“Oh good, he’s here.” Helena said through his earpiece. She had eyes on the restaurant, too. “Be cool, Tiger, and for the love of god please try and be a little bit friendly. Give him a nice greeting, make small talk—“

“I know what to do.” Tiger grumbled.

A waitress led Nightwing to his table, and Tiger could only watch, caught off guard, as the man took the seat across from him with effortless grace. Nightwing smiled at him, and Tiger felt something happen inside him that may or may not have been his lungs exploding.

“Can I start you two gentlemen with anything to drink? Some wine, maybe?” The waitress said, handing them both a menu.

“Just water.” Tiger said. He frowned minutely when Helena barked in his ear: “Say please, you heathen!” “Please.”

The waitress walked away, and once again Nightwing’s smile was directed at him. “It was nice of Helena to set this up for us.” He said. “I’m Dick, by the way.”

“Pleasure.” Tiger shook his hand. It was a nice hand, Tiger couldn’t help but notice, rough with callouses in some spots and perfectly smooth and soft in others. It was almost hard to let go.

“Don’t use a fake name,” Helena said. Tiger had to suppress a confused frown. He would never have used his real identity on a mission, but… it wasn’t as if it went against Tiger’s (however loose) morals, so, an order was an order.

“I’m called Tiger.” He said as their hands separated. Dick smiled again. The man was doing a lot of smiling. Quite a lot. Had he even stopped smiling since he sat down?

“Is that a nickname?” Dick asked.

“In a sense.” Tiger said. “I assume Dick is a nickname as well?”

The waitress came back with their waters, then. Dick thanked her, and Tiger was quick to follow suit lest Helena berate him for his manners again.

“Yeah, short for Richard.” Dick said. He took a sip of his water. “Though I’ve always wondered, how you get Dick from Richard, anyway? I mean, it’s my name, I oughta know, but it’s a mystery.”

“Well,” Tiger said. “Asking nicely should do the trick.”

Dick choked on his next drink and sprayed water all over the tablecloth. “Oh my god!” He damn near yelled. “Did you just call me a slut?!”

“No, I—“

“Tiger, don’t call him a slut!”

“I did not! I’m sorry, I didn’t— I didn’t call you a slut.” Tiger verbally flailed. He winced. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re very classy.”

“Nice save, Prince Charming.” Tiger could hear the smirk in Helena’s voice. He winced again, even as Dick started snickering.

“Well, I think this date is off to a great start.” He opened his menu, looking up at Tiger through his lashes. “And for the record, you’re right. I’m the classiest slut in Blüdhaven.”

Then it was Tiger’s turn to choke. Picking up his own menu, Tiger wondered when Dick was going to start talking in code. If classiest slut in Bludhaven was code for something, Tiger couldn’t imagine what.

A moment or so passed in easy silence as the two men looked over the menu (or, Dick looked over the menu and Tiger peaked over his menu at Dick). It was Dick who broke it. “I think I’ll get the cannelloni, with the mushrooms,” he said. “How about you?”

“Hm,” Tiger quickly looked back down at the menu in his hands that he hadn’t read yet. “I haven’t decided.”

“Are you going to make moon eyes at my contact all night or are you going to make some conversation?” There was amusement in Helena’s tone, but Tiger straightened his back like he’d been reprimanded anyway.

“So, Dick,” Tiger took one last glance at the menu before setting it down on the table. He fixed his most attentive gaze on the man sitting across from him. “Tell me about yourself.”

Dick let out a little trill of a laugh, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “Oh, well, what would you like to know?”

“Ask him about his family.”

“Tell me about your family.”

Suddenly Dick grinned a dazzling grin, and Tiger realized like a punch to the gut that the smiles Dick had been offering him so far were all canned and generic. Now Dick had gone from handsome to lethally exquisite with one smile. Tiger wasn’t sure if he would survive till the end of this assignment.

“Well, it’s a big one. There’s my dad, and my step mom, and my grandpa who’s technically a butler but he’s basically my grandpa, and my…” Dick took a second to count on his fingers. “Six brothers and sisters, I’m the oldest, and we’re all adopted except for the youngest— though one of those is my sister in law, she and my baby sister Cass got married just this spring. My littlest brother Damian is in grade eight, at Gotham Academy, and he’s actually been homeschooled up until now so I was really nervous he wouldn’t adjust well but he’s actually made a friend! And I don’t want to like flame my baby brother but I honestly wasn’t sure if that would ever happen…”

Tiger watched, captivated, as Dick went on and on about his father’s wedding, and how much of a miracle it was that his youngest brother and his step mother were getting along well, and what the second oldest was doing in his university classes, and probably literally every other single thing even remotely related to his family. He barely stopped for a breath, only pausing when the waitress came back to take their order.

“Oh my god,” Dick laughed suddenly. “I just realized I’ve been talking this whole time, I’m sorry…”

Tiger shook his head. “It’s alright. I like watching you talk.”

“That’s good,” Helena said. “Now, compliment him.”

“You obviously care for your family greatly.” Tiger continued. “Your eyes light up in such a mesmerizing way when you speak of them.”

Dick blushed. He scratched absentmindedly at the back of his neck, another smile on his face. This smile was smaller than the blinding one he gave earlier, but simultaneously seemed just as genuine.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “And you’d be right, I guess. My family means more to me than, well, anything else in the world, I think.”

Tiger nodded. “I can tell.”

“What about you?”

“Pardon?”

“What about you?” Dick repeated. “Your family.”

Tiger looked away. For a second he said nothing, silently hoping Helena would provide him with an easy answer but his earpiece stayed silent.

He was about to snap something evasive, to tell Dick it was none of his business, when he looked back at Dick’s face and stopped short.

There was such an unfettered kindness in the man’s eyes, an expression of curiosity and care, that pulled the sad truth from Tiger before he could do anything to stop it.

“I… haven’t had a family in a long time.” Tiger admitted.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I understand.” Dick said, voice soft and soothing. Tiger hated it a little bit. Or, more accurately, he hated that he maybe kind of loved it. “I lost my birth family when I was very young… wow, almost twenty years ago, now. I miss them, very much, still. Do you miss yours terribly?”

Tiger frowned into his water. “Of course.”

The conversation petered out then. A minute, then two, passed in silence, until once again it was Dick to speak up first.

“You can be a part of my family, if you like.”

Tiger blinked at him, wide eyed and unable to contain his surprise. But before he could respond, Dick quickly backtracked, red in the face.

“I mean— I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. Wow, that was pretty forward for a first date, huh? Does that count as a marriage proposal? Because if so then I think I just broke my record.”

“Well,” Tiger started carefully. “It wasn’t so bad. I already accidentally called you a slut, so I don’t believe you could put your foot any farther in your mouth than I have mine.”

Dick burst out laughing— a loud, uproarious expression of amusement that caused the patrons around them to turn and glare.

Luckily it was soon after that their food arrived. Cannelloni di funghi for Dick, and atlantic salmon for Tiger. Dick teased him briefly for ordering fish at an italian restaurant, and Helena agreed for only Tiger to hear. Then they were more focused on their food than conversation, but this time the silence was comfortable and amicable.

Tiger could almost forget this wasn’t really a date.

They talked a little more, about things like jobs and how they both knew Helena, and whether they preferred cats or dogs, peanut butter or jam on toast.

Tiger was horrified to learn that Dick put peanut butter (the kind that was less like peanut butter and more like peanut flavoured icing) and jam and honey on his toast all together.

Dick was horrified to learn that Tiger ate his toast plain.

Food forgotten, Dick was in the middle of telling an animated story about the third-oldest brother’s escapades in the business world when he stopped mid sentence. His gaze was stuck on the window to their right.

It was dark outside, and so it was difficult to see anything out the window aside from the reflections of the restaurant’s interior. Tiger followed Dick’s line of sight, squinting into the darkness.

Suddenly he spotted a flash of movement, a familiar glint, and his eyes widened.

“Everybody get down!” Tiger roared. He kicked their table onto its side, grabbed Dick by the shoulder and pulled him down behind the overturned table just in time to dodge the spray of bullets that shattered the windows.

He glanced around the restaurant, checking to make sure no one got shot. The other patrons were cowering under tables and behind chairs, but there was no blood. One less thing for Tiger to worry about.

“Helena, what the hell is going on!” Tiger barked into his earpiece. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Dick pressing a blue domino mask to his face.

“I don’t know!” Helena barked right back.

“How do you not know, don’t you have eyes on the building?!”

“I have my eyes on the building!” Hissed his boss.

“Well, send in backup!”

“There is no backup!”

Tiger’s jaw dropped. Beside him, Dick was quickly unbuttoning his shirt to reveal stripes of black and blue across his chest.

Behind them the gunshots had stopped. Broken glass crunched under numerous heavy footsteps.

“What kind of director sends their agent on a mission without backup!”

Tiger heard Helena groan as if he was the one who fucked up.

“There are six gunmen.” Nightwing said beside him, cool as could be, pulling on a pair of black gloves with blue palms. “Not here for us, probably for Katherine DuPont, who’s having dinner with her fiancé four tables away from us. Her family just put a bunch of others out of business with their boardwalk casinos, so my best guess is that this is a revenge kidnapping. Pretty sloppy, though, if I do say so myself. You armed?”

“If you don’t already know then maybe it’s you who is being sloppy.” Tiger said, pulling out the gun he’d stashed in his suit jacket. Nightwing chuckled.

“Okay, I’ll draw their fire. You protect Katherine DuPont. Don’t kill any of the gunmen. My city, my rules.”

And with that the vigilante rolled out from behind the table, right into the attackers line of sight. “Awfully rude of you all to crash a nice place like this, don’t you think, fellas?”

Tiger would have time to be mad at Helena later. Now was combat time.

Tiger leaned out from behind the table and spotted one of the gunmen grabbing a young woman who must have been Miss DuPont by the elbow. Katherine screamed as the man dragged her to her feet. Tiger fired a round into each of the man’s knees. He let go of Katherine and fell to the floor, screaming in pain.

Even as Tiger dodged bullets he felt himself relaxing. This was a regular Tuesday for him.

Kind of sad, actually, that getting shot at was more in his comfort zone than going on a date, however pretend it was.

“Hey, are you stupid? You’re supposed to be aiming at me!” Nightwing yelled. Seated on one of the gunmen’s shoulders, thighs wrapped tightly around his neck, an escrima strike to the man’s temple sent him toppling to the floor in a second.

Tiger barely had time to wonder where Nightwing had been concealing those weapons, tight as his clothing had been, before he was making his way across the restaurant towards Katherine DuPont.

“Stay close to me, ma’am.” Tiger said when he reached her. The woman nodded, terror clear in her wide eyes.

Her fiancé wasn’t as cooperative.

“Hey, stay away from her, creep!” The man pushed Tiger’s shoulder. He reeked of money and white entitlement. Tiger stared incredulously at him, ignoring for a moment the chaos around them.

Katherine punched her fiancé in the chest. “I didn’t see you do anything when that guy grabbed me!” She hissed at him. Thankfully, the man backed down, but not without another glare at Tiger.

A gunshot pulled Tiger’s attention back to the matter at hand. He spun around, instincts screaming at him to make sure Nightwing didn’t get hit.

There stood Helena, smoking gun in hand, smirk on her face. Gunman on the ground at her feet.

“How’s that for backup?”

Tiger frowned at her. “Helena, you’re here? Wait— if you were going to be present anyway then why didn’t you just receive Nightwing’s information yourself?”

Helena inexplicably rolled her eyes at him. “Man, you are slow on the uptake.”

Tiger didn’t have time to interpret that. There were more men running towards them.

“Come on!” He ushered Katherine away in the opposite direction towards the door. They ran outside into the open night, Katherine’s fiance following on their heels. Behind them thundered rapidfire gunshots. Tiger spared a glance over his shoulder.

Helena and Nightwing were fighting off the last of the kidnappers. Unconscious bodies littered the floor around them. The rest of the restaurant was empty; the other patrons and staff had already fled.

Sirens sounded in the distance. Red and blue flashing lights grew closer. The police were on their way. Took them long enough, Tiger thought, grumbling.

With a final solid punch to his jaw the last gunman was down, out cold. The fight was over.

Tiger saw Helena and Nightwing exchange a few friendly words. They shook hands, then made their way to join Tiger and the civilians outside of the restaurant. The spy noticed, with a frown whose source was absolutely not worry no matter what anyone might say, that Nightwing was limping heavily, favouring his right leg.

The electronic chime the door made when it was pushed open sounded like it was coming from an alternate dimension as all of Tiger’s focus narrowed onto Nightwing.

“Are you alright?” He was asking before he could stop himself. Nightwing smiled at him, but Tiger could clearly see the strain on his face the smile was supposed to conceal.

“Just peachy.” Nightwing chirped. Tiger glanced pointedly down to where the vigilante was very obviously avoiding putting weight on his left leg. He sighed. “Old injury healed badly, it acts up from time to time. One of those guys kicked pretty hard. I’ll just need some ice and a brace and I’ll be fine.”

Tiger could accept that.

Why he was suddenly so concerned with the well being of a man he literally just met, though, Tiger didn’t want to think about.

Helena eyed where the line of police cars were rounding the corner onto their street, sirens blaring. “We’d better get out of here. Agent one, take Nightwing and go. I’ll meet you back at HQ, and then we’re going to have to review your detective abilities.”

“Yes, Matron.”

Then she was sinking back into the shadows like one of the bats, disappearing entirely.

A soft hand on Tiger’s arm momentarily kept him from leaving. Katherine DuPont was looking at him with wide, shining eyes.

“Thank you,” She breathed. Tiger said nothing, uncomfortable and unused to such blatant gratitude. He shook her arm off, ignored the fiance glaring daggers at the back of his head.

Just as the police cars stopped a few metres away, Tiger threw one of Nightwing’s arms over his shoulders and walked them both as quickly as they could go into a nearby alley. Tiger did his best to ignore the warmth radiating from the man pressed to his side, and ignore the urge to press appreciatively into the little bit of give he could feel under his hold on Nightwing’s waist. That was not professional behaviour in the slightest. And Tiger was a professional.

They stopped at the other end of the alley. It was late, and the street beyond was practically deserted by downtown standards.

“I have a safehouse pretty close to here where you can drop me off,” Nightwing said.

Tiger weighed his options.

As far as he understood, walking someone home at the end of the night was a very date-like activity. And this hadn’t actually been a date (which was admittedly regrettable). But, then again, Nightwing was compromised. It would be irresponsible to leave him alone now. Taking him back to his safe house would be the logical thing to do.

With one more furtive glance around to make sure no one (ie Helena) was watching, Tiger quickly reached down and took Nightwing up into his arms, holding him bridal style. Nightwing gasped as he was lifted, throwing his arms around Tiger’s neck.

“Oh,” Nightwing grinned. “I like this.”

Tiger flushed against his will. “It’s faster this way.” He insisted. There was absolutely no ulterior motive here. None.

Although, holding Nightwing like this felt very nice.

Tiger shook those thoughts away. He started walking.

It didn’t take long at all to get to Nightwing’s safehouse, only a few minutes at Tiger’s usual brisk pace. They took the sidewalk, Nightwing pointing out every now and then where to turn. A few people stared as they walked by. Tiger didn’t concern himself with them.

Tiger carried Nightwing all the way up to his door, where he finally set him down so the man could start undoing all the locks and shutting down the security measures so he could get inside. A few clicking noises and a mechanical whirr later the door was ready to open. Only, Nightwing didn’t open the door.

He turned back to Tiger, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Stop looking at his mouth, Tiger scolded himself.

Nightwing pressed a button somewhere on his mask that caused his white lenses to slide back and shuffled closer to him, until there was zero semblance of a professional distance. “You know, I don’t usually do kisses on the first date, but…”

Tiger leaned back, blinking at the much shorter man. “You-- this isn’t-- you realize there is no point in keeping up the ruse, right?”

“What ruse?”

“That this was a date. It was just a cover, remember? In fact, since we were interrupted, you might as well give me whatever intel you were meant to pass on in the first place directly.”

Nightwing gave him a puzzled look. “What are you talking about?”

Tiger sighed. His patience was quickly slipping away from him. “You had intel to pass on to Helena. I was the middle man. The date was just a cover to meet.”

Nightwing stared at him for a moment longer. Then another moment. Then, all of a sudden, he burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” He cackled, “I can’t believe Helena. Is that what she told you? Because there is no intel, this was a date, dude. This whole time, it was just a date. Oh, man. And you didn’t realize? Wow!”

Tiger’s mind came to a screeching halt. What? “I-- there was never an assignment?”

Nightwing shook his head, features still alight with laughter. “Nope. Just a date. One of the better ones I’ve had in a good while, in fact.” He sidled closer to Tiger again, then paused, face falling slightly.

“Is that… okay? That we were actually on a date?”

Tiger was taken aback by the sudden lack of confidence in Dick’s voice-- he was Dick again, not Nightwing, he could see his eyes and the emotion in them plainly and Tiger could never imagine a renowned and competent vigilante such as Nightwing being vulnerable in this way, but maybe Dick might, so he was Dick.

“Yes. It is.”

Then Dick was smiling again, and Tiger knew he said the right thing. Slowly, slowly that Tiger could easily stop him if he wanted, but he didn’t really want so he didn’t stop him, Dick’s hands snaked up his arms and came to rest on his shoulders. Then Dick was leaning closer, tilting his face up in invitation.

“So? How about that kiss?”

Tiger met him in the middle, leaning down to press their lips together in a sweet, chaste kiss. Dick’s lips were soft and simply perfect under his, and for the first time ever Tiger thought he wouldn’t mind drowning in a kiss such as this. He brought his hands up to tenderly cup the sides of Dick’s face, pulling the man in deeper.

All too soon the kiss was over and Dick pulled away. Tiger instinctively chased Dick’s lips, but the man had already retreated to stand flat on the ground (he’d gone up onto his toes, Tiger had to resist a laugh).

“I take it I’ll be seeing you again?” Dick asked. Tiger nodded. His voice seemed stuck in his throat.

One last smile and a wave, and Dick was opening the door to his safe house and hobbling inside. Tiger took a moment to catch his breath before walking away.

He leaned back up to ask the bartender for a refill, but before he could make his mouth open and make words come out he swayed dangerously on his stool, nearly toppling back onto the floor. The bartender had to grab him by the front of his shirt and drag him forward to keep him from falling.

“I think you’ve had enough.” Said the bartender when she got Dick straightened out, pointing a stern finger at him.

Dick pouted, putting on his best puppy dog eyes. “Aw… please? Just one more?” He pushed his glass forward.

The bartender considered this for a moment. Eventually the puppy dog eyes won out and she conceded.

“Fine, only a little bit, and it’s your last one, but only because you’re cute, okay?” She said, pouring a tiny little bit more into Dick’s glass.

Dick frowned deeply, leaning away like he’d been burned. “No! Stop it! See, that’s what I’m talking about!” He wailed, even though he hadn’t really been talking about anything thus far so much as mumbling incoherently into the bartop.

“Everyone is always looking at me! People always look at me, but they never see me, they only look at me because they think they just can because of how I look or how I’m dressed and I just— why can’t people ever look at me on my terms?”

The bartender watched, shocked silent by Dick’s outburst, as he ran his hands frantically through his hair and glared at the shiny wood of the bar. She cleared her throat uncomfortably.

“Okay, uh, you know what, actually, I’m sorry,” She said. “I shouldn’t have tried to flirt with you while you’re inebriated anyway. That was my bad.”

That seemed to calm Dick down a bit. He continued to stare at the bar, sniffing slightly. “It’s okay.” He said. “Thank you for apologizing. I just wish— I wish people would stop acting like they’re enti— entitled to me and my body or whatever. It got old fast.”

The bartender hummed in understanding, slowly sliding Dick’s forgotten drink away. Yeah, he had had enough, actually.

“I wish having a body was optional.” Dick concluded miserably.

The bartender didn’t have anything to say to that. A few minutes passed as Dick continued to stare into space, lost in his thoughts.

The little bell on the door jingled lightly as someone walked into the nearly empty bar.

“Grayson.”

Dick whipped around at the sound of a familiar voice next to him. He overshot, though, and lost his balance, toppling fully off his barstool. Tiger was barely able to catch him in time before he hit the floor.

Dick giggled drunkenly, gazing up at the other man with wide eyes. “Heyyy, Tony,” Dick said around an alcohol heavy tongue. “What’re you doin’ here?”

Tiger glared at Dick. “We were supposed to meet tonight. You never showed up. I’ve been looking for you all night.”

Dick managed to right himself until he was (sort of) standing on his own two feet. His face fell. “Oh no,” he gasped, guilt sinking heavy in his gut like a stone. “I’m so sorry, I totally forgot… I’ve had a rough day.”

“I can see that,” Tiger grumbled. He kept a steadying hand on Dick’s side. “I— it’s alright. I was just worried about you, idiot. Disappearing without a trace is unlike you.”

“‘M sorry…” Dick said again, slumping forward into Tiger’s chest, resting his chin on Tiger’s shoulder. Exhaustion pulled at him suddenly, and Tiger should sense it. He fished his wallet out of his pocket one handed, the other still wrapped around Dick, and dropped a few bills down onto the bartop for the bartender to collect.

“Did you leave her a really big tip?” Dick asked as Tiger started leading him out the door. “Make sure to leave a big tip, she was nice!”

Tiger sighed. “Yes, I did, as recompense for having to put up with you.”

“M’kay.” Dick waved goodbye to the bartender and she waved back. Then they were out the door and Tiger was leading Dick down the street towards his apartment.

Getting there wasn’t that hard, but about halfway up the stairs Dick started to go limp, and Tiger had to carry him the rest of the way up with a forced longsuffering sigh.

Now inside the apartment, Tiger took a second to look around in disgust at the mess before dumping Dick unceremoniously down onto the couch, which was miraculously clear of clutter. Dick was just happy to finally be horizontal, and burrowed deeper into the lumpy cushion.

Tiger went to the kitchen and filled a glass of water at the sink.

“Tiger?” Dick called from the living room, voice filled with panic. “Where’d you go?”

“Here, Richard,” Tiger walked back into Dick’s line of sight, glass of water in hand. Dick was sitting up on the couch, all semblance of sleepiness forgotten. The line of his shoulders was tense and he was gripping the cushion with white knuckles. Tiger noticed, with mild alarm, heavy tears gathered in Dick’s eyes, threatening to fall at any second.

“Oh, good,” Dick breathed. “I thought you’d left me.”

Tiger frowned. “Why would I have left?”

Dick looked down, biting his lip. “Well… because everyone does.” He whispered. “Whether they meant to or not.”

Tiger’s frown deepened, concern tugging at his insides. “Richard? What do you mean?”

“I mean… Tiger, either I stop being able to please people and they toss me aside or they just die.” A tear escaped down Dick’s cheek, then another, and another, until they were pouring out in streams and his breath came in gasps and sobs. “I’m so alone, Tiger, please— please don’t leave me alone. I’m afraid of what I might do if I’m alone tonight.”

A stabbing pain ripped its way through Tiger’s heart upon hearing Dick’s choked out words. Quickly he set the glass aside and kneeled on the floor in front of Dick, reaching forward. As gently as he could, more gently than Tiger had ever done anything, he wiped away Dick’s tears and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Dick openly sobbed into his shoulder, the dam that kept all these negative emotions at bay broken. This was just how Dick did feelings— he locked it away, and when it became too much he let it all out at once, and when it started it couldn’t stop again until he was completely drained. Then the process would begin again in the morning.

Tiger pulled him closer. Dick grabbed the back of Tiger’s shirt and held on tight, way too tight, like he thought it he let go for even a second Tiger would disappear. Actually, maybe that was genuinely what Dick thought. The man was still very inebriated. All Tiger could do was hold him through it.

It physically hurt, now, like a serrated blade sawing it’s way through Tiger’s ribs, to think about the pain he used to want to inflict on this man. What a fool his past self had been, to only see the shallowest, most artificial parts of the man in his arms right now.

Eventually Dick’s tears started to subside, and, slightly calmer, he pulled his face out of Tiger’s neck. Tiger said nothing, had no words, not right now, only picked up the glass of water once again and offered it to Dick.

Dick took the glass with shaking hands and raised it slowly to his lips. Tiger helped him keep steady as he sipped the water, and ran a hand soothingly through Dick’s hair. He pushed his sweaty bangs off his forehead, absentmindedly thinking that Dick needed to wash his hair.

They did that until the glass was empty, and Tiger set it aside again.

“Why are you being so kind to me?” Dick asked suddenly, voice smaller than it had any right to be.

“What do you mean?”

Dick sniffled. “You used to hate me. You-- you’re supposed to hate me. But you don’t anymore.”

Tiger didn’t know what to say. Dick was saying it like it was a bad thing. “I… do you want me to hate you?”

Dick buried his face in his hands, shaking his head vigorously. “Yes-- no-- I don’t know! I don’t wan’ you to hate me but-- but-- but you should hate me. I deserve it.” His shoulders started to shake. Tiger was sure he was crying again.

“Richard-- Dick, no. You don’t deserve to be hated. You deserve so much, but never that. You deserve all the love and good things in the world. Never that.” Tiger said, desperate for Dick to understand. Dick was-- Dick wasn’t perfect, but he was also the most wonderful person in the world. He’d saved Tiger from himself without even realizing what he’d done. For him to not see his own value was an unrivaled tragedy.

Tiger sat next to Dick on the couch and put what he hoped was a comforting hand around his shoulders. Dick leaned into the tough until he was practically lying on Tiger’s chest. Tiger continued to play with his hair as more tears soaked his shirt. At least, Tiger thought, this bout of crying is much less hysterical.

“I’m sorry you have to see this…” Dick said into his chest, voice muffled. “Normally people only ever see happy, cheerful Dick, who smiles and cracks jokes and doesn’t let anything get him down, but… but it’s all a façade. A mask. I told myself all my life I wouldn’t end up like Bruce, I could let myself be happy, but, in the end… in the end I am all the parts of him I never wanted to be. God, aren’t I pathetic? Sometimes I don’t think I could be happy if I tried.”

Tiger hummed. “You’re far from pathetic, Dick.” He said, keeping his voice low, aware that Dick would likely be drifting off to sleep soon. “You’re the strongest and most honourable man I know. You will get through this, and you will come out on top, of that I am certain.”

“Thank you… Tiger, I-- please… don’t leave… stay with me tonight?”

Tiger hummed again. “Of course I will.”

Dick let out a long sigh, and his tears finally stopped for good. He buried his face into Tiger’s chest, despite how uncomfortable the material of the man’s armoured vest was. Tiger in turn wrapped his arms around Dick, holding him close and tight like he obviously needed.

Within minutes Dick had drifted into a heavy but fitful sleep, and Tiger sighed, rising from the couch and lifting Dick with him. He carried him to his bedroom and carefully placed him on the bed. Slowly, Tiger removed Dick’s socks and his jeans (thankful that the man was wearing underwear, as he had been uncertain due to Dick’s past jokes about going commando, and he didn’t want to accidentally see something Dick didn’t want him to see) and replaced them with a pair of gray sweatpants he found on the floor. Then he grabbed the thick duvet from its crumpled up position at the foot of the bed and straightened it out, pulling it up to Dick’s chin and tucking him in. Then, sentimentality controlling his hands, he pushed Dick’s bangs back again.

Tiger did not have many opportunities for casual touch.

He pulled away, intent on spending the night on the couch, when a hand shot out from under the covers and grabbed his wrist.

“You promised you’d stay…?” Dick mumbled, awake again, if only barely, and looking up at him with misty, irresistible eyes.

“I know, I’m just going to the living room.” He made to extract his hand, but Dick only gripped tighter and tugged him closer.

“Stay.”

Tiger sighed again. “Fine.”

He pulled off his keffiyeh, gloves and vest, then unlaced his boots and removed his socks, before moving to the other side of the bed. He lifted the covers and climbed in, settling in at a perfectly reasonable and polite distance away from Dick, which he could do easily because it was a rather large bed. But the minute he settled in Dick scooted over and draped himself all across him.

Dick smiled as he laid his head on Tiger’s chest. Like this, without the vest, he could hear Tiger’s heart beating and the heat of his skin. It soothed something deep inside of him. He smiled wider when Tiger wrapped his arms around him again, and he quickly started to fall properly asleep like that. He mumbled into Tiger’s chest as the last dredges of consciousness started to leave him.

“You really don’t hate me anymore?”

“No,” Tiger said, looking up at the ceiling. “I haven’t hated you in a long time.” He glanced down at Dick, and, seeing that his eyes were closed, confident he had fully fallen asleep, Tiger finished his thought aloud. “In fact, I think… at some point over the years, I fell in love with you instead.”

Then, when Dick was fourteen, Roy Harper opened his eyes on that rooftop in the middle of a fight Dick wasn't even supposed to be at, and for the first time ever, Dick saw blue.

But… he still couldn’t see one of the three colours of his Robin costume, or the colour of the beads Selina wore at the next gala he and Bruce went to, nor could he see the colour of the hot chocolate Alfred made for him, or the colour of his toast when it came out of the toaster.

And this made Dick afraid.

The timing with Roy was never right. It felt to Dick like there was always some invisible force in the universe that kept them apart, and it never worked out, and it broke his heart. But they would always be friends, and Dick would always treasure the colour blue.

Then, when he was nineteen, Dick met Koriand’r, and for the first time ever, he saw the colour green.

But even so, Dick still couldn’t see the colour of the cinnamon he put in his oatmeal, or the colour of his own skin, or the colour of the soil in which Alfred planted his roses.

And this made Dick afraid.

Things with Kory were amazing until they weren’t, and everything blew up in their faces over something that wasn’t even Dick’s fault (though at the time he was thoroughly convinced it was his fault, sometimes even now he caught himself thinking so), and it broke his heart. But they would always be friends, and Dick would always treasure the colour green.

Then he was twenty-[TRUCK HONKING NOISE] and he was dead, and he was undercover at Spyral, and Dick wondered if he’d ever been this miserable. He was cut off from everyone he ever knew (and his baby brother was still dead for real and he wasn’t done grieving, probably never would be), and his talks with Bruce were never as long or as personal as he wanted them to be. He was surrounded by liars and killers and people who would happily stab him in the back if it could help them get ahead. Now he was one of them, was expected to lie and kill and stab people in the back to get himself ahead, and he wished he’d never agreed to this mission. When he saw him again, Dick was going to punch Bruce super hard. Right in the face. On top of all that Dick was feeling terrible for having resorted to casual sex, potentially his worst unhealthy coping mechanism (and he had a lot of those), just to feel a tiny bit human.

It didn’t even work.

This was probably the worst time for Dick to meet his third and final soulmate. Or, maybe it was the best.

But whichever one it was, it was at this time that Dick met Tiger.

“Dick Grayson, you are an idiot.” The man in front of him, Agent 1, was saying. Dick could tell mostly from reading his lips-- his ears were still ringing from the explosion. Someone was saying something into his com. Yelling at him, probably. He knew he fucked up. But he didn’t really have much more of an option.

Then Agent 1 was grabbing him by the waist and hoisting him up. Dick tried to focus more on how much his head was pounding and how much his knee hurt instead of the way his heart and stomach did somersaults at the man’s touch.

Dick didn’t even realize how much less gray the world was until hours later, when Alia finished aggressively chewing him out. She stormed out, slamming the door shut behind her hard enough to rattle the foundations of the old building. Then he looked down at the floor, suddenly exhausted, and a flash of an unfamiliar shade caught his eye.

The wooden tv stand (that he literally never used) was no longer gray, but instead a pale brown.

His head whipped around the room as a frantic buzzing sensation overtook him. The frame of his bed was brown, too, the same as the tv stand, and so was his bedside table, and the closet door, and the room door, and the window frame— and outside, the trees, the trunks of the trees were all a dark oak he’d never seen before.

Oh god, Dick thought, tugging at his hair. Oh fuck.

It could only mean one thing.

Dick didn’t have the time or energy to think about the fact that he’d just met his third (and final) soulmate. He pushed it out of his mind.

It wasn’t until over a month later, after their fight with the Paragon, that Dick and Tiger actually spoke for real. There was a pounding at Dick’s door, and Dick, wondering who it might possibly be since the only person who ever visited him was Helena and she never knocked, opened it.

Tiger was on the other side, looking harried, leaning on the doorframe. “Helena tells me we’re going to be partners from now on.” He said before Dick had to chance to even get out a greeting.

“Oh,” Dick swallowed, looking up at the man before him. “Okay, cool. It’s good to meet you officially.” He smiled.

Tiger frowned at him and shouldered his way into the room. “Don’t act coy.” He said. Dick closed the door behind him. “Have you told anyone that we are soulmates?”

“No.” Dick shook his head.

“Good. Keep it that way.”

Then there was a tense silence as the two men just stared each other down, neither sure what was going to happen next.

“So… is that all you came here for?” Dick said, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. With his other two soulmates he’d fallen easily into friendship with them and then easily again into something more. But he didn’t really think he and Tiger started out on a very good note, and so he wasn’t sure where to go from here.

Lucky for Dick, though, he didn’t have to go anywhere. It was Tiger who took the three steps forward into his space. Dick didn’t back away. Something in the other spy’s face had opened up, and Dick could see Tiger was as uncertain as he was.

“I… am sorry. I don’t think I would make a very good soulmate for you.” Tiger said, looking down. “We should keep our relationship strictly professional.”

“Hey, now,” Dick said. “You’re not even gonna try, just because you have low self esteem or whatever? We all have baggage, dude. Why don’t you let me be the judge of whether or not you’d be a good soulmate to me?”

Tiger said nothing, so Dick continued.

“Besides, I… I could really use someone to be close to right now.”

That made Tiger look at him again. “You don’t belong here, Dick Grayson.” He said. “That I can tell.”

“Well I don’t really have anywhere else to go, so.” Dick shrugged. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

“I guess I am.”

“You know,” Dick said. “Since we met I’ve spent a lot of time just looking in the mirror, since up until now my skin has been freaking gray like an alien, so thanks for that.”

Tiger hummed, bringing a hand up to Dick’s cheek. Dick leaned into the touch involuntarily. “You do have nice skin. It’s like dark honey.”

Dick smiled. His hands slid up to Tiger’s shoulders, pulling himself up and closer. “I have been told I’m very sweet.”

“We’ll see about that.” Tiger grumbled even as he started to lean in.

It was like a magnetic force between them, pulling them together like opposite poles. Their lips met, tentatively at first, then with much more confidence. It was a slow, heated kiss— the kind that spread a tingling warmth all throughout Dick’s body down to his toes. He pressed closer, deeper, with a small noise at the back of his throat. Tiger’s hand that wasn’t cupping his jaw made its way around his waist.

Dick only pulled back when he felt a bit of tongue starting to come into play.

To the immediate left was a doorway that led into a hallway that took you to a parlor, a bathroom, the dining room and through there the den in which there was the entrance to the batcave, the kitchen, the laundry room, and the library. If you wandered further eventually you would find yourself in what appeared to be a home art gallery housing a lot of cat themed pieces, another bathroom, and a billiards room that had a bar and seemed rarely ever used. Many rooms in the manor seemed rarely used. It made Tiger a little mad to think about. All this wasted space.

On the right side was a doorway that led into a family room, called as such because there was a tv there and seemed much more frequently occupied than the other sitting rooms that were more classically decorated, and wide, grand doors that opened up into the ballroom.

In front of the massive fireplace, in the wide space beneath the first floor landing, was a couch and two armchairs, and a plush carpet, as well as a grand piano. On the wall above the fireplace were so many family portraits and photographs that counting them all would take longer than it would to count all the stars in the sky.

It was in this ‘room’ that Tiger found himself in presently. He stood awkwardly off to the side while Dick, his boyfriend of only two four months but his love for over a year, fussed and fawned over the youngest Wayne.

Damian Wayne stood, back straight and stiff, at the bottom of the stairs, designer luggage in hand, waiting patiently for Dick to be done mother henning him.

Damian Wayne was about to go spend the long weekend with his mother. Talia Al Ghul would be coming to the manor momentarily to pick him up herself.

Tiger did not particularly want to be present at the time that Talia arrived, but he wanted even less to be left alone in the manor, away from Dick’s side. It was the first time that Dick had brought him to visit, and Tiger did not want to get ambushed by any of his boyfriend’s family members in a place he couldn’t escape.

Tiger just hoped Talia would not say anything… damaging. Damian seemed content to keep his young mouth shut. Maybe the same could be said about his mother.

Ha. And maybe Tiger would spontaneously become Superman sometime in the next ten minutes.

As if.

“Oh, Dami,” Dick gushed, pressing sloppy, wet kisses to the young boy’s cheeks. “I’m so glad you and your mom are reconciling! Now that both of you are out from under Ra’s’ thumb… this is going to be really good for you, Dami, I know it.”

“I know, Grayson.” Damian grumbled, though a small smile still made itself known on his face even as he wiped saliva off his cheek. “I’m glad, too.”

Then, a knock on the door. Alfred, who had been waiting with them, reached forward to open it, revealing none other than Talia Al Ghul herself waiting on the other side.

“Hello, Mother,” Damian said with a slightly hesitant smile. He walked over to her after one last hug from Dick. “I’m ready to go.”

“Habibi,” Talia greeted him with a hand on his shoulder. Then she looked up at the other people present, nodding to Alfred and Dick, before her gaze landed on Tiger.

Talia’s eyebrows rose very purposefully. “The Tiger King of Kandahar… it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

Tiger stilled as Alfred and Dick turned to look curiously between him and Talia. Damian looked down, suddenly finding the wooden floor very interesting.

Well, Tiger thought, it was nice while it lasted.

“You know each other?” Dick asked him, a careful edge to his voice. Tiger couldn’t lie to him (not anymore). He nodded.

“I used to work for her.”

Silence hung heavy in the manor foyer as the implication set in.

“Used to.” Talia stressed, sighing. “Which is too bad, really. You were one of my best assassins.”

Tiger winced. He kept his challenging gaze on Talia, almost daring her to keep throwing him under more buses.

Now, don’t get it twisted, Talia was rarely intentionally malicious. But the last time they saw each other wasn’t on the best of terms, and, well, no one was perfect. Even internationally renowned assassin queens could be petty.

“I am going to go wait in the car.” Damian said, picking up his luggage and leaving out the front door.

Tiger looked at Dick and nearly flinched at the look on his face. A veritable thunderstorm of conflicting emotions roiled across his face. The clench of his jaw said anger but the draw of his eyebrows said upset, and his eyes… in Dick’s eyes was disappointment, clear and palpable. It was the disappointment Tiger couldn’t stand. Dick’s anger, he was familiar with. His sadness, he knew how to soothe. But disappointment…

He had hoped that that part of Tiger’s past could have remained secret for… forever, if Tiger could have helped it. Along with, well, almost literally every other part of Tiger’s past. He’d done a lot that Tiger knew if Dick knew then he might not… love him anymore.

His career in the league of shadows was very high up on that list.

Suddenly Dick moved from his frozen place, like one of Medusa’s stone statues reanimating. He stormed out of the room, shouldering roughly past Tiger.

“Master Richard,” Alfred called after him, but it was no use. Dick was gone in the depths of the manor.

Tiger took the opportunity to glare full force at Talia. She just raised an eyebrow at him, the barest hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Oh, Tiger,” she said. “Surely you knew you couldn't run forever?”

And with that she turned on her heel and walked out the door after her son, closing it firmly behind her.

Tiger made to go after Dick, but Alfred stopped him. “Might I recommend, Master Tiger,” said the elderly butler, “Waiting a bit, until Master Dick has had the chance to cool down, and think? He struggles to be rational when he gets upset.”

Alfred’s firm hand on Tiger’s shoulder stopped him from ignoring the advice and going after Dick anyway. Instead, Tiger found himself being led towards the kitchen.

“Come,” Alfred said. “Have some tea with me.”

Damian stared sullenly out the window of the moving car, watching the trees rush by. “You didn’t have to do that, Mother.” He said.

Talia kept her eyes on the road ahead, empty though it was. “And why not?”

“Grayson was very upset. And when he is upset, everyone is upset, including me. And, if Grayson’s relationship with the King ends over this, it will only make everything worse.” Damian crossed his arms over his chest, staring out the window harder. “He thinks I don’t notice these things, but I do, and Richard’s real to fake smile ratio has improved greatly ever since he and the King became romantically involved. Even I approve of him, even if Father still does not.”

“The way I see it, habibi, is that when a secret like this festers, it is only ever that much more rotten when it comes to light.” Talia said. “And this is a family full of detectives, Richard included. Tiger’s history would not have stayed secret for long.”

About an hour and two cups of tea later, Tiger was finally released from the kitchen and allowed to roam the manor in search of Dick. He checked the two parlors at the front of the house first, then the library and every other inch of the first floor for his boyfriend, to no avail. He even made sure to look up and check all the chandeliers. It wasn’t until he checked the ballroom a second time that he noticed the doors that led out to the garden were left open. Slowly he crossed the polished marble floor, his footsteps echoing lightly throughout the empty room. He poked his head out the door and into the garden, and spotted Dick a few yards away, sitting on a bench among the bushes of roses.

Dick pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them as Tiger approached, glaring all the while at the blooms around them, he made no outward indication that he noticed Tiger’s presence. Tiger sat next to Dick on the bench. He was unsure of what to say to make this better. Words of healing had never been his strong suit.

He just couldn’t get the image of Dick’s disappointed eyes out of his mind.

“I’m sorry.” He tried. Dick didn’t look at him.

“What are you sorry about?” He said, voice monotone and hollow. Tiger almost couldn’t stand it.

“I…” he trailed off. He didn’t know. “Everything?”

Dick let out a huff of air through his nose. His eyes stayed trained on the roses. “I’m mostly upset you didn’t tell me before but it’s also… I knew, theoretically, that you’d killed before. As a spy. I knew. It was just-- easier, I guess, when it was more… ambiguous.” He said. “I never watched you kill anyone. I never knew how many people you’d killed. I think that made it easier to look past. When it could have been as low as only one person, if I wanted to be foolishly optimistic.”

He sighed. “But now… an assassin. One of Talia’s best assassins. And I can only imagine how many… the blood on your hands… Tiger, I understand that sometimes killing is done in self defense. Sometimes, there’s no other choice. But I still don’t like killing, Tiger. Really don’t like it. And not just because it’s Bruce’s rule.”

“And I know you’re not that person anymore, I know it shouldn’t matter. But it does, somehow. An assassin-- to be making a living off of taking people’s lives, over and over again. I hate that.” Dick’s voice started to stray from that empty tone. “It-- it’s different for Damian and Cass. They were raised to be that way, since they were children-- Damian still is a child. But you-- wait, Tiger, were you--?”

Dick finally looked at Tiger then, contempt replaced quickly with concern.

“No, I was not raised as a child to be an assassin.” Tiger said. “Though… I still didn’t have much of a choice.”

Dick’s gaze softened, and Tiger couldn’t help thinking he didn’t deserve that look. “Tell me about it. I-- I still love you, Tiger. So please, help me understand.”

“... I was seventeen.” Tiger started after a pause, where he tried to get his thoughts together. He’d never actually told anyone about his past before. He wasn’t quite sure how. But he was going to try, anyway. For Dick. “I was seventeen, and a scout had found me, hungry and dehydrated, out in the desert, far from Kandahar and farther from everywhere else.”

“I was scrappy. I put up a fight. He brought me back to the league of shadows’ base, and I was recruited as a low level assassin. Started training right away. The scout, Abdel, mentored me for a time.” Tiger paused again. Now it was his turn to fixate on the flowers. “Abdel was twenty-two when he found me. And, at the time, I wasn’t delusional enough to think that what we had would last, but I was delusional enough to believe he loved me.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. “You two were…?”

“Yes.”

The furrow of Dick’s brow deepened. “Tiger, twenty-two and seventeen… that’s not--”

“I know.” Tiger said. “I know that now. It’s just-- Dick, back then, I had nothing, and then I had nothing else i became very skilled, rose in the ranks quickly until killing was just about all I knew how to do. I was… poisoned, for a long time, until you came and pulled me out of the hole I’d dug myself into. You were right, Dick, that I have blood on my hands. A lot. But you were also right when you said I am not that person anymore. I never will be again.”

Dick just looked at Tiger for a long moment, searching, considering. “Okay.” He eventually said. “I understand, now. Thank you for talking to me about it.” He reached over and squeezed Tiger’s hand. “And I’m sorry for storming off like that.”

“It’s okay.” Tiger said. Dick let his legs fall back down and leaned over, resting his head on Tiger’s shoulder. Tiger rested his head on top of Dick’s, taking in the scent of jasmine from his shampoo.