrassment on your features before it disappears. 

“Nah. I kinda want to get back to the party.” You point at the red solo cup with the blue jungle juice still filled to the brim. “Is that yours? They ran out and it’s all just shots from the bottle.” 

Dick nods. You immediately reach over, chugging the contents completely before smashing the empty cup back into the cup holder. You stick your tongue out, screwing your eyes at the awful taste.

You give him another small grin, reaching forward to take your purse. “Find me when you’re ready to leave. Wally said you’d drive me home.” You call over your shoulder, boots clicking on the basement floor as you disappear from the room. 

Dick watches as a few people follow after you, including the boy who had been eyeing you up and down earlier. 

You don’t look back. Not once. 

He tears his gaze away back to the crumpled red solo cup in the cup holder, the smell of your perfume and the warmth from your body still lingering. His fingers twitch by his side. 

Despite the darkness of the room, he could still make out your little lip gloss print, shining in the haze of revolving lights. Dick’s vision narrows as he stares at it. 

He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. 

He had been dreaming about this – your lips on his, the vanilla lip gloss smeared all over his lips, shining underneath the strobe lights – and he… said no? 

Dick exhales frustratedly, pinching the nose of his bridge. 

He really doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. 

His lips still tingle from where yours had brushed his, the smell of your perfume intoxicating. Dick closes his eyes, afraid to even move on the armchair if it meant forgetting the way you fit snugly on his lap, like two perfect puzzle pieces– 

“Holy shit, you actually drank it all?” 

Dick opens his eyes to find Wally staring at him with an incredulous look on his face, his hand holding up the crumpled red solo cup. Wally gives him a giant grin. “No wonder why your cheeks are so red – you must be fucking wasted.” 

Dick coughs, tearing his eyes away from the shiny lip gloss mark. “No. [Name] drank it all.” He gives Wally a little pointed look. “And I’m driving. I wasn’t going to drink like that in the first place.” 

Wally stares bug-eyed at the cup before setting it down, twisting his head side by side, scanning the room. “Oh jeez.” He looks over at Dick, a sheepish smile on his face. “Mine was made extra strong by the brothers – pretty sure it was a mix of gray goose, everclear, casamigos and some soju.” 

Dick’s lips pull back in disgust at the list of alcohol names before he blanches. “Wait–” He slowly stands up, his hand gripping Wally’s shoulder. “I don’t have puke bags in my car.” 

Wally nods slowly, his expression mirroring Dick’s frightened one. “And she was already pretty drunk when I saw her earlier.” 

“And she just drank the entire god awful abomination that you tried to force upon me, mixed with the jungle juice.” Dick says slowly. Wally nods again, the wheels in the two boys' brains churning. 

“Shit.” Wally groans, throwing his head back. “We need to go find her.” 

Dick’s already halfway out the room before Wally can finish his sentence. 

x.

Dick finds you leaning against the kitchen counter, the fluorescent kitchen lights shining bright above you, a spotlight, as you laugh sweetly, leaning forwards towards the person who was talking to you.  

Dick sighs in relief, weaving through the drunk partiers as he makes his way towards you. The world continues to rush past him, a group of drunk boys hooting and hollering as their favorite song plays. 

He almost loses you again as the group of boys barrel past him down towards the basement, but you’re still there, shining underneath the harsh white lighting of the kitchen, glowing, glowing–

Oh. 

Dick pauses for a second, his feet rooted to the sticky wooden floorboards. 

It was the boy from before. 

The boy says something, his hand running through his hair with a crooked smile on his face. Whatever it was, it makes you gasp before you dissolve into a fit of giggles, tilting forward into his chest for a brief moment before you steady yourself once more. 

He watches, his heart in his throat, fingers making crescent moon indents on the flat of his palm. You don’t seem to notice Dick, your attention stolen by the boy that’s been orbiting you all night. You hold up your fingers, a smile that lights up the room on your face when the boy shakes his head, matching your grin. 

This was… fine. 

Dick forces himself to take another step closer, his joints stiff and awkward, never once taking his eyes off of you. 

You could do whatever you wanted. 

He takes another step forward, your soft voice making its way to his ear. 

“You really don’t know how to play ‘chopsticks’?” Your voice is full of disbelief, your fingers still held up. 

The boy in front of you shakes his head. “Nah. I can’t help that I had a boring childhood.” 

“Oh, come on!” You shake your head, little stands of hair falling from where you’ve pushed it over your shoulder to frame your face. “That sounds so sad. Let me teach you how to play.” 

The boy raises his eyebrows, his hands held up to match yours. “You sure your boyfriend won’t mind if you play this game with me?” 

“What boyfriend?” You cock your head to the side, your fingers already on top of his waiting ones to help him form the proper pose. 

“The boy from the basement? You were with him before?” 

“Oh.” Your face falls for a moment, the light fading. You shake your head, frozen for half a second before you continue to focus on what you were doing. “It wasn’t– That was nothing.” You say quietly. “We’re not together. I was just… imagining things, I guess.” 

You let out a small laugh. “That’s what happens when you’re drunk, right?” 

Dick stands frozen behind you, hidden by the water cooler in the kitchen. Your voice echoes in his ears, drowning out the rest of the party. 

Just imagining things. 

It makes his stomach churn. 

He steps out from behind the water cooler, his hand outstretched to gently tap your shoulder, mouth open–

“Dick, you find her?” Wally’s voice crashes into him from behind.

Dick flinches. 

You turn around at the sound of your name, swaying gently in your spot. “Wally!” Your eyes flit over to Dick, blinking like you weren’t sure of what to make of him before smiling. “Dick!” 

“When did you guys get here?” You tilt your head, fingers still held up. “I’m playing ‘chopsticks’. Come join.”

Wally shakes his head. “We’re going home. You just drank a shit ton of alc and I’m gonna make you puke it all out before you sleep.”

“What? No, but I— hey!” 

Wally scoops you up easily, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Sorry dude.” Wally smiles at the frozen boy you had been playing with. “I’m doing this for your own good, she was going to puke on you if you won. Thanks for coming out to our party though.” 

You groan from where you’re over his shoulder. “Wally, I’m gonna puke this way, please put me down.” 

“That’s the point, gorgeous. Let’s go home now.” He turns towards Dick. “The car awaits.”

Dick nods, forcing himself to move. His fingers curve over his keys, the metal biting into his hands. 

You prop yourself up on Wally's back, resting your chin on your palm. “Bye!” You call out, waving to the boy. He blinks, cheeks red, hand raised tentatively. “Bye. I’ll text you?”

“Only if you’re going to show me a good time.” You respond, giggling to yourself like it’s the funniest thing in the world before you drop forward, groaning. “Wally, you’re making me feel worse.”

The red haired boy just hums in response, opening the door of the house. 

The cool night air hits the three of you immediately, a stark contrast to the sweaty frat house. Dick can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes his lips, pointing down the street towards his car. 

Wally drops you carefully onto your feet outside of the Audi, your boots reflected in the shiny paint. You sway on your feet, leaning boneless in Wally’s broad chest before stiffening. 

“Wally—“ you mumble, body locking. Your hand flies up, pushing him violently away from you and he stumbles back alarmed when you hurriedly rush towards the gutter. Your boots scrape across the pavement in your haste. 

Wally’s eyes widen, already rushing towards you. “Oh— shit— Dick, help her, she’s gonna—“

You retch into the gutter, almost falling forward at how violently your body lurches, the world spinning underneath your feet.

He doesn’t think — just moves the second you bend down at the knees. Dick steadies you by the shoulders, his deft fingers gently carding through your soft hair to pull it back away from your mouth. 

“It’s okay.” His voice is soft, murmured quietly in the night. “Just let it out.” 

You gag disgustingly, spitting into the gutter. Dick rubs your back soothingly, his words barely heard over the rush of blood pounding in your ears. “You’re okay, keep going.”

Wally gently places a hand on your other shoulder. “I’ll be back okay? Gonna grab you some water and paper towels.” 

You nod, coughing before another violent wave of nausea takes over. 

“S’okay.” Dick brushes your hair behind your ears. “M’right here. You’re okay.” The cold pavement seeps through the fabric of his black jeans, his silver ring pendant swinging by your cheek as he anchors you. . 

You shudder, letting out a small helpless whimper. “Fuck, this is—“ you groan, dropping your forehead to your knees. “This is so fucking gross, I’m so sorry.” 

He shakes his head, ignoring the smell of bile. “No, it’s okay. You’re all good. I got you.”

“What did Wally put in that jungle juice?” You bemoan, sniffling into your arms. Dick lets out a little laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t even want to know.” 

You lift your head slightly, eyes glassy as you stare into his blue ones, cheek smushed against your kneecap. Your mascara is smeared underneath your eyes, glitter still all over your face, lips a darker shade than usual from the overhead street light. 

“The boy in the kitchen.” Your eyes flutter shut, tongue running over your teeth. Dick nods, ignoring the way his own stomach rose with bile at the mention of him. “Mhm?”

“I think… I think he liked me.” You say, exhaling the words. Dick hums, focusing on the warmth of your skin against his fingertips and the gritty pavement underneath his other palm instead of the grind of his teeth against each other. 

You shake your head, sighing. “He was nice.” You furrow your eyebrows, half in thought. Your eyes open again, still glossy. “But I…”

Dick watches with bated breath. 

“Bad timing though.” You let out a sardonic chuckle, gaze faraway. “I think I might have just been imagining things.” You sigh, leaning into Dick’s touch. 

He swallows hard. 

“We’re not together,” you continue, matter-of-fact but small. “We never were. I was just being silly, getting in over my head.” 

The words land heavy, a blow to Dick.

You let out a shaky sigh, closing your eyes. Beneath the street lamp, Dick can see small tears clinging to your eyelashes. 

“No.” The word slips out of Dick’s mouth. You open one eye, peeking up at him from beneath your arm. He swallows, fingers tightening their grip in your hair before relaxing. “You weren’t imagining things.” 

You stare at him, the moment passing slowly. Dick’s heart beats against his ribs as he waits. 

And then you laugh – a small, defeated one that makes his heart sink to the bottom of his shoes.

“You don’t have to make me feel better about what happened between us before.” 

His tongue is suddenly so dry, big and clumsy in his mouth. All words in the English language fail him as he desperately scrambles for the right thing to say – but nothing comes. You sigh once more, turning away from him, shoulders drooping. 

Dick opens his mouth before closing it, footsteps nearing behind him. Wally appears from over his shoulder, holding a bottle of water and some paper towels, wet and dry. 

“She done puking?” Wally asks, leaning down to gently help you stand back up. Dick nods, brushing your hair away from your face again. “Yeah. All done.” 

You lean against the car door when Wally props you up, the wet paper towel gently mopping up the leftover spit and puke on your chin. “Wally,” you mumble, tilting your chin up when he gently presses his finger underneath jaw, “what the fuck did you put in that jungle juice?”

He laughs lightly. “I see it’s too much for our sweetheart to handle.” Wally unscrews the cap off the water bottle, holding it to your lips. “There we go, drink up.” 

Dick opens the backseat, the metal door handle cool on his heated palms. Wally guides you inside, reaching over to buckle you in without ceremony. You sigh, looking up at Wally through your lashes. 

“If I wasn’t pretty, would you still like me?”

“You’re pretty in every timeline.” Wally says firmly, “I’ll always like you.”

“I’m not just imagining things?” 

Dick flexes his jaw at the word, avoiding your gaze. Wally nods, pushing you gently back against the seat. “Yeah, you’re not just imagining things. You’re stuck with me forever, okay?” 

You relax at that, a relieved smile on your face. “Okay.” 

Wally steps away, gesturing for Dick to close the door. The car door shuts with a firm push and Dick climbs into the driver seat, the car humming to life with a push of a button. 

You sigh, closing your eyes as the car begins to roll forward. 

“I had a good time at the party tonight.” You mumble from the backseat, clutching the plastic water bottle in your hand. Dick looks back at you in the rearview mirror as the plastic crinkles in your tight grip. 

Wally’s eyes flutter open slightly from where he’s leaning against the window, half-asleep. “Yeah? That’s good. I’m glad.”

“Mhm.” You hum in response. “I was reading into everything. Now it’s all clear.” 

Dick grips his steering wheel a little tighter, knuckles white as you continue, words slurring as you drift into sleep. 

“Everything can just… go back to normal.” 

The car continues to drive along the road, too quiet, too full and yet too little said.

Wally raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. 

DIck doesn’t look at you, his eyes trained on the dark road ahead of him. The car drives across the empty road, the low hanging moon shining across the wet pavement. Instead, he reaches behind him blindly, hand extending between the seats. 

His fingers brush against your knees once before yours find his immediately.

You don’t comment on it. 

You never do. 

Dick exhales through his nose, thumb pressing lightly against your palm. The warmth of you is still there – in the car, in his arms, nestled comfortably on his lap, everywhere – and it makes him ache all over. 

You weren’t imagining things. 

The thought settles deep in his bones, poking at him every time your fingers twitch in your sleep. 

He drives a little slower the rest of the way home. 

a/n: extra extraaa long chapter & a double update for the week! (bc im going to go on a little bit of a break due to writers block!! oopsiessss) anyway i hope you all enjoyed!!! silly ol dick not kissing the girl of his dreams!!! i had a lot of fun writing this chapter hehe i want to also kiss dick mwah mwah mwahhhh