#dicktigerweek2018

“Not this one, no.” Dick shot him a grin before focusing back on the road. They'd been driving for a few hours and didn't have much longer left. Somehow, they hadn't killed each other, which boded well for their marriage. “We rescued a moderately famous band when I was Robin, so they wrote a song for us. It charted for a few weeks, actually. The local radio station still plays it sometimes.”

“I pity everyone who lives in Gotham City.”

“Just for the music?”

“Yes. Gotham City is a perfectly safe place otherwise.”

Dick snorted. “Can you believe I used to think you had no sense of humour?”

“My sense of humour is simply more refined than yours,” Tiger replied.

“That's just a fancy way of saying you don't find as many things funny.”

“Yes.”

Light was fading by the time they drove into town and reached the hotel. Dick and Tiger had alternated driving, so both were tired and strung-out and ready to sleep. It took a herculean effort to strip off their clothes before falling into bed. The mattress was hard, but that would just mean more leverage... when they weren't exhausted.

“At least we already knew we could get through a trip like that without killing each other,” Dick said, staring at the darkened ceiling. “Going on the run from Spyral is still paying off a year later.”

Tiger grunted into his pillow. Dick flopped across his back. They'd spent their wedding night in Gotham so they wouldn't keel over from exhaustion. Just as well, because they both fell asleep like this.

Of course, Tiger always rose early to pray, so Dick woke to find himself rolling gently across the bed, a whispered apology in his ear. It was Dick's own fault, really.

When Dick woke properly some time later, thin cracks of light lined the edges of the curtains and birdsong drifted in from outside the window. Tiger snored against his back, their legs tangled together under the warm covers.

Dick wanted to wake up like this for the rest of his life. Hell, if he had anything to say about it, he would... or as often as possible. Tiger still had his duties as Patron calling him away at times. This week, though? It was just for them.

Tiger shifted awake, rubbing his beard against Dick's bare shoulder. Dick rolled onto his back. Tiger settled against his chest, letting out a sigh as Dick stroked his hair.

“Morning, sunshine,” Dick said, his consonants still loose and lazy from sleep.

Tiger huffed. “Sunshine.”

“Shh. Let me call you things.”

“Hmph.” But he wasn't complaining.

Dick rubbed a hand over his face, yawning. “We should have breakfast.” They'd gone to bed early the previous night, and he was waking up faster than usual. That was nice. More time to spend hanging out with his BFF-slash-husband.

Tiger rolled out of bed, hunting for clothes. “Wash up. I will find you something to wear.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Yes. Fear me.”

Dick stripped off and stepped into the shower. Tiger had washed up earlier, so he wasn’t surprised when he didn’t join him. The alone time gave Dick a moment to think. He’d been in touch with the hotel beforehand and had gotten some advice for what to do in the area. They’d also agreed to help him source a few items to help things along. He’d spent a few minutes on the phone at a rest stop the previous day confirming that everything would be ready.

But first: a light breakfast.

Fortunately, the clothing Tiger had picked out for Dick was inoffensive. Probably less awful than what Dick would’ve chosen for himself. They’d mostly packed light, given the weather forecast, with a coat or two just in case. Dick tied his sweater around his neck like an asshole, mostly because Tiger hated it.

They had breakfast out on the patio, feet nudging together under the table. Tiger had taken his suggestion to eat lightly to heart, and he hadn’t questioned why.

“Aren’t you a little bit curious?” Dick asked him, spoonful of cereal forgotten in his half-raised hand. Tiger had that effect on him.

“I am,” Tiger admitted, reaching over to guide the spoon into Dick’s mouth. “Now eat, you child.”

Dick swallowed his mouthful. “Come on, man. You normally complain a lot more than this.”

“I am biding my time.” Tiger gave him a sharp, toothy smile. “You enjoy my complaints too much.”

“True. You’re cute when you’re grumpy.”

Tiger’s cheeks coloured a little, and he seized on the sudden chattering of birds in flight above them to look somewhere else. Dick rested his cheek in his hand, watching him. He could stare at Tiger for hours and not get bored. For a spy, he was rather emotive once you knew what to look for, mostly in the eyes and eyebrows. A single raised eyebrow could tell stories that Dick needed hundreds of words to tell.

Tiger caught him staring. “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” That all-too-familiar feeling of affection rose in Dick’s chest so quickly he had to let it out. “I just love you.”

Tiger’s eyes darted downwards for a moment, but then he reached out and slotted his fingers between Dick’s hand and his cheek. “I love you, too.”

They could’ve happily gone back to the hotel room and spent the whole day in there, but Dick had put a lot of planning into today and he was going to use it. The hotel had come through and sent what he requested to the nearby state park, where they’d pick it up from the ranger station. Dick wanted to keep Tiger in the dark until the last minute.

They borrowed a pair of bikes and set out. The roads were quiet today, and they were on a bike track in no time. There was just enough room to ride side-by-side, with good visibility in case someone needed to get past.

“Do you intend to tell me where we are going?” Tiger asked. There was something funny about seeing him on an ordinary bicycle after seeing him on motorcycles and tanks. It did great things for his thighs, though.

“Soon,” Dick promised. “I wanted to surprise you.”

The trail turned out back to the road soon enough, and they had to ride single file the rest of the way. They left the bikes chained up outside the park and walked inside, hands linked together. Tiger was observing the rolling green lawns around them with a little frown. Dick wanted to kiss the crease between his eyebrows.

They reached the ranger station and Dick finally grabbed the important piece of today’s outing: a picnic basket full of goodies from the local shops around town. Tiger watched him silently, a peculiar look on his face.

Dick opened the basket to check that everything was in order. “Everything okay, T?”

“I…” Tiger cleared his throat. “Yes.”

Dick grabbed his hand, leading him along the winding paths towards a spot the hotel staff had promised they would love. “Come on. What’s going on?”

Tiger kept his eyes on the greenery around them. “I do not know how to… no one has ever…”

“This your first picnic?”

“Yes.”

“Nervous?”

“I suppose.” The fact Tiger could admit something it spoke volumes of how far their relationship had come since those first days of trading barbs and trying not to kill each other out of frustration.

“You don’t have to be super cool and knowledgeable about everything, you know.” Dick looped his arm around Tiger’s, leaning against his shoulder as they walked. “It’s okay to feel out of your depth sometimes.”

“I always feel out of my depth with you.”

“That’s love, T.”

Tiger made a soft, possibly amused, possibly rueful, noise. “You know I am not used to people… doing things for me.”

“I’ll give you plenty of practice.”

His frown eased off the tiniest bit, which was the equivalent of a relieved sigh in Tiger-language. Dick nuzzled his shoulder and caught the corner of Tiger’s mouth lifting a little.

They finally reached the spot and Dick laid out the blanket. There was an open-air chapel nearby that was apparently popular for small weddings. It was just an archway and some white benches, but it still made Dick feel emotional as he laid out their spread for lunch. Dick and Tiger had married in Alfred’s rose garden. Bruce had enlisted the batkids’ help to build an archway and decorate it with the roses Alfred was willing to pluck from the garden. The park’s setup here was much simpler, but it still had Dick a little choked up.

Two men in suits were under the archway, with a small handful of people looking on. The men were wrapped up in each other, as if nobody around them existed. Dick knew that feeling well.

Tiger fed Dick a ribbon sandwich, capturing his attention once again. Eating from Tiger’s hands always went one of two ways: either the food tasted infinitely better, or he’d get so distracted that he no longer tasted the food at all. Tiger’s fingers caressing his cheek put him into that second camp.

They fed each other sandwiches, keeping an eye on the ceremony nearby. The men were crying, their foreheads pressed together.

“Do not start,” Tiger warned Dick. “Please.”

“As if you’re not getting a little misty-eyed over there,” Dick teased. They’d already finished the sandwiches without really tasting them. Then came bread and cheeses and grapes and figs.

The couple under the arch kissed. Dick leaned back against Tiger. He could almost smell the sweetness of those roses again. Their first kiss as a married couple had been tender. Tiger had cradled the back of his head like glass and dipped him like a princess. Dick didn’t mind feeling like a princess sometimes, especially when it came to the romantic stuff.

Tiger wrapped his arms around Dick’s shoulders, kissing the top of his head. “They look happy.”

“Yeah.” Dick still felt teary; he’d always had an overabundance of empathy. Couple that with memories of one of the happiest days of his life, and he had no chance. “I’m happy, too.”

“As am I.” Tiger rested his cheek where he’d kissed. He wasn’t normally this affectionate in public.

“Would you kill me if I took a selfie right now?”

“No,” Tiger said warmly. Dick got the impression he wanted to remember this moment, too.

Dick wrestled out his phone and snapped a picture of them cuddled up like this against a backdrop of green grass and distant sea. The sky was bright blue and clear. It looked exactly how Dick felt. He texted a copy of the photo to Alfred and then put his phone away. Tiger held his attention far more easily than anything else in the world.

Dick rested the platter on his lap and fed Tiger grapes over his head. Tiger would sometimes grab one and shove it into Dick’s mouth instead. Lying here, being lazy and shoving food in each other’s faces was such a stark contrast to their usual panicked running-around-trying-to-save-the-world-from-burning-down lifestyle that Dick realised this had been the right decision. Anything more elaborate than this would’ve been exhausting. They needed to relax for once.

And maybe cry over other people’s weddings.

Soft music floated over from someone’s phone at the ceremony and the two men were slow-dancing in a circle. Tiger gave Dick a squeeze. They’d felt too awkward to dance in front of the handful of people that had been at their wedding, which had been Dick’s family plus Helena, but they’d swayed together in their room afterwards.

Dick rested his head against Tiger’s chest, closing his eyes. He could feel the rise and fall of his husband’s breaths. It was one of the most comforting things he’d ever experienced. Sometimes he just liked to lie on top of him with his ear pressed against Tiger’s chest, listening to the beat of his heart and the gentle rushing of air.

The wedding party was gone when he opened his eyes; he must’ve fallen asleep. Tiger’s lovely green eyes watched him with amusement as he sat up and stretched. Dick threw a grape at him.

They quietly packed up the remnants of the picnic, nibbling on leftover bits and pieces as they went. Tiger shook the blanket and folded it away. There was still plenty of time in the day, though, and Dick didn’t want to leave yet.

He rested the basket on one of the chapel benches and led Tiger to the arch. It was a pretty lattice design, pure white. The grass had been worn down to dirt beneath it, and there was something beautiful in that, in the fact so many people had stood there with the one they loved and said the words to tie their souls together. So many hearts poured out in this one spot.

“We are already married, Dick,” Tiger reminded him, but he was smiling a little.

Dick gently swung their joined hands side-to-side. “I want to live in that moment a while longer.”

“It is a good moment,” Tiger agreed, tugging Dick towards him. He slid an arm around Dick’s waist, keeping the other hand firmly clasped in his. “Our first dance was an afterthought. We should do another.”

Dick let Tiger lead their swaying. It was less awkward doing this in front of random people walking by than a small group of people he knew well. The birdsong was their music, their hearts the rhythm.

Tiger rested his forehead against Dick’s and they both closed their eyes. Tiger freed his hand from Dick’s and slid it into his hair. They kissed slowly. Dick could almost smell the roses again. Wherever they ended up in the future, he’d have to plant some.

Dick lost track of time. He laid his head on Tiger’s shoulder and their swaying turned to gentle rocking on the spot, their arms wrapped around each other.

“I love this,” Dick whispered. “We should do this every day.” He felt Tiger smile against the side of his face.

“We should.” Tiger didn’t bring up the fact he would likely be absent for weeks, if not months, at a time. They’d deal with that later. This week was for them. No worrying allowed.

It was almost dark by the time they returned to the hotel. Tiger headed upstairs to pray while Dick spoke to the hotel staff to thank them for their help organising the picnic.

Tiger was sitting cross-legged in the of the bed when Dick returned. His fingers reverently traced the edges of his Quran as he gently closed it.

“I enjoyed our picnic,” he said quietly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, babe.” Dick climbed onto the bed beside him. “Did you want to read for a bit longer?”

Tiger shook his head. “One moment.” He slid off the bed to put the book away, and then lay down in the middle of the bed. Dick couldn’t help but trace the bridge of his nose with the tip of his finger. Tiger just smiled up at him. He smiled so freely with Dick these days. Dick loved that smile, so he kissed him.

Tiger slid his fingers down Dick’s neck and shoulders, coaxing him closer. Dick lay on top of him, and Tiger pressed his hands his back, fingers digging in. He pressed his thigh against Dick’s hip and Dick held him there.

They shed their clothes clumsily, unwilling to spend more than a few moments with their lips apart from each other.

“What do you want, babe?” Dick said, nipping Tiger’s ear.

Tiger snorted at the nickname, his legs wrapping around Dick’s waist. Dick got the message and reached for the lube he’d thrown on the nightstand at some point.

Tiger sighed when Dick slipped a finger inside him. “Finally.”

Dick kissed his stomach, grinning as his muscles shuddered. They were more than capable of going days without sex if necessary, but they didn’t like it… especially now. If they hadn’t been dead tired last night, they probably would’ve been up all night.

Dick pressed his tongue to the tip of Tiger’s cock. Tiger swore under his breath, grabbing fistfuls of bedcovers. So Dick licked him from base to tip, wrapping his lips around him and sliding back down. Tiger grabbed his hair, biting down on the pillow.

Dick pulled off, replacing his mouth with his free hand. “Sensitive tonight?”

“Do not stop. Please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” Dick busied his mouth with things other than talking. Tiger grabbed the headboard, groaning. He didn’t take long to come into Dick’s mouth. Then he silently beckoned Dick towards him. Dick straddled his torso and Tiger grabbed his cock, twisting his wrist just so, enough that Dick had to put his hands down on the bed before he lost his balance.

“Fuck me,” Tiger said, his voice already rough.

“Won’t you be too sensitive?”

“You are a clever man, Dick. Find a solution.”

Tiger got so bossy when he bottomed. Well, he was bossy during sex in general, but he took that to impressive heights at times like this. Dick didn’t waste any time, grabbing the condom from the nightstand.

He settled between Tiger’s legs and gently pressed inside. Tiger let out a long breath and relaxed around him. His cock twitched, but it wasn’t quite ready to get hard again. Dick was going to have a hard time keeping himself together for long enough, but he’d always relished a challenge. At least Tiger had a short refractory period compared to some other (non-metahuman) guys Dick had slept with in the past. He could usually be coaxed into getting hard again with a few minutes, at least the first time.

Until then, though, Dick had to be gentle. Every movement brought out a reaction in Tiger, such a stark difference from the man he’d thought Tiger was when they first met.

Tiger caressed Dick’s cheek. “You can go faster.”

“You’ll tell me if it hurts, right?”

Tiger rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dick. We have established this.”

“My blood really isn’t in my brain right now, T. Cut me some slack.”

Tiger chuckled, which reverberated through his whole body, including his ass. Both of them had to take a breath.

“That was interesting,” said Dick.

“Mm.” Tiger nudged Dick with his thigh. “That was not an invitation to stop.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tiger grumbled about that, but Dick’s slow thrusts didn’t let him stay coherent for long. He was getting hard again, so Dick moved faster. Tiger jerked himself, breaths coming in pants, until he threw his hand away, grabbing more blankets in his fist instead.

Dick brushed his hand across Tiger’s nipples and down his chest. He trailed his fingers across his hips, barely touching the hair around his cock. Tiger grabbed Dick’s ass, pushing him in deeper. Dick was not going to last much longer. He changed his angle, and Tiger moaned, arching off the bed.

“Dick. I need… ngh… more. Roll over.”

If there was anything hotter than Tiger splayed out beneath Dick, panting for his cock, it absolutely was Tiger on top, riding his cock until they both saw stars.

Dick’s back hit the mattress and Tiger sank down on top of him. He set a punishing pace that Dick absolutely needed right now, his cock rubbing against Dick’s stomach. Dick grabbed Tiger’s hips and thrusted upwards to meet him.

Tiger leaned down and kissed him, all tongue and teeth. They had to break apart every few seconds to breathe, but fuck it was hot. Dick dug his fingers into Tiger’s hips. Their rhythm stuttered, breaths tearing out of their throats. Tiger grabbed the headboard for leverage, eyes squeezed shut, face screwed up as he moaned.

“Fuck, Tiger. I’m gonna… ahh.” Dick couldn’t take it anymore. He came inside Tiger.

Tiger grabbed his cock and fucked into his hand, spilling over onto Dick’s stomach. He was beyond sound, breaths coming out in short puffs. Dick caressed his thighs until he collapsed on top of him.

They lay there for a while, listening to each other’s breathing. Tiger shoved his face into the pillow for a moment, until he could find the energy to slide off and curl up against Dick’s side. His eyes were already closed.

Dick cupped his chin. “Tired?”

“Mm-hm.”

He kissed the man’s forehead. “Good day, huh?”

“Mm.” Tiger opened his eyes. “Thank you for everything. And fuck you.”

“Wow, man. I just made you come twice and that’s the thanks I get?”

“Now I have to take you on a date just as good as this one,” Tiger replied.

Dick snorted. “Well, if it makes you feel better, we’re married now. You can do that whenever you want. Hell, bring me donuts on patrol and blow me in an alley to the dulcet tones of a police siren and I’ll call it even.”

Tiger barked out a laugh, shoving a hand over his mouth as if hadn’t realised how loud it was. “I will do it, Dick.”

“Looking forward to it.” It was nowhere near the weirdest sex thing either of them had done, together or with others. “So, you definitely liked it?”

“Dick. I loved it.” Tiger ran a light finger down Dick’s throat. Dick wouldn’t normally let anyone touch him there—did anyone?—but it was somehow sweet when Tiger did.

“Okay. Good.”

“You know I loved it.” Tiger cuddled closer, planting a kiss on Dick’s lips.

“Maybe I wanted to hear you say it again.” Dick tangled his legs with Tiger’s. “I love you lots.”

“I love you too.” Tiger touched his forehead to Dick’s and they both closed their eyes.

Dick was going to make sure they had more days like this. The look Tiger had given him when he learned they were having a picnic was hard to forget. He wanted Tiger to experience more amazing new things he’d never had the chance to try before. He was going to spoil him rotten, just like Tiger loved to spoil him.

They’d had to fight to get here at all. Dick was not about to take that for granted. Every day with Tiger was full of laughter and wonder and so much love Dick felt like he was going to burst from it sometimes.

Tiger relaxed into sleep and Dick watched him. His breaths were slow and calm, his beard lightly scratching Dick’s shoulder. Dick wanted more of this, too, and he knew he was going to get it.

They were married now. The thought still made Dick want to do somersaults, but right now he was content to grab the blankets and cosy up to his wonderful husband. He was going to kiss him senseless in the morning.

Whatever happened in the future, however much Tiger had to travel as Patron, they would always have this. They would always come back together.

They would always be Tiger and Dick: partners, lovers…

He wasn't there, and now Dick couldn't sleep. One morning, exhausted and fed up, Dick found the file he kept Tiger's notes in. He'd managed to snag it while leaving his quarters at Spyral after the fight was over, having left it behind when the pair of them went on the run. They had left each other short notes on the backs of wrappers while going against Spyral, but most of those had ended up stashed in Tiger's vest pouches.

Dick laid the notes he did have out on the floor and began to sort them into chronological order, relieved that Tiger had dated every single one. Maybe he knew Dick wanted to keep them, even if fraternisation had technically been against the rules.

The first one Dick could find, though he was fairly certain there had been a few before, was dated for a mission Tiger undertook while Dick was recovering from a broken rib.

Do not break anything else while I am gone.

Tiger hadn't signed that one. That came later. He had still been too awkward about their relationship at this time, closer to frenemies-with-benefits than romance.

Go back to sleep. I will return soon.

Written the first time they had spent the whole night together, and Tiger briefly left to pray in the early hours of the morning.

Dick separated the morning prayer notes from the mission notes, and soon his bedroom floor was covered with papers. A physical representation of their time together.

Then he found another of the go back to sleep notes, a few months after the first. The one that made things all too real.

Prayer. Go back to sleep. I love you.

It was the first time Tiger had said those words in any form, and he didn't return to bed that morning. Dick had given him a few hours of space before sliding a note beneath his bedroom door for him to find later. Dick didn't have that one, but it had been short and simple and easy to remember:

I love you, too.

Dick missed him. Terribly.

He sorted the notes in an exhausted daze, and then ate three bowls of cereal. That ate up the time until stores began to open, so Dick threw on some clothes and headed down the street fuelled by coffee and loneliness.

He needed a scrapbook. Now.

Tiger had finally carved out some time to leave Spyral. He did not trust his agents to survive without him for long, but they had improved in the months since he had taken over. Long enough that he could visit Gotham for a few days.

Batman and his associates changed their communicator frequencies often, so Dick had not bothered to give him that. Instead, he gave a piece of advice: watch the batsignal.

So Tiger settled on a building close to the GCPD, but not close enough to raise alarm, and watched through binoculars every time the signal hit the sky. Batman arrived on the roof with Robin, a grumpy young teenager whose legs were growing faster than the rest of him. Nightwing joined them moments later. Perfect.

He tracked Nightwing's progress as he separated from the pair, flying south through the use of his grapnel launcher. Tiger followed, close enough that Nightwing would notice him, but not so close that he would be alarmed.

Nightwing landed on the roof of an apartment complex, leaning against the fire escape railing. Tiger dropped beside him.

“I thought it was you,” Nightwing replied. “Already radioed the fam. I'm free for the night.”

“Did you tell them why?”

“I told them I had a last-minute meeting with the new head of Spyral.” Nightwing started down the fire escape, beckoning Tiger to follow. “Pretty sure Red Robin has me figured out, but he won't say anything.”

They climbed down a set of stairs and Nightwing pressed a short code into a keypad on the nearest windowsill. There was a soft click, and he slid the window open.

By the time Tiger joined him in what appeared to be the bedroom, Dick had switched on the bedside lamp and discarded his mask, gloves and boots. He reached past Tiger to shut the window and remained close, turning his back.

“Unzip me?”

“Do you always get help undressing?” Tiger asked, dragging the zipper down from Dick's neck to his waist, letting himself stroke the exposed skin with the backs of his fingers.

Dick stepped out of his uniform and tossed it aside, standing in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts that Tiger couldn't believe had actually fit under his uniform. “No. But you were right there.” He slid Tiger's backpack off his shoulders and tossed it on the bed. “You hungry? I've got some leftover noodles in the fridge with our names on them.”

“Are you going to put clothes on?”

“Wasn't planning to.” Dick led Tiger out of the bedroom and sat him on the couch. “I'll be back in a minute.”

Dick's living room was only a few feet long, housing a couch, television and a coffee table buried under piles of... everything.

On top of the pile sat a photo album or scrapbook. The title read: Love Letters. Tiger knew Dick had taken his file of letters home with him, but if he had really put in the effort to preserve them like this...

Tiger picked up the book and brought it into the kitchen. “Is this what I think it is?”

Dick turned away from the microwave, eyes widening as he took in what was in Tiger's hands. “Uh, probably? Open it.”

Tiger set the book on the tiny card table and pulled back the cover. The front page held the title again, surrounded by pictures of various birds.

“Damian was going through a bird phase with his art,” Dick explained, staring into the microwave. “He only complained a tiny bit when I asked him to draw me something. Whatever he wanted. Spot the robin.”

A small robin red-breast was perched in the bottom-right corner. “Does he know what this is for?”

“No. He probably just assumed I was making a dorky gift for Barbara or something. I thought asking him to draw a tiger would be too much.”

Tiger turned the page, and came face-to-face with the first letter Dick had kept: Do not break anything else while I am gone. It was the most affectionate thing Tiger could manage when their relationship was new. A badly-drawn broken bone occupied a spot of honour beside it.

“Did you draw this?”

Dick looked over his shoulder and snorted. “Yep. Can you tell?”

“Sadly, yes.”

Dick shrugged. “I tried.” The microwave beeped and he pulled out a bowl of noodles. “Here. Take all this into the living room. I'll be there in a minute.” He shoved a second bowl into the microwave and turned it on. “Go on.”

Tiger sat on the couch and balanced the scrapbook on the one bare section of the coffee table. He barely touched his noodles, staring at his handwriting telling the story of their relationship... of Tiger becoming more comfortable with the concept of a relationship at all.

Prayer. Go back to sleep. I love you.

Tiger remembered being embarrassed as he wrote it, of avoiding Dick all day afterwards. He still had Dick's response, tucked into his backpack with all the other notes he had kept. He left his noodles balanced carefully on the couch and hurried back to the bedroom, where he dug a book of his own out of the bag.

Dick was on the couch with his own noodles when Tiger returned. “Ooh, what's that?”

“Why did you put my notes in a scrapbook?” Tiger asked.

“Couldn't sleep one morning,” Dick replied. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He rested the book on Dick's bare legs. “I did not draw anything. Sorry.”

Dick patted the couch. “Don't be sorry. You saw how bad my art was.”

Tiger sat back down and ate several mouthfuls of noodles while Dick paged through the book. Dick was always fun to watch, but especially now as his smile grew bigger and bigger with every letter he reread.

“Remember this one?” Dick asked, tapping one that just read: I love you too.

Tiger nodded, his throat suddenly too tight for speech. He had found it in his room the evening he spent the whole day avoiding Dick. For some reason, he had not expected Dick to say it back.

“I still love you, by the way,” Dick said.

“I love you too.” The words came more easily now than ever.

Dick kept flipping through the book. “Aw, you kept our candy wrapper notes. I'd hoped you hadn't lost them.” He smoothed down the wrinkled corner of one Tiger had written: I love you but please stop singing. Dick had written one in response: Please don't make me choose between the two greatest loves of my life.

Tiger's response to that had been short and to the point: You disgust me. He had meant it in jest, obviously.

“Being on the run was exhausting,” Dick said, “but I had a great time with you.”

“I feel the same.”

“Glad you didn't kill Helena and ruin everything?”

Tiger rolled his eyes, but still said yes. He had not wanted to kill her, but that had been the only option at the time.

“And look! We're together again.” Dick nudged him. “We should keep up the notes, you know. I like looking back on them.”

Tiger liked that, too.

Then they kissed, and he never wanted to leave again.

Their relationship continued in fits and starts and stolen moments for the next few years, until one day Tiger passed Dick an envelope after they'd spent their first night together in months... again.

“What's this?”

“Open it.” Tiger grabbed a fistful of the bedsheets to fight the nerves, relieved that Dick was focused on the envelope rather than him.

Dick pulled Tiger's note out, and a pair of rings fell onto the sheets. “No way.” He opened the letter so quickly that he almost tore it.

“Read it aloud?” Tiger requested.

Dick was already grinning wider than Tiger had ever seen. “Sure, babe. Dear, Richard. I apologise for the formality, but it seemed appropriate. We have spent so much of our time apart and it has given me time to think about our relationship. I have grown tired of seeing you once every few weeks at best. I want to see you every day. I want to wake up to your sleeping face, even when you drool on the pillow and talk in your sleep. I want to eat breakfast with you and watch your eyes slowly wake as the caffeine hits your system. I want to hear your praise your family whenever they achieve their goals, and I want to watch you reach your own. I want to spent the rest of my life with...” Dick trailed off, blinking rapidly towards the ceiling.

Tiger had spent so much time agonising over what to write that knew the letter by heart, so he kept talking, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you more than anything else in the world—and I really wish you were still reading this because I am embarrassing myself.”

“Shut up,” Dick said thickly. “Keep going.”

“I cannot do both at once.”

Dick elbowed him. “Fine. I'll do it. Richard Grayson, will you marry me?” He dropped the letter. “Of course I will, Tiger.” Then he leaned over and threw a second envelope into Tiger's lap. “Great minds think alike, huh? Shame I hadn't finished writing the letter, damn you.”

Tiger shook out a second pair of rings, and they laughed together.

Dick finished his letter and proposed to Tiger the following afternoon. Those letters became their wedding vows.

They reread their love letter scrapbooks every anniversary, and Tiger pretended he wasn't crying each time. Dick never teased him for it.

Years later, they still wrote little notes for each other and pasted them into a new, shared scrapbook. From the mundane to the just plain strange—from gone out to get milk to sorry babe had to rescue seventeen cats from the same tree—every note had its own little position of honour.

Every time they fought, every time they missed each other, they could look back on those notes and remember why they were sharing a life together. Even though they bought each other plenty of gifts over the years, from new plates to the world's ugliest shirt to an orange kitten they called Tony, nothing could ever compare to the gift they had given each other right at the beginning.

“I do anything that is not illegal,” Tiger replied, reaching for his pen and notepad. “Your name?”

“Richard Grayson,” the officer said, tapping his namebadge, which read R. Grayson along with a string of numbers. “I go by Dick, though.”

“Recipient?”

“Helena Bertinelli. She's a detective, if that matters.”

“Pick up or delivery?” Tiger chose not to mention Helena was his roommate. His parents back home in Afghanistan didn't even know. Having to explain that he lived with a woman who was not his wife, and that he was not interested in women at all, would raise far too many questions.

Officer Grayson tapped his chin. “Hm. Can I get them delivered to her desk by, like, tomorrow afternoon? She gets off around dinnertime so any time before then is cool.”

“You are fortunate this is not a busy season.” Tiger scribbled a note onto his pad. “I can have a courier take them to reception, where they will be screened and then sent to her.”

“Ain't your first police rodeo, huh?”

“That makes no sense, Officer Grayson.”

“Please, call me Dick.” The man flashed a bright smile, and Tiger had to resist the temptation to smile back.

“Very well. That makes no sense, Dick.”

Dick laughed. “English is the worst.” He slid a credit card from his wallet. “So, how much is this gonna hurt my savings?”

He paid, chattering the whole time. Tiger could feel a headache coming on. He just wanted to close up and go home. Possibly eat his body weight in whatever food was left in the fridge.

Finally, finally, several minutes after closing time, Dick Grayson was ready to leave. Except, on the way out the door:

“Oh, by the way,” he said, hand resting on the handle. “What's the story behind the name?”

“I call myself Tiger,” Tiger replied. “Long story. My roommate thought the shop name was clever.”

Dick chuckled. “Tell your roommate they have good taste.” Then he was gone.

“I absolutely will not,” Tiger muttered. He had no intention of mentioning this encounter to Helena at all, mainly because it would ruin the floral surprise.

Oh, and Helena knew he was gay and had been throwing men at him ever since. She did not need more encouragement in the form of an overly talkative but blindingly attractive police officer... not until Tiger could find a woman to throw at her in revenge.

The following evening, Helena got home while Tiger was devouring leftover fried rice in front of the television. She placed the floral arrangement on the table and put her hands on her hips.

“So,” she said. “When were you gonna tell me Grayson came into your shop?”

Tiger swallowed his rice. “Never. That would violate florist-patient confidentiality.”

“I regret ever telling you to work on your sense of humour.” Helena threw herself on the couch and stole a forkful of rice. “Did you even microwave this?”

“I was hungry.”

“You are a disaster.” She grabbed the bowl off him and marched into the kitchen. A few slams and beeps later, and the microwave was humming.

Tiger stared at his arrangement. Knowing Helena was going to take him to task on it, he'd taken his time putting it together. Tiger hadn't known how friendly Dick and Helena were since she had never mentioned him before, so he avoided flowers with any obvious romantic meanings.

Helena was fond of purple, so a purple hyacinth was an obvious choice. He accompanied them with white tulips and a few delicate lily-of-the-valley stalks. The white-and-purple combination reminded him of her, so he'd finished the arrangement by placing them in a dark purple box with a white ribbon. They were home now, however, so it would be best to move them to a vase.

Tiger brought the flowers into the kitchen and dug through the cabinets until he found his favourite vase: a twisting, wavy creation with an amethyst pattern pressed between the layers of glass. It may have actually been amethyst, but Tiger doubted it. Helena had bought it for his birthday, and she certainly did not make enough on a government salary to buy something that expensive without the most practical of purposes.

Regardless, it complimented the arrangement, so he was using it.

The microwave beeped and Helena dragged out two bowls. Tiger did not understand how she could balance both of them in there, but she did it regularly. She shoved his bowl in his hands, stopping him from adjusting the flowers.

“It looks great as it is,” she said. “I'm hungry and curious.”

They returned to the living room, ignoring whatever boring show Tiger had been watching before she arrived. Even he was not sure.

“Now,” Helena said, stirring her rice with her fork. “When the hell did Grayson find time to run down to your store?”

“Five minutes before closing yesterday,” Tiger replied, shoving a forkful of rice in his mouth. He swallowed quickly and pretended it hadn't almost burned his tongue off.

Helena sighed. “Of course. I hope he didn't bother you too much.”

“He was friendly and polite,” Tiger replied. “I managed not to hate him despite the inconvenience. What exactly did he do?”

“Oh, that?” Helena snorted. “He contaminated a crime scene.”

“And you did not kill him?”

“I'm sure he wished I did, with the way I yelled at him.” She ate a mouthful of rice. “Turns out it wasn't his fault. One of the other rookies moved a sack of rice behind him without telling anyone. He tripped. Fell on a coffee table and smashed it, and our chances of finding fingerprints on the glass. He's lucky he didn't need stitches.”

“Did he know it wasn't his fault yesterday?”

“No. The other rookie owned up today, about the time the flowers arrived. I honestly think Dick was close to bursting into tears. Did he seem upset to you last night?”

“Panicked,” Tiger replied. “He was soon distracted by the strangeness of the English language, and smiled like a movie star.” Tiger almost facepalmed at himself. Honestly.

Helena chuckled. “Sounds like him. He's a nice kid. A little green, but heart's in the right place. Not much younger than you, actually.”

“You are not setting me up with him.”

“You mentioned his smile. It must have made an impact on you.” Helena nudged him. “Come on. Maybe you'll enjoy yourself.”

Tiger could not believe he had let Helena talk him into this. But it had been a long time since he had last tried to date... and Dick Grayson was an attractive man.

“Oh, by the way,” Helena said as she fussed over Tiger's shirt buttons, “I have a date in Gotham city tonight, so if you want to bring him back here...”

Tiger ignored the implication. “You did not tell me you had a date.”

“Didn't I?” Helena stepped back. “Okay, you're looking great. That shirt makes your forearms look massive... in a good way.”

“Helena, who are you seeing in Gotham?”

“Oh, just the police commissioner's daughter. Barbara. She and Dick went to school together, actually.” Helena passed him the bouquet he'd rested in a vase on the coffee table. He had another vase set up in the car because he travelled with his arrangements more than was probably normal, even for a florist. “Now. Remember to be polite, and smile at least once. Dick's good at running with scraps of conversation, but there's no reason to make it more difficult than it has to be. Be careful if you ask about his family.”

Tiger managed to get out the door without too much fussing. He carefully set his arrangement in the vase, adjusting the positions of the bronze chrysanthemums and the sunflowers amongst the bed of leaves until he was satisfied. Excitement and happiness seemed like good message to send for a first date, even if Dick probably wouldn't know the meaning behind the arrangement. Tiger would have to learn his favourite colour if this date went well.

He drove to Dick's apartment across the city. The buildings in the area were at times graffitied and damaged, but there were many families walking around this evening. They looked happy, at least. Tiger, not for the first time this week, missed his parents.

He buzzed Dick's apartment, flowers in hand. Dick's voice crackled through the speaker, inviting him up. Tiger swallowed a surge of nerves and stepped inside the building.

Dick's apartment was on the top floor. The elevator screeched like it wanted to kill someone, but delivered Tiger there safely. His stomach jumped as he knocked on the correct door.

Dick threw it open with a broad grin. “Well, hello stranger! Ooh, are those for me?”

“Yes.” Tiger handed them over.

“Come on in,” Dick said, disappearing into the apartment. Tiger stepped inside, and Dick's voice drifted in from the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable. I just need to find something nice enough to do these justice. Ah, that'll work.”

Tiger perched on the edge of the couch, listening to Dick clatter around in the kitchen. The apartment, despite its unexpected location, was well-maintained, clearly loved. There were photo frames on a shelf beside the small television. A few showed Dick smiling with a tall older man—oh, that was Bruce Wayne. A few with younger people, presumably siblings, including a scowling brown-skinned child; Tiger had a vague recollection of Bruce Wayne suddenly having a biological son out of nowhere. There was another frame on the wall above the shelf that held a poster of a circus act called the Flying Graysons: two adults and a young boy.

Tiger had spent enough time in Gotham city to know the man, currently filling a vase and muttering don't ruin the art, dude, was in fact that Richard Grayson. Tiger had never given him much thought; most of the major events that put Dick in the spotlight had already occurred by the time Tiger arrived in America as barely an adult.

Most. He vaguely remembered some articles about unsuccessful kidnappings.

Dick returned to the living room and set a clear glass vase on the table. It was clearly a gift from someone with no taste, but at least it was inoffensive. Tiger set to carefully rearranging the flowers within until he was satisfied they fit his vision once again.

“Sorry,” Dick said. “They got a little jumbled and I tried to put them right.”

“It is fine,” Tiger replied. “I simply have very particular tastes.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “Good taste?”

“In flowers,” Tiger said firmly. “In men? That remains to be seen.”

Dick laughed. “Ooh, I like you. Shall we?”

They piled into Tiger's car.

“So,” Dick said, “where are we headed?”

“Do you like pizza?”

“I fucking love pizza.”

“Good. Did Helena mention there is a pizza festival tonight?”

Dick smacked his forehead. “Oh my god, she did. She even brought out the Italian hand gestures and insisted we all go. And then she goes off to Gotham city to see one of my best friends instead.”

Tiger pulled away from the curb, heading down the street. “Yes. Barbara.”

“Helena told you? Nice of her. I heard it from Babs, like, right before you arrived.” Dick shrugged. “I mean, Helena is more of a really scary coworker than a friend so I get it, but she did buy me ice cream the other night to apologise for yelling at me. I think she felt bad about the flowers. Why didn't you tell me you were roommates?”

“It is not something I tell many people,” Tiger admitted. “Also, I was tired and wanted to go home.”

“Sorry. I panicked.”

“You are forgiven... but only because you have a nice smile.”

“Aww. You have great arms, by the way.”

Tiger sent out a silent thank you to Helena for insisting he wore this shirt. He parked the car a few streets away from the festival and they walked the rest of the way, not quite touching but hovering in each other's space.

The pizza festival occupied the town square, and the noise was like a physical wall pushing Tiger backwards. Dick slid his hand into Tiger's and led him forward.

“So, what do you wanna try?” Dick asked. “I think there's a pizza-making class.

“Clearly Helena has not told you anything about my cooking abilities.” Tiger could manage when no one was watching. Here? In public? He was liable to set his lungee on fire.

“Ah, I can't cook either. Why don't we just split a pizza?”

A short laugh burst from Tiger. “I do not 'split' pizza.”

Dick showed his blinding grin. “You make a fair argument. Let's grab, like, three pizzas to share. I'm hungry as hell but I don't think I can eat two.”

“That is agreeable.”

They lined up for woodfire pizzas—Tiger went for a traditional margherita and Dick chose mediterranean—and then Dick spotted a dessert pizza stall so they ended up buying a Nutella pizza. Tiger did not understand why such a thing existed, but Dick was practically yelling with excitement.

They found a quieter corner to sit, laying out their boxes on the spool-shaped wooden table. There was a pizza-tossing competition nearby. Dick laughed every time the dough landed on someone's head, which was often.

Dick stole a slice of Tiger's Margherita. “So, awkward icebreaker time?”

Tiger stole a slice of Dick's mediterranean. “If we must.”

“I'm a pro at this. Trust me. We met in your shop. How'd you decide to be a florist?”

Tiger shrugged. “I like flowers, and did not know what else to do. How did you decide to become a police officer?”

“You saw the photos in my apartment,” Dick replied. He took a moment to shove the rest of the pizza slice in his mouth, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “Long story short because it's totally gonna bring down the mood, my bio-parents were murdered in Gotham when I was eight and the police force had a hell of a time bringing their killer to justice because there was so much corruption. They managed it, eventually, but that mainly because one police lieutenant took it upon himself to fight through it all. He's the commissioner now. I owe a lot to him, and I wanted to be that person for someone else.”

“Why Blüdhaven?”

“My adoptive dad's too famous in Gotham,” Dick replied, picking up one of his own slices of pizza this time. “Going a little ways down the river made a huge difference. I still get recognised sometimes, but mostly by coworkers who see me every day.”

“Ah, yes. Bruce Wayne.”

“You recognised his photo?”

Tiger nodded. “You were already adopted when I arrived in America. It would appear I missed the excitement.”

Dick snorted. “Oh, the excitement hasn't stopped. Do you have any idea how many people tried to kidnap me as a teenager?”

“I... seem to recall some news articles about that.”

“You'd think they would've stopped trying after, like, the tenth attempt, but noooooo.” Dick took a break to shove almost an entire slice of pizza in his mouth. “One time when I was about thirteen, I actually annoyed my would-be kidnappers so much that they let me go. Bruce listened quietly to the police tell him what happened, and then nodded and said 'fair enough.' I was so offended.”

“I... can see that happening. You do like to talk.”

“What can I say? I'm a people person.” Dick tried to steal another slice of Tiger's pizza, but Tiger slapped his hand away. “Anyway, I feel like I've been talking too much. Tell me about your family.”

“My parents still live in Afghanistan,” Tiger replied, defensively eating three slices of his pizza in a row. There was only one left now, and it was his. “We... have not spoken in a while.”

“Oh?”

Tiger shrugged. “It is difficult to talk to them about my life. They know I am a florist and they support me, even if they do not understand my choice, but they do not know I have a female roommate, or that I am gay.” Dick had shared plenty about his family. It only seemed fair to do the same.

“Sounds rough,” Dick replied, starting on the Nutella pizza.

“Says the orphan.” Tiger... regretted those words immediately.

But Dick just laughed some more. “Touche. To be fair, though, Bruce is super accepting. And I'm not gonna out anybody, but I'm definitely not the only one in the family. The only thing I have to worry about is the fam getting super protective of me... which they always do. Do you think you'll ever tell your parents?”

“I do not know.” Tiger shoved a piece of Nutella pizza into his mouth before he could become emotional. “Perhaps if I wish to marry. Until then, I would risk estrangement for no practical reason.”

“Well, I hope you're wrong about them,” Dick said softly. Tiger needed to talk about something else. Now.

“This pizza is better than I expected.” That would do.

Dick took the hint. “Yeah! I've had something similar before, but this blows it out of the water.”

They carefully avoided difficult topics after that. It was strange how easily the words about Tiger's family had come. He did not typically tell near-strangers such personal details, but Dick did not feel like a stranger.

The hour grew late. Dick and Tiger bought gelato right before the stalls began to pack up. They ambled through the nearby park, talking about nothing important. Weird flower requests and odd 911 calls. Tiger had to put up a sign in his shop for several weeks refusing to order any and all flowers that smelled like rotting flesh, and there were several. Dick had once responded to a 911 call where the caller turned out to be a nine-year-old who couldn't reach the cookie jar while his parents were out.

They sat on a park bench under a street light, rubbing the sticky residue of ice cream from their fingers. Dick hadn't stopped laughing for over a minute... over something Tiger had said. Tiger hadn't thought it was that funny, but Dick had a nice laugh so he did not complain.

Dick sighed, his eyes alight with the kind of joy Tiger had never known. “I've had a good time tonight.”

“Me too,” Tiger said, almost before he could think.

“We should do this again.”

“Yes.”

Then Dick was in his lap. Tiger squeezed him. They kissed, leaning into each other, deepening quickly. Quicker than Tiger had ever kissed before... but it felt right. He opened his mouth to Dick's tongue. Dick tasted of strawberry gelato.

Then Dick reeled backwards, just enough that Tiger could breathe again. “You know... the night is young.”

Tiger swallowed. “My apartment is closest... and all mine for the night.”

They kissed against the door. Then on the couch. Tiger retreated for a moment to take off his lungee and put it away. Dick turned on the television, volume almost inaudible, and they lay on the couch together for a while.

Dick played with the hair on the nape of Tiger's neck. “Helena warned me not to scare you off, you know. Made it sound like you didn't date very often.”

Tiger was happily resting his head against Dick's chest. “I do not.”

“Could've fooled me. You kiss like a pro.”

Tiger huffed in both amusement at Dick, and irritation at the memories this conversation inspired. “I have dated before.”

“And?”

“There are a lot of racist white men out there.”

“Oh, tell me about it.” Dick groaned. “I briefly dated this hipster kinda guy a while back, right until he started throwing a certain anti-Romani slur around to describe his art aesthetic or whatever the fuck. He got mad when I told him I was Roma and he was being an ass.”

“One man kept introducing me as his Arab boyfriend to his friends,” Tiger replied. “I told him every time that I am Pashtun, not Arab, but he never listened. He was surprised when I broke up with him. Finding men who will date me is hard enough. When you remove the racists, they are almost non-existent.”

“'Remove the racists' sounds like assassination,” Dick said, grinning down at him.

“How do you know that is not what I am doing?”

“Oh, okay. Carry on.”

Tiger propped himself up on his elbow to kiss Dick some more. It almost frightened him how easy this was. They barely knew each other. This was their first date. He already wanted another one. And another. And another.

“Do you need to get home tonight?” Tiger asked.

“It's my day off tomorrow,” Dick replied. “I can stay over, if you're cool with it.”

“I am.”

“Perfect.”

They kissed until they could barely keep their eyes open, and fell asleep on the couch. Breakfast the following morning was pancakes, the one thing Dick could reliably cook before midday. They sat at the kitchen table opposite each other, feet tangling together as they ate.

Halfway through the comfortably quiet breakfast, Tiger remembered to ask, “What is your favourite colour?”

“Blue,” Dick replied. “But I like everything, really.” His eyes slid to Helena's bouquet, just visible on the living room coffee table from this angle. “Why?”

“No reason.”

“If you say so.” Dick was definitely making fun of him now, but that was okay. It had been a long time since Tiger had wanted to make an arrangement for someone who was not a client or Helena. Dick was going to become so sick of flowers.

Helena arrived home in time to steal some pancakes and tease them about sleeping over.

“I knew you two would hit it off,” she said, squeezing a generous amount of maple syrup onto her pancakes. “Did you enjoy yourselves?”

“It's not what it looks like,” Dick replied, his cheeks turning pink. “Nothing happened.”

“Of course not. Tiger's a gentleman. Aren't you, Tiger?”

“I... suppose,” Tiger replied.

Dick rolled his eyes. “You don't have to look out for me, detective.”

“Okay, rookie,” said Helena. “Tell me, Tiger. Did Richard behave appropriately towards you?”

“He did,” Tiger answered.

“There we have it. You're both gentlemen.” Helena's phone buzzed. Tiger caught the name Barbara Gordon on the screen before she answered it. “Hello, gorgeous. Miss me already?”

Dick and Tiger washed the dishes while Helena wandered off to continue her conversation. Tiger found he liked standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Dick at the sink, like they had done this many times before.

Dick bumped his hip against Tiger's. “I had a good time. You?”

“Yes. I did.” The best time. Tiger's mind was already spinning with what arrangement he could bring Dick for their second date.

Dick leaned over and kissed Tiger on the cheek. “Same time next week?”

“That sounds good.”

“Glad to hear it.” Then Dick nipped his earlobe. “Let's have dinner at my place next time. I've got some great ideas for dessert. BYO utensils, if you catch my drift.”

If Helena had not been in the house, Tiger might have told him not to wait for next week. Instead, he cupped Dick's face with his wet hands, giving him the deepest, dirtiest kiss he could manage.

“I will see you there,” he whispered against Dick's lips.

The dishes were quickly forgotten. At least, until Helena returned and threw a towel at them. Dick quickly fled the apartment, laughing all the way.

Helena took his spot at the sink, and helped Tiger finish the washing. “He's a good guy, Tiger. I'm glad you like him.”

Tiger was glad he liked him, too.

Then Helena's smile turned evil. “Since our partners are friends, we should go on a double date some time.”

“Maybe,” Tiger said. Meaning no. Or, at least, not yet. Tiger wanted Dick all to himself, just for a little longer.

“Hmm?”

“Water?”

Dick set the tablet aside and filled up a glass. Tiger sat up, setting the ice pack aside. His eyes were still a little red. He gulped down the water while Dick sat beside him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fucking terrible.” Tiger's face shifted oddly, as if surprised. “Wait. No. I did not want to say that.”

Dick took the empty glass off him and refilled it. “What were you going to say?”

“I'm fine... but that is a lie. I am not fine. My eyes are burning and my throat feels torn.” He made a frustrated noise. “I did not mean to say that, either.”

Dick passed him the refilled glass. “Maybe this is a side-effect of the gas.”

“That I am forced to tell the truth?” Tiger grimaced. “Fuck.”

“I'll keep checking the notes.” Dick curled up in the one decent armchair in the room and picked up where he left off with the tablet.

“Please do not ask me any more questions,” Tiger muttered. Dick mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key. Tiger laughed weakly, made another face and chugged the water... evidently to shut himself up.

This had already been a long day. Apparently, it was going to get longer. The notes were disorganised, but the write-ups of human testing proved fruitful. Some of the earlier victims had died from the gas, but the later ones just spilled all their secrets instead. No wonder governments and law enforcement wanted their hands on this shit.

Dick kept reading. Tiger had only gotten a lungful or two of the stuff, whereas most of the test subjects were exposed for several minutes at a time. It would likely wear off in a few hours at most, but it probably wasn't a great idea to take him anywhere until that happened.

“You had a lower dosage than the test subjects,” Dick told Tiger. “Obviously I don't have a great scale to work with, but the subjects' symptoms wore off after twelve hours. It shouldn't take you that long.”

“Good. I am afraid of what I will say.” Tiger growled under his breath and slammed the glass of water in the sink. “And I am already tired of saying things I would rather keep private.”

“I'll update Helena. It might be best if we stay here until it wears off.”

“I would rather not be stuck here with you.” Another weird face. “Excuse me. I need to hide in the bathroom.” He made it in there and slammed the door shut before he said anything else, but his next word was audible all the same. “FUCK!”

Dick got Helena on the comm, feeling simultaneously sorry for Tiger and relieved that he hadn't been the one drugged. He had way too many secrets that could jeopardise his life and mission if they got out.

“Hey, Matron. Sorry I was short earlier. Tiger was in a pretty bad way.”

“It's fine, 37. How is he now?”

“The burning's gotten better and the swelling's gone down a bit,” Dick replied. “He's still in pain, though, and experiencing some side-effects.”

“I'm looking through the data now. A truth drug?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I'm trying not to aggravate it, but we've already had some interesting conversations he hadn't intended. He's barricaded himself in the bathroom for the moment.”

“Stay put until that stops. The safehouse should have enough supplies for the night.”

“Thanks, Helena. I'll update you in a few hours.”

“Try not to let him tell you anything classified. You don't have the clearance for that.”

“That hasn't been an issue so far.” Dick kind of wished it was. Then he could at least pretend to plug his ears and actually learn some interesting intel. But no. Tiger was just getting extremely embarrassed because he admitted he felt like shit rather than pretending everything was fine. Oh, and he didn't want to stay here because that'd mean he'd be stuck with Dick. Ouch.

“Good. Keep it that way.” Helena ended the call, before Dick could ask what exactly she was going to do with the research data. It could be catastrophic in the wrong hands, and Dick honestly wasn't sure there was such a thing as the right hands in a case like this. If he'd known, and if he could've gotten away with it, he sooner would've destroyed all the data and pretended it was an accident.

Tiger wasn't coming out of the bathroom any time soon, so Dick wasted time digging through the rickety kitchen cabinets to see what they had to work with. Cans. And more cans. Salt, pepper, sugar, various dried herbs. Several bags of dry pasta. Several different kinds of teabags. And a jar of honey for some reason.

He filled the stovetop kettle with water and put it on the hotplate. Then he grabbed the box of teabags, and sugar and honey, and knocked on the bathroom door. Tiger opened it a crack and Dick shoved the box at him. He picked the teabag he wanted—a soothing throat coat blend, along with the honey—and retreated again.

“This is gonna be a long night,” Dick muttered to himself as he tore open the teabag packet and set about making the tea. At least it might help Tiger's throat feel better... though maybe he'd be better off drinking it cold. Now would be a good time to make southern sweet tea instead, but Dick had never done that before and didn't feel like experimenting now.

While it steeped, Dick kept looking through the cabinets, pulling out cans here and there. If they were going to be here a while, then Dick was making a late dinner. A very late dinner. He was already kinda hungry.

Nothing spicy. Tiger wouldn't be able to tolerate that. Crushed tomatoes, tuna, pasta, some herbs from the cabinet maybe. Better than yet another freaking cup of instant ramen.

Dick spotted a box of microwave mac and cheese. That could work with the tuna. He found a bag of frozen peas kept closed with a clip. Easier than trying to figure out how to flavour pasta with what he had on hand, given spice was a bad idea.

The tea was done. Dick took out the teabag and squeezed in some honey, stirring it in. Probably still too hot for Tiger given the events of the day.

The bathroom door creaked open as Dick tore open a mac and cheese packet.

“Hey, dude,” Dick said, emptying the macaroni into a bowl. “How do you feel about macaroni and tuna? Might throw some peas in there, too.”

“I am uncertain I want to eat at all,” Tiger said quietly, leaning against the counter. “Do what you like. Is this my tea?”

“It's probably too hot for you yet.” Dick poured out some frozen peas and got the tuna all lined up.

Tiger took a sip anyway, and immediately spat it out into the sink.

“I told you.”

Tiger filled up his glass of water, downed the whole thing, and said pathetically, “I just wanted tea.”

Tonight was giving Dick a hell of a glimpse into the way Tiger's mind worked. He decided not to comment, and instead threw the water-macaroni-powder-peas mix into the microwave. He'd just add the tuna later. Honestly, he was just hoping this worked because he had no idea what we was doing.

“What did Helena say?” Tiger asked.

“To stay here until the truth serum wears off,” Dick replied. “And I'm supposed to make sure you don't tell me anything I don't have clearance for.”

“Great,” Tiger muttered.

“I can plug my ears and sing loudly if you start.”

“Please do not. I have a headache.”

“Sorry to hear that, man.”

“I like hearing that.” Judging from the look on Tiger's face, that was another thing he hadn't wanted to say. This was going to be a rough few hours. “You are kind. I admire that about you.” He leaned against the counter and switched languages. Dick didn't understand what he was saying, but the tone made him think Tiger was swearing.

Dick poured a little cold water into the tea and passed it to Tiger. “Here. Keep your mouth occupied.”

“Thank you. I am going to hide in the bathroom again.” Tiger retreated before he could say anything else.

“I'll call you for dinner.”

He could've sworn he heard Tiger whisper, “Please don't.”

“Food is important!” Dick called after him.

Tiger would have been more than happy to hide in the bathroom for the next several hours until the drug wore off. He sat on the toilet lid and sipped his tea, his mouth burning a little but he could tolerate it. He felt a little like throwing up. Somehow he had managed not to tell Dick.

His eyes felt like they had been sandpapered. The skin around them was still raw.. Dick had helped him wash off the residue when they first arrived here, but the memory of that burning was still so fresh that he cringed every time he thought about it.

He also cringed every time he thought about all the embarrassing things he had said... and there were more to come. He could hide in here all he liked, but Dick would eventually drag him out to eat something.

At least the tea was soothing on his throat. He had been coughing so violently earlier that he actually did throw up a little when Dick wasn't looking. He didn't know why he cared so much about Dick thinking he was tougher than he really was. Dick wasn't like the other spies. He wouldn't use a moment of weakness as a weapon.

Tiger had spent a long time crafting an untouchable persona, one that seemed to have no effect on Dick at all. The man still teased him, sang songs and chattered incessently. Tiger would not be surprised if his outward lack of receptiveness had actually encouraged him. Alia had behaved the same, except...

Dick was unique, even outside the world of espionage. Uncommonly kind... and Tiger had said that to his face because of this damn drug. If he left this room, what else would he say?

That he thought Dick's strict adherence to his moral code, while inconvenient, was admirable? That his smile made Tiger feel warm? That he was glad Dick was his new partner instead of the numerous assholes in Spyral? That some of his jokes were actually funny?

That, despite their differences, Tiger was falling more in love with him every day? Of all his secrets, that was the most dangerous for both of them... for many reasons.

It would lead to difficult conversations about Alia that Tiger was not ready for. He would never be ready. He missed her every day, and these new feelings for Dick terrified him. Closeness brought pain. Lonely and unharmed was the only option Tiger could stomach.

He was already feeling nauseous. He couldn't do this. If he left this room, he was going to have a breakdown.

A knock on the door brought him dangerously close to tears, and that was even more terrifying. He couldn't let Dick see him like this.

“Dinner,” Dick said through the door. “I know you're not feeling well, but you should eat something. It might help.”

“I would rather hide in here for the rest of my life,” Tiger said, trying to lower the volume so Dick wouldn't hear. Tonight was not his night.

“Believe me, I know. You can go back in there afterwards if you want. I won't ask you any questions.”

Tiger downed the last of the tea, which only made him feel sicker. “I might throw up.”

“Eating some food might help soak up the toxins and make you feel better. Eat a few mouthfuls of peas and I'll leave you alone, I promise.”

“Please stop making sense.”

Dick chuckled. “I'll try. Come out, please?”

“Rrrr. I'm coming.”

“Did you just growl?”

“Yes. Shut up.” He marched out the door and slammed the mug on the counter.

“Thank you,” Dick said, placing a small bowl of peas on the little folding table. The other spot held a disgusting macaroni concoction that made Tiger even sicker just looking at it.

He sat down. “I am glad you're not making me eat that.”

“It's really nice, actually. Just not when you feel like puking.”

“I do not want to eat the peas, either.”

Dick sat opposite him. “I know. Please try anyway.”

“If anyone else asked...” Tiger shut himself up by shoving a spoonful of peas in his mouth. It was somewhat effective, even if he still finished his sentence—I would have punched them by now—with a mouthful of peas. But Dick didn't seem to understand what he said, so it worked well enough.

Dick busied himself eating his disgusting tuna-pea-macaroni torture device. There was joyous quiet for a few moments, before Tiger's drugged mouth chose to ruin everything. Again.

“I am glad to be here with you, and not someone else.”

“Oh.” Dick opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Okay. Thanks?”

“Anyone else would use my vulnerability to learn my secrets, and use them against me later.”

“Anyone else is apparently an asshole,” Dick said flatly. Tiger had expected him to make a joke out of it, but he didn't sound like he was joking.

“They are spies... and assholes.” Sentences just would not end where Tiger wanted them to.

“Well, I'm glad you're more comfortable with me.”

“I am not.”

“But—” Dick clamped his mouth shut. “No. I promised I wouldn't question you.”

“Thank you. I am already worried I will say something I will regret.” Tiger's cheeks flashed unpleasantly hot as he remembered everything that had already come out of his mouth. “More than I already have.”

“I won't hold anything against you.” Dick tucked back into his gross macaroni. “You still feel sick?”

“Not as much.”

“Progress.”

“I am making myself sick with anxiety. The peas will not stop that forever.” Tiger was strongly tempted to find some tape and cover his mouth. “I am sorry I complained about being stuck with you.”

“Dude, it's okay. I get it. You're super vulnerable right now.”

“Yes. I also want to tape my mouth shut.”

“Yeah, I wouldn't recommend that. I was kidnapped a lot as Robin. That shit hurts. And if you need to throw up...”

“I am still tempted, if disgusted.” Tiger scraped up the remaining peas and shoved them in his mouth before he kept talking. He did not want to talk anymore, but his mouth had other ideas. Swallowing was... difficult. He gagged a few times and came dangerously close to vomiting right into the empty bowl.

Dick handed him another glass of water. “Maybe you should lie down for a bit.”

“No.”

“Let the food settle.”

“I cannot be in the same room as you.”

Dick opened his mouth for the—Tiger had lost count how many times—and shut it again.

“What?” Tiger snapped.

“I keep almost asking you questions. Sorry.”

Tiger brought the glass to his lips before he could give away the nice feeling Dick's consideration gave him. Any other time, he would hide his feelings with insults... but he was incapable of lying today. Therefore, he could not insult Dick.

“I don't think you're an idiot,” he said around the glass and sincerely hoped it was inaudible. It was not.

“Why, thank you.” Dick offered him a tight smile, not the natural, bright one that Tiger loved.

Tiger drank more water to keep that thought in his head and not his mouth. But then the glass was empty.

“More water?” Dick snatched the glass out of his hand, filling it up. “You're gonna be peeing all night.”

“I am trying not to talk,” Tiger admitted, not getting the glass to his face quickly enough.

“I figured.” The smile warmed a little. “If you need a break and would rather not hide in the bathroom, my offer to plug my ears and sing is still open.”

Tiger's next thought was so forceful that he couldn't stop it coming out. “Why are you being so kind to me?” It sounded like an accusation. Tiger had no idea if he meant it that way.

“Because I'd hate to be in your position,” Dick said calmly. “We've all got stuff we'd rather keep to ourselves. It's stressing you out, and I hate to see that. No one deserves to go through what you're going through tonight, especially you. I've put you through enough in the short time I've been in Spyral.”

Damn it. Why did he have to be such a good person? Tiger didn't deserve kindness, least of all from the man he had tried so hard to push away.

“You blame yourself for Alia,” Tiger said. Then he chugged half the glass before he could spill any of his feelings, about either Alia or Dick.

“A bit, yeah. I'm surprised you don't completely hate me—but LET'S NOT TALK ABOUT THAT NOW, OKAY?” Dick's voice drowned out whatever had slipped out of Tiger's mouth. Tiger didn't even remember what it was.

But neither of them could stop what Tiger would say next. The words tumbled out in a rush, before Tiger's brain had caught up.

“I don't hate you. I love you.”

There was a moment where they both froze, staring at each other. Then Dick's mouth formed a perfect O shape. Tiger shoved both hands over his own.

Dick recovered first, taking a deep breath and letting it all out. “Okay. We're gonna deal with that later, when you're not at a disadvantage. It's been a long night. Why don't you try to get some sleep. I'll go take a long shower and give you some privacy.”

Tiger numbly stumbled over to the pair of camp beds, falling into the nearest. Dick cleared the table, dumped the dishes in the sink, and retreated to the bathroom. There was a squeaking sound, the shuddering of pipes, and then the patter of water hitting the shower floor.

Tiger buried his face in a flat pillow and fought down the urge to run away. The one thing he couldn't bear to tell Dick... and of course it burst out of him.

Tonight had been bad enough already. How the fuck could he ever face Dick again?

Tiger was snoring like a chainsaw when Dick left the bathroom, having somehow managed to waste an hour in there. He couldn't risk washing the dishes and waking Tiger up, so he climbed into the second camp bed and tried to catch some shut-eye of his own.

Dick had spent most of his shower and general time-wasting mulling over what the hell had just happened. He still didn't know how to feel about it. Tiger was untouchable. Aloof. Dick had never allowed himself to think of the man as anything but a very grumpy teammate... and maybe a friend. Maybe. Even that was questionable.

He hadn't considered romance as a possibility, because he had genuinely thought it wasn't an option. Knowing what he knew now, though, had all sorts of thoughts running through his head.

Tiger was a good-looking guy. Talented. Hid his true feelings behind scowls and insults, but he had never let Dick down. Not to mention he put up with Dick's generally well-intentioned ribbing, even if he acted like he wanted to throw Dick out a window most of the time.

It was a difficult thing to reconcile, Tiger's usual attitude with what was really going on in his head. Dick had fully expected him to keep secrets—he was a spy, duh—but he'd anticipated they were of the more murdery variety. Not harbouring feelings for someone he pretended to hate.

Dick needed more time to process this and sort out what the hell he was feeling.

Sleep was elusive. He had it just within his reach when a sharp movement and squeaking of the other cot grabbed his attention.

Tiger sighed, sitting up with his head in his hands. Dick lay still for a moment. Had enough time passed that the drug had worn off? If not, it was probably best he pretend to be asleep. They had things to talk about, but it just didn't seem fair to do that when Tiger was incapable of choosing his words.

“I know you are awake,” Tiger muttered. “And apparently the drug is still active.”

“Damn.” Dick sat up. “You feeling better?”

“Physically, yes. Emotionally, between embarrassing myself today and waking up from another nightmare about Alia, I want to crawl in a hole and bury myself.” Tiger rubbed a hand over his face. “I also want to punch that scientist again. Maybe shoot him.”

“You and me both, buddy. Well, minus the shooting.” Dick pasted on a smile and climbed out of bed. “I think I spied some ice cream in the freezer before. Want any? Might help with the pepper spray damage... and I always find ice cream makes me feel better emotionally.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Dick had no idea who stocked this safehouse, or why they put ice cream in the freezer, but he was damn grateful right about now. He spooned generous portions into two bowls and brought them over to Tiger, who hadn't gotten out of bed and probably wanted to throw the blankets over his head and pretend Dick wasn't here.

“Sit with me,” Tiger said, accepting the bowl.

“Is this you voicing thoughts against your will again?”

“Yes.” Tiger shoved the spoon in his mouth and gestured grumpily at the end of the bed.

“Feel free to kick me off if you change your mind,” Dick said, folding one leg underneath him as he sat.

There was quiet for a few moments as Tiger very carefully busied himself with eating vanilla ice cream. Dick did the same. Maybe it'd buy him some time so he could figure out how the hell to deal with this when he didn't understand what his own emotions were doing.

Tiger finished his ice cream all to quickly. He stared down at the bowl with a frown.

“I can get you some more if you want,” Dick offered.

“The only reason I would want more is to stop myself from talking,” Tiger said. “I am only delaying the inevitable. Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Dick replied. “You confused me.” If Tiger had to be honest, then the least Dick could do was be honest right back. “I honestly thought you hated me up until that slipped out.”

“I stopped hating you a long time ago,” Tiger said quietly.

“That's good to know.” Dick's ice cream was melting; he scooped up the rest and shoved it in his mouth. “This isn't a fair conversation.”

“Avoiding it is exhausting.” Tiger slid out of bed and put the bowl in the sink, turning on the tap. “I cannot keep doing it.”

“Doesn't mean we have to actively seek it out if you don't want to.” Dick joined him at the sink, adding his bowl to the dish pile. “We've got to talk about it, but it doesn't have to be tonight.”

“We may not have a choice,” Tiger said bitterly, squirting dishwashing liquid into the water.

Dick found a sponge and got started on an ice cream bowl since it was the first thing he grabbed. “I'm not gonna ask you about it.”

“I am afraid of what you think of me now,” Tiger admitted. “I hate that I care for you so much that you have the power to hurt me. Sometimes I wish we had never met.”

Dick didn't know what to say to that, so he focused on that last bit. “Ouch.”

“No, I—”

“Tiger, relax. I know you didn't mean it in a cruel way.” There were so many questions running through Dick's mind, but he forced them all down like he had at dinner. “Okay, look.” He set the washed bowl on the draining rack and set down the sponge, managing to catch Tiger's eye. “I need time to digest all this. You did a damn good job keeping me out, to the point where I didn't even think you liked me as a friend, let alone as anything else.”

“That was intentional.”

“I figured. I just... don't know how I feel, okay? Just know I'm not judging you. I'm not straight, either. We need to talk about this again once I've figured out what my emotions are doing and you're not forced to say every thought that pops into your head.”

“I do not want to talk about it at all,” Tiger admitted. “I am afraid of my own feelings and I am going to punch that fucking scientist repeatedly in the face. Do we have any knockout drugs? Tranquilizers? I want to be unconscious.”

“We used them on the scientist's guards,” Dick replied. “Sorry.”

“Damn it.” Tiger took up the sponge and started washing the next bowl. “I want to gag myself.”

Dick was on the edge of asking hasn't the worst already happened? He stopped himself just in time. Tiger frowned at him.

Dick left him there to tidy up the camp beds... and put a little distance between them. Gagging Tiger seemed wrong, but if that was what it took to stop him freaking out...

“Losing Alia broke me,” Tiger said softly, running the sponge across the bowl in slow, uselessly repetitive circles. “I still dream about it. Holding her as she died.”

“I'm sorry.” Dick didn't know what else he could say.

“Stop. Please. I no longer blame you.” Tiger dropped the bowl onto the drying rack with a crash. “She thought it best to eliminate him as a threat even after you had completed our mission, and he retaliated. You could not stop it. I understand that now, just as I understand trying to make you kill is ineffective... even if it would solve many problems.”

“That's not gonna happen.”

“I know.” Tiger braced his hands on the counter, leaning forward, head bowed. “Alia and were... close. I mistook my intense platonic feelings for romantic love for a long time. She understood when I ended our romantic relationship, and we grew even closer. I had never experienced anything like it. Losing her was... bad. I lack the words to describe the... hole it left in me.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought I was going to die.”

Dick knew how that felt. He had also seen the people he loved go through it. Bruce still carried a haunted look on his face on the bad nights, especially the anniversaries. Both their parents. Jason. Barbara's near-death. Stephanie. Damian. And that was just within the family.

Tiger had acted so... firm. Dick had missed the signs. He should've looked deeper. Maybe, on some level, he had known. Those distraction tactics—the jokes, the singing, the teasing—were all things he had used on Bruce and the rest of the family when their thoughts took a dark turn. Apparently he'd become so adept that he did it subconsciously now.

“I know the feeling,” Dick said, through a sizeable lump in his throat.

Tiger closed his eyes. Dick didn't like the stricken look on his face. They were beyond what words could fix, and Dick had run out of other ideas... except one.

Dick joined him at the sink and opened his arms. “You look like you could use a hug.”

Tiger hesitated for half a second, before wrapping his arms tightly around Dick's torso. Dick gave him a squeeze. Tiger seemed to deflate, slumping against him and burying his face in Dick's shoulder. Tonight had been awful. A lot of stuff had been aired that probably needed airing, but it sucked that Tiger hadn't been given a choice.

A soft voice, more breath than sound. “Thank you.”

When the drug finally wore off, Tiger was first out the door. The sooner they returned to base, the sooner he could pretend this had never happened.

Dick's last words to him before entering Helena's office were: “Listen. I wanna talk about what happened at some point now that we're on even ground. But I need time to process everything, and I think you do, too. Promise we'll deal with this in, like, a week?”

Tiger had found himself nodding, even though he still wanted to find a hole and bury himself. Dick had been very kind about what had happened, but now there were two simultaneous fears fighting for space in Tiger's mind: either Dick would realise that he did not reciprocate Tiger's feelings and then everything would be awkward between them, or Dick would realise that he did and maybe they would try to be together and then one of them would die or Tiger would ruin everything in some way.

He let Dick handle the debrief with Helena as much as possible. The strain of fighting the drug had been immense, even moreso because Tiger had also been pepper-sprayed in the process. He still really wanted to kill that scientist.

Dick and Tiger parted ways after debriefing. Tiger yawned through a medical exam that confirmed what he already knew: he would be fine after resting.

Tiger was more than happy to go bed. And hide. Possibly forever.

Perhaps it was childish, but Tiger spent most of the next few days hiding in his room. He trained, ate, prayed where necessary and then immediately retreated. He was not ready to face Dick, and likely never would be.

At the end of that night, he had been so exhausted that he had given up holding back. He had told Dick the things he had never told anyone. Helena had tried to convince him to receive counselling after Alia died, but he couldn't do it. Giving voice to that pain made it too real. So he had curled around it like a mother tiger, growling at anyone who dared come close.

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, Dick had ignored the warnings and snuck through his defences anyway. Perhaps he had not quite understood Tiger was hurting, but he saw the emotional walls and responded with teasing and jokes and awful improvised songs. Tiger had almost given in and smiled on more than one occasion.

Dick was special. Tiger was broken.

They would not work together. Even if they did, well...

Tiger did not want to think about how many things could go wrong. Being a spy was dangerous in so many ways, physically and psychologically.

Maybe if Tiger hid in his room long enough, Dick would give up and move on. Everybody loved him. Alia had been among them. Well, she was extremely attracted to him and more than willing to sleep with him a few times. She had been far too practical to love someone who didn't fit into her spying life.

Thinking about her made his stomach hurt. Sometimes he would glance to his side in a fight, or up at the nearest sniping position, and expect to see her there. Returning to reality felt like a punch. Or a gunshot.

Tiger could not suffer that kind of loss again.

A week passed. But Dick was not content to let him hide away for longer than that, no matter how hard Tiger tried to avoid him.

Ten days into his self-imposed exile, there was a soft knock on Tiger's bedroom door.

Tiger opened with a perfect scowl set into place and the flattest, most unimpressed voice he could manage. “What?”

Dick smiled back at him. “Hi.”

“How did you find my room?”

“Helena,” Dick said simply.

Of course she did. Helena never stayed out of anything if she could help it. If meddling was an Olympic sport, that woman would win the gold medal every time.

Tiger slouched back inside and sat heavily on his bed. Dick followed him in and shut the door.

“We need to have that talk,” he said.

“And if I refuse?”

Dick shrugged. “Things will be super awkward on the next mission and we'll both want to scream every moment we're forced to be in the same room as each other?”

“I feel that way whenever you sing.” Tiger was so relieved he was no longer forced to say the simple, ungarnished truth. Insults were more fun, and did not leave him feeling exposed.

The corner of Dick's mouth lifted. “Cute. Can we be serious now, please? I know that's, like, super ironic coming from me, but I really want to talk about this. And us.”

“Us?” Tiger hated the swell of hope in his chest. He hated that he wanted Dick to feel the same way he did. He hated having feelings at all. He was Spyral's best agent—that was not an exaggeration; he was Agent 1 for a reason—but he couldn't control his own emotions.

“Yes,” Dick said. “Us. I just... I wanna lay it all out, okay? We've talked about Alia. I know losing her hurt you. A lot. So if, once I'm done, it's too much for you, we can agree to set it aside and move on. But I really wanna talk about it first.” Dick sat beside him. “Will you let me? Please?”

Tiger didn't know what convinced him. The earnestness? The understanding? The pleading? Or all of it. It did not matter. He nodded and let Dick take his hand. Their fingers laced together. Tiger liked it more than he wanted to.

“I took some time to think about what you said,” Dick told him, patting his hand. “And, you know, how I felt about it. The whole thing took me by surprise, like I already said. But it got me thinking things that I hadn't let myself think, you know?”

“Dick, please get to the point.” Tiger could not bear another moment of this rambling pretext.

“I got a glimpse into your brain that night,” Dick said. “It sucked, because it wasn't your choice, but it made me understand you a whole lot better. And I realised I've been holding myself back. I've gotten pretty good at denying myself things I want, to the point that sometimes I don't even realise I want them.”

“Dick.”

“I have feelings for you,” Dick finally said. “They need time to grow now that I've actually let them see the sun, but they're there.”

The hope blooming in Tiger's chest both warmed and hurt him. “Are you sure?” He wanted this—he wanted Dick—but the fear gnawed his insides.

“I'm sure,” Dick said gently. “I wouldn't be here otherwise.”

Dick was a good man. A kind man. Tiger... was not. Fear of losing him aside, Tiger could not understand why someone like Dick would want someone like Tiger. There were so many reasons why Dick would not want him, and Tiger could not understand why he did.

“I can't explain it, Tiger,” Dick said as if reading his mind. “Sometimes feelings just happen. The chemistry was there this whole time—I mean, have you heard our banter? All I needed was permission.”

Dick's hand anchored him, kept from drifting too far into the bad memories. The days following Alia's death, when Tiger's emotions felt like they were suffocating him. Those days were over. Tiger had pulled himself through somehow, and now he was here.

“I might panic,” Tiger said.

“Tiger, I know loss, and I have seen so many different ways of coping with it. I can be patient. If you need space at any point, tell me and you'll have it.” Dick lifted Tiger's hand, kissing his knuckle. “I want to try... but only if you do, too.”

Tiger wanted this. Badly. So badly he thought he would burst out of his skin. Dick was spectacular. Wonderful. Thrilling. Terrifying. And so, so understanding.

He found himself nodding. The fear swelled within him and he wanted to cry, but somehow he managed to smile. He probably looked pained.

“We'll take things slow, I promise,” said Dick. “Letting people in is hard.”

“Spyral cannot know.”

“I'm pretty sure Helena knows already. The look she gave me when I asked where your room was...”

Great. “Helena is not all of Spyral.”

“And she did help me.” Dick shuffled closer. “I think we're good.”

Tiger cupped Dick's chin with his free hand. Dick's bright blue eyes sparkled in the same way they did when he was thinking up new ways to annoy Tiger. This man was going to be the death of him. He also had a nice mouth.

“Whatcha thinking?” Dick asked.

“Your mouth,” Tiger replied. “I want to kiss it.”

“Then kiss it. And me along with it, obviously.”

Tiger leaned in, and touched their lips together. It only lasted a second, but it felt right. Dick reeled him back in for another one, and that one felt even better.

That night with the truth drug had been one of the worst nights Tiger had experienced in a long time, but something good had come from it. A romantic relationship would not fix him, but Dick's support could help him weather the bad moments. Maybe it was time to show his hurt, rather than bury it and pretend it did not exist.

Pretending he wasn't suffering would not bring Alia back, and it did not make him feel better.  Running from his pain had only hurt him even more. He had to face it. And then punch it in the face by letting himself experience everything his fear had pushed away.

Tiger wanted to be loved. He wanted to be happy. He wanted Dick. He was going to have all those things, misbehaving brain be damned.

Dick smiled against Tiger's mouth. “Does this mean I can call you Tig now?”